#and if you give any of them the light of day he makes sure to remind you who you belong to
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mixingandmelting · 3 days ago
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Secretly Admiring You Artistically
Summary: How he's expressing that you're in his mind through art
a/n: based on scenes in the comics as civilians
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Dick: Doodles
He’s dying. Actively decaying in real-time. Why he brought back the notepad from his day job as an officer home or why Haley pulled it out from his bag and gave it to you, he has no idea. To make matters worse, he’s crouching on the ground with both hands covering his very-much burning face as you stand in front of him silently, flipping through each page that’s filled with doodles of you rather than work notes he should’ve been taking for the cases he’s working on.
 It isn’t an exaggeration to say his world revolves around you. He’s not ashamed or has any problem expressing how much of a simp he is for you whether it’s to you or everyone both verbally and physically, 24/7. Seriously, he can’t go a day without getting a kiss from you or telling you how much he loves you, no matter the situation. He’s constantly stuck to your side, always smiling from how you showered him with affection back, spoiling him silly to the point he’s thinking he’s the luckiest man in the world. But artistically? He drew a stick figure once during a game of Scribble. Tim was for sure that it was a basketball hanging on a fishing pole. Bruce had told him he can help him get enrolled for art classes. 
“So, did the sarge or corporal see any of this yet?”
“No…,” He manages to wheeze out. He needs the ground to swallow him up right now. He still can’t believe this is how his (poorly and very much terribly drawn) doodles of you are discovered and exposed to you of all people. When he hears the notepad being closed shut, he musters all the strength in his mind and body. “...Can I please have my notepad back now?” He knows the answer. And he knows what’s about to happen next. But maybe today he’ll be lucky he’ll get it back- 
“Nope.” The way you pop the “p” at the end of the word - of course you wouldn’t. He doesn’t even need to look at you to know the type of grin you have on your face.
With that, he gets up and yells your name as he gets up to chase after your running form. Sure, he’s dreading what exactly you might do with the doodles but his heart is filled with adoration from how he still managed to give you happiness from them. You are the most lovable person in the world to him - he can’t wait to kiss the ever living lights out of you when he gets you.
Jason: Poetry
Oh. Well. This is embarrassing.  He rubs the back of his neck, face completely dyed red. You snuggling your face into the crook of his neck while embracing his biceps is fine. In fact, he loves waking up to see you sleeping peacefully next to him. His heart always swells with affection from how you feel so warm and right in his arms while being reminded how you genuinely enjoyed and appreciate him and his presence.  The problem was the book lying open on the coffee table next to him. The book filled with romantic poems that he placed on his face after deciding to take a power nap which ended up as a snooze session.
He had been reading each poem, using a sticky note and red pen (because he’s not a heathen to ruin such beautiful and sacred text) to mark which parts or lines reminded him of you the most. Each sticky note had arrows drawn with whatever note he’d make about you, placed on the long-edge of the pages. It was obvious you had found out the contents of the book before joining him on the sofa as you had done the same, only your sticky notes were sticking out from the shorter-edge. 
“Jason… What’s wrong?” He quickly turns his head away, covering the lower half of his face. The fact you aren’t even letting go when you usually would makes things worse, your grip tightening instead of getting loose. He doesn’t turn around to know the expression you’re making, feeling you nuzzle into his side.
“...Are you telling Roy or the others about this?” 
“What? Hell no. This is only for you and me- why would I want to share it?”
With that, he topples over you and wraps himself around you like a giant, warm teddy bear. On top of relief, he’s filled with childish glee from getting to share something that’ll only be meant between you and him. It gets a chuckle from him when you laugh at how ticklish he makes you as he snuggles into you, eventually making you two fall asleep in each other’s embrace with smiles on your faces.
Tim: Photography
He’s pacing in circles in his room. Then he’s flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. Pacing in the room. And again, screaming into his pillow. He’s been repeating this exact pattern for ten minutes straight now after finding the photo album on his desk. How Stephanie found out about them or why she showed them to you when you stopped by while he was out, he doesn’t know nor want to know. But he’s pretty sure  that he's doomed. Best case scenario is break up. Worst case scenario is you choosing to never see him again because you found him creepy. 
But, it’s not his fault, okay? He’s really down bad for you. Even when he’s dating you, he keeps finding himself falling for you deeper and deeper to the point he doesn't want to miss a single moment whenever he’s with you. So, every time the two of you went on dates or plainly hung out, he’d take pictures of you. You standing on a hill during a sunset, looking outside with the window down in his car, laughing in front of a bonfire with a marshmallow on a stick in your hands. He can’t imagine life without you. He needs to be with you even if it’s in a photo. 
Finally, he  gets back up and dejectedly drags his feet to the desk. Might as well put the album away before more people find out about it. Or so he thought when he suddenly freezes at the sight of a note sitting on top of it. There’s only a single sentence in your hand writing, making him do what it says. Having memorized the order of the photos in each album, he immediately finds a photo of him laughing while sitting on top of the hood of his car. It sits adjacent to a photo of you doing the same, making it look like the two of you were laughing while looking at each other. Heart skipping a beat with tears threatening to spill, he doesn’t look away when he grabs his phone and dials your number. 
“So? Are we hanging out tonight?” 
“No, we’re doing more than that. We’re going to go all out, my treat.” 
The way you chuckle does so many wonders to him. With that, he rushes to get ready. Even if he can’t give you the whole world now, he plans on making tonight the best night of your life since there’s no other way for him to express how much he loves you when words can’t cover half of them.
Duke: Notes
He’s an idiot. That’s what he mentally screams to himself when he drops the pile of handwritten notes right in front of you. Not once had he ever mentioned that he had collected all the notes you wrote to him including the ones back before the two of you even got together. All of them were written as your way to cheer him on, secretly giving them to him in every way you possibly can. It’s as if nothing could stop you from passing him a note, whether it’s during class, passing in the hallways, eating lunch, or slipping them in his school bag. There were even times you managed to place them in his textbooks, right where the assigned reading starts.
All those notes you passed to him, he found solace. He feels that he’s being mentally and emotionally supported unconditionally, no matter the circumstances . You don’t know how he cherishes the smiley faces you draw on them or the words you write. Each and every note he treats like they are a piece of you. It led him to keep a few in his pocket, pulling one and reading it to get the extra boost he needs to get through whatever he’s doing even if it’s homework or patrolling the city. 
Now here he was, caught red handed. He’s so nervous and on the verge of a mental breakdown, fearing that you might think he’s strange. Immediately he starts to ramble, spewing every excuse in the book while watching you pick the notes that dropped from his pocket off the ground. 
“They were growing into a pile inside my bag, so I was kind of in the middle of-”
“Do they work?”
He stops and blinks at you. What do you mean they work? There’s a light blush coloring your cheeks, your hands gently straightening each note to stop them from wrinkling and getting damaged further. 
“Are they making you happy?”  Oh. Oh. He pulls you into a strong hug, hoping his actions convey how he feels about you. It’s not the notes that’s making him happy- it’s you and your efforts to make sure he is that makes him the happiest man in the world.
Damian: Sketching
No. Just no. He’s so embarrassed that he can’t muster a single word right now. You were teasing him a minute ago about how he must have sketches of you when he refused to show you his notepad he carries around. Little did you know and much to his horror, you were completely right and that exactly was the reason why he didn’t want to show it to you. In fact, he had been finishing another sketch of you before your so-called attempt to sneak up on him. You being you, you kept probing him into showing his sketches and with him being so flustered, he ended up getting the notepad snatched out of his hand leading to the current situation where both of you are standing with the biggest blush to be seen from mankind. 
It’s not two sketches he’s drawn too. There’s a whole comic strip he drew in there featuring one of his favorite moments he had with you on top of all the other sketches, some being portraits, some being a compilation of various expressions you make on a daily basis. The way he’s constantly stuck about you has gotten to where Jon had gotten smug at guessing what he was thinking of when Jon found him suddenly grinning to himself. That day, the two of them got grounded by their parents once Damian started to threaten Superboy by getting kryptonite out and the other shot lasers out of his eyes as self defense. 
“They’re so beautiful.” Your muttering snaps him back to reality.
Not wasting a second, he grabs his notepad back. Pride damaged and completely panicked by showing a pathetic side to himself to you, he tries to go somewhere, anywhere, away from you. Only to stop when you grab his wrist. 
“Damian, you're absolutely talented.” 
He mentally groans. He hates how you’re sincere and genuine in these moments. You don’t know how much he treasures you because of this - being open, honest, and accepting of his every being. Worse is you not being aware or truly choosing your battles - it’s how you are; it’s part of your nature. Accepting his loss, he sits back down. He refuses to admit how affected he is by the way you smile with excitement when you pick up his sign. Letting his shoulder brush against yours, the two of you go through his drawings with you commenting on each one while he snarks back though it’s softer and filled with fondness.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 18 hours ago
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in his corner
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words: 2.7k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, boxer!rafe, established relationship, p in v sex, semi public sex, violence but not in great detail, unprotected sex, mentions of rafes anger issues
rafes head is down as you step into the locker room. it's dark and gloomy, no need for bright lights that just illuminate the blood and grime more.
the fleeting sunlight peeking in through the windows only casts light upon the dust floating in the room as you close the door behind you, causing rafe to finally look up.
his eyes shift from pure focus to something softer. “hey.” his voice is still low, slightly hoarse from not speaking most of the day.
“hey.” you move the rest of the way into the room, your footsteps sounding thunderous in the silence that always cloaks the gym before a fight, especially one like this.
“ill be safe.” you see a hint of humor in his eyes now as you roll yours. you always tell rafe to stay safe before a fight, it's become such an expectation that he beats you to it.
“do you have your gloves?” you ask, looking towards his gym bag, wanting to rifle through it to make sure rafe has everything he needs, even though you packed it for him.
“of course.” rafe smiles, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs and pulling you closer into him, his forehead pressing against your stomach.
“you're nervous for this one.” rafe states. he doesn't need to ask, he can tell just by your energy, the way your breathing is more frantic, your eyes opened ever so slightly wider than normal.
“im not the one in the ring.” you hum, hand coming to the back of his neck, stroking over his hairline, taming it despite knowing it's only a few minutes before it's going to get messed up again, either by rafe rubbing at it or the opponent.
“i know.” rafe looks up at you, a soft smile on his face. “but ya love me.”
“mmm, unfortunately.” you joke, a smile flashing across your lips before you drop your head to press your mouths against rafe, the kiss hungry and desperate, knowing it may be your last for a while if rafe gets his lip busted open.
“okay-” rafe sighs, pulling away, restraint in his voice as his insides call to continue kissing you. “it's almost time. love you.”
“love you too.” you back away but keep your eyes locked with rafe until your back is pressed up against the door. “win for me.”
you step out, eyes flickering around his team, waiting in the hallway for you, knowing better than to interrupt your moment with rafe.
“he's ready.” you nod to rafes coach before ducking out of the way as they file into the locker room.
you can hear the noise of the crowd grow as you walk into the arena, rows of seats all facing towards the central octagon. none of the security stops you to ask for a ticket as you walk to the front, rafe has become a headliner at the boxing gym, and you a vip along with it.
you take your seat, a coveted one, right in rafes corner. you know he has supporters, and while you appreciate most of them, the female ones who fawn over him anger you every time they shout his name or try to give him their number, but his quick shut down of advances always washes away the brief resentment.
“hey y/n.” rafes coaches brother, lewis, sits next to you, your de facto personal bodyguard. you insisted you didn't need someone looking over you, but rafe was always worried about a fight starting in the crowd. it certainly wouldn't be the first one that has broken out at a boxing gym.
“hi lewis.” you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and lean back in your seat as the prematch comes out, beginner fighters to keep all the early attendees from getting impatient while the crowd grows and seats fill.
overall, it's a professional arena. not on a pro level by any standards, but the best you can get in the area without making boxing full time. it certainly puts the smaller gyms rafe started out in to shame.
you were the one who originally suggested it. any sort of contact sport to work through some of his anger. you saw it bubbling under the surface, and you knew rafe would never do anything in your presence, even if he wanted to scream and punch a wall, he'd bottle it all in just to not scare you.
you clap as the first round comes to an end, ever the good supporter and attendee. it's part of the reason the gym likes rafe so much, he's no fuss, no personal drama, just pure fighting.
there's more rounds as you wait to see rafe, the rest of the seats being filled along with standing room in the back for anyone getting in late. 
a new referee steps into the ring, a professional with years of experience who doesn't bother with the lower level fights, saving himself for the main event. 
you sit up a little straighter in your seat as your eyes move to the door, a smile stretching over your cheeks as rafe steps out to applause and the thumbing base of a rap song. you applaud as well, keeping your eyes on rafe despite knowing he won't look at you, not until he gets in the ring, some sort of superstition that he's developed as he keeps his head down.
the other fighter comes out to the booming announcement of their name, a silly nickname you immediately disregard. clearly someone trying to rise the ranks and become a well known name, but you can tell just by his stature that rafe will take him down.
you breathe a little sigh of relief as rafe climbs into the ring and looks over to you, a slight smirk you're sure only you can see. he knows just as well as you do that this will be an easy day.
the official facilitates the handshake between the opponents before they're back to their corners to tape wrists and put on gloves, getting everything prepared. you keep your eyes on rafe, of course, taking in his every movement.
you feel a stirring in your stomach as he stands, tank top stretched tight across his body while his shorts are looser, allowing him to move easily around the ring.
you hear a woop coming from the back but know better than to divert your attention, rafe surging forward right when the official starts the round. he wastes no time throwing quick punches before defending, stepping to the side to miss the opponents swipes.
rafe lands a few more blows, but you don't cheer yet. you've made the mistake before of thinking he's in the clear too early.
the movement of rafes body is almost a dance, one driven by passion. his biceps bulge with every punch, swear gathering on his chest, making your mouth water as you watch.
the officials whistle to end the round makes you jump, too wrapped up in rafes looks to pay attention to the fight like you know you should.
you really do try to shift your attention back, but as the next round starts, you're quickly drawn back to watching rafes body and smooth movements. 
every punch he throws makes your legs tighten further, hoping the pressing of your thighs offers you some sort of relief, but any comfort is fleeting.
your body responds for you when the fight comes to end, rising to your feet and clapping as you snap back to attention. rafe of course wins, the opponent not even getting a punch to his face other than a brief touch on his jaw that didn't even knock his mouthguard.
