isabella🍭

⋮ — MAKING A SCENE .ᐟ

[ EX!ROMAN GODFREY ] && fem!reader

´ཀ` — INSPIRED BY THIS BOT. roman hadn't seen you in months, not since the breakup. but the sight of you sitting pretty at a halloween party has all his feelings coming back.

´ཀ` — cw .ᐟ 1.2k words. 18+. smut. exhibitionism. oral ( f!receiving ). porn with (no) plot. roman carries reader.

´ཀ` — notes .ᐟ btw i was inspired by the bot that i created. in no way was ai used to write this blurb. i was refreshing some bot descriptions and wanted to write more about this roman <3

he hadn't seen you in months. roman never thought he'd be one to miss someone, not like this. but god, he did.

the relationship was quick—both jumped in too headfirst, and got burned on the way out. didn't know each other well enough to know it was worth fighting for.

roman didn't realise how bad it had gotten, not until he walked into the party and saw you there. he wasn't even meant to be here, had no intentions of turning up tonight. peter had damn near forced him out of the door.

but if he'd have known you'd be here—he'd have been there hours ago.

roman's eyes were glued to you, looking downright sinful. legs dangling off the kitchen counter, cup of something in your hand—and that fuckin' costume.

black dress and blood—he can see the little bite marks on your neck from where he's stood. vampire, cute.

roman made a lot less effort, black tux that he had laying around the house and knew he looked good in.

"think i miss you," roman mumbles, eyes half-lidded as he crowds your space. hands either side of your thighs, not touching—not yet. "can't get you out my fucking head."

"you think?" you return, all smirk and making no attempt to push him away.

"i know." he breaths, jaw clenched—as though being this close to you is awaking things inside of him he hasn't felt in months.

his hands move to your thighs, fingers squeezing like he owns them. his face close to yours, lips brushing your own as he speaks.

"missed me too, haven't you, princess?" roman whispers, breath fanning across your face. big hands moving up your thighs, landing on your hips as he pulls your body flush against his.

he barely gives you time to speak, before his hips roll against you. "feel what you do to me?"

your breath hitches—the party fading, eyes darkening. your hands moving to drape around his neck, lips touching his as you speak.

"not touched anyone since you."

he can't fight the groan that escapes him—not caring enough to hold in his reaction in public. his girl untouched since him? his pants got tighter at the idea.

"gonna make me cause a fucking scene, baby," roman mumbles, like the boy doesn't love causing a scene. lips still ghosting your own, not kissing—not yet—the tension building.

"you say like that you've never fucked me in public before." not this public, no—but the woods, back of his car, next to a sleeping peter that one night on the couch...

his cock twitched at that. eyes fluttering shut, jaw grinding as he forces himself to hold back. "can't just say shit like that, princess," he speaks, chest heaving.

"trying so fucking hard to hold back."

"take me somewhere, then." you whisper, lips next to his ear before your tongue licks a line down his lobe.

"my car. right now." roman mumbles, barely giving you chance to register his words before your body is hauled over his shoulder. always did love a scene, eyes on him and his girl.

"is she okay?" you hear the whispering, as you can't fight the giggles escaping you.

"they're always like this." peter grumbles, rolling his eyes into his beer.

roman pushes through the front door, out to the array of cars parked around the side of the house. setting your body down, pushed up against the side of his car.

"god, i want you so fucking bad." roman groans, green eyes darkened with lust.

his lips are finally on yours, all teeth and tongue and desperation. hands on your thighs, slipping up between your legs as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

"this wet for me already, baby?" he teases, as he releases your lip. fingers sliding over the wetness through your panties. "haven't even touched you yet."

"can't help it, romey," you whine, hips bucking up against his fingers.

roman's cock throbs, tight behind the fabric of his pants, at the feeling. that name on your lips, the name only you ever called him. falling from your mouth in that tone would be his undoing.

