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spvdersx · 9 months

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⋆｡˚ ₊˚ ପ ⊹ LAVENDER .ᐟ | souya kawata

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . . . camboy souya, strangers to friends to lovers, fem reader, she / her pronouns used, masturbation, sex toys mentioned, dacryphilia, breathplay, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, dry humping, big dick souya, soft dom souya, oral sex ( f receiving ), bit of ooc souya + idc how tall u are, he is taller, pet name usage ( ex. pretty girl, sweet girl, princess, baby ), insomnia mention !

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 . . . 13.8k ( ໒꒰ྀི 𖦹 ˕ × ꒱ྀིა )

belladonna's 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 . . . finally .ᐟ she is back :p few more warningzzz . . this is a leetol bit of self insertion but ‘s like . . veri veri loose ! title inspired by dis song aaaand souya’s twenty four ( 24 ) while reader is twenty two ( 22 ).

( ♡ ) — your name.

the first sex toy was created in the 1800’s; an electromechanical vibrator crafted by dr. joseph granville, used to treat female hysteria.

you hope he’s burning in hell.

wanting to work at a sex shop at twenty two years old wasn’t something you would have particularly answered at five years old when asked what you aspired to be. separating bottles of lube by scent, color, and tag labels, wiping down display dildos, and stocking prostate massagers are what you now call your day to day, unfortunately.

planted in a parking lot on the far corner beside a gym and chiropractor’s office, wet dreamz, z purposeful, drags in a decent amount of people. you have your regulars, mostly sex workers looking to try out new things, whether on other people or themselves, or replace some of their favorite trinkets. there’s the occasional classy and refined older lady who usually comes in to buy something simple. the single moms — they’re your favorite — they all have a certain . . . look, you figure out. and it’s never physical, most of them just carry a weirdly balanced aura of quiet stress and gentleness that always makes it quite hard for you to maintain your bitch-like façade when approached by one.

then the couples. the hate that swells within the expanse of your chest at the sound of the soft chimes indicating a customer entering the store, followed by soft giggles and a ‘stoppp, babe. c’mon,’ is simply unparalleled. well, hate . . . that’s a strong word. lets just put it as a strong, strong feeling of dislike.

“jealousy isn’t a nice look on you, ( ♡ ),” yuzuha constantly sings inside of your ear when you roll your eyes and plop your chin down into the cant of your soft palm while seated at the register as soon as you both hear a little whine followed by a gruff, ‘i’m not letting you put that inside me. forget it.’

“ ‘m not jealous,” you always grumble in reply, not missing her rolled eyes while she stumbles into the back storage room with two boxes almost taller than her held within her arms.

you consider helping her but because of her comment, you remain seated where you are, tapping your manicured fingers against the soft dough of your cheeks boredly.

the word jealous rings in your ear. you’re not. what do you possibly have to be jealous of? you’re . . . content with where you are in life. you have a nice apartment focused near downtown shibuya, you finished paying off your car note a few months ago which took a nice load off, you have a lazy calico named pucca whom you love very much. life doesn’t throw an awe-striking, heart-stirring adventure at you everyday but you’re okay with that. relationships get in the way. a partner would completely fuck up the routine you have going here and you really don’t need the stress that comes with having one.

at a rhythmic beep buzzing within the slot of your back pocket, you reach around and slip your phone from it to see 4.55 flashing at you. coincidentally, the couple whose voices seem to be grinding cheese graters against the surface of your eardrums are starting to walk up to the register with their little, handheld cart filled to the brim and you consider this perfect.

you plop down on your feet from the stool you were seated on to whip around, knock on the storage room door and softly shout, “yuzuha, i’m out! finish this transaction for me!”

at her groan you roll your lips into your mouth to keep from smiling before quickly slipping from behind the counter to scurry to the tiny breakroom beside the restroom focused in a little hallway between the walls of strap-on harnesses and edible lingerie. clocking out of work has to be your favorite part of the day, well, second to stepping past your doorframe and being greeted by a tiny chirrup and calf nuzzle by pucca.

“hi, baby boy,” you coo, dropping your keys and purse onto the small counter right beside your door, hearing it automatically close as you kick off your platform docs then bend to scoop the fuzzy kitty into your arms.

pucca’s a chunky boy coated with soft white fur with large patches of black and orange focused more so on his tail, sides, and ears than back. he slowly blinks at you when you nuzzle the tip of your nose against his tiny pink one and you give a slow blink back, hoping your ‘i love you’ is read loud and clear. “cutie.”

you allow him to jump from your arms and trot over to his cat tree that stood near the corner of your living room beside your large, circular window. “mommy’s had a long day, too.”

you’re tired. it seems like you’re always tired these days.

and it’s never physical exhaustion, no, you make sure your nine hours of sleep are maintained daily. it’s more . . . mental, and you’re never quite certain as to why. each time your brain wanders off on a tangent to figure it out, the reason always comes back blank and clean containing nothing. fuck it.

you’re out of the shower come six thirty, a hefty serving of leftover creamy chicken ravioli sits in your stomach by seven fifteen, and after a few episodes of your favorite netflix show, you’re nuzzled underneath the comforters inside your queen sized bed, prepared to do this all over again tomorrow.

only tonight you can feel that certain . . itch.

you’re staring at the bright disc of the moon through sheer curtains as you try to ignore it, but subsequently when trying to overlook the specific need proves no solution, you end up sighing, snatching your phone from its wireless charger off of your nightstand and opening up safari.

you desperately try to ignore the heat crawling up your chest and neck to spread across your cheeks and ears as you open up a private tab to shamefully type ‘ camstarz.com ‘ into the search bar. it’s not every night you do this — only once or twice a week and you feel embarrassed to finally admit it to yourself that you only open the site to watch him.

sleepy6lue.

camstarz is a pretty lowkey site. you stumbled upon it through one of those sketchy pop up ads on a more popular, well-known site one late evening and after scrolling through profile after profile you stumbled upon him. “sleepy blue,” you had whispered underneath your breath, staring at a circular icon image of just a shot of most likely his hand with a rectangular pic of a pair of pretty blue eyes blown up behind it.

‘i’m just here,’ his bio had read.

back then, maybe two months ago when you had first discovered him, he was ranked seventy two out of one hundred with eighteen thousand subscribers — a pretty solid fanbase compared to the more up and coming cam stars.

you had clicked on a random three minute video with a blacked out thumbnail to see what he had to offer. the video had started out with some shuffling and tumbles before a hand was pulling back from the camera to reveal blue seated on what looked like a bench. instead of facing forward, one leg was planted on either side so that they were agape. all you could see was half of his torso and his crotch; he was wearing a hoodie and jeans. you weren’t sure of the color because the video had been filtered to a gloomy black and white.

on first glance you automatically knew he was a tease, or rather, he liked teasing.

his fingers, nimble and slender, had slowly rubbed up and down across the protruding bulge of his cock through his jeans before he had gave a shaky, little sigh.

clearly he’s sensitive, too.

“i should stop.”

you had jolted a little in bed at the sound of his voice — soft and pretty, peppered with a soft rasp that you could tell was natural and not because he was purposely trying to make his voice sound attractive — it just . . was attractive.

your thighs clenched.

“i know you guys like when i tease,” he utters. “but, mmph, had a long fuckin’ day.”

his fingers are slender but they move with a slight briskness when undoing his belt that had made you whimper. he seemed impatient. the video fades into a cut where the zipper of his jeans and fabric of his briefs are tucked underneath his balls.

you mewled again and had to shove fingers past your pouty lips to suckle on them at the sight of his cock.

it stands strong and upright . . he easily looks about eight inches length wise and you knew your lips would burn with the utter stretch of just the tip if he were to glide inside of your little mouth because of how thick he is, too.

he’s evil, you thought. because he lifted his hoodie and underneath the thick fabric is a plain of freckle dusted abs. he isn’t necessarily cut, his body reminded you of a swimmer’s or runner’s — he’s just carved enough to make saliva pool along the surface of your tongue at the simple thought of getting to run it down the crevices that sculpt them.

when he finally started to stroke his cock is when you shoved one of your decorative pillows between your legs, rolled over onto your tummy, and started to grind at the pace he set. most times he starts off slow, wanting to bask in the feel of his own fingers thumbing with the small slit that sits upon the crown of his tip or even roll his soft sac between them but, in this video, as he said ‘he had a long fucking day.’

he had released a soft ptuh so that a thick dollop of saliva could sloppily land on his tip then he was rolling his palm over it to coat his shaft before starting to stroke.

my god, you had thought.

he’s shameless.

worked himself nice and steady, uncaring if the rub got too dry ‘cause he’d only spit again to make it messy. even through the black and white filter, you could tell that his tip was flushed an angry red that continuously hid underneath the thin shield of his foreskin of each tight upstroke. he leaks like crazy. precum dribbles down his knuckles and squelches between his fingers.

and his moans. you could’ve came from the sound alone.

“mm,” he mewled. “damnit . . ‘m gonna c-cum already.”

your hips had moved with him, grinding your needy clit over and over the rumpled corner of the pillow until you had began to see blurred white borders materialize around your vision. and when he had started to fuck up into his own fist? hips waving up then down which made his abs roll and tauten over and over again, you had came with a soft scream — had to bite your pillow to muffle it.

“you watchin’?” you could hear his pretty voice drifting past the loud ringing in your ears as your legs spasm and shake between satin sheets. “watch me.” you manage to creak open your lids so that your blurry eyes could focus on the pretty guy on your screen. his fist had stroked once, twice — before the first shot of cum spurts out of his tip and to the bench.

he whines when he cums — makes you whine with him — and curses like a sailor. “f-fuck . . mm shit, damnit … ” his voice goes all shaky to resemble his hand that slowly squeezes the last leaky, thick droplets out of his cock until they gather and drip down his fingers to his emptied balls. “y-yeah.” sometimes he likes to let the camera catch his softening cock that likes to grow limp and lay against his thigh, but in this vid, he pulled his dirtied hand away, tsk’d, and flicked a few strings of cum off of his fingers as if it was an annoying piece of lint on him and not his own semen. “alright,” he had chuckled softly, letting his hoodie drop to hide his stunning body line. “ ‘m gonna head on home now.”

present day sleepy6lue now sits on rank six out of one hundred with four hundred thousand subscribers and sixteen new videos more than that first one you watched.

he had grew dramatically and still does day by day.

you had learned that he likes to post late in the evening — late being two, three, and four am. he seems to only film in public too. parks, libraries, inside of his seemingly expensive car while at an empty gas station.

when the horniness ebbs off and leaves you looking at those pretty blue eyes blown up on his profile, you like to stare at the dark lines that interlineate them, simply wondering.