“i knew you'd win.” you smile and step forward as rafe comes to the ropes, leaning over to press his lips against yours.
“let me talk to the team and shower then we'll get out of here, yeah?” rafe kisses you again before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “i can tell you're turned on.”
--
“how'd you know?” you question as rafe shifts the car into drive, his free hand immediately coming to your thigh as he pulls out of the parking spot and onto the road.
“that you were- are turned on?” rafe smirks, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. “you get a look in your eyes, baby. and i can tell you want me.”
“and i have that look right now?” you hum out, turning the volume up on the radio slightly as the kid cudi song comes on.
“mhm. and it'll only intensify when i do this-” rafes hand slides upwards between your thighs. you quickly part them for him, letting out a soft moan as his fingers rub right where he knows you like it best.
“shit.” you lean back into the seat, trying to keep yourself from jumping over the center console and pouncing on rafe instantly. you pray you don't hit traffic as he presses harder on the gas pedal, ready to get home as well.
“you looked so pretty tonight cheering me on baby.” rafe pushes his fingers harder against your pants, creating tight circles. “even if you were spaced out the entire time.”
“mhm.” you hum, not even truly listening to what rafe is saying, just enjoying the tambor of his voice and the feeling growing in your stomach.
you know when rafe laughs that it's at you and your current state, but you've done far too much and been with him far too long to be embarrassed or ashamed by your lust as you let out another moan.
your eyes are glossy as you turn to look at rafe, hand gripping the wheel tightly with a clear tent in his sweatpants. you blink a few times to clear your vision as you take in his hard set jaw, tension building as he is forced to wait to get inside you.
you reach over to place your hand on rafes crotch, hoping the pressure of your hand sustains him a little longer.
“it's taking everything in me not to pull over and fuck you here in the car.” rafe says through gritted teeth.
you look out the windshield as rafe moves his hand to grip the steering wheel with both hands, needing it now that you're touching him to keep the vehicle steady. “we're almost home.” you hum out, petting your fingertips over his length, contemplating pushing his pants down and bending over the center console, but your clenching pussy needs him.
rafe pulls into the driveway at speeds he shouldn't be going inside a residential neighborhood, the car calming to a halting stop, and not even a second passes before you're out of your seats and out of the car.
rafe beats you to the front door, throwing it open for you to rush inside, locking it tight after you've entered.
you know you won't make it to the bed. you never do on nights like this. both on a high from rafe winning his fight, an easy opponent with not even a scratch to his knuckles.
rafe presses you against the wall of the hallway, his body molding against yours as his lips smash forward into a passionate kiss. you reach between your bodies immediately, knowing you're already soaking wet and ready from rafe playing with you in the car.
you push down on the hem of rafes sweatpants until rafe moves his hips and allows you to shove them down along with his underwear. 
rafe lets out a sigh as your hand wraps around his length, holding his cock in your grasp as you quickly begin to stroke.
“fuck, baby.” rafe places his fist around your hand. “as much as i love you touching me like this i need to be inside you now.”
there's a desperation in his voice that makes something in your chest tighten.
you nod and release him, undoing your button and zipper to shove your pants to the ground and kick them away. rafe grabs the hem of your tshirt before you can take it off yourself, pulling it up over your head before it also joins the clothes scattered around the foyer.
rafe connects your lips back together, his hands sneaking behind your back to undo your bra before pulling the cups off, large palms quickly replacing them as he holds your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze that has your mouth falling open in a satisfied sigh.
“bedroom, counter or right here?” rafe asks, pulling on your lip before you can answer and giving it a tug.
“right here.” you reach down and take rafes cock in your hand, giving it a stroke. “right here, right now.”
“mmm, don't have to tell me again.” rafes arms circle around you and pull you up, pinning you against the wall. your body moves so naturally like it's done a hundred times before, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
rafe lines up his cock with your entrance and sinks forward. your arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him in tight, mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing closed as he slowly enters you.
“oh god.” rafe groans, mouth opening as well, but to press his teeth against your skin, biting down gently so as to not actually hurt you, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
“fuck me rafe.” your fingertips are digging into his shoulders, trying not to pierce him with your nails as you grip onto his muscles, muscles he just used to pummel his opponent.
“fuck me hard.” you don't often ask for it hard or really give him any direction. rafe knows how to please you, but it's different today. you need his full force, everything he has left in him.
and he doesn't make you wait.
rafe pulls his cock out slowly before slamming in, forcing your ass back into the wall with a thud, your whole body shuddering as he thrusts.
you tighten your arms even more, needing your bodies to become one as he pumps his hips forward, the sound of skin meeting together spreading through the empty house.
tomorrow, you'll clean up the clothes off the floor. tomorrow, you'll make a large breakfast to replenish rafe from his fight and open every window in the house to let in light and air, but tonight, you're going to remain in the dark hallway with your legs wrapped around rafes waist.
“harder.” you beg again, even though you're not sure you can take it.
rafe complies, swinging faster as one of his hands manages to find a way between your bodies, tips of his fingers pressing against your clit. he knows he should fuck you longer, but he can build you up again for the second time in the bedroom, you've teased each other too much and he needs to feel you fall apart in his arms.
“you're so tight and warm.” rafe mumbles, burying his face in your neck as he huffs, absorbing your heart after being apart physically for too long, the cold air of the gym and locker room now being replaced with you.
“i love you.” rafe mumbles, lips against your neck as he presses a few kisses to your throat. “thank you.”
he doesn't need to say what for. you understand. for being with him, for encouraging him to try boxing, for standing by his side and knowing what's best for him even when he didn't know himself.
“i love you.” you moan out, pussy clenching around rafes cock as your high suddenly hits, back arching off the wall in pleasure only to be slammed back against it as rafe pushes as deep as he can go inside of you, the squeezing of your cunt triggering his own high as his cum spurts inside of you.
“f-fuck.” you whine, nails fully leaving marks now as you breathe deeply, chest rising and falling, pressing against rafes with every breath.
“let's go take a bath.” rafe says, his voice suddenly softer, almost like the sex was the last bit of excursion he needed to calm himself after the fight.
“okay.” you can't help but giggle.
despite your agreement, rafe doesn't pull out, his softening cock still inside of you and bodies connected.
“okay.” you repeat, pressing your lips against rafes cheek before resting your head against his, realizing what he needs in that moment. “i love you.”
you stay there, still, for minutes that stretch into what feels like hours, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.
“okay.” rafe finally responds, eyes blinking with a new clarity, any sort of anger or frustration he had before the fight now freed from inside him. “bath time, yeah?”
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bekolxeram · 1 day ago
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Mandatory not a pilot, just not normal about planes and lurk a lot on pilot forums.
FAA regulations regarding mental health are a mess. Pilots are required to self-report any mental health issues when getting their medical certificate. I've seen professional pilots admitting to have sought psychotherapy for minor issues passing their medical without any trouble, but I've also seen Navy veteran hobbyist being denied a private license for being on Zoloft. At the end of the day, if you say yes to that question, it'll be judged on a case-by-case basis, with quite inconsistent results. Most of the time, a diagnosis would result in a deferral, followed by years of reviews and paperwork, but if you're persistent and rich enough, over 90% of all applicants initially disqualified for health reasons eventually get their license. (I heard that bipolar is the hardest to fight, while ADHD has its own program.)
Obviously this only incentivize pilots to hide their issues for their livelihood, with disastrous results, so the FAA is looking into changing the rules. But it's the FAA we're talking about, airlines were required to regularly apply for exemption just so that the "no-smoking" light could stay on at all times, until August this year. So they still have a lot of work to do.
None of this is really about Tommy though, canonically he hasn't shown any sign of suffering from a psychiatric condition. As long as you're not diagnosed with anything and not on medication, the FAA doesn't give a flying (hehe) fuck who you talk to.
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Most professional pilots I see online do go to therapy. They say, just make sure to be upfront about your profession and that you're not seeking a diagnosis, then you'll be fine. You'll probably have to pay out of your own pocket, as insurance won't cover the cost without an official diagnosis, but I don't think it's a problem for any of them.
So, as long as Tommy isn't a danger to himself or others, and he doesn't need medication just to function in daily life, he absolutely can and should talk to a therapist about his trauma and his coping mechanism of running away from every good thing in his life.
Did some very cursory research, and it turns out having mental health issues on your record can seriously complicate getting/keeping a pilot's license, so. hm. Tommy Kinard fans who want him to go to therapy (me), take note 🤔
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suzukiblu · 3 days ago
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Day twenty-six of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))
Kon laughs into his mouth and kisses him back easy and eager, and the moment Tim drops his hands off his face he’s looping his arms around his neck–which Tim is very normal about, for the record–and leaning down into him. Tim puts his hands on his hips in return and feels several extremely complicated ways about someone who’s capable of lifting literal construction equipment trusting him with their weight, most of which he’s pretty sure are going to haunt him for the rest of his life, or at least his next four to six months of, uh–personal time. 
. . . he can never, ever be anywhere near any telepath again. Ever. Just ever. 
Or at least for the next four to six months, anyway.
The park really is deserted now, and lit by a couple of streetlights and a bit of bleedover from the street, but not much else. The rest of the streetlights are definitely out, and it looks like there weren’t that many to begin with. The neighborhood isn’t even that bad, really, but it’s Gotham, so Tim’s not surprised. He’s assuming the other skaters were regulars who knew how bad the lighting gets here this late, given most of them cleared out around the same time and how it’s only gotten darker since they did. 
Well, he doesn’t mind the dark, personally, and definitely doesn’t mind the privacy. 
“Sorry,” he says as he leans back from the kiss for a moment, mostly to make sure he doesn’t get carried away with anything. “Didn’t mean to cut you off.” 
“Yeah, you’ll have to make it up to me by doing it some more,” Kon teases, squeezing his arms around his neck for a moment before giving him a peck on the cheek. Tim gives himself three seconds to be a useless mess of goo, then clears his throat and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth in return. Kon grins underneath it, and Tim needs another three seconds to burn alive, then clears his throat again. 
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and Kon giggles again. Tim really has no idea how he feels about the giggling thing. It’s so cute he wants to throw himself in the harbor, but also he’s weirdly, like–just weirdly aware that it’s just not a thing he’s ever heard Kon do as Robin. Which, yeah, obviously there are several things going on right now that would not be going on with Robin, but still keeps throwing him off. 
Kon’s just . . . like, he’s very clearly the same annoying bastard who’s been driving Robin literally insane every single time Young Justice meets up, but also he’s doing all these things that he’d never normally do and Tim feels like he’s just constantly learning weird little unexpected new tidbits about him, most of them directly targeted to destroy his life. 
And then–one or two less “little” things that are directly targeted to destroy his life in a very different way, but that’s just not something Tim wants to be thinking about while Kon’s grinning and giggling at him and just–like this, he guesses. 
He’ll update his fifteen-year plan after patrol tomorrow, he promises himself. At least take some preliminary notes, anyway. 
“Can you teach me?” Kon asks, and Tim–blinks, trying to figure out what–
“To skate?” he asks in disbelief. 
“Yeah!” Kon says excitedly, and Tim almost reminds him he can literally fly, but can’t really bring himself to in the face of that inexplicable excitement. 
“Um, sure, yeah,” he says. “I can teach you a couple things, maybe.” 
Kon beams at him. Tim, somehow, is still completely unprepared. He thinks Kon just makes it very hard for him to be prepared, somehow.
So that's a weird experience, all things considered.
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lou-struck · 3 days ago
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For Little You
Keigo Takami x reader
W.C: 1.9k
~ For the first time in his life, Keigo gets to feel like a kid in a candy store. 
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"Are you sureeee you don't wanna split this soft pretzel with me?" Keigo asks with a teasing smile as he holds out the last little piece of the snack he got when you first got to the mall. Outings like this, where the two of you can walk hand in hand, going about your day as if you were normal civilians, are rare. Usually, you would've been stopped by Keigo's numerous fans due to his eye-catchingly glorious red wings, but thanks to a nasty run-in with a villain, he has only a few feathers hidden under his jacket. 
"Nope, that's all you," you say. All he had been talking about leading up to your mall expedition was getting his hands on a soft pretzel. 
"Suit yourself." he humms tossing the last piece of the pastry into his mouth. Now, with his hands free, they sneak through the open space to latch onto yours as you continue walking. A soft smile on his face as you continue having a peaceful day off. 
"Hey, what's that place over there? "you point at the giant teal and gold striped columns of a shop you certainly haven't seen before.
"Isn't that where the exotic rock shop was?"  He comments, taking a sip from the thick straw of his bubble tea. "What was it called? Something like Rocks and Roads?"
"Your guess is better than mine, I never went in there," you say. "Did you ever go in there?" 
"I have a few times, "he admits with a chuckle. "One of the sidekicks who worked at my agency a few years back was able to eat rocks and crystals and things like that and make armor out of it. So I got them for a Secret Santa year and got them a really cool one."
"Oh, are you talking about Rock Muncher?" you say, enthusiastically recalling the Geo Hero. "Whatever happened to her?"
"Got a new cushy job overseas and transferred, but I heard she is doing really well over there." 
"Wow, that's great." you smile as you get a closer look at the new store. "It looks like they replaced the Rock store with a candy store."
"A candy store?" Keigo parrots, his eyes lighting up at the prospect. As much as he tries to hide it, Keigo has a wicked sweet tooth, one that he rarely has the chance to indulge in due to his strict upbringing at the hands of the hero's commission.
"Wanna check it out?" you ask hopefully; you could definitely have a sweet treat right about now, and judging by the way Keigo's eyes scan the decorative gummy bear statue in the shop's window, he is too.
"Am I that transparent?" he chuckles as you tug on his hand, guiding him into what many people call heaven.
The smell of chocolate wraps around you in a loving embrace as you step into the warmly lit store.  Large plastic containers of different types of sweets line the shop's walls like wallpaper. "Wow, I have never seen so many different types of candy before." You exclaim, fascinated by the variety.
"I-it's unreal," Keigo says, a slight waiver of a motion in his tone; you turn to look at him but are unable to catch his eye. His gaze fixated on a mother and her child picking out sweets from the largest display case by the cash register.