"look at you," he coos, fingers rubbing slow circles over the lace of your panties. "you'd come from just this if i let you."

he's right—he knows it, can see from the furrow of your brow and moans that threaten to fall.

he leans in, lips against your ear as he whispers. "wanna taste you first."

roman doesn't even open the car door, just drops to his knees on the gravel.

"oh my, god—roman,"

he grins, from his position between your thighs. hands spreading your legs, cheek against the skin as he presses soft kisses up towards your heat.

your hands fist his hair, breath uneven—unable to take your eyes off of him. all but pushing his head where you need him most.

"so damn impatient, baby," roman teases, as his fingers hook around your panties. pulling the soaked fabric down your legs.

roman holds your hips steady as you step out of them, before he quickly pockets the lacy pair. smirk on his face as he looks back up to you. "keeping those."

he doesn't give you a second to respond before his face is back between your legs, tongue licking a line up through your folds. his eyes shut, breathing in the scent of you. fuck, he missed that.

your back arches up against the car door, head against the metal. hands tight in his hair, unable to stop your hips bucking. clit bumping against his nose as you do.

"roman—!"

your chest heaves, party indoors long forgotten as moans of pleasure from your mouth hit his ears. he hums against you, vibrations sending shockwaves through your cunt.

he loves you like this—holding his head steady, grinding yourself against his face. using him. his tongue laps you up, nose rubbing against your bundle of nerves with every movement you make.

"atta girl," he coos, words muffled into you. "ride my face, fuck—good girl."

thighs clenching around him, eyes back to him, breathing erratic. his eyes meet yours, smirking up to you—knowing you're close. can tell by the bitten lip, and the shaky moans leaving your lips.

his hand moves from your thigh, two fingers teasing your entrance—before he pushes them up inside you, groaning into your cunt at the clench.

"fuck, fuck—roman!"

he's sure he could die right now, head between your legs with his name on your lips. pussy tight around his fingers, wetness dripping into his mouth.

your head hits the car with a soft thud as roman pushes you over the edge, hips bucking harshly against his face.

"that's my good girl," he coos, softly removing his fingers and leaning back to look up to you. chin slick as he stands, one hand on your hip—keeping you steady, as he takes his fingers into his mouth. lapping up every drop of you.

he smirks down to you, helping you stand up straight away from the car door. wiping his chin on the back of his hand, before slapping your ass softly.

"get in the car, pretty girl," he murmurs, smug smile on his face as he walks around to the drivers side. "wanna hear you scream my name in my bed again."

[ STEP!BRO!ROMAN GODFREY ] && fairy!reader

༊ — STEP-BROTHER. roman was desperate for the one girl he shouldn't want—his step-sister—but when has roman ever cared about doing something he shouldn't?

༊ — cw .ᐟ 18+. 1.6k words. smut. dead dove. non-con. step-cest. dacryphilia. somnophilia. porn with no plot. slapping. unprotected p in v. spitting. creampie.

༊ — notes .ᐟ please refer to this post before getting angry in my inbox about this one. <3

you were forbidden fruit, and roman was fucking hungry.

you had to know—not like roman was ever subtle. trapping you against the kitchen counter whenever you walked too close, peeping on you in the shower whenever you forgot to lock the door. you must have noticed the amount of panties you'd lost since moving in to the godfrey estate.

you had to be teasing him on purpose, there was no way in hell you weren't. the bite of your soft lips, the begging him to stop when he grabbed a fistful of your ass, the tears forming in your eyes when he told you all the disgusting things he wanted to do girls, just never mentioning it was you he was talking about.

roman owned everything inside the estate, and in his mind that included you—his sinful looking step-sister.

and your stupid fucking father was too busy eating up every lie olivia told him to ever notice the perverted ways of his step-son. all alone in the estate, with no one but yourself to protect you from the corrupt hand of your step-brother.

roman didn't care—if anything, the nature of your relationship turned him on more. he was sick, twisted in his thoughts of you. and roman wasn't willing to stop before he got a taste of his sweet little sister.

the house was empty, not that anything or anyone would have stopped his plan once he was in motion. roman had spent the last twenty minutes palming himself through his boxers at just the idea.