“there’s a stock of new harnesses, condoms, and lube coming in,” mitsuya sets a clipboard down on the counter of the register you sit behind of and gives you a little smile. “it should be here by four and i’ll be gone which’ll leave you, emma, and atsushi. you just have to sign for it, we’ll place everything on the shelves tomorrow.”

if you had to find a single word to describe mitsuya it’d be … caring. your manager is bizarrely kind — he’s understanding of your work schedule, doesn’t bitch when you call in sick, allows you to eat little snacks while on the clock; he’s so strangely nice that a slight thought of him being a murderer pops into your brain here and there. but when he gives you a smile which makes his under eyes crease and push them closed into cute crescents, the muse is immediately pushed from your brain. a face belonging to a person like that wouldn’t murder anyone, you’re sure of it.

“okay,” you twist back and forth on your stool while popping a mini cheese ritz cracker into your mouth. “who’s going to be on schedule tomorrow?”

“why are you wondering?” he playfully scoffs, all while lifting a sheet of paper on the clipboard to check. “uh, it’ll be ‘michi, hinata, atsushi, and hakkai, why?”

at the mention of the store’s two, pining lovebirds you coo a long “oooooh!” while grinning and shaking your shoulders. “you think you’re so slick, don’t you? putting ‘michi and hinata on the same schedule, you know they’re gonna be too busy tripping over their own feet and eye fucking each other rather than working, takashi.”

he rolls his eyes and swats you over the head softly with a rolled up magazine while rounding the counter to head to the stock room. “consider me cupid. the more shifts they have, the better. hopefully one of ‘em will finally make a move on the other.”

distantly you hear the chime of the store door while you’re tossing another cracker up in the air to catch with your mouth. “doubt that.”

when the door behind you closes with a small click, you hum and twist in your stool to look at the small screen beside the register that shows a twelve-squared grid of different angles of the store through security cameras. there’s — you count softly underneath your breath, — only four people in the shop right now which isn’t surprising.

wet dreamz’s ‘rush hour’ isn’t ‘til around four to six ‘o clock and it’s only two. you take the downtime to hum, finish your snack, toss the emptied packet in the trash can and start organizing the condoms that sit on the counter by their package color out of boredom.

“excuse me.”

you want to audibly sigh, yet you can only settle for subtly rolling your eyes before lifting your head.

“can i get some help?”

you blink.

the way your heart seems to thud harder and harder against the cage of your ribs confuses you. “. . yeah?” you had asked quietly, staring up into baby blues that seem all too familiar to you. “yeah? sure.” you try again after clearing your throat and straightening your spine, hoping, oddly, that you hadn’t came off rude with your previous low tone. “how can i help you?”

the guy in front of you looks . . mean.

a wild fro of sea-blue curls sits atop his head with a few falling down his forehead into furrowed brows. he seems to almost be glaring at you and you’re fully prepared to calmly offer a, ‘no, i am sorry, sir but i’m unable to take your return nor offer an exchange,’ when he softly says, “can you . . can i just show you? i don’t know why i didn’t bring the packages with me.” his voice is airy and light, certain words streaked over with a small rasp.

your own eyes start to squint because why the absolute fuck does he sound so familiar?

when you nod, he actually gives you a polite smile and waits for you to round the counter so that he can lead you to aisle four — the aisle where vibrators and cocksleeves are stocked. with him only a step in front of you, you notice that he’s quite . . tall . . and lanky. maybe six foot two?, you assume.

“i just need a professional’s opinion — you’re like a professional right?” he takes hold of two boxes with two large hands, fingers on each adorned with an assortment of silver rings that tinkled prettily when rubbed together. the boxes he holds are packages of fleshlights.

at his question, you grow slightly embarrassed, “ . . i guess so.”

he smiles.

you hadn’t known someone so pretty could become even prettier but the guy in front of you does. the simple action softens up his entire face and two, light, identical dimples dip into doughy, freckled cheeks and your heart absolutely skips several beats.

“okay,” he gives a soft chuckle. “i need to know which one’s better. this one? the . . aviator?” he holds up a brown flesh toned one. “or this one? the, uhm, commander?” this one’s entirely translucent.

you swallow and really, desperately try not to think about this man’s penis deep inside of one — god, you know it’s pretty — and take hold of both boxes to see for yourself. the aviator offers a three inch wide, seven inch long insert, a ‘sucking’ feel, and an inner feel made up of ‘superskin.’ while the commander’s lined with stimulating sucking superskin rings, a twist base to adjust the level, and an eight inch long insert.

“i’d go with the commander,” you give a small, toothless smile and hold up the box. “it’s, uhm, more . . versatile.”

he’s staring at you. you find that as much as you find it intimidating, the shivers that crawl up and down the length of your spine isn’t ‘cause you’re scared . . his full attention on you makes you feel a little . . respected, honestly, like he actually cares about what you have to say.

“y’think so?” he seems to whisper before grabbing both boxes, looking at them again himself then setting the aviator down. “alright,” he smiles again and you have to look away for your own sanity. “i’ll take it.”

on your way back to the register, you can hear him shuffling and picking up things as you walk but it’s not until you round the counter and take your seat to start scanning that you see just what they all were.

“i know,” he murmurs, “it’s a lot. sorry if i made your job a little difficult, today.”

what sits atop the counter in front of you are several bottles of lube, two boxes of condoms, the fleshlight, a cocksleeve, and hand held vibrator. “it’s fine. it’s what i do, i guess.” you scan quietly and he stands before you, watching, while tapping his fingers on the counter slowly. you can tell he’s not impatient, just waiting, so you take the slight moment of silence to look up and, just your luck, he’s staring right at you again.

only, this time, you both look away ashamedly at the same time and his cheeks flush a little pink while at it. “thank you for helping me,” he says. “you didn’t have to so i appreciate it . . i had a long fuckin’ day so far.”

long fucking day . . . long fucking day.

“sleepy blue?” the name had flew out of your mouth with a passing thought and it makes you quickly slap both hands to it with widened eyes as you take in his expression.

it’s him, it’s really fucking him.

his face doesn’t really change . . only his cheeks and ears go a little bit pinker and he straightens up his posture to give a small, “ahh,” while pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “shit — oh my god,” he chuckles and looks down. “you, uh, you know me?”

“i’m so sorry,” you quickly bag his items while mentally kicking your foot so far up your own ass that it sticks out from your mouth. stupid, stupid, stupid. “that’ll be 128.57.”

“it’s fine.” he taps his card against the reader. it’s laminated platinum you notice. “you are the first though.”

really? “really?” you’re shocked and it’s read all over your pretty face.

he — sleepy blue? blue? — nods and slides his wallet back inside of his pocket. his curls bounce with the movement and now that he’s in front of you, you really don’t know how you didn’t notice the moment you had heard his voice. his curls are a dead giveaway.

on camstarz, he rarely ever goes live, however when he does, he usually wears a mask with a hoodie or beanie and even so, they can barely sustain the unruly coils that lay underneath them. you had always noticed a blue curl or two, thought that they were maybe part of his hoodie?, you never really knew, but this makes much more sense.

“yeah,” he takes his bag when you hand it to him and gives you a small smile. “makes me happy to know someone so pretty watches my streams. thanks for helping me again.”

he doesn’t wait for you to reply this time. he turns away and walks down an aisle, back towards the exit and you’re left sitting at the counter, confounded, mouth left seemingly permanently agape with your disbelief.

the shock doesn’t wear off. you don’t think it ever will. it’s like a leech, stuck against the sticky chamber of your heart that constantly feels like it keeps dropping into the barrel of your tummy as his voice plays in your head over and over and over again.

when you get home, you try to forget that it ever happened.

because underneath the shock lies an otherworldly amount of embarrassment that makes your shoulders rise up to your ears and body curl into itself as you recall yourself blurting out ‘sleepy blue’ again and again. sometimes you wish you could just rewind time to keep certain things from ever happening, however, unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.

it keeps going and going, throwing twists and turns and bombshells. and,

‘sleepy6lue is now live! don’t miss out on the fun & join now!’

. . . is a bombshell.

you’re left staring wide eyed at the notification in bed with a bowl of ice cream in hand. it’s eleven pm, the earliest he’s ever gone live before. your heart is racing so fast that it makes you have to sit your bowl down just to press your hand against your chest to somehow regain your previous composure as a trembling thumb hovers over the slowly jumping icon, daring you to press it.

“god.” you do.

and he’s staring at you again. pretty blue eyes more pronounced due to the black starkness of the mask he wears, shielding freckled, dimpled cheeks, pink, pouty lips, and a charmingly-etched jawline. he has on a beanie tonight, a neutral cream that stands out against the teal-green nanoleaf panel lights he has laid in an abstract pattern across his wall behind him.

he lounges back comfortably in a gaming chair, tapping his finger against the armrest like the way he did the counter earlier today while he stared at you bagging his items, and sways his legs in and out, watching comments start to rush in along the side of his screen.

“hm . .” he leans in closer and you tilt yourself a little bit back as if he was actually in front of you. “thirty thou within two minutes, nice,” his eyes crinkle a bit at the corners. you’re reminded of his pretty smile. “i’ll wait ‘til we get to fifty before we start. is that okay, guys?” he tilts his head — how adorable, you can’t help but notice — and reads some of the comments in response to his question.

s1ckb1mbo : mhm! +25 camcoins pervybvnny : whatever u want<3 +10 camcoins ditzykyu : how was ur day?? +50 camcoins

he sucks in some air through his teeth, leans back in his seat, and hums again. “my day?” he twists his chair back and forth and starts to thumb with the ring on his index finger while he thinks about the question. “i just . . ran errands today,” he says softly. “i’m sure you all know that i barely sleep so, most of the time i’m low on energy, but today, i felt a little active so i decided to why not use it?”

the view count is jumping up to the forties.

urgoodboydev : +100 camcoins v4mpireb1tes : ahh that’s good to hear blue :3 ditzykyu : sounds like u had a good day !!! +50 camcoins

“yeah,” he leans his head on a fist so that he can idly twirl a curl around his fingers, then in a low, sing-song like voice, he adds, “i did.”

your eyes catch 50.1k and you pull your knees up to your chest right when he pulls at the neckline of his hoodie and catches it too. “ ‘kay, we’re at fifty thousand now,” he straightens up. “i hope you guys had a good day, too. make sure to eat something and drink water . . and don’t be like me, get some sleep after this, alright? you have to promise me. blue wants to see promises.”

s1ckb1mbo : we promiseeeee! +15 camcoins ditzykyu : promise promise !!! urgoodboydev : pinkie promise ;-; +25 camcoins

you can tell that he’s smiling beneath his mask.