"What ones do you think we should bring home?" the mother asks her starry-eyed child.
"All of them…" they murmur dazedly, unable to stare at any one treat for too long. Although their interaction is cute, there is a distant look of sorrow in your boyfriend's eyes, and you realize that this may be a new experience for him.
Keigo never had the kind of childhood that most children had, even before he started training under the hero commission. You have a feeling that he never got the opportunity to pick out treats at the candy store. 
"Maybe we should get a few things," you say giving his hand a squeeze to let you know that you are still with him and those bad memories are things of the past.
"We should?"
"Yes. for uhhh quality control," you say jokingly. "It's our responsibility to test out some of the products and make sure nothing is poisonous."
"Can't argue with that logic," he laughs, grabbing two large baskets and handing one to you. "Let's go crazy then."
"You don't have to tell me twice," you laugh, your hands tingle in anticipation as you wonder which mouthwatering corner of the shop you should start filling your basket in. 
~
You aren't sure when you lost Keigo among the sugary aisles, but you first noticed his absence when you found a large gummy snake; you held it up like a goofball and turned to show him, only to realize that he was no longer following behind you. 
Knowing he would never just abandon you, you continue your browsing, becoming fascinated by just how many types of candy exist in the world. 
Some treats you remember vaguely from your childhood, but the wrapping has changed a bit over the years, and some seem to be from completely different countries.  But where they come from doesn't matter; they all find their way into your basket.
The weight of your basket grows heavier by the second, but that doesn't deter you from wandering through the store aimlessly. The smell of freshly made fudge hits the back of your throat, and you make a mental note to consider flossing your teeth when you get home. 
At an endcap across from the drink fridge, you stumble across a brightly colored display of chocolate bars; each one is wrapped in a different colored wrapping; upon closer inspection, you realize that all the different colors are used to represent the wide variety of flavors. 
Minty green for Chocolate Chip Mint.
Purple for Ube. 
Gold for Fried Chicken
Black for Dark Chocolate Raspberry…
You pause and slowly backtrack. To get a closer look at the golden wrapping of the Fried Chicken flavored milk chocolate bar. 
'How does that even work?' you murmur to yourself. 'Was the chocolate mixed with chicken broth or something?"
You curiously pick up the packaging just to see what exactly is in the chocolate to make it chicken flavored and can't find anything. 
An unnerving shiver shoots down your spine as you set the bar down in favor of some candy that does not represent a dinner entree. 
The next thing you know, your basket has miraculously filled with not only your favorite sweets but tons of things you want to try out, as well as some things that you know Keigo likes. 
Holding the full basket is painful and you have to put all your focus on not dropping it to the floor. A bead of sweat drips down your brow as you trudge over to the cash register, only to accidentally bump into someone. Apologies are already flying off your tongue as you lock eyes with Keigo. 
His is even more full than yours is. A big smile is on his face as he takes in both you and your basket. He must've really needed this sugary retail therapy, and although you know that no amount of money can undo the pitfalls of his childhood, getting to share these sweet, special moments with you is more than worth it.
"It looks like we did some damage," he says, taking your too-heavy basket from you with ease. You smile at him gratefully and look down at your stinging,  slightly indented palms. 
"We sure did. But do you think we have enough?" you tease as Keigo sets both containers on the countertop with a thud. 
"Barely, but I think we will manage." he grins, taking out his credit card and handing it to the cashier, who is looking at Keigo suspiciously. You have to hold in a laugh; it's the same look of muddled recognition he gets while in public without his big red wings. Apparently, most people can't seem to put their finger on what about him is so familiar without them. 
After paying way too much for basically a year's supply of candy, the two of you drag your enormous, triple-lined shopping bags out the doors and into the bustling mall.
You do well for a while but once you reach a less busy area of the mall, you become aware of just how heavy your load is.  Your muscles ache as you try to keep up with Keigo's chipper steps. And you have to stop to readjust your hold.
When he notices that you are no longer walking alongside him, he pauses and turns back to look at you confusedly. "What's the matter Angel? Is your bag too heavy for you?"
You look at the four bags he is carrying and then back at the one he gave you. "No." You lie casually, setting the bag on a wooden bench for support. "I was just thinking that we should each try something before we get home."
"To lighten the load?" he teases, joining you over on the bench. 
"Fine, maybe the bags are a little heavy." you relent, "but I still want to try something."
"Works for me. There is something I really want to test out." he laughs, reaching across your lap and digging into the bag you have been hauling. He pulls out a familiar-looking paper-wrapped chocolate bar, and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. 
"Really Kei? Out of everything we just bought from freaking candy palooza, you choose the Fried Chicken chocolate bar?"
"I sure did," he grins, unwrapping the chocolate right in front of you. "C'm on. Aren't you at least a little curious about what it would taste like?
"Curious, yes. But I'd rather eat something that tastes like fruit, not poultry," you comment, selecting some sour cherry gummies from your bag instead. 
"More for me then," he laughs, holding out his bar towards you; now unwrapped, your nose picks up the slight aroma of chicken and honey flavorings. "Cheers."
You bump his chocolate bar with your little candy packet and take a bite. The sweet, sour taste of the gummy explodes over your tongue and crackles pleasantly against your taste buds. The addicting taste has you immediately reaching for another coin-sized gummy. 
You notice Keigo has fallen silent and you look over to him. His expression is unreadable as he stares down at his chocolate bar with a furrowed brow.
"What's the matter, Kei?" you ask. "Does it taste bad?"
"No, it's just interesting," he says back finally. "I think I like it."
You are dumbfounded, shook, stunned.  "You do?"
"Yeah, want to try a little bit?" he waves the bar in front of you again, and you catch a glimpse of little golden specks in the chocolate. 
"Fine, just a little piece," you say, reaching for the bar. 
"Ah ah ah," he pulls the bar away and presses his lips to yours. The taste of honey, and savory chocolate still dancing on his lips as he kisses you. 
After indulging in your oxygen like its candy, he pulls away and gives you a coy little grin. "Now that wasn't so bad, now was it y/n."
"Hmmm, I don't know," you respond, your lips curving up into a syrupy sweet little smirk. I think I'll need to have another taste just to be sure."
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Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @isaacdaknight @qardasngan @dog55teeth @atigerandabear @anjodedesgostoeerros
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moonmaiden1996 · 1 day ago
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Bound By Fate Chapter 7
I know I usually update on a Friday or a Saturday but I couldn't help myself. I am obsessed and this chapter has been my favorite to write!
Chapter 1,2,3,4,5,6
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For the most part, in the coming days you’d managed to stay in the shadows, keeping out of the crew’s way as they took inventory and prepared the provisions you assumed were stolen goods from their latest raid. The scent of saltwater mixed with the sharp tang of sweat and the ever-present burn of tobacco that lingered in the air. It was a familiar, chaotic scene—one you’d long since grown used to. But then, the sound of footsteps behind you sliced through your thoughts, halting them in their tracks.
Beckman stopped a few paces away, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dim light. The steady rhythm of his boots on the wooden deck was deliberate, a cadence that commanded attention without a word. His eyes met yours—sharp, assessing—as if reading you like an open book with a single, piercing glance.
“Evening,” he said simply, his voice low, almost too neutral, but there was an undertone to it that you couldn’t ignore.
“Evening,” you replied, keeping your tone steady, despite the unease creeping up your spine.
He didn’t speak immediately, his gaze still fixed on you. His eyes were cold—like shards of ice—peeling back layers you didn’t realize were there. You felt exposed under that scrutiny, as if he could see straight through you.
Finally, Beckman took a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up and dissolving into the cool night air. It hung between you, lingering like a barrier, adding to the stillness of the moment.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, his voice flat, but there was something else there—an edge, or maybe a warning. You couldn’t tell.
You shifted slightly, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Is that a problem?” you asked, your voice deliberately calm. Was he making conversation, or was there something more behind his words? You weren’t about to indulge him.
“Not yet,” he answered, his tone colder now, sharper. “Just an observation.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t one to speak without purpose, and this didn’t feel casual. His words were deliberate, measured—as though he was testing you in some way.
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it,” you said, irritation bubbling up despite your best efforts to keep it in check. You didn’t want to stand here in silence any longer, didn’t want to keep playing these unspoken games.
Beckman didn’t flinch. His gaze never left you as he took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with controlled ease. He spoke again, his voice deliberate and measured, each word like a stone dropped into water, rippling with consequence.
“You should stay close to the crew when we reach Westrow to restock,” he said, his tone casual, but the words carried unmistakable weight. “Shanks... won’t take kindly to you wandering off. You know he’s always watching.”
The words struck harder than you'd expected. Beckman didn’t need to say it, but you understood. Shanks wasn’t just protective. The way Beckman phrased it, it felt like a warning—like a promise that if you stepped out of line, there’d be consequences. The thought of being watched, of being kept so tightly under his control, made you feel small and trapped.
You nodded, throat tight, and for a moment, it felt like the whole air had grown heavier, more suffocating. You weren’t sure if it was Beckman’s words or the weight of the growing realization that something was about to shift—something you couldn’t control.
Beckman studied you for a moment longer, his sharp gaze still fixed on you, before he flicked his cigarette away into the darkness. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small leather pouch, tossing it toward you. The faint sound of coins inside rattled as it landed in your hand.
“Here,” he said, his tone unchanged. “You’ll need this. It’s for new clothes. Clothing tends to... disappear on a ship this size. One shirt looks like another. Least now you can get women’s clothes. Won’t be so many mix-ups in the laundry.”
The weight of the pouch felt heavier than the coins it held, settling into your palm with an eerie finality. It meant you were staying. Beckman’s words sank in slowly, and you felt the chill creep up your spine.
You swallowed hard, the urge to question him rising in your throat, but something in Beckman’s eyes stopped you. There was no room for defiance here. No space for argument. This was the way things were, and you were too small to fight it.
Beckman gave you one last, unreadable look before turning away, his boots clicking steadily on the wooden deck as he walked off.
“Stay with the crew,” he called over his shoulder, his voice carrying the weight of a final warning. “Shanks is... protective. You don’t want to see what happens when he feels threatened. Be on deck in five.”
The words hung in the air, thick with menace. Protective? It felt more like a cage—one you couldn’t escape from. Possessive, you thought. That was the word. And it suffocated you, tightening with every step. Honestly, you were surprised you could leave the ship, but if Shanks was always watching, what could you do? Where could you go?
xxxxxxxxxx
As you wandered the deck, trying to find some peace, you overheard the low hum of voices from a few of the crew members. Hongo, Lime Juice, Yasopp, and Lucky Roux spoke in hushed tones, but their body language gave them away. Their eyes flickered to you when they thought you weren’t watching, but as soon as you noticed, they quickly turned their gazes elsewhere. There was a tension between them, a silent understanding that didn’t quite reach you, but you could feel it, just beyond your reach.
You approached the railing, resting your hands on the cold wood. The rhythmic rocking of the ship beneath you did little to calm the unease coiling in your stomach. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him approach until his voice rang out across the deck, full of life.
Shanks’s laugh shattered the stillness, loud and carefree, a stark contrast to the knot of tension in your chest. He was at the center of a small crowd of men, his presence undeniable. As always, he radiated power, but tonight something about his laugh felt strained, like a mask hiding something darker underneath.
You didn’t know what to make of it. His fingers brushed against your arm in a casual touch, but there was something deeper there—something possessive. You shuddered involuntarily and took a step back, though you didn’t dare pull away completely. You couldn’t.
“We made anchor,” Shanks said with his signature grin, but there was something behind it—something off—that you couldn’t quite place. His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long. “Are you ready to disembark?”
Westrow. The word itself twisted in your stomach. You had no idea what awaited you there, but the idea of walking into it blind made you feel even more trapped than you already were.
You nodded, giving him the answer you knew he wanted. The one you had no choice but to give. You would follow him, just as you had no choice but to follow everything else.
The ship creaked as it docked at the bustling port of Westrow. You stood at the edge of the deck, your eyes scanning the town as the crew disembarked, the familiar hum of the market and the salty breeze from the sea mingling in the air. It was a town alive with energy—a far cry from the isolating weight of the ship. Shanks was quick to join the crew on the docks, his magnetic presence drawing attention, his laughter already rising above the sounds of the market.
You stood near the edge of the gangplank, hesitant to take the first step, but Beckman’s eyes lingered on you—silent but watchful. His presence always made you feel like you were being measured, even when he didn’t speak. The crew scattered quickly in all directions, their mission clear—to stock up on supplies. You were left to follow, keeping close to the familiar faces, the ones who didn’t look at you with discomfort, even if it was thinly veiled.
As Shanks turned to lead the way, you fell into line behind him. The others joined in, and you let yourself be swept along.
xxxxxxx
The marketplace was alive with color and sound, but to you, it felt like a maze of chaos—one where you were an unwilling player. The crew went about their business, laughing, haggling, and making deals that could just as easily be for treasure as for mundane trinkets. You kept your distance, walking a few steps behind them, moving with the ebb and flow of the crowd but never truly part of it. You were out of place in the frenzy, your body tense and on edge, trying to make yourself invisible.
Shanks had disappeared into the crowd, his absence like the silence before a storm. It never went unnoticed. You could feel the absence of his presence in a way you couldn’t explain—like an invisible thread pulling at you, always drawing your attention. You tried not to look for him, tried to ignore the gnawing sense of unease that crept into your chest every time he was out of sight.
You hadn’t intended to stop at the stall, but something drew you in. The vibrant fabrics, the colorful dresses, the soft texture of the material as your fingers brushed against them. The merchant, an oily-haired man with a lopsided grin, immediately took notice of you. His eyes roved over you, not with the curiosity of a typical merchant, but with something darker, more calculating.
"Quite the lovely lady we have here," he said, his voice smooth but laced with a familiarity that made your skin crawl. "Need help picking something special, love?"
You recoiled slightly, your stomach twisting at the unspoken implication in his words. You wanted to pull away, but he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His gaze traveled down to rest on your chest, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.
"You’re the only woman aboard, aren’t you?" he mused, his voice dripping with false warmth. "Bet you’re a right little goer, especially to serve all those pirates. I imagine you could use some proper clothing. Something... more fitting for someone like you."