his feet were soft against the wooden floor as he walked, his steps quiet as he approached your room. the morning sun peeked through the windows as the door of your room opens.

you barely stir, eyes still closed as the brunette pads across your room. roman stands at the foot of your bed, eyes darkening as surveys your sleeping frame.

blanket barely covering your body, tiny sleep shorts and sheer shirt covering perky nipples that have roman's cock twitching in his boxers.

he's slow as he moves, body climbing over yours. knees either side of your hips, bed shifting under his weight. but you don't wake.

his big hand wraps around your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth—lips wrapping around your digits, before dragging your hand down his bare chest.

roman's eyes are nearly falling back into his skull, at just the sight of you like this. so soft, so vulnerable—so his. his hand still wrapped around yours guides you over his boxers, biting back moans as the sweet little hand of his sister palms him.

and you hum. in your sleep, a soft pout forming on your sleeping lips and roman nearly loses it. you're enjoying it. even unconscious, you're just as desperate for him as he is you.

he drops your hand, letting it fall to the bed without worry as his own trail up under your shirt. pushing the fabric up to pool around your neck, lip between his teeth as his hands start to grope and grab at your chest.

squeezing your nipples harshly between his thumb and fingers as your brows furrow, and eyes slowly starting to flutter open. roman couldn't give a fuck that you were waking up, in fact he wanted you to. needed to watch you give in to his perverted desires.

"roman, what are—please—"

you struggle, but his hands are quick to pin your hands down either side of your head.

"stop—roman—stop—" you continue, hips pushing up in a desperate need to get him away from your body. but the action only causes a smirk to form on his lips.

"knew you wanted me just as much as i wanted you." he taunts, holding your wrists together with one of his hands—the other returning to your exposed breasts.

spit and drool drip from his mouth, coating your chest. his hands sliding over you, groping at your body as mumbles of complaint continue to fall freely from your lips.

his hand trails down your body, dipping below your shorts. fingers sliding between your folds, wicked smile on his face as he feels your wetness.

"you can protest as much as you want," roman sneers, fingers rubbing harsh circles around your clit—eliciting moans from you that can't help but fall. "but you're fucking soaked."

dark blush washes over your cheeks, attempting to hide your face from his view. the act almost impossible as roman stays pinning you down to the bed.

"tell me you want me," he demands, fingers not letting up in speed. eyes almost black with lust, as he pushes your wrists further into the mattress. "tell me how badly you want your step-brother to fuck you."

"roman, please—" you beg, tears welling up in your eyes—from your embarrassment, your shyness, not your lack of want. almost the opposite.

"tell me." he interrupts, as his fingers below your shorts push two digits into you. your back arching up at his touch, jaw slack—unable to stop the moans of pleasure escaping you.

"please, romey—need," you whisper, that sickly nickname dripping from your tongue that makes roman twitch behind the small amount of fabric covering him.

"need, what?" he pushes, watching as your face contorts. hips bucking up to meet his fingers, angling the digits deeper within your walls.

he's winning, and he's all too fucking smug about it. can feel it in the way you clench around him, brows furrow in pure want—how you're not fighting him anymore.

"you," you whimper, head falling back—neck exposed, and shy. "need you."

it's mere seconds before his hands are ripped from your body, discarding the clothes from your body before removing the boxers on his own. your arms move over your face, soft sobs of defeat fall into the empty space.

"don't cry, princess," he taunts, big hands spreading your legs as he positions himself between them. "big brothers gonna look after you."

roman pulls your arms away from your face, forcing your eyes to his. hand wrapping around his member, slapping his length against your clit. that evil grin unmoving from his face.

your cheeks tear stained and eyes puffy, pleading—but this time for him. for him to continue, to never let up until he'd had enough. to keep you trapped here until he was finished with you.

roman pushes himself in, bottoming out. he's big—bigger than you'd ever felt. the stretch aches, bottom lip trembling at the pure pain of it.