“you guys are so cute,” he utters gently. “so cute . . and all mine, right?”

you clench your thighs.

god, no. how easy it is for him to tip toe a line between cute and hot, adorable and risqué, shouldn’t be possible. his fingers start to play with the drawstrings that holds his sweats up on his hips and he seems to be staring at the camera as if he could see right through it — as if he could see you. “i wanna overstim myself today,” his voice rasps quietly. “went to a sex shop today and bought a bunch of new stuff.”

his fingers pull a string to loosen the loop and have his sweats sag off of his slim hips — you have to bite your finger to keep from whimpering when he pushes them down and reveals he hadn’t been wearing any underwear.

he’s already half hard, twitching against his thigh with his foreskin still shielding his angry, red tip from thousands of greedy eyes.

“there was this employee there.”

your heart stops . . you’re absolutely positive it does, albeit for a second, it still does. but, just in case, to not get your hopes up, you shake your head and try to convince yourself that maybe he was talking about emma, or even mitsuya.

“she helped me pick out my new things.” you know it’s you. he spits into his palm and grips his cock almost painfully tight. “oh my god,” he whispers underneath his breath with his eyes rolling back into his head as he pauses, seemingly tries to grab his bearings. “ ‘m not . . well, i don't think ‘m a bad person. i try to . . be polite and kind, but,” he swallows and starts to stroke himself. his thighs give a strong twitch. “the things i thought while she talked to me,” he gives a breathy chuckle and lets his head fall back against the headrest of his chair. “i feel like i should apologize to her.”

v4mpireb1tes : ur cock is so pretty blue :( +40 camcoins pervybvnny : what did you think abt?? ditzykyu : was she pretty?? +20 camcoins

“she was fuckin’ . . mmph,” his eyes roll back into his skull and he starts to stroke his cock faster, opening his legs wider to make sure the second camera he has positioned pointing towards his groin gets a good look of milky, muscled thighs and a thick, long cock between them. “her lips . . my fuckin’ god,” a dense tendon in his thigh clenches and it makes your entire body do the same. “f-first thing i noticed about her . . and her eyes . . her f-fuckin’ smell, the way she fuckin’ talked, and how she walked . .”

he cums.

it’s shocking. he cums with a high, little hiccupy moan as shot after shot after shot of white semen with the consistency of honey shoots up into the air with some landing on his soft, grey, nike hoodie and falling back down over his thighs and some on the chair between his legs. you hadn’t even know you were holding your breath this entire time until you start to pant right along with him as he tries to calm down. he seems . . . out of it.

a chunk of the reason why he gained so many subscribers within such a short amount of time is because it’s known that his stamina is out of this world. within only a twelve minute video, he had managed to cum four times without getting soft for even a second.

tonight, you can tell when the camera catches on a small twitch which makes his cock bob, you think that he’ll probably break his own record.

he plays with his cum on his fingers for a moment — glides featherlight touches along his tip while staring at the chat through long, thin lashes before rubbing his fingers against each other which makes the metal and platinum rings he has encircled around them chime and twinkle prettily.

pervybvnny : >:( unfair ditzykyu : that was the fastest you came .. n while thinkin of her?? :c no fair +50 camcoins v4mpireb1tes : >:((((((((( +25 camcoins

he laughs — it’s soft and breezy while his head rolls back on his shoulders. “okay, okay, i see,” he hums and lets it drop back forward while running his dirtied hand over his thigh.

s1ckb1mbo : take off ur hoodieeeee +30 camcoins

“because of the brats in the chat tonight, angel, i can’t,” he leans a little closer to the camera so that his blue, doe eyes are more clearer. your tummy feels like it’s flipping, because within gorgeous, sapphire blue is a lurking darkness that you come to realize is usually veiled. it shows itself properly when his eyebrows dip in just a little closer and his smile drops from behind his mask, leaving just piercing eyes watching the chat start to roll in whiny apologies and pouty faces. “now, see,” he lounges back again, voice a little quieter. “i had thought that there’d be good boys, girls, and angels in the chat, but i guess i was wrong.”

you swallow where you’re sitting. you can practically feel displeasure and irritation rolling off of him in waves that’s managing to seep through both of your cameras to you. it’s utterly sick how bad you wish you were there in that room with him, seated upon strong thighs, with your head tucked into the pocket of his neck that you’d kiss and whimper apologies into, hoping he’d accept them, and you weren’t even the one in the wrong.

“i’m not overstimming myself tonight.” he sits quietly with his head leaned almost boredly onto his shoulder while he watches the chat erupt into chaos.

urgoodboydev : no whyyyyy :( ditzykyu : don’t leave early s1ckb1mbo : u’re bein so mean :(((

he rolls his eyes, “you guys are fuckin’ spoiled, i’m starting to see it now.”

he reaches off camera for something and your eyes almost balloon out of your skull when you see that it’s the fleshlight you had recommended him and a bottle of lube. “i’m going to edge,” he drags a line down the length of his cock with the gel-like substance, strokes it over his shaft evenly then aligned the opening of the toy right on his crown. he pushes it down just enough to where the top is only engulfed then looks at the chat again. “you’re gonna edge with me, hm? gonna be good for blue again?”

pervybvnny : yeah :( i’ll be good +30 camcoins

s1ckb1mbo : mhm!! promise +20 camcoins

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when he pushes the fleshlight down to his base, you feel your cunt clench around nothing which only oozes out another rush of slick, adding to the mess that’s starting to dampen your inner thighs. you don’t want to touch yourself — you weren’t even suppose to be watching this long. but, it’s hard to tear your eyes from him.

he rotates his wrist and pushes the toy up and down at a constant pace, not too fast nor slow. and because of it being translucent, thousands of eyes can see the way the rings work his cock; massaging and sucking against him which has him starting to slowly buck up into it as if it were a real pussy above him. “oh, fuck,” he gently curses beneath his breath, tilting his head back against his seat as he keeps the fleshlight still so that he can only move his hips and stroke up into it. “that’s it,” he breathes. “b-be good f’me . . let blue use your sloppy, fuckin’ hole until he’s done.”

figuring there’s no point in just watching, you whimper and shove your hand down your little boyshorts, "oh my god." you’d just be teasing yourself for no clear reason.

your little fingers rub and rub at your pulsing clit, slipping and sliding off of it here and there because of so much slick you’re producing which makes you whine. the sounds emitting from your phone’s speakers are lewd — loud squelches of pre cum and lube dripping out from around the fleshlight, breathy moans and curses, muted squeaks of a gaming chair rocking back and forth.

your middle finger’s sliding deep into your pussy without much resistance at the same time his other hand cups both of his swollen balls. his eyes creak open in the slightest, staring into the lens of his camera, into yours . . and you know that underneath his mask, the slightest little smile lifts the corner of his lips.

and thirty minutes later, after edging yourself four times and orgasming so hard that you see kaleidoscopic stars dancing behind your closed eyelids, you power your phone off and let it fall from your hand, uncaring that it hits your carpeted floor with a dull thud and heave for breath while staring up at your whirling ceiling fan.

even through a fuzzy mind and post-orgasmic murk, you’re absolutely, one hundred percent positive of two things — he is dangerous and you undeniably and incontrovertibly want him.

the next day’s sunday and you’re always off on sundays.

you spend it taking care of things you’re normally too tired to get done with during the week. you do some laundry, meal prep, take pucca to the vet appointment you scheduled last month for his physical, go grocery shopping, and scrub down your bathroom and kitchen til they’re sparkling clean since the two seem to always get so messy every other day.

it’s . . productive — you feel productive. and because of you being so busy, he barely runs through your mind if it isn’t the sound of his broken voice going ‘a-awe fuck . . yeah,’ out of nowhere that you’re always swift to banish away with a quick shake of your head.

you find that as much as you like your home, and as much as a soi-distant homebody you are, you’re aware of the fact that a person shouldn’t be always holed up at their apartment if they’re not at work, and vice versa. even though you had soaked up enough vitamin d and done enough socializing today to get you through another week, you still, to a certain extent, force yourself to get out of the house to take a short walk down the street of your apartment to your favorite cafe.

the sun and its rays fleet by the time you’re close to it, leaving behind imminent, ashen grey clouds that starts to spread across blue skies, darkening the entire city. you sigh. rain; you’re not very fond of rain if you weren’t spending the day at home. wet shoes and clothes, sharp, cold winds, slick roads and traffic . . you’d rather die, honestly.

when you walk through the doors of the cafe, you’re greeted by a wave of comforting heat and a distant ‘welcome’ from one of the busy baristas. you adore it here. there’s an ignited fireplace focused near the left side of the establishment with small tables and chairs nearby that a few college students and couples occupied. the right contained booths for larger parties.

you walk up to the queue and pull your phone out to busy yourself with a childish mobile game while waiting. vacantly, you hear the swinging door behind you open with a light bell toll which makes you take a tiny step forward to give the person behind you a good amount of space to further enter the shop without being so close to the door. by the time you make it to the front of the line, you have passed two boards of candy crush so you place your phone back in your pocket with content and give the kind-faced barista a small smile before saying, “uhm, can i get a large caramel macchiato, light on the foam with—“

“—three pumps of cinnamon syrup?”

your eyebrows furrow in close at the voice behind you citing your exact order as if they, themselves, had ordered it a million times before. you turn your head around to take a look and — of course, there he is. the blue-haired, dimple-cheeked, freckle faced camboy who’s been plaguing your dreams for days now gives you a soft smile with a slight ruffle of his curls by his hand so that they can fall into his eyes. “that’s my . .” he takes a step up so that he’s standing beside you. his smile never leaves his face. “that’s my, uh, order too. i thought i knew you, i’ve been standing behind you trying to figure it out for the longest.”

you want to say something, you desperately do, but you’re stuck again. your tongue can only move against the roof of your closed mouth as he turns to the barista, makes it two, then pays before looking at you again and tilting his head towards the tables near the fireplace. “do you wanna sit together?”