You took a small step back, but before you could retreat further, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a painful grip. His fingers were cold and rough, and his breath smelled faintly of stale liquor. "What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’m sure we could work out a special discount," he purred, tugging you closer, his body invading your space.
You yanked your arm, trying to break free, but his grip tightened. "Let go," you snapped, your voice sharp, but he only smirked, unfazed.
"Oh, come on now," he laughed lowly, his eyes narrowing in a way that made your pulse race. "You don’t have to pretend. I know what women like you do on board those ships. Why don’t you let us landlubbers have a go... or maybe you need to be treated the way you used to."
The force of his words made you stumble back, but his hand was relentless, dragging you toward him. Panic surged in your chest, and you felt for the first time an electric charge sizzle under your skin—powerful, moving from a dull hum to a sharp, searing hiss. But before you had even a moment to think about your vibrating skin, his palm collided with your face in a sharp slap, the impact sending a jolt of pain through your skull.
The crack of the slap echoed in your ears. You felt the sting of it, your lip splitting open, blood spilling from the cut, warm against your skin. You gasped, taken aback, but the merchant didn’t release you. His fingers tightened around your arm, pulling you closer again, his breath hot on your ear.
"You’re just like the rest of them," he sneered, voice low and venomous. "All the same. But you’ll come around. You’ll see."
Everything felt blurry in that moment, the edges of your vision spinning with the sting of your split lip. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, a mixture of fear and fury, but before you could react, you heard it—like a distant rumble that sent a chill down your spine.
Shanks’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the noise. "What the hell is going on here?"
The merchant froze, his eyes flicking to you, then to the source of the voice. But the moment he smelled the blood, something in him changed. He didn’t release you. Instead, his eyes hardened, and his grip on you only grew stronger.
Shanks didn’t need to say another word. His aura alone sent a ripple through the crowd, sending the spectators crashing to the floor in unconscious heaps. His Haki. You saw it in his eyes—the shift from casual disinterest to something darker, something dangerous.
His gaze locked on yours for a moment, his eyes flicking down to your split lip, and the air around him seemed to crackle with rage. A growl rumbled from his chest, low and threatening, and you could see the change in him, the primal fury that burned behind his gaze.
"Let her go," Shanks’s voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable threat.
The merchant hesitated, his bravado faltering as he looked between you and Shanks. "I—I didn’t mean no harm," he stammered, his voice shrinking under the weight of Shanks’s fury.
"You did mean harm," Shanks snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "And you’re going to regret it."
In the blink of an eye, Shanks was on him. His fist blurred with movement, striking the merchant’s jaw with a sickening crack. The man stumbled back, crashing to the ground, but Shanks wasn’t done. His rage was unrelenting, each punch landing with brutal force, a fury unleashed with no intention of stopping.
"Shanks, stop!" someone shouted from the crowd, but no one could move. No one dared intervene. The force of his blows continued, each one fueled by the fury of someone who had just witnessed something precious to them harmed.
You stumbled back, shock flooding your senses as you watched the destruction unfold before you. The violence was raw, a side of Shanks you had never seen before, and yet, in that moment, you understood. You were his. To harm you was to hurt him, and that was something no one could get away with.
The chaos in the marketplace seemed to freeze. You tried to flee, to escape, but before you could make it far, two strong arms wrapped around you. You barely managed to gasp before you were lifted off the ground, carried away from the scene.
"Move!" Beckman barked, his voice commanding and cold. The crew parted like a wave, making way for him as he pushed through the stunned crowd. Hongo and Yasopp flanked you, their hands firm on your shoulders, guiding you away from the storm that raged behind you.
"We’ll protect you, don’t worry," Hongo murmured, his voice low but steady, his eyes glancing nervously over his shoulder.
But no matter how far you moved from the scene, the roar of Shanks’s fury followed you. Burnt in your eyes. His face was distorted, muscles bulging, staining underneath his skin, fist painted in blood as it repeatedly collided with something that was once a head. The violence echoed in your mind, the image of his rage still burning in your memory.  You were safe from the man but were you safe from Shanks?
Then, the roar came again—louder this time, deeper. "Get away from her!"
Shanks’s voice, ragged with anger and something else—something raw—cut through the air like a blade. Beckman turned quickly, stepping in front of you, his hand raised to block the approaching threat.
“No,” Beckman’s voice was sharp, filled with authority, unyielding. “You need to calm down.”
The two men locked eyes, and for a brief moment, there was silence. No words, only the crackling tension in the air. Then Beckman spoke again, his tone colder than the chill creeping up your spine.
"You gave us an order, Shanks. The old order. Do you remember?"
Shanks’s eyes burned with fury, but there was hesitation in them. He was torn between the power he wielded and the depths of his desire. “Screw the old order. She’s mine. Give her to me!” His words were a growl, hoarse with longing and anger.
Beckman stood his ground, his gun now drawn, aimed directly at Shanks’s chest. “No one touches her,” he said coldly. “Not even you.”
The crew, ever loyal, moved to form a protective barrier around you, their faces set and unyielding. Yasopp, Hongo, Lime Juice—each of them standing between you and the storm that was Shanks.
“You gave us an order, Shanks,” Beckman repeated, his voice unwavering. “We’re here to protect her. Even from you.”
Shanks’s fists clenched. His anger burned bright, but for the first time, he seemed unsure of how to proceed. The crew had chosen their side. And it wasn’t his.
Hongo stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Time to go, let’s move."
And as you were guided away, your heart thundered in your chest. You could still hear Shanks’s voice, a fury like nothing you had ever imagined, but in the midst of it, there was one thought that clung to you like a shadow.
Please please please let me know what you think!!!!!
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@commanderfreethatdust @hauntedluna
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writerfromshikahr · 1 day ago
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Because I love Lucanis and Davrin in equal amounts, I have to write them on occasion.
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Falling for Two - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic (plus 1 Davrin)
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"Rook! Are you okay?" Lucanis shouted, his voice strained as he clung desperately to her arm. She dangled helplessly off the ledge of a tall building, her boots scraping against the wall in a frantic search for any kind of hold.
"Davrin! Help!" Lucanis barked, urgency sharpening his tone. "I can’t hold her much longer!"
Davrin scuttled over, grabbing Rook’s other arm. "AM I OKAY?" Rook snapped, her voice pitching higher with adrenaline. "I just fell off a building, Lucanis, and I’m dangling over certain death! How do you think I’m doing?"
"Noted," Lucanis grunted through clenched teeth, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping her steady. Slowly and carefully, he began pulling her up. Davrin, ever impatient, gave her a sharp tug, nearly yanking her over the edge...
The result was chaos. Rook tumbled onto the rooftop, sprawling awkwardly on top of both men in a heap of limbs and heavy breathing.
"Well, this is cozy," Davrin said, his grin spreading. "Never knew this is how you’d end up on top of me. In some weird ménage à trois with Lucanis, no less. Not hating it, though."
"Urgh," Rook groaned, scrambling to her feet and brushing herself off. "In your dreams, Warden."
Davrin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Presumptuous much? I don’t dream about you… unless you want me to?" He winked, earning himself a light slap on the arm.
Lucanis, still on the ground, stared at the sky for a moment, stunned. The woman he spent every waking moment trying not to think about had just been straddling him mere seconds ago. It took every ounce of his discipline to shove those thoughts down before they could take root.
As he and Davrin stood, brushing off the dirt, Davrin chuckled. "Nah, if anyone’s going to have nocturnal imaginations, it’s this guy." He jabbed a thumb at Lucanis, his smirk brimming with mischief.
Lucanis shot him a dark look before turning to Rook. "I don’t sleep, Davrin. Or did you forget that?"
"True," Davrin replied breezily. "But just because you don’t sleep doesn’t mean you can’t—"
"Enough," Lucanis growled, cutting him off sharply.
"Come on, boys, play nice." Rook crossed her arms, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she tilted her head at Davrin. "‘Nocturnal imaginations.’ Those are the longest words I’ve ever heard you say in one sentence."
"And you’re welcome for it," he quipped, giving her a mock bow.
Lucanis shook his head, his gaze flicking to Rook. His eyes lingered just a second too long before he turned away. "Next time, just listen when I tell you about a drop."
"Hey," Davrin said with a shrug, "she can’t help it, Crow. She’s… challenged when it comes to all things dexterous. Not everyone’s gifted like us." His grin was devilish and infuriating.
"Gifted?" Rook shot him a look, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. "Is that what we’re calling it these days?"
Lucanis let out a low laugh at her jab, the sound rare enough to make both of them pause.
"Ouch," Davrin said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That hurts, Rook. Truly."
"Good," she replied with a smirk, adjusting her gear. "Let’s just get moving before you both start fighting over which one of you is ‘more talented.’"
"Clearly, that would be me," Lucanis said coolly.
Davrin arched a brow, his grin widening further. "In what area, Dellamorte? Raw skill in offing blood mages? Or denial about anything regarding that lovely lady in front of us?"
Lucanis’s gaze flicked up to where Rook was crossing the next rooftop gap, this time without falling. His jaw tightened briefly, but he said nothing.
"I swear, one of these days, Davrin," Lucanis muttered darkly, "I will end you."
"Sure you will," Davrin replied breezily, his smile never faltering.
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meiguicha · 8 hours ago
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Handmade Love
Sunday x Reader - Idol AU
Please sunday pleasepleasepleek
//
Meticulously, a small hook goes between weaves of baby pink yarn as golden eyes peer over each stitch with intense focus. A few rows having already formed beneath his watchful hand, he briefly looks up just to check the short-hand instructions he had written down before continuining his work.
A few dolls standing at 10cm are standing in a single file line, each of them wear different articles of clothing ranging from hats and scarves to shoes and dresses. Regardless, everything on the pristine dolls are likewise crocheted with the same precision.
Photo cards, albums, photo booth frames, keychain replicas, the multiple dolls of your mascot, perhaps it would be more than safe to say that Sunday has a problem when it comes to you.
Of course, it wasn't as if he was throwing everything into a haphazard pile. That would be rude, to you and to him.
Just like the dolls, he had your photo books chronologically lined up on a shelf, CD's kept in their cases near the ones he bought of his sister's, not a single item was misplaced. Even the many clothes he had made, a hobby he hadn't foreseen picking up, were packed up in a pseudo-closet when not in use.
Maybe that was the most perplexing part of this... fixation? He's still not quite sure what to call it. Yet still, his many Darlings, a horribly apt name for how he treats them (and you), are absolutely spoiled to ruin with how many things he has bought and made for them.
Currently, he was giving his hands a break by watching one of your live streams. Tucked away in your hotel room, you had been simply reading comments and making conversation when a thought seemingly crosses your mind.
"Oh you all, I need to show you this," the higher lilt in your voice immediately caught his attention and as you fiddled with something out of frame, something unknown to him makes his heart speed up.
"Look! Isn't it so cute?" You smile, eyes crinkled into crescents as you hold up a doll clad in a baby blue and pink dress. With a delighted chirp, "My friend said someone wanted to give it to me but was too shy, so he passed it to her instead."
Displayed so very clearly on his screen was your Darling, in his handiwork. Moments of the past two days flashed past his head like a train and suddenly it all makes sense why Robin had been smiling behind her wings when he gave her the dress. Nonetheless, Sunday thinks he can feel the neurons in his brain shortcircuit.
"You guys are so talented, I wish I could do all this too."
"Maybe then Darling wouldn't be so exposed all the time," With a light laugh, there was a twinkle in your eyes as you glanced between the doll and the camera.
As if conditioned, his own twitching wings come up to hide what must certainly be his flushing cheeks from view upon your teasing giggle. Even if it wasn't directed at him specifically, he couldn't help but fluster at your praise.
Though he hesitates, and god knows hesitates, he brings up every ounce of willpower to type up a comment. And when he's finished, his fingers are shaking ever so slightly from the adrenaline.
You laugh again, sweet and dulcet and all too tempting for his ears, "Thank you Restdaysfordarling! Maybe next time you can give it to me yourself?"
Though he can so clearly see the screen burst to life with speculation and squeals alike, he doesn't process any of it.
No. Instead, as his wings flutter in excitement and fear alike, Sunday is forced to cover his eyes with his hands lest his scarlet face be known to the world.
Truly, what have you done to him?
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sugawhaaa · 11 hours ago
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🕯Felix One-shot🕯
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☁️The eighth sin☁️
Warnings:: MENTIONS OF RELIGION If you are faithful I highly recommend not reading this and if you do I do not take religious criticism
Pairing:: Demon!Felix x angel!fem!reader
Genre:: fantasy, AU, slow burn
A/N:: so I've had this story in my mind for a while where the reader is a fallen angel and skz find her in hell and give her a home and long story short they all fall for her and you get to decide how you want to end the story. It's almost like a video game, it's hard to explain. Anyway this is just a little snippet from Felix's story line which leads into Minho's. If yall like this and it does decently I might continue making them
🎧::
Recently you found yourself wound up in hell, the lowest point in the universe to make sure you feel like the lowest being in the scale of the world. However you only sinned once, but that's when it counted.
You were an angel, living among courageous and beautiful beings. However, a singular sin opened the door for you to fall to your demise and you wound up in Hell. Long story short you were taken in by the eight lords of Hell or as many know the seven deadly sins, but there were eight of them. This confused you at first because your whole life you've been preached about the seven sins so to see an eighth lord was simply off-putting.
After a few days, you learned all of the men's sins, including the eighth. He was the lord of faith. But how could something like faith be a sin? You decided to speak with Felix, lord of faith, himself. His room was the most pure sight you had laid eyes upon. Pure white with candles and paintings with minimal furniture, only what he thought was necessary. There were also statues spread around his room.
As you searched for Felix you found him sitting by a statue, gazing up at it, in a silk-white outfit, a little Greek headpiece around his forehead. He turned to look at you and smiled. "My angel," he smiled and you blushed softly.
"That would be me," you nod and Felix tilts his head.
"Something is weighing on your mind, right?" He asks softly and you nod again. You approach him slowly and he offers you to sit next to him. "What's troubling you?" He lights an incense with his fingertip and places it in a holder.
"Well, I'm just confused. How is faith a sin?" You cut straight to the chase and Felix laughs softly.
