NELL ♡

Bokuto Kōtarō is the biggest sucker for you telling him how good he’s making you feel, whether it be through your words or the sweet moans he fucks out of you, it’s like music to his ears — though most of the time it’s the latter, even though he’d rather you use your words. Sometimes you wonder if he knows how much harder he makes it for you to even mutter anything even slightly coherent…

“Baby,” his voice dips, coaxing against your ear as he rocks into you, “does that feel good? You wanna tell me how good that feels?” His pace quickens with every word that passes by, every syllable ends with the smack of his hips. It doesn’t help that the longer you go without answering him the more his rhythm shifts — going even faster than before, it was like your answer depended on it.

Your mouth opens but all that comes out is a strangled moan followed by a dragged out whimper of his name “Bo.. c-can’t.” He groans at the sound of your pleads, clenching at your thighs beneath him in order to steady himself. Holding you open even wider so he can see all of you.

You shake your head faintly, its all you can manage considering the hotness of the air surrounding you and the heat of him fucking into you. “god you’re killing me baby, fuck.” He mutters, his voice was starting to break into something hungrier and desperate. “‘Sound so pretty for me but i want more. I wanna hear you say it — please. Tell me im making you feel good, please please please.” He urges. But not unkind, never unkind. “You don’t even have to make it pretty. Just talk to me, anything.”

Your throat tightens, words caught somewhere out of reach and all that escapes is a shaky breath. Bokuto’s lips brush softly against yours in a fleeting kiss meant to steady you. “Thats okay” he promises, his hips driving deeper. “I’ll wait. ill keep fucking you okay? Until you find the words to tell me.” And he means it.

For him your voice isn’t just noise its proof that he’s unraveling you, giving you something thats worth spilling out loud. Your moans already undo him and the way your body answers every single one of his thrusts already drives him insane — but it’s still your words that he craves the most.

“Kou — fuck…” your voice breaks halfway through, “make me feel so… so good — fucking me… so good shit ‘m gonna cum kou.” Your confession tumbles out drunkely, you struggle to keep them afloat.

He cums immediately.

His pace quickly splinters, thrusts now sloppy and desperately chasing after his high. Hands clamping down even harder on your thighs, the press of his fingers were sure to leave bruises as he drags your hips to met his every stroke, pulling himself all the way inside you like he cant stand the thought of there being any space in between you.

“Fuck, yeah just like that..” he whimpers, his rythm stutterd into something reckless. You can feel him insisting that you fuck him back, taking him all the way to the tip of your cervix and the base of his cock, every shuddering inch of him is buried as far as it can be as the both of you both fall apart together.

[aavaia] (1) new message ⬇︎

Aki cries too easily.

You never would’ve thought that, not at first.

Not with the way he carries himself : aki represents sharp lines and cold silences, that quiet unreadable calm that makes people second guess their words. He always seems composed and measured... like, hes the type to hold eye contact without looking away first.

That’s why it’s so addictive seeing him like this : red faced and trembling — breathing in shallow and broken little gasps as he falls apart just for you.

Because no one else gets to see it.

Because it was true. He does cry too easily.

Like right now! sprawled out beneath you, his hair is messy and clinging to the sides of his face, cheeks flushed glistening from his sweat tears. His chest rises in shallow shaky breaths and every exhale sounds more like a whimper than air. Your hand is still wrapped around his cock, stroking him with a slow and cruel rhythm, the kind of rythem that makes him tremble… the kind that makes his voice catch in his throat as his hips try jerk away even as they buck toward you. he’s so sensitive… you haven’t even really done anything yet? Just a few teasing strokes, firm but unhurried, your thumb dragging across his overly sensitive tip just to watch him twitch.

His thighs are already trembling and his muscles tense every time your palm slides down his length and squeezes just right. His fingers dig instinctively into the sheets below him. His knuckles going white as if he can ground himself there. He’s trying so, so hard to be quiet. His teeth are gritted, his jaw’s locked and his lips are parting around nothing but broken breaths. But his body betrays him. Every little sound he tries to hold back comes out in gasps and half sobs as tiny helpless noises punch out of his chest with each stroke.

You feel him tense all over, like he’s fighting it, like he knows he’s close but he doesn’t want to cross that line without permission from you.

“Please…please can I cum? I can’t hold it anymore, I — fuck, please y/n…”

You don’t stop your hand though, not even to slow down. You only tilt your head a little to the side, watching his lashes flutter while you hum. Like you’re thinking about it. Because he knows he’s only allowed to fall apart if you let him. “Please…” he chokes again, a little louder this time. “Please y/n I’ve been, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good for you — ”

And the sound he makes when you do sounds so sacred. His whole body jolts, head falling back, breathing so heavy you can see as the air spills out of his lungs; as his cum spills into your hand. Thick, hot and messy. He cums hard, maybe a little too hard… his legs are shaking and his fingers are clawing at the sheets, eyes squeezed shut as if to stop the tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Thank you” he breathes out, almost delirious. “Thank you thank you thank you, I love you, I love you — fuck — I love you…so much.”

⚡︎ CW : very suggestive , oral fem!recieving , Armin being a nerd except maybe a little bit too educated in this field…

“wait…” you breathe out, realistically though you didn’t want him to wait… not really.

“You don’t have to um… guide me”

Armin murmurs; breath stuttering as his lips press soft tentative kisses to your inner thigh. “I’ve uh. done research… kinda...” He’s already on his knees between your thighs, soft curls brushing the softness of your skin as he adjusts your skirt like he’s handling a rare manuscript.

You don’t even remember how he managed to get your legs over his shoulders. One second he was shyly fumbling with his glasses after you joked about how you “bet that tongue ring isn’t just for kissing”and now?

Now… you’re biting your fist in his bed while he moans into your cunt like he’s starving for it. Except he’s not entirely smooth, not at first. his movements are a little eager and messy, like he’s trying to remember everything hes seen online. you can feel his nervousness in the way his fingers twitch against your legs; every time you make a sound his whole face goes pink. But he doesn’t stop.

The metal ball of his piercing glides over your clit with a precision that’s definitely not accidental. He’s been studying, maybe not bookwise… and from the way his eyes flicker up through his glasses; slightly fogged, and cheeks flushed… you know he’s proud of himself for making you look this dumb.

You didn’t expect him to have one. You thought it was just some quiet nerd quirk. but now…? You’re starting to think maybe this is why he got it. Maybe he’s been waiting to do this. Or maybe hes always been this filthy underneath the his quietness and AP calculus notes.

“Fuck… Armin” you gasp; thighs twitching around him. but he only holds you tighter — as if he’s not ready to let you go just yet.

His finger tips dig into your thighs, hard enough to leave faint crescent shaped marks as if he’s trying to memorize you through pressure alone. grounding you as he buries his tongue between your folds. He holds you open, wide and trembling. not with confidence, but with panic — like some part of him still can’t believe he has you like this; terrified youll close up before he gets to taste every part of you. his tongue drags along your folds like he’s underlining every sensitive spot. Over and over. rhythmic. methodical. almost academic.

you half expect him to pull back and explain the science behind how good he’s making you feel, but he doesn’t stop to gloat. He just eats. messy, reverent and greedy.