“. . . sure.”

he leads you over to a little table a good distance away from the fire so that you can both be warm without getting too hot. he takes his seat and you take yours, and he loosens the slate grey scarf he wore so that it’s no longer wrapped around and just hangs from the back of his neck. “it’s nice seeing you here,” he softly starts while placing his hands on the table.

he’s wearing rings on most of his fingers again and he begins to twist the one on his index back and forth, something you notice he does a lot.

“yeah, you too,” you reply quietly. “i like it here. they’re super nice … and the coffee’s good.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, just gives a small “hm,” while staring at you. “shit — uh, my name, i’m souya,” even holds his hand out for a proper handshake as his cheeks go peachy.

souya.

you give him your name and slip your hand within his, pleasantly shocked to feel that it’s soft, warm, and a bit damp. he’s nervous, you come to realize, and you’re not sure why. “so, uh, i went by the shop earlier today and you weren’t there.”

your heart skips a beat, just a tiny one, at the thought of him visiting your job just to see you, but you know that that’s a probability by a long shot. “yeah, i was off today — just ran some errands and stuff.”

“yeah,” he huffs a little laugh as if he were embarrassed and rubs the back of his neck. “i figured.”

“so, how was your day?”

souya nibbles at his bottom lip, pink and plush, the action makes one of his dimples crater into his cheeks and — god, he’s so pretty. he’s so pretty and you’re positive that he doesn’t even know it. “went to visit my brother over by shinjuku for a while, but that’s really it.”

you like talking to him, “you have a brother?”

he nods. it seems like at the mention of him, he gets a little bit more comfortable. “a twin. he’s older.”

it seems like you both talk for hours. you even stay past when the barista hands you both your orders, simply getting to know one another. he tells you about his brother and his friends, his life growing up in tokyo, and what he does while he’s not camming — helps his brother run a country-wide chain of noodle restaurants which completely blows your mind when first told. “so . . you’re like . . very well off, souya.”

he glances away which grinning, “i’m . . i’m comfortable.”

you’re sure he is, “if you’re ‘comfortable,’” you lift and drop the cardboard cup sleeve around your, now, lukewarm coffee. “why do you cam?”

something in his face shifts — he doesn’t get angry or defensive; if anything, he looks down at his cup of coffee for a moment before shrugging and looking back up at you. there’s a slight smirk on his face and his eyes dance something . . . dark. it has the blood running through your veins igniting, turning plasma into molten lava that rushes up to your cheeks and heats them hot.

when he speaks again, his voice is soft, more so than usual; he’s talking like it’s a shared secret between the two of you, “you know how when you were a kid, your parents would tell you not to do something … and them telling you not to just makes you want to do it even more . .” he asks, leaning back comfortably in his seat the way he does his gaming chair. “doesn’t matter if you liked doing it or not. i think it’s just something about being told no . . and knowing that i shouldn’t do it that makes it more fun. don’t you agree?”

you nod. you’re not even sure why, but you do. you’re entranced by him in every single way, and you’re confident in knowing that the little bud inside of your core that’s starting to sprout into something much, much more intense is a fucking crush.

souya smiles, lifts one arm, drops it with a smack to his side, then shakes his head as if dismissing the conversation, “i don’t know . . anyways,” he looks out of the window which makes you do the same. it’s pouring outside and you hadn’t even realized, too caught up in cyanic blue eyes, small chuckles, and a honeyed voice. “i like talking to you.”

you look back forward to see him staring at you with eyes that reflected yours — kind, captivated — and you almost melt where you sit. “i did too, souya.”

“no,” he simply says with his lips raising to a grin. “i like talking to you, no past tense. i’d like to do this again.”

you’re rendered speechless for what feels like the thousandth time today, watching him pull out his phone, open it, then pause, “can i have your number?”

fuck yes. “y-yeah, sure.”

your number is saved into his phone and his into yours. minutes later, you both exit the cafe together and he offers you a ride home in his car which he points to, a glossy, obsidian black lexus lc coupe parked a few establishments down. but you politely turn him down, noting when his face falls into something more concerned which makes you explain that you only lived a few blocks away. he still seemed a little weary of you having to walk alone in a storm but with a gentle ‘i’ll be fine,’ he’s letting you go with a short nod.

texting souya slips into your weekly routine before it becomes daily, and seeing souya becomes weekly before that becomes every other day — souya kawata quietly and unelaborately slips into your entire routine, gets comfortable, and molds his way into your life like he’d been here from the very start.

it’s … different. he’s different.

he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before, whether that be slight irritation in how he absolutely loves popping up at your job unannounced just to lean on the counter and talk to you all soft and quietly the way he always does which makes you get all shy and feel fuzz grow in your tummy or even bona fied, unadulterated happiness when he calls you when you get home just to make sure you made it safe.

you’re aware that you both begin to tip toe into this scary, unknown territory three months into your friendship when your crush on him begins to bloom and expand into something more. you know it does because when souya lets out a disgusting burp loud enough to shake your entire complex at nine pm after a shared pizza and soda pop, you, surprisingly, don’t get repulsed by it which you know you would have if it had been anyone else — you find it cute?, which puts a lot of things in perspective.

you find yourself excited to text him which is another thing you’ve never experienced before. you like hearing him talk about his life and how he manages the noodle shops’ finances all from home at his desk. you like watching him lounge back in the gaming chair you’ve seen him jerk himself off in almost a dozen times while you both facetime as his fingers tap and click at his keyboard and mouse. the expensive headphones he wears push all of his curls back and reveals his smooth forehead and thick, angry eyebrows that makes him look all mean and vicious.

but, then his eyes meet yours through his phone screen and you can literally see his face melt into one of fondness and you really like that, too.

souya kawata has came and simply turned your life upside down, and you don’t know how to feel about it.

“what are you smiling at?” he grumbles through the phone, watching you hum and walk back and forth past your phone that seemed to be propped up against something inside of your kitchen beside the stove.

“none of your business.”

his fingers click quickly on his mouse to quickscope an opponent, hearing his friends cursing in his ears which he chooses to ignore to instead focus on you. you were cooking as you do every other day when you get off of work, dressed in a huge, band tee. souya’s sure in the fact that you like teasing him. you’ve bent over a few times just shy of the camera lens and as gentlemanly as he is, souya can only take so much. “none of my business, huh?”

you nod while shaking some black pepper into the skillet in front of you, “yup,” you pop the last syllable to emphasize the word. “don’t worry about it, souya.”

he thinks you like his name. you say it a lot, and you always sing it like, soyyyAh!

it’s cute — makes him want to push you down and shove your legs up until your ankles meet your ears — but it’s cute, nonetheless.

“mmm,” he hums, focusing back on his game as you click the burner off, sprinkle some shredded cheese on your dish then place a top on it so that the steam could help melt it.

when the first round of the game is completed, he finds you looking at him with your arms folded on the counter and your head slightly tilted. he grows flustered, “what?”

“nothin’.”

“liar.”

“what’re you gonna do about it?”

just shy underneath his breath he utters, “pin you down and make you—“

“—hm?”

he shakes his head, watching the second round begin on his pc screen, “nothing. how was work?”

you inhale through your mouth and blow it out harshly, it makes your chubby cheeks go round and fat and souya feels his heart rush. “work was . . okay.”

“okay?” his focus is back on the game but his ears are only open to you. “why? usually it’s, ‘it was good, souya,’ ‘same ol’, same ol’ souya.’”

you rub your thumb across your manicured nail, “i don’t know. jus’ . . i got flirted with by this guy and, i don’t know, he wasn’t annoying or ugly or anything, but i just got uncomfy and i’ve been a bit off all day, i guess.” when even thinking about it again, you feel put-off.

souya likes that — your honesty. you never hold back on your feelings or thoughts, you like talking things out. it’s refreshing. “flirted with, hm?” his fingers jab a little bit harder at his mouse and keys.

“yeah,” you quietly reply. “he was tall . . and sweet, had brown hair and hazel eyes . . looked strong, too.”

“i bet.”

you catch his attitude immediately. you tilt your head even further to the side, stare at him for a moment, then start to smile, “souya.”

he’s quiet.

his eyes are glued to his screen and you doubt he’s even listening to you anymore.

“souya . . . .” you try again. “souya!”

“what, ( ♡ )? what?” he articulates with his eyebrows dipping low where they meet. he looks upset. it makes you pout and bury your face into your arm.

“you’re being mean. are you upset with me?”

he answers bluntly, “no. i just don’t want to hear about that shit.”

your eyebrows dip low too, “. . why not? we’re friends. friends talk about this stuff.”

and in the most calmest tone with his eyes remaining focused on the screen as his index finger clicks at his mouse, he says, “you know we’re not just fuckin’ friends.”

his words make you pause and you can hear them echoing inside of your brain. out of shock, you huff a small laugh and straighten your posture. “. . . we’re not?” your heart’s beating so hard that it hurts, it feels like it’s in your ears.

“we’re not.”

a beat of silence passes. you look at your pasta, realizing you’re not even hungry anymore. thoughts are rushing through your head at an all time speed, turning them all jumbled and into gibberish yet there’s only one thing that makes sense. you swallow nervously, “. . can you come over?”

souya’s face goes that familiar soft . . his expression relaxes and his lips lift at the corners. you hear the game narrator firmly shout, ‘cleared!’ as he takes off his headphones and sets them down. his hand reaches up to ruffle his curls back down across his forehead and a little into his eyes and he leans his cheek on his fist while staring at you silently for a moment, “you want me to come over?”

he’s asking it in a tone resembling, ‘are you sure?’

you nod, “mhm, yes,” then more gently, “p-please?”

he smiles and you watch him stand, walk off screen then you hear the sound of keys before he’s grabbing his phone. “i’ll be there in a bit, alright?”