"Well you see faith is a thin line and all faith isn't directly related to a God or some higher being. Sometimes faith comes from human to human," he explains. "When a person has too much faith they become dependent on that source and lose their originality and sense of being. Some really faithful people try to even bend God's plans in order to somehow appeal more to him," Felix explains in depth of how one might consider faith a sin.
"How so?" You question and Felix sighs.
"Some believe that they can somewhat test God. They have so much faith in his abilities that they will throw their life on the line to test God's strength," he explains and a realization dawns upon you.
"And...does God always..." you look up at him and Felix looks away.
"They say God's a busy man after all..." he swallows hard before clearing his throat. "Do you...have any more questions?" He puts on a smile and you think for a moment.
"Yes actually, if you don't mind," you look up at him and he nods, allowing you to continue. "You said sometimes people have too much faith in each other or like not higher beings. How does that work exactly?"
"Well, like I said faith is a thin line. Some people have too much faith in another and will let that person handle everything. You see this doesn't work out in anyone's favor," Felix explains and the dots instantly connect in your head.
"I think I understand..." you think deeply. This information is changing the perspective you have on life and the life you have lived.
"I believe that not all faith is bad...but I guess I am the lord of faith so," he laughs softly and you smile slightly, still deep in thought. As he looked at you his eyes held a certain...alertness. Like he was hunting or waiting for something and it somewhat off put you. You looked up at him, quickly glancing him up and down.
"So if you think Faith is such a sin then why...Does your room look more religious than any humans I've ever seen," You ask out of genuine misunderstanding.
"All of the eight lords have an uncontrollable desire for whatever their sin is. Some have grown to handle it better, like Chan and Minho, but others still struggle, like me and Hyunjin," Felix gestures to his room as he mentions himself.
"So you must feel...interesting now that I'm here right?"
"I must admit I am overwhelmed with emotions now that you are here. An angel. Living among devils like us. I am infatuated with the way you have lived but I'm trying to refrain from...doing something I'll regret," he smiles shyly as he expresses his passion.
"Like what?" You lean forward, curious of what's on his mind.
"I don't think you'll wanna hear," he smiles. "I'm still a demon after all," he puts a finger to his lips and tilts his head. The smile on his lips sends a chill down your spine. "Alright, anymore questions?"
"No, I'm good thanks," you smile and stand up, fixing your dress softly. "I'll let you continue," you head over to the door, Felix following behind.
"Alright, stay safe," he puts a hand on your shoulder and opens the door for you. "Oh and Y/N, a little piece of advice," his words intrigue you and you turn to look at him. "Stay weary of Minho, don't approach him when by yourself. Make sure someone is with you," Felix smiles but his words make your heart race.
"Thanks," you nod with a smile and Felix closes the door. As you walk back to your room you bump into someone, their sturdiness catching you off guard and stumbling back. A rough hand grabs your wrist to help catch your balance. As you look up you see Minho and glance around nervously.
《Felix ending》
As Felix closes the door his fake smile dwindles as he watches Y/N leave through the stained glass window. Felix glances back at where you were sitting and sighs. He was fascinated by this angel but...something else lingered in his mind. "God's a busy man," he mutters under his breath before scoffing. "Load of shit. He's always watching, aren't you?"
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roronoacherries · 1 year ago
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dilf zoro always on my mind. specifically best friend’s dad dilf zoro.
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stunie · 5 months ago
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“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”
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HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader
contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC
note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3
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KUROO TETSUROU.
“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”
The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.
“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”
He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.
On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”
His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.
“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”
You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”
His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.
“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”
You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.
Maybe too casual.
“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”
A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.
The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.
You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.
“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”
“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”
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MIYA ATSUMU.
“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”
Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.
Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.
“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”
“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”
You want that.
You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.
It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.
“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”
“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”
A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.
“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”
Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.
“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.
“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.
His prayers go unanswered.
“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.
You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.
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SAKUSA KIYOOMI.
“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”
You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.
Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.
What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.
And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.
He’s just gotta see how you look.
“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”
“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”
“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”
You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.
“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.
“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.
“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.
“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.
“You can.”
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DAICHI SAWAMURA.
“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”
Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.
The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.
He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.
“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”
“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”
“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”
“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”
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USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.
You weren’t as subtle as you thought.
His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.
Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.
“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”
You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.
“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.
The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”
It’s silent.
You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”
It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.
“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”
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BOKUTO KOUTAROU.
It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.
Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.
He swallows thickly.
Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”
“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”
The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.
The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.
You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”
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nezuscribe · 14 days ago
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you try not to get jealous. it does you no good. but sometimes you get a little miffed when it comes to how women treat your husband, arranged!gojo.
you see how the women giggle at him, how they bite their lips whenever he walks by. you see them giggle to each other, the way they try to catch his attention.
and though most ladies of the high society act this way, some of the servants around the estate, the women of the town, and others behave like this too.
they act as if he’s not married, as if that ring on his hand is purely for decoration. and sure, maybe a couple months ago it was for show but now things have changed and you don’t appreciate those ladies all that much.
and gojo notices.
he knows you’re getting better at talking to him about what ails you, but he also knows that it’s a a lot to get used to at once. he sees the way you tense up at their whispers, the glares you throw their way when you hear his name in their conversation. he understands because he’s the same as you, his feelings mirroring yours.
so he decides to comfort your worries a bit indirectly.
“what…” you whip your head around as gojo stops at a random spot in one of the hallways, taking you away from your tea time with shoko as he fails to give any explanation for his hurried responses, “what are you doing? you have that meeting with your counsel and-”
“missed you,” is all he’s able to say as he slams his lips onto yours, earning a surprised yelp in response.
your back hits against the stone wall, one of his hands against your head to protect it from bumping back as your gasp in surprise, letting him slide his tongue in your mouth as he sloppily kisses your lips.
“satoru, w-wait,” you try to stop yourself from whining out loud, your fingers cuing into his artic strands as his hands move down to hold your waist, “it’s daytime, p-people, people can come…” you can’t speak anymore because he doesn’t let you, lips slotting against each others as your eyes screw shut, heartbeat in your throat as he hands squeeze as your skin.
“i missed you,” he just repeats, nipping slightly at your bottom lip as you mewl, feeling his lips trail down your chin to your throat as you tilt you head upwards to give him a better angle.
you almost want to laugh because it’s only been hours since you’ve seen each other, but for gojo it feels like days since he’s seen you.
you peek slightly too look at him, see the way his lips attack your skin, sucking and biting, surely leaving marks as he makes his way down. you love the way his hair is slightly wavy, most likely from his bath after sparring.
you’re almost too intoxicated from his feverish kisses to notice the sounds of incoming footsteps, but the loud overbearing giggles is what pulls you back to reality.
you tense up, scrambling to push him away from you but he won’t budge. if anything, he seems to be motivated, moving back up to your lips to steal your words away.
“t-there’s people coming!” you try to warn him but he doesn’t seem to care, his blue eyes gleaming with a different look as your whine from one of his hands moving upwards to your chest, giving one of your breasts a light squeeze.
“so?” he murmurs, lips hovering against the corners of yours as his brow cocks upwards.
you go to say something else but he tilts your chin upwards to meet him, one hand balancing on the wall behind you, one on your hip, his hair messy from your fingers gripping at him.
you don’t feel like moving, too drunk off of him to even notice the ladies as they round the corner, not looking their way as you hear their squeals of shock, the way they try to hurriedly leave.
you glance slightly to the right as gojo moves back down to your neck to get a look at them, your fingers still tangled in his hair, one hand draped over his neck, squinting slightly as you remember their faces from last week, when you overheard them talking about your husband.
there’s a slight tilt in your lips as you hear their scrambled apologies, the way they try to leave as fast as they can. you try not to gloat too much in their looks of envy and jealousy.
and if you focused just enough, you could feel the smile on his lips.
“you missed me?” you ask a little breathless, a coy tilt to your voice.
“so much,” he mumbles as he glances up at you from his white lashes, his pupils blown wide, lips messy with spit, red and swollen as he presses a slopping kiss to the slight skin showing of your chest.
“you’re so immature,” you chide, trying to look away, the hide the bashfulness in your face but his hand cups your jaw, pulling your face back down to see his.
“they had to see for themselves,” he tells you, his voice wavering on something darker, “had to see who the only lady gojo is.”
and you smile, eyes a little hazy as your fingers slightly tug on his soft strands, reveling in the way his eyes roll back and his lips find their way back up to yours.
yeah jealousy wasn’t the best. but thank the gods your husband was just as petty as you.
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pennjammin · 3 months ago
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run, rabbit, run
JJK HALLOWEEN! nanamixreader
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summary ❥ you babysit for the wealthy single dad who lives across the street. it’s the end of october and his halloween party is the talk of the neighborhood. you’re not invited because the kids are out of town, but you decide to pop up on him anyway, and he shows you just how badly he’s been dying to get you alone without the children.
CONTENT: age gap, 86’d sorcery, dilf!nanami, toys, smut, alcohol, dom!nanami, cunnilingus, afab!reader, fluff, friends to lovers kinda, bossxworker, aftercare, slowwwww burn, reader wears animal ears during sex, breeding kink, spit kink, masochism.
word count. 10k
soundtrack 💿: eating - madeintyo
p.s. there’s a joke in here involving the color of 🐱; i know everyone’s is not the same color so , fill in the blank for the color that fits yours if u have one LOL
You give your ass a good shake.
You’re making sure the long, fluffy tail poking out of your blue shorts isn’t going to fall out. It doesn’t.
You’re dressed as a fox, but not just any fox. A fox cop. You have on a short blue collared top, matching shorts, and of course you’d be no real cop without your utility belt housing fake handcuffs and a plastic baton. To top it all off, you’re wearing fuzzy fox ears on your head, and sheer tights to cover your legs.
You nod in the mirror, satisfied. But the real test, to you, is if Mr. Nanami will like it just as much.
Mr. Nanami is your employer, but more importantly, your neighbor. You watch his two young children five days a week; sometimes even overnight when he has a particularly busy work day. You consider yourself close with them, but your feelings about Nanami are a little deeper than that.
You’d seen him the first time a little under a year ago, when he’d been out on an early morning jog. From then, on you’d become disgustingly obsessed ever since.
Your schoolgirl pining only gets worse every time you see him, and recently you've even gone as far as trying to shamelessly flirt - but he seems to have absolutely no idea. That is the less painful explanation, the other being that he’s just not interested.
But you’re planning to see if you can get that to change tonight. You always dress sensible in front of his children; this will be the first time he's seeing so much skin. It has to work, right?
Tonight, Nanami is throwing the party of the century. He has house workers of all kinds who serve towers of food and delicious mixed drinks. The cherry is that his entire gated lawn has been decorated to the perimeter of fun inflatables and spooky decorations. You know it's mostly for his kids, whom he goes nothing short of above and beyond for.
However, he had informed you days ago that they would be out of town this weekend - and, even if they were not, he's off work, so he doesn’t need you. This means he also had not invited you to his party.
You clearly still intend to show up unannounced, a bold move on your part.
You lock up your house - a small, co-owned property that truly looks out of place across from Nanami's home - which he technically pays the rent for. You carefully make your away across the overcrowded street full of cars, decorations, and humans who are already half past drunk.
As you walk up the stone steps that lead to his front door, your stomach is keyed up. You shouldn't feel any different than you normally do when coming over for work, but you’ve really let this highly unprofessional crush of yours get out of control.
You make it to the porch. You're unsure if he will even hear the doorbell, but you press it anyway. The door slides open after about ten seconds, as if he has been standing there watching it. You feel your body freeze immediately upon seeing him.
Nanami is towering over you in the threshold. His face lights up almost instantly, but that's not all that has your heart threatening to crack open your rib cage; it's also his delicious white button down, popped open by a few to reveal tiny bits of blond chest hair, and then of course there are the long, white ears on top of his head.
“Why hello, officer, did we get a noise complaint?” He chuckles at his own dad joke before bowing his head in greeting. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. I figured you would be thrilled to not have to look at these four walls for a few days while my children are with... their mother.”
You watch his face drop in disgust at the mention of his ex-wife, but he’s never said anything bad about her. Whenever you’d asked why things hadn’t worked out, he’d said "they just didn't." And that was that, but part of you aches to know what had happened.
It shouldn’t matter. He is not interested in you. He gives you a paycheck, and that is all.
"Well," you begin carefully, "Who would want to miss out on the most exclusive Halloween party of the year?"
This coerces a deep laugh out of Nanami, then he steps aside and allows you to walk in. He is holding a short rocks glass of unidentified brown liquor, and you can smell whatever it is in a cloud around him.
Once inside, Nanami’s voice is quite muffled from the clank of dishes and bustle of workers. The two of you stop to stand in the foyer, a grand crystal chandelier winking at you from above.
"Exclusive isn't the word I'd use," he says, following your eyes as he takes a sip. "Everyone and their mother is here. Literally." He tilts his glass towards an elderly woman who stands next to a redhead about Nanami's age.
You should be laughing at his joke but instead, your stomach knots grow tighter at the reminder of how many people his age are here preying on him, the neighborhood catch, with careers and homes of their own.
Nanami is seven years your senior, you think. No wonder he wants nothing to do with a young, non career-oriented thing like you when he has all of these sophisticated people crawling at his feet.
You can't think about that now, or the courage you’ve spent a week building will cease to exist.
"Heh - well, either way," you continue, "it's a big party. I know the kids aren't here, but-"
"But I'm glad you are," Nanami smiles, his eyelids hanging a little low from the liquor in his system. "You look very nice, darling. I like your ears."
He grins and points to his own headband. A grown and very, very large man dressed as something as vulnerable as a little rabbit has your nerves aflame.
"Hmm, I bet you do," you tease. “Like it so much you had to copy me?”
Nanami makes a disapproving sound with his tongue, leaning forward a bit to be eye level with you. "Copy you? I was unaware that rabbits and foxes were the same animal. In fact," he adds, "if I'm not mistaken, foxes are a rabbit's natural predator."
You had been trying to look away from him now that he has moved so close, but as the last sentence rolls out of his mouth, you make the mistake of looking directly into his eyes - and what you see makes your limbs jelly. Maybe it's your delusions, but he seems to be drinking you up equally as much as he is his liquor.
You laugh to pop the bubble of tension, but Nanami's face remains as still as ice.