"take it," roman speaks, through gritted teeth. arms landing either side of your head, legs hooked over his knees planted against the mattress. "fucking take it."

roman fucks you at raw speed, skin slapping against yours in a way that was sure to leave bruises. you can't help the way your arms snake around his body, hands desperately grabbing at his back. clinging to him even in this moment.

nails dig into his skin, angry red scratches left in their wake—only spurring him on. his eyes can't decide where to look, watching himself disappear in and out of your body. flicking up to your face—admiring the way you're falling apart under him.

"wanted this little pussy for fucking years," he grunts, emphasising his words with each thrust. "been dying to ruin you."

your bottom lip puffs out, pouting up to him above you. tears still forming on your waterline, roman could bust at the sight of it. the tight clench around him, your soft hands pulling him closer to you.

"s'too big, romey—" you whimper, sharp nails digging into the flesh of his back.

"stop fucking whining." he spits, with a sharp slap against your cheek.

the skin stings—growing red and raw almost immediately, lip between your teeth as you hold back pained sobs. god, he wants to keep you here like this forever.

your bedroom door still open, moans and screams of pleasure and pain echoing around the house. unable to consider the pure shame that would follow if anyone dared walk into the estate.

"such a good girl," roman almost coos, and your face softens. oh. you liked that more than you were able to let on, but he could tell. "taking me so good."

"yeah?" you murmur, all doe eyed and needy.

"hmm," he hums, nodding his head as one of his hands dips between your bodies. rubbing rough circles around your bundle of nerves, body growing slick with the speed he hasn't let up.

"taking your big brothers cock so well," roman speaks, voice rough and breathing growing heavy. his vulgar words make you clench—in a way that makes you blush. pouting at him every time that reminder comes.

your chest is heaving, breath coming out in short pants and roman can tell you're close. his hips somehow moving quicker, harsher as he chases your orgasm. desperate to be the one to get you there, to see you unravel below him.

your back arches, moans echoing around the room as he feels the tight clench around his length. fucking you through your orgasm, and he knows he's never letting anyone see you like this ever again.

this sight is reserved for him, and him only.

his body collapses onto yours, arms tight around your waist as he chases his own edge. face nuzzled into your neck, wet open mouthed kisses tickle your skin. hips jackrabbiting into you, groans muffled against your skin.

"fuck me—" he groans, loud and pure animalistic as he forces his come inside you. holding himself there, bodies slick and sweaty as he lays on top of you.

"romey," you whisper, after a few minutes of silence, voice still soft and scared.

he finally slides out from you, leaving behind his orgasm within you. smirking as he stands, watching himself slowly drip down onto your perfectly pink sheets.

"don't tell your dad," he threatens. "or do, i don't care. gonna keep fucking you anyway." and you can tell my the look on his face, he fucking means it.

nerdjo’s high maintenance gf is his prettiest distraction !

I. DISTRACTION #1: NO KISSING IN THE LECTURE HALLS !

time: 8:46 am location: Curtis Lecture Hall I (CLH-I)

gojo satoru is typing one handed because his other hand is pressed between your thighs.

not that he minds. 8AM thursday means excel sheets & a cup of hot coffee to keep his bleary eyes open. gojo satoru is trying—trying to focus, but his pretty girl is talking a mile a minute and he’ll be damned if he didn’t reply to your every word.

“it was so hard getting out of bed today, toru,” you pout up at him, chin on his shoulder & gloss sticky on his sleeve. “i told kento to stop by and wake me up on his way to class. can you believe he didn’t?”

“i’m very proud of you for getting out of bed regardless.”

“thank you. it was very hard.”

you sigh against his shoulder. “he’s probably still mad i cussed him out,” you huff, reaching up to twirl the hairs on his nape. “all because i put him on cherry crush and he tried to act like he discovered it first.”

satoru’s eyes are still on his screen, so you squeeze his palm between your thighs to bring him back to you. “he’s so petty, toru.”

“very petty, baby.”

tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.

its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.

"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."

meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.

your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.