“okay, souya.”

with the call disconnected, you’re left standing silently in the kitchen for a moment, letting the repercussions of what you had just done soak into you for a moment. “shit!” you hiss when it all hits. he’s coming over. souya’s been over your house maybe three to four times but you know that this time is different. something’s going to happen and you’re not completely sure what, and that doesn’t help even so. “shit!”

and so you tear off your oversized tee which leaves you in nothing but your underwear which you cover with a pair of tiny, pink shorts and then slip into a white, cropped cami. you’re making sure that the living room is all neat and pucca’s bowls are full of food and fresh water twenty minutes later when your doorbell rings. you jump which makes pucca jump and scramble up into the sanctuary of his cat tree. “thanks a lot,” you grumble with a pout while walking over to the door, twisting a few locks and opening it.

souya stands on the other side, dressed in a pair of tan, baggy khakis, layered long sleeve tee, vans, and a beanie. you always tease him for how he dresses — how he reminds you of a skater boy which makes him just roll his eyes and flick your nose. you only tease because you like it so much. it fits him. “hey,” he smiles and you smile, too.

“hi.” you allow him entry and he steps inside to kick off his shoes and align them beside the rack of others. he sets his keys and phone down on the table and you’re inhaling a slow, shaky breath while taking your time locking the door.

you had thought he’d be annoyed with you not knowing what you wanted or what to do, but when you turn around, he’s plopping down on your couch and reaching for the tv remote, “c’mon,” he pats the space beside him. “let’s watch that show you’re always talking about.”

your nerves seem to settle when you take a seat beside him and curl your legs underneath your butt. because you smell him — clean linen, morning dew fabric softener, and peppermint cologne and you’re leaning and leaning and leaning until you find yourself nuzzled into his side which he welcomes happily. he brings you close by the waist and kisses the top of your head and you bury your face into his chest to hide your smile because you just feel so, so happy.

“souya?” he hears you whispering minutes later with your chin pressed against his pec to look up at him. your lips are glossed and plump and they shine underneath the ghoulish, pale blue light emitting from the television screen.

“hm?”

you don’t say anything and that’s okay. he’s patient with you. he stays quiet and watches you frown a bit, as if you were upset with yourself, before you were leaning in and smacking a soft kiss to his collarbone. souya’s eyebrows lift. but, you keep doing that, kissing up his neck to his jawline, across his cheek and then you stop at his lips. “. . can i—“

he grabs you by the face with one hand to firmly push his into yours in a rush of scorching hot fervency. he kisses you like he’s . . angry, not with you, but with himself. he kisses you like you’re oxygen and he’s been out of air for weeks. his lips are warm and soft, terribly soft, you hate him for it because now that you’ve gotten a taste, you’re sure that you’re never going to get enough. they taste like strawberries from the chapstick he always wears and you can’t help but toss one knee over him into the couch cushion to take a seat right on his lap where his thighs open a bit to fit you perfectly.

his teeth nibbles on your bottom lip which he tugs on when falsely pulling away just to make you whine before he’s kissing you even deeper than before, dipping his tongue past your lips, gliding it over the roof of your mouth, tasting spearmint, swallowing your gasps. it’s so much.

you mewl, “souya.”

he pulls away, presses his forehead against yours, and you both are quiet, save for the soft breaths being passed between you. “fuck,” he smiles softly and looks up at you through his lashes. “know how long i wanted to do that, baby?”

baby. your heart flutters and you curl your arms around his neck to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. you shake your head. “nuh-uh.”

“so long,” he admits quietly. “too long.”

you’re nothing more than clay for him to mold when he starts to stamps kisses along your cheeks, underneath your jaw, and neck, but never further than that. you close your eyes, bask in his affection and grip his tee tight in a fist, “souya,” his name is weakly hiccuped. you feel dazed. “souya, you’re teasing.”

“am i?” his voice shows that he doesn’t care. “deal with it,” he tells you. “needed you for so long … now you’re all mine.”

all mine. the brazen display of possessiveness makes your clit jump against your panties. you feel his hands grip your ass and squeeze. the way he wants you is sobering. all this time souya’s spent around you, yet never made a move makes him want to throw a bowling ball into his own face because here you are, showing him that you’ve wanted him just as much as he wanted you, too. it shows in the way you start to grind your hips down against the hardened bulge of his dick through his pants, how you whimper with each kiss he presses into your skin, and how you sigh sweetly each time he squeezes the globes of your ass cheeks tight enough for the soft skin to spill beneath these tiny fucking shorts into the gaps of his fingers.

“mm,” he utters and gives four firm smacks to it in a row.

you hiccup with each one and rise up higher so that he’s able to somehow grope you more. “c’mon,” you sniffle, not even sure of what you want. you just need something. “souya, please.”

he wants to ravish you yet take his time, simultaneously. you’re truly a sight to behold when he sits back and takes a look at you — lipgloss smudged and shining across your chin, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath you take, how you’re looking at him with your eyebrows pulled in together just the tiniest bit and, oh, you’re pouting. how cute.

“sit on my face.”

“. . huh?” your eyes go wide and you perk up on his lap. “i, you want me to … r-really?”

souya can’t tell you how serious he is. “jus’ . . lemme,” he lifts his arms so that he can pull off his shirt and beanie and how dumb your brain goes when you finally come face to chest with the same abs you’ve been drooling over and daydreaming about riding for months now is fucking humiliating.

freckles are dotted all over his body like a constellation of bronzed stars had been snatched from the skies and sprinkled across him. your little fingers are trembling when you reach out to gently touch his chest to see if they’d explode like supernova remnants. “you’re pretty,” you whisper softly, unable to hold it in. he’s beautiful.

and across his nose sprouts a coral-pink blush that only makes you cup his face to kiss the bridge of it. you’re whipped over him, but the moment only lasts so long before you’re suddenly being lifted with a squeak and carried down the hall to your bedroom. “why are you so cute, hm?” he plops you down on your soft mattress and follows you so that his body is completely draped over yours once your lips reconnect.

you slip your fingers through teal blue ringlets and curl your toes when he accidentally angles his hips down which only has his cock rubbing against your pussy that aches and drips between your legs. it’s perfect — the angle’s perfect. you have to pull away from his lips just to moan when he does it again.

“fuck — y’like that?” he breathes, watching your pretty face screw up once he rolls his hips and his bulge manages to catch your clit. “mm, you do.”

he grabs you by the backs of your knees and pushes them up. “s-souya.” he lets them go only a second later, presses his hands into the mattress by your sides and keep your legs up and spread with his biceps.

it’s the perfect position for him to start to slowly thrust his hips back and forth, grinding and fucking you into the mattress and you’re already going so stupid, looking up at him like he’s hung every moon and star in the sky tonight with your pretty fingers shoved into your mouth that you use to bite and suck on from being too loud.

“ ‘nngh, souya . . s-souya feels s’good.”

he coo’d, “ooh, i know it does, princess . . feels good for souya, too.”

he’s holding himself back, you can tell when he tilts his head back as the veins in his neck and forearms bulge. you can cum like this and you know he can too, you want him to. “f-faster, souya.”

“baby, i want us to take our time—“ it’s your first time together. he has to get to know your body better, he wants to.

but you’re stubborn and you know how to get what you want, even if that means pulling out a bratty pout and glare, “faster.”

souya stops, sighs, leans down to bury his face into your neck which only has your knees pressing into the mattress and your feet dangling in the air and gives you what you want. his pace builds up slowly — rolls his hips and grinds until they pick up to more gyrates and thrusts until it feels like he’s literally fucking you through both of your barriers of clothing. it’s good, it’s so fucking good.

your moans get choked up in your throat as you’re left watching your pretty feet flap pathetically in the air through blurry eyes as he pins you where he wants you. “oh f-fuck,” you hiccup. “souya — ‘ngh.”

souya starts to slur, his voice still, always so gentle though a bit deeper, more heavier begins to peek through. he starts to speak more through breaths and soft groans, each word he says only drifts straight into your ears to your little brain and renders it more and more dumb. “sloppy, lil’ pussy,” he utters. “s-so fuckin’ wet, sweet girl … can feel you through my pants.”

you wriggle and squirm, dragging angry, red lines down the smooth canvas of his back with sharp, acrylic nails as his bulge rolls into your clit just right. your entire body feels like a sensitive spot. each kiss he gives you, each touch of his fingers on your skin, each grind — you can only take so much.

“pretty lil princess pussy,”

your eyes roll into the back of your head as the edge only draws nearer.

“made jus’ f’me.”

you’re a blubbering mess of sobs and whines as your body writhes underneath souya’s frame upon the first gush of cum pouring out of your pussy. souya lifts up as you’re gasping and piercing your nails into his forearms for something to hold onto to take in your expression — mouth agape, drool dribbling down your cheek, teary eyed. he captures a mental snapshot as something for him to hold onto when he finds himself drifting off into daydreams that almost always contain you.

“felt good, didn’t it?” he softly whispers, pulling his hips back to take a look at the mess between your legs. your shorts are completely ruined — crotch is soaked beyond repair and your inner thighs are shining with slick. “mmm.” souya gives a firm slap to your chubby pussy whose imprint he can now see. “came so much for souya, sweet girl.”

you’re fighting for breath as you wiggle your hips. souya can tell that you’re still so needy, still unsated. “let’s get these off of you, hm?” he waits until you nod before he reaches for your camisole first. you have to sit up a bit for him to lift the fabric up and over your head so that your tits can spill out from beneath it. souya isn’t surprised to see that you’re pretty all over. your shorts are next; he takes his time pulling these off. ever so slowly, inch by inch, until both them and your panties are peeled away and tossed to the carpet and your legs steadily fall apart. you had came so much that a film of your slick had connected both of your thighs together.