"Well, I certainly don't think I pose a threat to you, sir," you say, voice unnervingly dry. "You are twice my size."
At this, his intense stare transitions into a soft smile. "You just have to get my guard down. Then, I'm sure a little thing like yourself would be able to have your way with me."
You blink quickly, assuming you've misheard him. Then again, though, he tends to say things that could be flirty - but he is just a naturally charismatic man. Means nothing.
"Ah," you mumble out, shifting your weight from side to side. You have to find a way to change the subject, but most importantly, you need get his attention off of you. You’d wanted it so bad, now you don’t know how to handle it. As you scheme, he sips his drink again, eyes still watching you over the rim of the glass.
"So... the kids always go with their mom on Halloween?" you ask abruptly.
Nanami quickly swallows his sip before shaking his head. "Well I had them for the Fourth of July, you recall."
You do recall. A little too well. Nanami in nothing but tight, black swim shorts and his signature sunglasses as he flipped meat over the grill - and you playing in his pool with the kids. He’d invited you to celebrate the holiday with him after his kids had begged, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. The memory popping into your head almost makes you not hear what he says next.
"We alternate holidays. So I will have them for Thanksgiving, she for Christmas," he shrugs a shoulder. "I would have traded Thanksgiving for Christmas, but alas. Christmas is always the busiest day of the year for me, so they would just miss out on time with their father anyway. I couldn't ask you to ditch your holiday plans for us, again, either."
He sighs. You feel your heart ache; he cares deeply about his kids, but he is definitely a workaholic. That is why you spend every chance you get at his house… well, that’s mostly why. But even then, you sometimes wish you stayed more to help, because Nanami works tireless double shifts, then spends his off days trying to make up for lost time with the kids.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say, attempting to comfort him. "You're an amazing father who is doing all he can. They love you so much."
He smiles and bows his head politely, so as to say thank you. "They love you as well. Sometimes, I think more than they do their mother."
You swallow a choke, before rutting out, “Surely not."
Before Nanami has the chance to reply, an older woman who you’d come to known as Agnes walks by with a large tray arraignment of bright green cocktails.
“Nanamin!” she shrieks out. “Where would you like me to put these? Very afraid of them falling. There’s drunkards crawling up the walls! I’ve already swept up sixteen broken glasses! Sixteen!”
You and Nanami turn to look at her with an equally astonished expression.
Nanami leans forward a bit to whisper in your ear, “My apologies in advance for her erratic behavior.”
Agnes is still staring wildly between the two of you as you giggle, awaiting further instructions from Nanami.
“Sit them wherever you think is safest,” he says calmly.
She huffs but ultimately takes his word, speeding off with her kitten heels clacking against the marble floor.
Nanami turns back to you and opens his mouth, but another voice cuts him off.
“Nanami, sir!”
You feel a twinge of irritation in your chest, but you really shouldn’t. He is the host and people need his attention. You should have seen this coming.
“Is everything okay?” he questions politely, turning to face the short brunette in front of him, who bats her eyelashes.
“I… I think that someone is fighting outside,” she says quickly, unable to keep eye contact.
Nanami is a smart man, though. “Oh? Well, what shall we do about that?”
“I thought you could run and stop them,” she says, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.
“I’m in no mood to be in the middle of a brawl,” he says sternly. “Have the butlers stop it, and remove them. You try not to get involved either.”
She huffs and spins on her heel, walking back through the living room with an angry stomp in her step.
Nanami clicks his tongue, “I really need to have her counseled in compulsive lying. She cries wolf so many times a day.”
You’ve never seen her before, she must be new. This makes you jealous all over again. She’s not quite as old as the rest of the workers, but still older than you. The issue is you see yourself in her, the uncontrollable pining over your shared boss. She just makes hers much more obvious.
Nanami clears his throat, and you notice too late how his hand has slithered to the small of your back.
“Perhaps we should escape somewhere more secluded, hm?” he says. “I really am enjoying our conversation. A shame we keep getting interrupted.”
You swallow thickly. The hair on your spine has raised at his sudden contact, making you shiver.
“Yes, that’s a good idea, sir,” you say, trying to hide how dry your voice has gotten.
Not another word is uttered before Nanami is swiftly whisking you off to another room; his hands now free of his drink and instead gently guiding you by his hand placement.
His gaze is not as focused on you as it is leading you both through the overwhelming crowd of people, and to the hall under the stairs that you know for a fact leads to his workspace. He moves his hands into yours as he gently pushes you ahead of him.
You take the lead and find yourself pushing open the big door to his study. Inside is a complete reflection of Nanami, his wealth and his cleanliness. Even his desk is free of papers, or any indication at all that he works in here.
You recall the days he works from home, in this very study, and he'd still be in his work suit, just minus the blazer. You'd let the kids sneak in on him, only once or twice thoughout the day, just to see his smile; and while you’re already there, you'd drop off a cup of hot coffee to help him plow through the rest of his shift.
He shuts the doors behind you both as you run to make yourself comfortable in his desk chair, spinning around like a child.
As you do so, you fail to see or hear his fingers slyly clicking the lock on the door.
“Much better,” Nanami breathes, moving to flick on a floor lamp in the corner, giving the study a soft, warm glow accompanied by the full Halloween moon. “Now, what were we discussing?”
“You, uh,” you clear your throat as you stop spinning in the chair to face him. “You really didn’t have to come in here just to talk to me. You are the man of the evening, you know.”
Nanami rolls his eyes, an out-of-character action you never thought you'd see, but one that looked so tasty, so sultry. God, you’re a pervert in heat - and your sweet, sweet boss is completely oblivious to the kind of horrible thoughts you have daily about him.
Nanami's now staring at you. His mouth is moving, but you have no idea what he had been saying.
"… to spend time with all of those shallow, insolent creatures,” you register, “when I have someone like you here?" He walks over to the desk and leans against it, right next to you now, as he crosses his arms over his massive chest. "We have never just sat down and talked. We always have little people depending on us or wanting our attention. Tonight, I’d like that to change.”
You let his words simmer for a moment. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Mr. Nanami?” you then question.
“What did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ nonsense?” He frowns. “That makes me feel so old.”
"Sorry, sir," you gulp, not intending to upset him. You just can't help the way 'Mr.' and 'Sir' roll off your tongue, or how bad you enjoy seeing him shift uncomfortably at the use of the names.
"Meanie," he tuts, knocking you playfully with his leg. Another uncharacteristic action.
"What'd I do?" you blink, tilting your head as you look up at him.
"You mean besides drive me insane with your teasing?" he questions, before his eyes widen and he looks as though he's just spilled a secret. "I- wow, I am sorry. That is not what I meant to say."
"I drive you insane?" you echo. "I didn't even think you noticed my… teasing.”
Nanami's face is neutral, but his jaw is working under his skin. "I’m not naive, little fox." He lets out a breath. “This was truly an excellent costume choice.”
He leans forward and flicks the furry ear on your head.
“Thank you,” you smile. “I can’t say the same for yours. You hardly scream innocent bunny.”
“What about me isn’t innocent?” he raises a brow, standing off of the desk.
“I…” you blink as he walks around to the back of the desk chair. “You’re just, um…”
“Fox got your tongue?” he coos, spinning the chair so that you’re forced to face him.
You inhale a deep breath and hold it as heat travels through your stomach and right to the center of your thighs.
“You’re a man who is about his business,” you say. “I imagine you’ve… had a lot of life experiences,” you pause to remind yourself to breathe, but it’s hard because of how ferociously Nanami is staring into your eyes. “So you c-can’t be all that innocent…”
“You seem nervous,” he coos. “Here. Let’s stand up, I’ll sit down. Maybe that will help you to not be so tense, hm?”
Your body obeys before your mind catches on. You’re standing in a beat, and Nanami has replaced you on the chair. Your bottom hits the crease of his large desk, and you slam your hands down on the surface to balance yourself.
“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t mean to imply that you make me uncomfortable, sir.”
Nanami's pupils flash white, but it's gone so quickly, you might have imagined it. "If I do, please let me know immediately.”
“No,” you say, dropping your hand, “I just think we need to get to know each other better, right? Our entire relationship is through the kids. I know that your son’s favorite shade of green is kiwi, but I don’t even know your first name.”
Nanami chuckles at this. “You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He taps your knee. “Kento, silly girl. My first name is Kento.”
"A-And your favorite color?” you continue, trying to ignore how close he’s moved the chair towards you, now that you have fully planted your bottom on his desk.
“Pink,” he says, serious as death.
You giggle. “Why pink?”
“It’s the color of my favorite thing to eat,” he says, slowly placing his arms on either side of your thick thighs, hands planted flat on the surface of the desk.
You think for a moment. “Strawberry ice cream?”
“No,” he cocks his blond head to the side and his eyes fall on your tights. “Try again.”
You pretend to think, though you fear you may be catching on now. “Hmm, dragonfruit?”
“Nah,” Nanami says, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His pupils have been dilated from the alcohol, but there is an unrelated darkness in his eye now. “Something I don’t even have to swallow.”
You gulp. “Oh,” your suspicions have been confirmed.
“Get it now, little fox?” he coos.
“Mhmm,” you taunt back. “Well, I suppose I came prepared with your favorite dish, then.”
“Did you?” His hands boldly make their way to the top of your thighs, barely hovering over the skin but enough to make the flesh there light on fire. “Prepared it all nice and pretty for me?”
“Yes sir,” you nod eagerly, feeling your own boldness appear as your knees slide further away from one another. “How do you like it?”
“Extra moist,” he grits hungrily, fingernails curving into your tights and shredding a thick rip! through the material.
You gasp, entire torso lurching forward as he drags the hole bigger and bigger.
“Sorry, little fox. They were in the way,” he shrugs an innocent shoulder. “And what should we do about these shorts? They’re in the way, too.”
“Then let’s get them off,” you whisper, hardly registering that such filth had been uttered.
This truly can’t be happening. Is Nanami… Kento Nanami actually going to eat you out? Are his hands really slithering up your waist and fumbling with the button on your shorts, or are you in some kind of sick daydream?
"Mr. Nanami-"
"Please," he holds up a hand, one still remaining on the button of your shorts. "Kento. Call me Kento."
"Kento," you echo softly, and his eyelashes flutter. “You really want to do this?”
Nanami sucks in a breath. Several moments of silence pass, then his fingers are gently pressing against your chin, and he has risen to tower above you. "Maybe it's the liquid courage in me that's pushing me," he says, "but I’m okay with that. I dream about you on my tongue, night after night. I need you, Y/N.”
Instead of allowing you to reply, Nanami's lips are assaulting yours in a flash. A harsh, irrational kiss from a man who's lost his battle of self control.
Your hands fly up to his face to balance yourself at the sheer force the shock of the kiss has on you. He groans softly into you as your lips mold together, getting used to the shapes of each other’s mouths.
You want to begin deepening the kiss, but Nanami is suddenly pulling away.
"I'm sorry," he says quickly. You look at his face; for a man who is always so calm and composed, he is flushed and even shaking a little. “I should have asked if that was okay.”
"Did you hear me complaining?" you ask sternly.
“No-”
“Then shut up and kiss me, Kento.”
He wastes no time obeying your command; this time as he kisses you, his hands find the soft skin where your hips crease into your thighs. You’re aware of your thighs rubbing against his stomach as he crawls further on top of you.
You slide your arms up around the back of his neck to hold onto him as his lips work pure ecstasy into your mouth.
You sigh against him and he digs his fingers into your sides to get you to do it again. Now his tongue is in your mouth, softly swirling your own, smacking fiercely on your lips as he does so.
You're panting now, but Nanami is swallowing your breath with every second. He's leaning his weight on his palm, so his body isn't quite attached to yours, but you want to make him lose his balance so he can crash down on top of you. Every moment that you stay like this, your cunt drips wetter and wetter, seeping through your shorts onto his desk.
"So perfect," Nanami utters into your mouth, "s'much sweeter than I deserve."
You frown at his self deprecation but don't comment, instead your hands start sliding down his chiseled back, exploring the deep ridges and shapes of pure, hard muscle.
Then, plop! You blink in shock as his bunny ears have fallen plum onto your face, nearly gauging out your eye.
"Oh," he gasps, breaking away from you. "Forgot about these."
He pulls away from you, standing upright but staying between your legs. You swallow a needy whine at his absence, before sitting up with him, staring expectantly.
"Think they'll look better on you though, huh, darling?" he coos, reaching over your head and plucking your fuzzy ears off. Then, he’s replacing them with his bunny ears. "There, that's more fitting. I feel much more like the hunter than the hunted.”
You tilt your chin defiantly. "Mm, so I'm just an innocent rabbit in the sights of a dangerous hunter?"
“Clever bunny,” Nanami murmurs, leaning forward and catching you by surprise with a wet kiss at the nape of your neck. You shudder. “Time for me to eat my latest catch, hm?”
“I-I guess so-”
“Oh, don't get shy now, bunny,” he mewls against your ear. “Do you want to do this?”
You pretend to consider it, but your dripping hole has already answered for you. "Yes, sir."
Nanami purrs in response and taps your earlobe with his perfect teeth - before you're being shoved back on the flat surface. Three quick beats occur. Beat, shorts off. Beat, tights off. Beat, panties sliding slowly down your legs.
"God," he says, hooking his fingers over the trim of the panties, which are light blue in color, accented by an adorable pink bow in the front. "All this time, I could've had you like this, if only-” he cuts himself off to lean down and place a kiss to your inner knee.
Your nerves send repeated quivers over you. You dig your nails into the desk, but your palms are so sweaty that your hand slips. Nanami catches you, a heavy hand on your lower back, the other hand entangling in your panties and proceeding to rip them all the way off. Your clothes are now in a discarded pile to the right of you, fuzzy tail and ears a reminder of what got you into this position in the first place.
“Well we can make up for lost time now,” you whisper, sliding your feet farther apart until your knees are angled into the air - gaping pussy winking up at Nanami.
His eyes nearly jump from his body as he watches you open up for him, glistening cunt all in his face. He's sinking back down into the chair before either of you really processes it, and his heavy palms fall flat on your inner thighs.
"She's s'pretty, sweetheart," he coos, the breath from his words tickling your clit and making you writhe pathetically. "Haven't even touched you yet. Why are you shaking?”