"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.

you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.

the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.

then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.

his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"

by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.

youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.

the silence on the other end of the call stretches.

"...you still there?" the guy asks.

toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"yeah." he says "keep talkin."

but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.

toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.

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“you,” nerd!gojo says, not to you, but to the part of him his six-inch-long fingers are devouring. “you’re always so quiet when she’s yelling at me. you could at least make a little noise for me then, y'know?”

you seize up, surprise and confusion hitting you at the same time. “gojo, what the hell are you—”

but he only shushes you with a patronizing little tsk, thrustsing two fingers deep in you just to watch you moan while his other hand clamps over your mouth firmly, cutting your words.

“i’m talking to her. not you.” his eyebrows furrow in that petty, childish pout he gets whenever he’s mildly inconvenienced, his bottom lip jutting out just the tiniest bit. “you see, baby? she always tries to interrupt. just like when i was trying to study and she snatched my notes and threw them in a pond. called me a useless nerd right in front of everyone.”

his long fingers sustain a languid rhythm, his sculpted chest heaving with a short, annoyed huff at the memory. when you jerk your hips to throw him off, the heel of his hand cracks against your poor cunt—a sharp smack that forces a wet squelch against his palm.

“and the hitting,” he continues, voice pitching into a whinier, petulant cadence. “you wouldn’t believe it. last week, i got a bruise on my arm.” he adjusts his angle, the pad of his thumb rubbing your clit in coarse circles. “just because i corrected her answer in advanced calculus. i was right! i always am! but she just likes making me feel small, doesn't she?"

"stop it" you shove against his shoulders, but satoru doesn't even rock back. he just pushes his fingers deeper, the heel of his hand pressing roughly against you.

“no,” his bright blue eyes are huge and glassy, talking to your vagina like it’s his only friend. “she doesn’t get to tell me to stop. not after she made me do her entire literature thesis. not after she tripped me in the cafeteria, and my tray went everywhere. i had to clean it up myself.”

he pumps his fingers into you harder, the wet sound of your body fluid becoming obscenely loud. “but you understand me, don’t you? you’re the only one who’s ever nice to me.”

“g-gojo...” you whine, not even sure what you’re asking for. you’re so close, and the humiliation from this boy you’ve spent all semester tormenting only fuels it.

“s'okay,” he coos, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you can show her, right? show her what happens when she’s mean to me.”

it’s the final permission your body needed, a hot, gushing release soaking his hand, his wrist, the inside of your thighs. it sprays, pearly streaks against the white sheets.

satoru goes stone still. his whining ceases as he cocks his head like a curious puppy. he slowly draws his glistening fingers out, staring at the wet trails sliding down his knuckles with an expression of rapt, awe-struck wonder, as if he's just successfully completed a difficult laboratory experiment. a long, satisfied exhale escapes his plush lips, his broad shoulders finally relaxing.

"you did it," he breathes, his voice reverent. he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, never breaking eye contact with the only thing that never disappointed him. he licks a stripe across his wrist, swallowing your fluids eagerly. “you did so good. congratulations. see? i knew you had it in you.”

he looks up at your eyes then, his azure gaze blazing with triumph behind his crooked glasses. a whiney nerd glowing with perverse pride.

rabbot x reader, where reader always plays with jack’s curls and hardly ever with robby’s.

the three of them are on the couch, jack’s head on your lap watching a movie playing with his hair with the right hand while the left hand traces patterns on robby’s thigh.

“why do you always play with jack’s hair?” Robby questions slightly jealous. “for his blood circulation, i don’t want him to go balding.” you whisper to not disturb jack watching the movie.

“what about my blood circulation?” he look at you with his big sad brown eyes, “honey, i think you met me a bit too late for that…” you said reaching from behind him to scratch his neck.

“rude.” robby mumbled relaxing at your touch, “but true.” muttered jack his eyes still focus on the tv.

sukuna and toji sat on the old benches outside at the park bickering as theyve done since they were just teenagers. the only difference was that now they both had a small baby girl on each of their laps.

you and tojis wife sat near a table farther away from them, chatting about motherhood as you heard their voices get higher and higher in volume.