“fuck.”

souya groans and pulls you into another kiss, feeling you shuffle up on your knees so that you’re kneeling on the bed in front of him. “touch me,” you sigh sweetly while grabbing his wrist and carefully slipping his hand between your thighs. he understands. he slips his fingers between your lips, puffy and thick, and immediately finds your swollen, little bud. souya wants to touch you, he really does, but he needs you on his tongue. he needs to know if you taste as sweet as you look, if you’d squeeze your thighs around his head if it feels too good, if you’d grip his curls in your tiny hands and pull or let him control the reigns through and through.

and so he falls back onto your bed and forces you to walk up on your knees up his body until they’re above his shoulders and your cunt is only inches away from his mouth. you’re shy; you nibble on your fingernail and stare down into lidded, blue eyes, “s-souya, are you sure—“

“—shh shh, baby, just c’mon,” he squeezes your ass and feasts his sight on your pretty pussy. “jus’ take a seat . . mhm, that’s it.”

you have his eyes closing in bliss at the first taste of your juices on his tongue. his cock jumps in his pants which he chooses to ignore to only focus on wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. your lips are so thick, too thick, that he has to keep them spread apart with his thumbs just to get access to it. “oh god,” you whimper, feeling his hands pressing into the front of your thighs and pushing. you’re confused at what he’s doing for a moment until he’s urging you to literally take a seat onto his face so you’re no longer standing on your knees and that your pussy is completely swathed by his mouth.

your head falls back as the feel of his tongue, long and warm, pushing past your drippy hole and inside where he attempts to coax out more of your nectar and swallow every single drop you give him. “souya . . souya, souya!” you mewl pathetically, hips starting to rotate and rock back and forth along the surface of his tongue he lays out on display for you.

for how nice and sweet he always is to you, he eats you out without one fuck about your physical well being given. he doesn’t care if you start to shake and tremble and cry ‘cause it’s too much. he grips you by the hips, keeps you still, and loudly slurps along your clit until the little bud feels like it’s chafed raw. chin wet and eyes glinting with smug pride, he looks up at you and you look down at him and you already feel the twisting band in your core tightening to apprise you of your second orgasm tonight.

but souya doesn’t let that happen. he lets your clit go with a loud, wet smacking sound, tilts your body in doing so you fall onto your back and so that he can lift up and slip above you, in between your legs. “suck.”

he traces your lips with his fingers prior to slipping his middle and ring past them and onto your tongue. you suck them as if it were his cock — curling and slipping your tongue between the spaces of them, drooling, and slurping, getting his pretty, silver rings all messy. souya pushes them a little past your throat to feel and watch you choke. “filthy,” he whispers when he slips them out to tap your clit.

he doesn’t tease you, doesn’t think he can when he wants you this bad. he slips his middle finger inside first, not shocked when you tense and grip on tight to his shoulders because, fuck, you were tight. “poor thing,” he coo’s, massaging your thigh. “relax f’me . . mhm, there you go.”

the digit bottoms out with a loud squelch. your thighs clench around his slim hips when he starts to stroke it in and out, getting you to loosen up before his ring finger’s following. your mouth drops at the feeling; his fingers are slender and long, they reach deeper than what yours can and you’re positive that he manages to find your g-spot for the first time when he curls them and your body convulses.

he smiles upon your lips, “right there?”

you can hardly speak, let alone breathe when he picks up a quick rhythm that has your cunt squelching and slurping around its intrusion. your eyes, unfocused and glimmering with unshed tears, look up into his, “n-never . . never felt this good before, souya.”

your confession absolutely warms his entire heart. how sweet of you, how precious of you. “no?” his head tilts as the skin between his brows gather. “well, that’s upsetting to hear, princess. you should always feel this good. y’tellin’ me no one’s made you cum before?”

he’s speaking to you as if he’s asking about the weather, as if he isn’t knuckle deep inside of you. your back arches when the pad of his fingers massage that special, little spot inside of you again, “nuh-uh,” your voice has risen several octaves higher. “j-just you, just you.”

something about that makes souya break. he pulls his fingers out, sucks them clean, and undoes his belt. you help him out of his pants and grey, tom ford briefs, kicking them off the bed to the floor, and with his cock right between your legs, tip only centimeters away from your clit, you’re aware that cameras really hadn’t done him justice.

he’s prettier than you recall, crown flushed pink when he pulls the extra layer of skin back. “shit, lemme see.”

you let him push in close so that he can lay his dick over your tummy with his balls pressed against your cunt, sizing it up. your breath hitches when you see that he reaches a few inches past your belly button. “you’re little, baby,” his voice sounds both amazed and concerned. “think it’ll fit?”

you nod, “mhm.” you’ll make it fit.

but still, souya’s apprehensive — he’s scared of breaking you, he doesn’t want to see you in pain, even if it is just for a second. so you let him drip a trill of spit from his pretty lips down onto your clit where he uses his fingers to lubricate them with it and your slick before he’s pushing them in again. “s-souya, please—“ you want him . . horribly.

however he’s just shaking his head and forcing one of your legs up higher so that he can watch your soft walls drag across the length of his digits each time he pulls them out. “be a good girl for me, ( ♡ ).”

he only ever says your whole name when he’s upset or serious, so you know to only whine and keep still, letting him push in a third finger. “ooh, look at that,” he whispers, entranced by your cunt. “jus’ swallowin’ me up, makin’ me a mess, aren’t you, beautiful?”

it’s a slow process that ultimately feels bittersweet. you want more, but you can’t deny that this feels good, too. when he’s scissors you open enough, you watch him pull his fingers out, lift both your legs and slip his cock between your lips. “o-oh,” your mouth falls agape when he starts to slowly rock his hips.

“that’s it,” he breathes, fingers pressing into your jolting hips that shudder each time his tip bumps your clit. “mmm.”

his precum is leaking steadily and mixes loudly with the mix of cum, saliva, and slick smeared all over your pussy. “souya,” your back arches and eyes snap shut. you can cum like this. the pressure of it all feels just right.

“pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

he sinks into you when you least expect it. your eyes quickly bulge back open and it feels like words are stuck in your throat as you’re left staring, mouth agape at his cock slowly pushing inside of you, inch by inch. “a-awe.” souya’s entire body trembles once he reaches the hilt. the way your pussy stretches and pulses around him is vulgar — squelchy, bubblegum pink walls working in tandem to massage and suck in all he gives, greedy for more. his fist doesn’t compare, his fleshlight doesn’t even come close. “oh fuck.”

you’re already so dumb.

when he slowly pulls out halfway and pushes back in, a cute, pathetic squeak leaves your mouth as you reach for his shoulders to hold onto. silvery, pale moonlight shines against your skin, bathing you in an iridescent glow. souya finds himself kissing you, unable to help it as he carefully begins to move. “so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers into your gasping mouth. “drive me crazy, baby . . all these months, for so long.”

your squeaks and hiccups spring from your mouth in time with his thrusts. he makes you wrap your legs around his waist, holds them together by your ankles behind him with one hand, cups the back of your head with his other, and starts to fuck you the way you deserve to be — fast, nice, and deep.

you’re a teary faced mess. you can feel him nudging the barrier of your cervix and your toes curl from the mix of overwhelming pain and pleasure that has your ears ringing. “s-shit,” you sob out, little hands gathering into frustrated fists. “souya, please.”

“please what?” he asks breathless, a cocky smile playing on his lips.

the man above you is . . different. he knows what he’s doing — only your first time together and he already knows how to play your body like a fiddle. you try to glare at him, but you’re left to melt into his arms when he suddenly pushes in deep and rolls his hips to massage his crown against that tender bud of nerves. “oh my god.”

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby.”

you don’t need to tell him. he knows you feel good, can see it in the way your eyes roll back and how tight you hold him. he adores you. “takin’ me so good.” you both look down between you to watch his cock, glossy with your juices, push in and out of your sloppy pussy. “that’s it . . . fuck.”

you’re sniffling when he pulls out, slips from the bed to stand at the foot, and pull you closer by your leg. he’s grinning at you over his bottom lip, eyebrows lifted. “c’mere. flip over for me.”

he’s going to kill you, you’re sure of it. but, you do as told and dip in your back to form a deep arch. souya could’ve almost came from the sight alone. “shit,” he whines with you when he pushes in again, it’s like the first time all over. he doesn’t think he can be careful with you in this position, he doesn’t want to.

to his surprise though, you start to pull your hips away until the tip is only sheathed then drop back down and it’s his turn for his eyes to roll back into his head. the meat of your ass ripples from the impact of his pelvis hitting it and he can’t help but grab a nice handful of it for him to hold onto while you fuck him. “j-jus’ like that,” his head falls back. “fuck.”

you moan when he starts to meet you halfway; one of his hands glide up the length of your back to grab you by the front of your throat and forces you to lift you up on your hands. “a-awe!” your eyebrows furrow and eyes snap shut when he starts to pound into you, nice and hard, letting your pussy squelch and drip around him, down his balls to the duvet. his grip around your throat tightens, making your inhales thin and strained, but it’s all so good.

you grip the comforter tight and keep still, feeling him lift a leg, place his foot on the frame of your bed and starts to drill into you. your breath gets choked up and your arms give out from underneath you, just when he lets you go so that you can fall back into your arch while dragging in a big breath, “s-sou’ — ah! ‘mcumming’mcumming!”

it hits you hard. you’re entire body shakes underneath his when he bows over you to groan and fuck you through it, never letting up his pace. warm tears slip down the softness of your cheeks when his arm curls around your waist so that his fingers can tap and swirl your little clit around and ‘round, “gimme one more,” he breathes into your shoulder. “one more, pretty girl.”

how someone who almost had a fit upon seeing you with a bandaid on your arm one day from nipping your skin while shaving goes from that to purposely wracking havoc on your sensitive body just to watch you cry? you don’t know. souya’s a walking juxtaposition that you’re still not sure of how to approach or understand. “souya, i can’t,” you’re sobbing and reaching for his forearm, but he’s shushing you quietly and you love when he does that — when he coo’s and tells you ‘he knows’ and how the condescension tip toes a line of sweet gentleness.

“for me, baby? for souya? you can do that, i know you can,” he whispers while his cock practically rearranges your organs.

and you give in, even if you do whimper and bury your face into the comforter. “for you,” you sniff and pout. you’ll do it for him. “j-jus’ for you.”

he’s smiling. you can feel it against your skin. “that’s my girl.”

and so he pulls out, flips you back over, and pushes your legs up until your knees are leveled with your shoulders. you’re able to see the lewd way of how meanly your pussy sucks back in his cock, as if she were mad he even pulled out in the first place, how a ring of cream gathers at the base of it, how your tummy bulges with each push of him inside. your eyes cross on their own accord and you’re left to only hold onto souya’s wrists, nails digging little moons into his skin.

souya looks . . mean above you. his face reminds you of the time you first met — eyebrows furrowed, lips folded into his mouth, with his pretty curls jumping in time with his own rhythm.

you’re cumming again.

just from looking at his pretty face, at the back of your mind you wonder just how whipped you really are for this man.

souya seems surprised, but if anything, your orgasm only pushes him towards his own. his jaw clicks, “f-fuck,” his voice sounds strained. “baby, can i cum inside? can souya cum inside you?”