You whine out in embarrassment. Something about your most perverted fantasies coming alive before you, Nanami talking to you like this, and him staring directly at the forbidden parts you'd never thought he'd see, is depleting your confidence.
"What's wrong, bunny?" he asks, reading your expression. "You look like you are second guessing this."
"N-No!" you cry out, making him jump, before you sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. No, I want to. I'm just embarrassed."
"Why?" he perks a brow, astonished.
"Because you're so..." you huff uncomfortably, "fine, and here I am, of course anyone would be embarrassed of their own genitals, y'know I just kind of never expected this and-”
"Y/N," Nanami interrupts. "I've seen plenty of these before; all different types, sizes and colors. I am going to devour you regardless of what you think.”
You swallow thickly. Your head nods like a puppet, though you're unsure if that's you saying you understand, or telling him to go ahead.
While you're deciding, Nanami plants a kiss to your bikini line, then slides his hands to wrap his arms around your thighs so that it's now impossible for you to close them. Your stomach is on fire, and you're on the verge of gyrating your pelvis right into his stupidly perfect face.
"Tell me you want this, bunny," Nanami rasps, placing another loud kiss to your inner thigh.
"I want this," you confirm again, "want you."
You don't have to say anything else because his mouth has already found your clit. Warm breath travels between your folds as he keeps his tongue narrowed out to swirl agonizingly slow circles over the bulb.
Your hips convulse against his strength. It does nothing except prompt Nanami to flatten his whole mouth over your heat and pick up speed with his tongue.
"Oh, ohh," you drawl, your hands leaving the desk surface and going right through his fine hair. His hold on you ensures you can’t fall backwards, but you’re gripping his roots for dear life.
He grumbles against your cunt and you feel it all the way up to your ovulating uterus. The desire to have your womb house more of his children starts to enter your brain and you have to remind yourself that this is just sex.
Oh, but it's so much more than that. Nanami's taking his time to work your body, to know exactly which pace makes you cry out like a pathetic fucktoy, noting when you wriggle under his grip, as he pushes his fingertips into the flesh on your legs.
His warm tongue keeps your puffy lips parted effortlessly; lathering you up with his saliva, drinking in the fluid your body creates more of each second.
You sit up farther to look down at him; his eyebrows are furrowed and focused, his cheeks hollowed as he treats your twitching clit like his tongue’s dance partner.
He swirls, flicks, slurps - each variation unlocking a new noise from you as you fight back your orgasm.
As you watch him, your fucked-out, needy brain begins to tell you would give him whatever he wanted in this moment; six children and a house from scratch if that's what he requested. Because he deserves it; the way his tongue’s now dipping slightly into your desperate hole, making your hips jerk from the desk until he counter-forces them with his hands.
"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps, grazing his teeth over your clit.
You can’t even speak; he’s eaten your voice right out of you. His head shakes side to side as he plants his mouth back on you and peers up through his blond lashes, daring you to pull that stunt a second time.
Your hands are still deeply entangled in his roots, but at this point you can't keep your eyes in the front of your head. Your head lolls back on your neck as your hips twitch with an unholy amount of momentum. Your moans are growing dangerously loud; knowing full well there's an entire party nearby, as well as the possibility of nosy maids. Not that either of you care.
"Kento, s-so good," you lament, bucking your hips into his chin as if you could chase more pleasure than he's already giving you. The heat in your stomach is the first indication that your pleasure is morphing into an orgasm, but you don’t want to cum yet.
You want to try and run again, just to give yourself a little time to catch up…
The minute Nanami feels your hip bones sliding away from him, he pulls his mouth off of you; your orgasm slipping away. You take a deep breath in regret.
“Someone must not want to cum,” he taunts, keeping his mouth close to your trickling cunt. “Need you to stay still.”
“I can’t,” you breathe, trembling.
“Try for me?” Nanami requests softly, lifting your thighs into the air before plopping your feet flat on his shoulders.
He plants a heavy kiss to your clit after the adjustment in your position and you dig your toes into his back.
“F-For you,” you repeat mindlessly, brain officially scrambled like a breakfast platter.
“Mmh-” Nanami grunts, planting his fat tongue back between your slick folds, working his jaw intensely to finish pulling the orgasm out of you. He sticks the narrow tip back at your hole, flicking the rim of the inside as if it’s his purpose for living.
Your toes lift into the air as Nanami tests your flexibility, pushing your knees next to your ears. With the pressure built up in your stomach, you barely have time to mutter out the announcement of your orgasm before you're cumming all over his tongue and clenching your walls around the wet muscle.
"Give it to me, bunny," he moans, words muffled because of the way you're gripping his tongue with your pussy.
You keep shaking for a solid thirty seconds, because he is refusing to take his tongue out of you. When finally you’ve calmed to a slight twitch, he removes his face from between your thighs and the entire lower half of his face glistens in the light.
"That's one," he murmurs to himself, crawling back over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. "You did so well. You taste so sweet, bun.”
"Can I return the favor?" you ask needily, dragging your palm down his chest.
He grinds his pelvis across your lower half, so that you can feel the sheer length of his bulge beneath his pants. "What for?"
Your eyes widen at just how large it feels; surely it's smaller than it appears.
"Wanna please you, sir," you babble out, watching his eyebrows furrow at the self-proclaimed pet name.
"Hm, think that ship sailed long ago,” he chuckles, rubbing his clothed dick against your inner thigh this time, and now, you take notice of the warm trail of precum that’s leaked through his pants onto your skin.
You dig your nails into his chest instead of replying. He bites back a groan and kisses your neck.
“I’m going to have to restrain you if you want’a keep being so touchy," he whispers sternly.
"I do have handcuffs," you say, following it with a giggle. Though you’re only half joking.
"That's cute," he mewls. "You think I need handcuffs to restrain you?" He pauses. "What's that you said? That I'm twice your size?"
You swallow thickly, remembering that you had, in fact, said that.
"So I can, and will easily pin you down, bun," he continues. "Don't act up, and I won't have to, yeah?"
You wish you can say you won’t, but if he thinks you dislike the idea of being pinned down, he must not be faking his innocence, like you’d thought.
A moment later, he's standing away from you, and his hands expertly unbutton his shirt. You watch him with desire, and he smiles a little shyly at you as he shrugs off the garment and tosses it to the floor.
“Funny, you’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says suddenly. “Why do I feel a bit nervous about it this time?”
You giggle and cock your head to the side, legs still spread wide. “Should’ve always felt nervous. I’m a huge pervert, y’know.”
Nanami dips his head before coming back to be close to your body again, his fingers mindlessly tugging on the hem of your shirt now.
“I know,” he whispers. “A little minx, you are.”
“Took you long enough to realize it, hm?” you tease as you lift your arms to assist him in removing the shirt. But you are caught off guard when he doesn’t continue.
"You're still sure you want to do this?" he questions, changing the subject. “I'm sorry. I'm going to ask a hundred times, it’s just a habit.”
"Yes, Kento," you rasp frustratingly. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg to be fucked for you to get it?"
He blinks, stunned, as if that is not something he ever considered; but does sound appealing to him.
"No," he says quickly, slowly lifting your shirt further over your body. "How did we end up here, hm? Was this your plan from the moment you crashed my Halloween party?"
"Uh-uh," you say innocently, as he pulls the shirt over your head. Now you sit completely naked in front of him - save for the bunny ears on your head.
"I get the feeling you're a big, fat liar," he teases, leaning back over you, now your stomachs are touching and everywhere your skin meets is tingling. "Didn't I tell you to be a good girl? Good girls don't lie."
“‘M not lying," you argue. "Admit you were over here waiting for me to show up all night."
"Maybe I was," he murmurs, dragging his top teeth over the connection between your neck and your shoulder before planting a wet kiss on your collar bone. "And you came for me, like always."
A gasp erupts from your throat and Nanami cuts it off by sliding his hand there. He uses his fingers to apply the gentlest amount of pressure to the sides of your neck and your body arches against him.
"Tell me if anything I do is too much for you, little fox," he coos in your ear before dropping his hand from your neck and standing back straight to quickly unbuckle his belt.
He slides the garment out of his belt loops, and discards it to the side, on top of your clothes. So in other words: close by.
"Kento," you pant, "please."
"Please what?" he questions, raising a brow innocently as he pops open the button to his tight pants - visibly taking a deep breath as his bulge pokes free.
"You're dragging this out," you whine. "I've needed you for so long. This is torture."
"So what?" he shrugs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor, where he steps out of them.
"I..." you cut yourself off with a frustrated grunt.
"You said please, but you aren't using your words, little fox.” He slides his body back over yours - his boxers now being the only barrier between you. "What do you want?"
"You, your cock, your mouth," you pant all of it out in one quick sentence. "I... I just need you inside of me, Mr. Nanami."
Your breasts rub against his hard chest, teasing your achingly hard nipples. Just so pathetic. Can’t control yourself. Your brain's swirling with desire and ecstasy for him. If he can't read your mind, you're sure he can see it in your face.
"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice returning to its usual softness, "you got me. All yours."
He tugs his boxers down quickly, desperately. Now your hips are aligned to each other's. He's still hovering, his cock not even touching you yet. He slides a hand between your legs as his other keeps you steady, gripping harshly on your hip which is sure to leave a delicious bruise.
Your arms wrap around his neck and he drags his mouth across your jaw before attaching his lips to your neck. His fingers gather the drip from your hole, and then he slides them up through your folds and to your clit. He swirls the fingers softly, keeping his ear right next to your mouth so that he can hear exactly what he’s doing to you.
Your legs shake against his ribs while you moan for him, and he grunts as he takes in all of your body's reactions to his touch.
He goes to try and put a finger in your cunt but you grab his wrist. He does not argue with you, which should be a red flag, but you think you’ve won until he takes the hand he had been using to play with you and grips your wrist, yanking it back, and your entire body goes falling against the desk.
Somehow, both of your wrists are being pinned to the wood in one large hand now. You whine and squirm under him, but he doesn't care. His free hand grabs his cock.
He takes the heavy tip and taps it against your clit several times, each time causing you to gasp and arch against him.
"That's right," he whispers above you. "No escaping now, bun."
You blink up at him, lifting your hips to grind your pussy on him, which causes his lips to part and his eyebrows to furrow.
You open your mouth, tongue flying out, wanting to appeal to another twisted fantasy. “Need your spit,” you mumble shyly.
He seems to ponder for a moment before he realizes what exactly it is you are asking, and a moment later he is leaning forward, dripping a warm glop of saliva from his mouth down your throat.
“Mmh-” you moan as you swallow happily, before looking down between your legs where he is finally done lubricating himself on your juice. He's staring at you hopelessly, as if he’s thinking that putting his cock in you isn't going to be enough.
“So nasty,” he coos, “ready for me, sweetheart?”
"Hngh- please," you beg.
Not a second later, hot pressure is at your hole. Nanami slides his hips upward to push himself deeper, deeper, deeper - the girth feeling like it's going to simply rip you in half.
You shriek and shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It doesn't.
You feel so embarrassed as he takes his free hand to lift up your left thigh, because pain shoots up through your stomach - and not the good kind.
"Ah- wait," you cry out, eyes falling open.
Nanami stops immediately. "What's the matter?"
"It... it hurts," you admit shyly, biting your lip. "Wh-Why d'you have to be so big?"
"Why d'you have to be so tight?" he chuckles back, but carefully slides out of you. "Hang on. I know what will help, little fox."
He pulls away from you, letting go of your wrists to lean over and dig into a random drawer in his desk. You have no idea what he could possibly be doing until he stands back straight, a hand still holding up your leg, while the other holds a small, light pink, bullet-shaped rubber object.
"Brand new," he says, eyeing it as he rotates it between his fingers. "Just put batteries in it."
You swallow as you realize what this implies. He knew he was going to fuck you - or at least, that he was going to use this toy on you at some point. Or, a third worse thing: it hadn't been for you at all.
You don’t want to think about that possibility, though.
He hands the little toy to you, a small buzz coming from it already.
"Hold it for me," he instructs. "I need my hands to keep my prey from running."
You gulp and do as he says, and again he is taking his cock head and pushing it against you, before it slides through the gummy entrance and you cry out again.
You hold the toy to your clit and the feeling travels straight through your veins. You focus on the vibrations and before you can even inhale again, your insides are completely full.
"Deep breaths, bun," he grunts, "feel her o-opening up… now.”
Did he just stutter? Kento Nanami, who's always so composed. You'd made him lose his wording. You.
Nanami takes his hands and pulls your knees up, holding them to his sides, while you keep your hand occupied on the little bullet between your legs.
The combination of the toy plus his cock filling you up and molding your walls against it has you aching to spill over, already.
Now that the searing has begun to dissolve, his cock is gliding effortlessly inside of you - feeling as though the organ was crafted to fit you perfectly. Your juices cover every inch of him, delicious squelches creating a symphony with your moans as Nanami's pace quickens.
He has his hands still pressed on your thighs but he leans forward and gently pulls a nipple into his warm mouth. You don't know what to do with your free hand, so it ends up on his back, nails mercilessly breaking open his skin. He hisses and nips your nipple between his teeth.
"Fuck. Me," he groans, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. You want to make a comment about how you already are, but he just looks so fucked out - so vulnerable. Lips puffy and wet, eyes shut tight, hair dangling over his forehead.
He’s ruined.
He claws his fingers into your outer thighs. His fingers dig so hopelessly into you as his cock swirls your insides, his hips now moving in a rhythmic wave motion.
Your hand falls away from your clit with the toy and you hardly notice that it's gone because now, his pelvis is brushing over it, sweat practically gluing the two of you together.
"Aw," he purrs, and you look up to see that his eyes are staring directly between your legs. "You’re creaming all over me. Shit - your cunt looks so good, swallowing me up.”
Your face heats and you take your hands to grip his arms, as he's now drilling into you so torturously that you're gliding up the desk - the sweat on your back making your skin slick. He notices you're moving away and shifts his hands to grab your hips, holding you down onto him, and now his fat tip is violating your cervix.
"H-Hah Kento, ngh - God," is all you can manage to say, but there’s nothing holy about what his cock is doing to you, as he angles himself upward, attacking your uterus from a new direction.
You shriek, so horribly loud. It sounds like a horror movie - which is fitting. You’ve nearly forgotten that it’s Halloween night; the moon full, your passions like the tides, being pulled to their peak.