“what do you think theyre arguing about now,” she asked, smiling at her husband with loving eyes.

“couldn’t really care less, they do this basically everyday,” you scoff, shaking your head.

you could hear their conversation slightly, both of you pausing to listen in.

“okay yeah your she is pretty cute but shes way fatter than my angel here,” sukuna said, gesturing to tsumikis chubby cheeks and tubby belly. “am i right kuni? youre way cuter than her,” sukuna said to his daughter, planting kisses all over her even chubbier face.

“okay yeah fuckface, she is a little bigger but shes still cuter. shes just been bulking since birth and thats perfectly fine.” toji said, smirking and crossing his arms smugly as if it makes complete sense.

“bulking? nah bro shes just fat, she probably doesnt even understand the concept of-“

smack.

sukuna was abruptly cut off as your hand met the back of his neck with a loud pop.

“ah, the fuck was that for?”

smack.

“dont talk about tsumiki like that and watch your language. to be fair, you were even bigger than her when you were a baby.”

toji tilted his head back and let out a loud cackle.

“how ‘bout that shit. ryomen was a fat ass baby, i’d love to see that.”

when wrinkles start showing oughhh

when your husband is supposed to be the calm, rational one, you don’t expect to find him standing at the foot of the bed with his cock in his hand, whining into the dark.

but that’s where satoru ends up. tank top pushed halfway up his ribs, belt hanging useless from one loop, pants around his knees. his fist works up and down the fat length of his cock in rough, punishing strokes, spit and precum smeared down to his balls. he’s staring at you the whole time—at the soft curve of your hip under the sheet, the flutter of your lashes against your cheek. pregnant. glowing. carrying his baby.

and he’s rutting into his hand like some desperate virgin.

the panties he stole from the laundry basket are bunched in his other hand, pressed to his face. he inhales like he’s drowning, shuddering so hard the flimsy fabric trembles against his nose. your musky scent has him sobbing out a noise that doesn’t sound him at all.

“fuck, baby—” it rips out of him, pitched way too high. “smell so good... oh fuck, i can’t—can’t stop.”

his cock is obscene. flushed dark, veins raised under the skin, the head slick enough to shine in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. precum drips in heavy strings down his balls, thick enough to coat his knuckles. every stroke drags more slick out of him, messy and loud—schlick, schlick, schlick.

he sucks at the fabric like it could feed him, panting between licks, nose buried deep so he could breathe you in while his tongue works. “god, i'd eat you out for days if i just—mnhm!—if i just had the chance...”

his hips snap forward into his own fist, cock smacking his stomach with each thrust. precum splatters onto his tank top, dripping onto the hardwoods in obscene drops.

disgusting. a husband rutting into his fist because he’s too scared to touch his pregnant wife.

but satoru can’t stop. he’s babbling now, words spilling fast and needy. “want it so bad–fuck, i’d worship you, i'd never stop—”

he chokes on a sob as his balls tighten up, cock jerking violently in his grip. the sound he makes is humiliating, a high and euphoric whine. his thighs shake.

cum spurts out in heavy ropes, hot and endless, painting his stomach, his abs, his fist, the floor. lewd, thick jets that won’t stop, spilling like his body is trying to empty years of frustration at once. it drips down the backs of his fingers, strings across his knuckles, sprays his shirt. he gasps, still pumping through it, cock still twitching violently.

“ah—mnhg—fuck, t-too much, i can’t...” his voice cracks, strangled, but his fist won’t let go. more cum leaks out, drooling down his cock, streaking his thighs. his knees buckle and he braces one hand on the nightstand, forehead dropping against the wood with a hollow thud.

when it’s finally over, when the spurts slow to tiny dribbles, he’s still shaking so hard he can barely breathe. his cock still twitches against his stomach, still half-hard like it doesn’t know how to stop.

and you’re still asleep, lips parted beautifully while he stands there.