“yes!” you hiccup and curl your toes, needy for it. “p-please. wanna feel it, souya.”

his ‘o’ face is … beautiful, you think. you’ve seen it a dozen times on screen, however in front of you, pixels don’t capture the way the veins in his neck and forearm strain when his head tilts back, how tight he holds you, how the cutest, little whimpers trill inside the back of his throat. “ohhh fuck,” he whines, gyrating his hips in slow circles as his dick jerks and pulses inside you at each jet of cum he releases. “w-why do you feel so good?”

you giggle tiredly and massage his tensed arms with your hands until he’s releasing a large breath, relaxing, and lowering his head to fix you with a spent grin. “. . . shit,” is all he murmurs, voice lower than usual. he pulls out slow and you reach down to part your lips with your index and middle finger, watching him lean his head down to look at your pussy. “push it out f’me, baby.”

you clench and relax so that warm globs of pearly white cum can start to dribble from your hole and down to your perineum. the feeling makes you shiver. the sight makes souya release a breath of shock. “damn.” he dips his fingers in and you squeal and tense up.

“souya!”

he catches your pretty pout and leans down to kiss it off your lips. “sorry,” a blush spreads across his cheeks. “can’t help it.”

you nuzzle deep into his chest when he lays down and pulls you into him. “sleepy?” he asks quietly. you nod. you’re exhausted. you haven’t fucked anyone in almost a year, you forgot how tiring it actually is. and coupled with having three, soul stirring orgasms, you’re completely done for the night. “okay,” souya kisses your head. “. . . is it cool if i stay the night?”

“oh my god,” you groan. “duh, souya.”

learning to love is … frightening.

or so, you had thought. loving souya is easy, it comes easy. it doesn’t hit you out of no where like the movies portray, it’s a slow wave of emotion that has you brushing your teeth alongside him and catching his eye through the mirror one day and feeling your heart warm when he gives you a foamy, eye scrunching smile around his toothbrush.

you feel it in the way you talk to him, always so soft and gently. the way you touch him, when you tuck some curls behind his ears as if they were finely woven of gold so you can somehow get a clearer look of his face, the way you look at him.

and you feel the way he loves you, too. when he wraps his arms around your waist while you’re cooking and plops his chin on your shoulder, never needing to say anything — just submerging himself in your comfort. he had told you he’d been diagnosed with insomnia about a year back, but around you, his arms’ll be holding you nice and close with his face buried into your tummy before he’s asleep within a minute. you love him and he absolutely loves you, too.

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spvdersx · 1 year

Text

‧₊˚ ♡ BUBBLEGUM BITCH ! • ft. y. eren ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

minors do not interact.┊3.8k words

all the girls on campus are swooning over mr. big dick and brooding, eren yeager. maybe it’s time you stake your claim over your favorite toy…

♡ — contents ! submission for my “how to be a heartbreaker” collab ⋆｡°✩ explicit sexual content ⦂ college!au, f!reader, mean girl!reader x fuckboy!eren, eren is obsessive, reader calls mikasa a dyke but it’s chill cause im a lesbian, dom!reader x sub!eren, spit kink, masturbation, cunnilingus, puppy play, panty kink, slight degradation, praise, humiliation, foot humping

HIS NAME IS EREN YEAGER. THE MYTH AND THE LEGEND. MR. BIG DICK AND BROODING. THE HEARTLESS HEARTBREAKER.

he lures women in his bed with those emerald eyes, tangles them in his long dark tresses, and then devours their souls and spits them out before he’s onto the next.

he’s the campus fuckboy. the one every girl wants, but can't have. many have tried to tame him and very few have survived to tell the tale. they’ve all disappeared into their dorms with endless piles of dirty kleenex and ben and jerry’s, left with their puffy eyes and broken hearts as scars from battle.

the cautionary tale is spread all over campus. it’s written in bathroom stalls, whispered in the library, and lamented on the campus confession page and they all say the same thing:

do not fall for eren yeager. he’s a no-good-dirty-rotten heartbreaker.

you can’t help but laugh.

eren? a heartbreaker? he may have fooled everyone, but, to you, he’s still the pathetic loser that you knew in high school.

you’ve gotta give it to him though, he’s gotten hot since graduation. he’s no longer the scrawny little boy picking (and losing) fights with bullies. you’re eyeing him from your booth in the dining hall, surrounded by your friends discussing some week old gossip not even worth paying attention to. long hair is a good look on him— a little slutty for your taste, but good nonetheless.

what would they think of their precious eye candy if they knew about the real him? the eren that’s had a crush on you since you let him see your panties in gym? the litany of unanswered dm’s on instagram? the extensive block list from his various burner phone numbers? the love notes through your cashapp?

what if they knew that behind the stubble, cologne, and brooding exterior he was just a pathetic lovesick puppy?

he’s sitting at a table in the middle of the room with two other people. you hone your gaze and recognize the whiny nerd and goth lesbian. you scoff and roll your eyes, twirling your cherry lollipop between your glossed lips.

just then you see another girl approach him wearing a scrap of fabric being played off as skirt. you watch the interaction unfold as she trails her chubby acrylics over his shoulder to play with his hair. you can’t imagine what kind of bullshit she’s spewing in his ear. she’s trying so hard it makes her look stupid.

and then there’s eren: bored out of his mind and almost disgusted by her touch as he tries to carry out his conversation with his friends.

you bite down on your lollipop hard, shattering the candy and ripping the hidden gumball off the stick. you figure it’s time to sink your teeth into your favorite toy.

pulling your bedazzled phone out of your purse, your nails clack away at the screen as you make your way to your contacts. you unblock his main phone number and call him. he answers on the second ring.

“y/n?” he answers, breath hurried. a grin takes over your lips as you watch him sit up in his seat, throwing the other girl’s hand off of him.

“eren baby! ♡” you chime, “it’s been sooo long. i miss you. are you busy?”

“no, no, no. i’m not doing anything right now.” loser 2 and 3 roll their eyes as eren stands up and walks away from the table, leaving both the girl and his friends in the dust.

“perfect! let’s catch up, yeah? i’ll text you my dorm number. don’t keep me waiting. mwah!”

you don’t wait for his response before hanging up the phone, and as promised you send him the information. you sit back triumphantly, watching as he hurriedly leaves the dining hall, and you smile, blowing a big bubble with your gum and letting it burst with a loud pop.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you’re sitting at your vanity fixing your makeup when you hear a timid knock at your door.

“come in! ♡” you singsong, still absorbed in your reflection as you boost your lashes.

you hear the door open and close with a soft click. eren is now standing in your room and you turn your attention to your visitor.

“eren baby! you made it!” you chime, “please, sit! sit! make yourself comfortable.”

eren shifts his weight uncomfortably on his feet, gaze flicking between you and the floor. you have to swallow the snicker tickling at the back of your throat.

this guy? a heartbreaker? you mentally scoff. the guy who’s got half the girls on campus cutting bangs stuffing their faces full of ice cream has now been reduced to the loser you know and love. it’s kind of poetic if you think about it. endearing even.

he clears his throat. “uhm… where? there aren’t any extra chairs.”

“on the floor, silly,” you instruct between the sticky chews of your gum.

he hesitates for a moment.

“come.” you command with a smile, patting your thigh, “sit by me.”

eren slowly makes his way over to sit by your feet.

“ugh,” you begin, reapplying your pink gloss in the mirror. ”sooo sorry i haven’t gotten a chance to respond to all your messages, renny. i’ve seen them all and think you’re just the sweetest. i’ve just been so busy with school and clubs and internships—you know how it goes, right?” you turn to look down at him.

“yeah, i understand. i’m just glad you finally reached out” he avoids your gaze, rubbing his neck which tousles the loose bun in his hair.

“you’re mad at me” it’s more of a statement than a question.

“no! no,” he panics, waving off your observation. i’m just…” his gaze is on lap and he picks at the skin of his thumb as he searches for the right word.

“nervous,” he ultimately decides.

you grin at him.

“you’re so cute” you dismiss, ruffling his hair.

“you know eren,” you start again, elbow on your knee as you prop your head up with your hand, “it really hurt my feelings when i heard all those nasty rumors about you. i was starting to think you liked all those other girls more than me…”

you reach out to roll the drawstrings of his jacket between your manicured fingers. the close proximity startles eren and he exhales a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

you drop the strings and walk your fingers up his sternum and over his black tee as you make your way to cup his face. he shivers at the feeling of your soft palm on his cheek, eyes fluttering closed for a moment while he breathes in the sweet scent radiating from your pulse point.

“you didn’t forget our promise, did you?” you gently tug his bottom lip, allowing your gaze to fall on him with a glossy pout and twinkling doe eyes.

“of course not!” he sputters, his low eyes blow wide in panic, “it was just sex. i’ve never let any of them…”

he’s so fucking cute you had to fight back a smile. after all this time his heart was still yours and just the thought of it sent a wicked chill running up your spine. his expression was somewhere between shock and anticipation, and that moment he looked just like little eren in high school.

it brought you back to the empty gym where you let him peek under your skirt just to toy with the little virgin. how he followed you around the rest of senior year, desperate for any ounce of attention you’d spare him. how you teased him, plopping your cherry lollipop between his lips for his first indirect kiss, making him promise to wait for you to be his first real one.

and how could you forget that valentine’s day, when he confessed his love for you in front of the whole class, bright red roses in hand. you turn him down of course, popping your gum, as you explained you don’t date virgins and told him to call when he’s had more experience.

you didn’t think there was a chance in hell that anyone would fuck him unless that dyke mikasa let him hit out of pity, but here he was before you. he was a man now and he did it all for you.

“good. that makes me happy,” you smiled and for the first time it was genuine. you let go of his face and turned back to your vanity. eren almost whimpers at the loss of your warmth.

“remember in high school, eren? when you used to follow me around like a little puppy?” you grab the dog ears from last year’s sexy paw patrol costume off the top of your vanity, gently wiggling it free from the surrounding stickers and photocards. you turn towards him again. “you’ll be my puppy again, won’t you?”

eren quirks a brow at your request not quite sure what you mean. he ponders it for a moment, his eyes widening as he looks at you and you smile back, confirming his conclusion. he swallows hard, shifting in his seat as his cock twitches to life in his jeans.

“yes i’ll—”

“puppies don’t speak, silly,” you giggle, placing the ears on his head, “they bark.”

a deep flush takes over his sharp features. he can’t tell if you’re serious or not. but you continue to look at him expectantly, raising your eyebrows to egg him on.

humiliation coats his skin in a thick film, but, abandoning his reservations, he barks.

“good boy,” you smile.

“now, take off your clothes. i wanna see you.”

you watch with a bored expression on your face, legs crossed as you watch him strip. he shrugs his broad shoulders letting his hoodie fall off his arms. next, his thick hands reach behind him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pull his shirt over his head, his bun holding on for dear life as he sets his shirt in a pile with his jacket. then, deft fingers work to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans before hes leading himself down his muscular legs and kicking them off his feet along with his sneakers. he hooks his fingers under his briefs, but you hold your hand up, stopping his movements.

“leave it.”

you admire him for a moment, taking in the chiseled lines of his chest and abs, eyes ghosting over the growing bulge in his underwear.

“come.”

eren scoots up, now sitting at your feet.

“you’re so handsome now, eren. all this for me?” you coo, running your fingers over his arms and chest before making their way to his hair. you gently remove his hair tie, letting his raven locks fall and cascade of his neck and shoulders. you readjust the puppy ears as a final touch.

eren opens his mouth to speak and then corrects himself, nodding his head and answering with a bark.

“such a beautiful boy. my handsome pup…” you praise, stroking the side of his head. eren leans into your touch, basking in your affection.

“but i still can’t help but feel a little hurt, renny,” you sigh.

he pouts at this, guilt twinkling in his puppy dog eyes.

“how about this: i’ll let you eat me out as your apology and if you’re a good boy, i’ll give you that kiss. how does that sound?”

his ears perk up, nodding eagerly. he readjusts his seat basically jumping at the opportunity to taste you, to show you what he’s learned about pleasure through the many notches in his belt. eren reaches from your hips, dipping his fingers under your miniskirt.

“ew, no!” you smack his hands away. he must have forgotten who he’s dealing with. you aren’t one of those desperate sluts that throw themselves at him. you were in control here.

“what do you think you’re doing??? you’ve been going around sticking your little thing in anyone that moves. there’s no telling what kind of yucky germs you’ve picked up,” you scold. “we’ve gotta wash that filthy mouth out first…”

and with that, you reach over to your to vanity to grab your glass bottle of voss water before unscrewing the cap and taking a generous swig.

eren watches in confusion as you swish it around your mouth, heartbeat shuttering against his ribcage when you reach down and grab his face, squishing his lips open.

he can feel the heat radiating from your lips as the warm liquid hits his tongue. it’s got a hint of sweetness like candy and before he knows it, he’s swallowing it down. the taste is addictive and it has his mind spinning. he craves more. without thinking, he leans forward, brushing his lips with yours

sparks fly in his chest before a sharp pain sears into his forehead.

“bad boy!” you reprimand, flicking him in the forehead, “don’t be greedy. you’ll get your reward soon enough. besides, i’ve got another treat waiting for you right here…”

you uncross your legs before him, exposing yourself to his hungry eyes.

“remember these?” you ask with a sinful grin.

eren is practically drooling seeing the way your pink panties cup your fat cunt so beautifully, accented with a cute little bow at the hem just like the ones you showed him in high school.

he tries to touch you, to remove the fabric barring him from heaven, but you smack his hands away again. there’s desperation in his eyes now.

“dumb puppy, you’ve gotta smell your food first”

something primal snaps in eren and next thing you know, his face is buried under your skirt. there’s a wicked air to your giggle and a faint gasp on the tail end of it at the chill of eren inhaling your scent, then a steamy warmth as he exhales, moaning at your heady scent. he grips your thighs, using them as leverage to push himself deeper. you moan feeling his nose prod at your clit and his lips grazing the seam of your folds. eren can just about die right now, hearing those heavenly sounds fall from your lips. he wants more. he needs it.

before he knows it, his tongue is lolling out of his mouth, desperately lapping at your clothed cunt, and as soon as your taste hits his tongue, it’s gone.

“down boy!” your nails rake into his scalp and you yank him away by his hair. he yelps.

“did i say you could taste me?” there’s a mix of fear and guilt in his eyes that gets stronger and strong the more your angry gaze sears into him. you release his hair from your grasp and eren cowers below you.

you roll your eyes, “tsk, greedy little mutt…”

“here i was being nice enough to let you eat me out and now i have to punish you,” you huff while you slip your underwear off your legs and chunky pink platform heels. you ball them up and stuff them into eren’s mouth.

“there. every bad dog needs a muzzle.”

you grab his head and rest it on your thigh. eren looks like he’s about to cry watching you lift your skirt up and spread your lips for him, the inside so pretty and pink.

“this is what you wanted, right? you wanted to taste my pussy?” you teased, playing your hole in a tacky, sticky mess.

eren whimpers, eyes focusing on your lewd display.

“well, now you're gonna have to wait. bad puppies need to learn to be patient.”

you slowly dip one finger into cunt, shallow fucking yourself until you’re ready to accept another. two fingers stretch your hole and you’re moaning as you clench down on your fingers and begin working yourself at a steady rhythm.

eren doesn’t know if he’s in heaven or hell right now. he has a front-row view of your cunt swallowing your fingers, becoming shinier and shinier on each drag out. and your sweet moans are music to his fucking ears. he’d give anything to be the cause of those sweet sounds. he mentally kicks himself for being so rash as notices his tongue tinges with the memory of your taste.

you don’t hide your laugh as you watch eren’s pitiful expression below you. his eyes are dangerously low. he’s so pussydrunk and he’s barely even tasted you yet, just sprung off your sweet scent. you bet he doesn’t even realize that he has completely soaked through your panties in his mouth, drooling all over your thighs like a dumb. little. mutt.

you’re so high off the power, you could just cum. you throw your head back with a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a laugh as your fingers graze that special spot, and now that you’ve found it, you start fucking yourself faster to chase your high. your legs are beginning to tremble against eren’s face and with a few more thrusts you’re grabbing onto his head and arching off of the chair as your orgasm hits you with full force.

eren watches you in awe as you come down, the subtle rising and falling of your breasts in your top and the iron grip you still have on his hair.

eventually it loosens and you come to, glowing in a thin sheen of sweat like an angel.

“are you ready to behave like a good pup?” you ask, wiping your juices on his face.

he barks and barks and barks, nuzzling his head against your thigh.

how could you say ‘no’ to that?

“go ahead, boy, take your treat” you command.

without hesitation, eren dives back between your legs, moaning as your potent taste hits his tongue. it’s better than he could’ve ever imagined. his hands grip your thighs as he opens you up to him, fucking his tongue into you and slurping up the remnants of your cum. you feel his spit trickle down your cunt and pool under your ass as he slobbers all over you.

a loud cry escapes you, feeling him stimulate your hypersensitive cunt. your hands snap back to his hair, clutching it like a life line and pulling a groan from him.

so this is eren yeager, the heartbreaker? with a mouth like this you see why everyone cant get over him. you’ve created the perfect little monster and now it’s time to reign him in.

he departs from your hole to wrap his lips around your puffy clit, swollen from neglect. he laps at it wildly, tongue flicking and swirling at it with wreckless abandon so desparate to coax more of those desparate sounds from you.

you begin bucking your hips into his face, smearing your drenched pussy all over his lips. you feel an oncoming tingle pulsing in your core and quickly spreading over your skin like wildfire. you know it wont be long until until it engulfs you in flames.

eren grabs at the fat of your ass and angles your hips upward to expose even more of you to him. he sucks your clit into to his mouth hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, drawing tight circles over the sesntive pearl with the tip of his tongue. your legs snap shut around eren’s head, but he contines his assault, sucking and licking until your thighs shake around his head and you're cumming all over his chin.

he helps you ride out your orgasm until you’re pushing him away in overstimulation, and only then do his lips leave your cunt and he’s peppering wet kisses along your thighs.

when your eyes refocus you’re met with his smiling face, chin slick with spit and cum looking up at you in anticipation.

“good boy, eren,” you sigh, ruffling his hair. your body feels heavy and tired. your gaze falls down to the fat dick print in his briefs extendind down to his upper thigh and notice the dark stain oozing from the tip. he surely lives up to his moniker.

“look at you. you’ve made such a mess,” you chuckle, pressing your foot against his bulge and eren moans, clutching onto your leg.

“you wanna cum too, don’t you?” you tease, propping up your head with your arm on your vanity desk.

eren whimpers as he nods, jutting out his bottom lip slightly.

“be a good boy and finish yourself off for me, yeah?” you trace your foot along his length to emphasize your command.

eren gives a few experiemental rolls of his hips along the sole of your heel, gradually speeding up when pleasure begins to tickle up his spine.

you watch in silent amusement as he humps your foot like a stupid mutt, his face eyes screwed shut in pleasure and desparate whines and moans falling from his lips. it isn’t long before his tongue is lolling out, hips bucking erratically and finishing with a loud cry of your name.

it’s when he spine straightnes, that blissful moment of stillness before the crash that you grab him by his hair, swallowing the end of your name in a kiss.

you move your lips against his own slowly and sweetly, pulling breath after breath from eren and his hands move to the tops of you thighs leaning into your embrace. you slide your tongue over his puffy lips, before sinking his mouth, tasting the remnants of yourself on his tongue.

you pull away and he whimpers at the loss of your lips, before he’s hit with surprise to find your gum is now in his mouth.

“you’re my pet now, got it? and good pets don’t stray,” your voice is low and sultry, with a subtle edge, “i don’t want you looking at those other girls anyone or i’ll be really upset and i’ll have to punish you.”

“yes ma’am” he finally speaks, eyes low and glassy as he comes down from his mind breaking high.

you smile and press a quick kiss to his forehead.

“now, i just need a picture of my sweet boy so i can show everyone who you belong to,” you say to yourself as you reach over to grab your phone and eren cocks his head to the side, confused.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

that night you’re laid in bed amongst your pink plushies and pillows all prepped and ready for bed. grabbing your sparkling water off your nightstand, you wrap your moisturized lips around your straw with a devious grin on your lips as you watch the instagram comments roll in.

eren yeager, mr. big dick and brooding, the heartless heartbreaker is sat on the floor, shirtless in his dog ears. his eyes are low and slutty as he looks into the camera. there’s a pink kiss mark on his cheeks that are squished between your fingers and a big pink bubble on the end of his lips.

your captions reads:

“so sorry to disappoint, but heartbreaker eren yeager is a stray no more. he’s my pet now and i’ll be keeping him on a tight leash ♡”

♡ REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x you #aot #run that back 🔁

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