You desperately feel a needy confession on your lips but you know that now isn't the time. You can't love a man you don't date... right? But you definitely love the way he's tearing up your insides, sure to leave you swollen and limping.
"I don't remember telling you that you could remove your hand," he snaps, realizing you’ve removed the bullet, "put it back. Now."
You shake your head, begging for mercy. "Was too much, c-can't take it."
"Yes you can," he whispers, leaning forward and hovering his mouth over yours, cognac-scented breath teasing your parted lips. "Put it back, or I stop."
You whine and obey, the vibration revisiting your clit making your body convulse against him.
"Mhmm, like that sweetheart," Nanami coos, staring at you as your face twists every couple of seconds from the introduction of new kinds of pleasure. "Stick that tongue back out for me."
Your mouth is open, drool practically spilling out of the sides in a millisecond. He's spitting another alcoholic saliva drop into your mouth the next.
His breath is ragged as he drags out, "Thought I knew everything. But y’teaching - hah - me new things. Like how I can never live without your pretty pussy, ever again."
You quiver your lip and dig your nails into his back again, ready to cum on his cock.
"S-Stop talking like that," you grit out. "G-Gonna cum if you don't stop."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" he questions harshly. "You can cum over and over. I’m not finished with you."
You shake your head, but before you can fire back, Nanami is suddenly sliding himself out of you. You panic and sit up, staring at him with wide eyes as he drops to sit on the chair.
His hands come up to grab your hips roughly, and he's effortlessly pulling you down off of the desk. Your stomach makes contact with his thighs as he lays you over his lap like a disobedient child.
"Nanami?" you breathe, but he doesn't seem to hear you at all.
"We just needed to pause for a second," he says softly, running a hand down your spine and over the hill of your ass. His voice is very misleading, as are his gentle gestures; you have no idea what's coming.
"N-No," you whine, "I was so close."
"But, naughty bunny, didn’t you tell me to stop?" he questions, distracting you from the fact that his fingers are sliding between your asscheeks and down to your swollen hole.
You jerk in his lap as two of his fingers glide down your slick, parting your thick lips, repeating the process several times just to watch you squirm.
“Y-Yes, but-”
“What’d I tell you about lying?” he grits, and a blink later his fingers have parted from your skin.
You turn to scold him and his hand cracks down on the back of your thighs.
You yelp, but the action exhilarates you in some kind of disgusting way.
“Oh, and here’s another for calling me Nanami,” he spits, another crack landing on your backside but this time - higher, and harder.
“K-Kento, I’m sorry,” you whine, but you truly don’t want it to stop. Your fingers dig into his leg and he hisses, his cock jerking against your stomach as his body responds.
“How sorry, bun?” he coos, voice faking softness before another pop! of his palm stings your skin.
“I’ll be good, promise,” you whisper, arching your hips up to encourage another smack.
“You like this, don’t you, naughty bunny?” he realizes suddenly, and you try to shake your head in denial - but he’s caught on. “Hm. I’ll only accept your apology if you give me two more orgasms. Deal?”
“Two?” you cry. “I-I’ve already had one!”
“Good things always cum in threes, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand over the pretty hand-shaped welps he’s left on your skin. “You can give it to me. You want to be good, don’t you?”
You don’t know when the shift happened, but you loved it. You loved how he was letting his soft facade crumble to the ground so that he could truly slap you around like you were just a hole. Truthfully, that’s all you wanted to be. Wanted to let him take out the stress of being a single father on your guts, fill you up with more babies to care for, and then kiss you on the forehead when it was all done.
Pathetic. This is still your employer, your boss. And not to mention how much older he is. You don’t care, but you’re unsure if he does.
“I wanna cum again, please,” you beg, wriggling your ass up to show him you still needed punishment.
He groans before his two thick fingers are pressing between your lips and then, shoving through the soft ring at your center.
Your body shamelessly arches, but he allows your arms to stay free, clawing into his skin wherever you can get a grip.
Nanami is making his own noises above you but you’re on the verge of tears, wailing and carrying on as he fucks you with his fingers, curling the tips into your squishy ridges to try and drive the cum out of you faster.
“Maybe we should get one of those tails with a plug,” he comments, tone implying he’s thinking out loud. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you in your cute little tail while I fuck you.”
“Hngh - no, mmh…” you don’t even know what noises to make anymore. Words escape your brain.
Nothing but mush and the burning of your approaching orgasm are on your mind.
“Hold it in for me,” Nanami requests suddenly, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready for it, sweetheart.”
“God,” you shake your head and clench your thighs, but Nanami’s strong hand forces them back apart.
Your toes curl on the other side of the chair, your head falling forward. The pulse in Nanami’s cock is still drumming against your abdomen, as if knocking on your tummy to threaten you to hold your orgasm.
“I-I can’t,” you say, “Please, can I-”
“Cum.”
Nasty, wet squelches don’t stop as your body sends you over the edge. Your vision blacks and you shake so hard that you nearly roll right to the floor.
He hums approvingly, slowing his fingers down as you clench around them. “Good job, bun. Only one more to go.”
“I can’t take another,” you shake your head, as he gently guides you up into a sitting position on his lap.
“You’re so strong,” he says, “the perfect person for me. The way you always take care of me and the kids, how you fit so effortlessly into our little family. I know you can do this for me, sweetheart. Let me repay you for all that you do for us. Make you feel good.”
You hadn’t expected this little speech. It almost brings you to tears as Nanami gently rubs your back, sliding his free arm underneath your legs to lift you princess-style back onto the desk.
“Say something,” he begs, his voice hoarse.
“I wanted to be good for you,” you grin softly, and he smiles back as he runs his hands gently over the top of your legs. “But you want to be good for me. Which is it?”
“Both,” Nanami whispers. “I told you that you already do everything that keeps me content. Now, I want to please you.”
You realize that he is passing his power off to you. Letting his dominance slip through his fingers and right into the palm of your hand. You think you can handle being in control for your final orgasm, so you grip him harshly by his cock and scoot your ass to the edge of the desk.
He moans so softly that it could have been a whimper. You take his curvy length and drag it up to be aligned with your hole.
“Is your cock alone gonna please me, hm?” you purr, swirling your hips to tease his cock head, salty precum spreading across your hole.
“Y-yes ma’am,” he mutters, body lurching forward as if he’s the overstimulated one.
“Prove it,” you quip, shoving him back inside of you before pushing your hips down onto him.
You furrow your eyebrows to try and pretend the pain of him entering isn’t still intense. You lift yourself off of your palms and feet, using them to fuck down onto his twitching cock.
“Hah - Y/N,” he speaks your name in two sultry syllables, putting his hands on the desk to fully release his control as you use him.
“Baby, I need to fill you up,” he continues, “b-but if you don’t want me to…”
“Yes,” you say, “want me to have your babies, Mr. Nanami?”
“Oh,” he whimpers, “shit. Shit, don’t say stuff like that.”
You whirl your hips on him in the shape of an ‘O.’
“Want to breed me?” you continue. “Make me all big and pregnant?”
“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly, hand clamoring down on the belt that is to your side, before he grips the garment in his hand. He sits up from where he’d been leaning on you, before taking the leather and slithering it around your neck, pulling it through the buckle, and yanking it towards him like you’re just a pathetic bitch on a leash.
“You had your fun,” he grits, “now you need to remember your place, bunny. I’m going to fill you to the brim until your cunt can’t take anymore and it drips back out of you, got it?”
“Mmh,” you pull against his belt as your hips are no longer the once controlling the pace. “Nanami, n-nooo…”
Your voice tapers off as he fucks you, fucks you so good and hard and mean until you’re drooling and crying and shaking and hissing and-
“Cumming!” you scream, but Nanami shows no signs of slowing down.
“That’s it,” he says. “Number three. What about four?”
“Y-You said…”
“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to lie around here?” he chuckles, a deep hypnotic sound that vibrates against your chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna - ngh” and one viscid moment later, Nanami begins to shudder, and it is the beginning of the end.
You cannot tell if you are mourning or rejoicing the conclusion of this insane chain of events, but you forget all about it when Nanami is spurting hot semen all over your taut, spongey walls - that are now sore and quivering from the excessive abuse.
Your name leaves his lips in between the sultry noises he makes, and his body jerks on top of you until he’s finished spewing his load. Now, he stands in front of you with his head dipped down as he pants for several seconds.
“Do you understand how addicting you are?” are the first words that leave his lips after he is able to drag his head up to look at you.
You’re focused on your own huffing as you try to come up with a witty response, but with your brain so fucked out, the only thing you can mutter is “Oh, Kento.”
He nestles his sweaty face into your neck and plants a feathery kiss there, reminding you that he is still the same gentle Nanami that tucks his children in bed at night and drinks green tea in the garden.
He is everything you have dreamed of, but the sex had truly sealed it. Now, as he slips out of you and his cum follows soon after, you feel your post-high clarity morphing into embarrassment at the fact that all you’d been feeling is lust; Nanami deserves so much more than that, including his recognition as a father.
“Why are you staring at me? Have I still got your nectar on my face?” he jokes, and you admire his ability to loosen the tension.
“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I just think you are amazing. I don’t want you to think I really did just come for some cock.”
At this, he laughs so hard that his torso shakes. You smile, as it is rare to hear, and you are the cause of it.
He grabs his shirt and begins to use it to wipe himself off, then does the same for you, his movements intentional and gentle as he cleans you up, rubbing all of the puffy, red reminders on your body softly.
“I don’t think that,” he says with a crooked smile. “But whatever the case, I do hope that things have… changed between us.”
You scoff. “I should hope so,” you tease, tilting your head as he stops his hands on your body. “I hope you’re not going around making every person who comes near you cum three times in one sitting and expect to just be friends.”
He grins. “Nah, that treatment is reserved for you, bun.” His hands slide up your hair and pat the fuzzy ears on your head. “We should keep these around, though. But I’d like to take you out before we use them again.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring his face to yours, planting a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course. You did say good things come in threes,” you grin. “The sex was one. The date will be two. What’s three?”
And your question gets answered nine months later, when Nanami proposes to you on a white beach in another country.
…Right before you go into labor.
But of course, once the baby is out, it’s time to start on number 4 the following Halloween.
A/N 2.0
ty all sm for the love on this series so far i’m rlly havin the time of my life writing all these twisted monster-fucker stories ^.^
~ pennjammin
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buckyalpine · 11 months ago
Text
40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.
Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.
You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.
Bucky was in love.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"
“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"
“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.
"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.
He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.
How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.
So much closer.
-
"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"
You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.
“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.
"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"
"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.
All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-
“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"
You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.
“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”
His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.
"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.
Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.
-
You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.
"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.
"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.
You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.
"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"
He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.
"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.
"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.
But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.
If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.
You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.
"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.
Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.
Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-
“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.
“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"
"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.
"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.
"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .
“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”
His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.
“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.
“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-
"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"
-
And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.
There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.
It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.
The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.
Everything was perfecttt.
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thebestandworstdayofjune · 4 months ago
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in the refrigerator light
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summary: you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in. wc: 1.9 k a/n: to be fair I did warn you that this would happen. I have a few more ideas kicking around in my head, but feel free to send requests if you have any! this doesn't take place during any particular movie, fyi, but you and Logan are both teaching at the school warnings: fluffy fluff, mutant!reader, empathic powers!reader, soft!Logan
You should have been asleep. Even after choosing to stay on at the school past your education, you’d had a hard time shaking habits of the past. It still felt strange to walk freely into professor only areas, and you were always in bed by 11:00 pm every night. Sneaking down to the kitchen to steal one of the chocolate bars you knew Scott had stashed deep in the back of a cabinet felt wrong, but the siren song was too strong to resist. 
You’d been quiet, making sure to avoid the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) before shuffling into the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to the proper cabinet. The only problem being that it was much higher up than you remember. It was times like these that made you wish for a more helpful mutation, like telekinesis or at least a few extra inches of height. You struggled for a few moments, on your tippy toes, stretching your arm as far as you could reach before you gave up. You sighed, raking your hands through your hair and making your peace with the fact that chocolate was not in your future tonight. 
“Scoot over, bub.” You jumped and let out a small shriek, before clasping a hand over your mouth. It was rare that anyone got the drop on you these days, your power more finely tuned and emotions tending to be strong around the manor, but your guard was decidedly down in the place you’d called home for so many years. But Logan was an exception to many rules. HIs hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling you against his chest for a brief moment before moving to stand in front of the cabinet. He reached up into the cabinet, the zip up hoodie he wore pulling up to expose a few inches of his stomach before pulling down a few bars of chocolate with ease. He smiled, the crinkles by his eyes more prominent in the low light of the kitchen. You did your best to appear like you hadn’t just been ogling him. 
“How did you know-”
“Scott’s shit at secrets.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You think he’d learn by now to not be such a loud mouth in a house full of people with enhanced hearing”. 
Your laugh was quiet, muffled by your hand in the interest of not waking the others. “Well, in that case, I hope one of those is for me.” 
Logan shrugged, eyes full of mirth. “What’ll you give me for it?” 
You blinked, unsure of yourself. You weren’t used to this Logan, yet. He was usually gruff and reserved, always reluctant to give into the kids in his history class that were trying to derail the lesson with a joke or two. He’d been playful a few times in your presence, and it almost always made you worried that the other shoe was about to drop. Seeing him in pajama pants and a soft grey sweatshirt only added to the strangeness situation. 
For the briefest moment, you considered using your powers. A single touch and you would know exactly how he was feeling. It was a blessing and a curse, to be able to be sure of how others were feeling with a single touch. A god-send on intel gathering or stealthy missions, a terrible temptation at midnight alone in the kitchen of the manor with the man you had harbored a crush on for as long as you’d known him. You make to grab one of the bars out of his hand, but he is too fast for you, quickly lifting them over his head. Your eyes narrowed. 
Fine, two can play at this game. You roll your shoulders back, drawing up your courage. “Depends what you want for it.” 
Logan grinned, dropping his arms and holding the bars behind his back. “Well, what I don’t want is to be an accomplice in your quest for cavities. Chuck’d have my head if he found out I had a part to play.”  
“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take care of myself” You grab for the chocolate, but he’s too quick for you. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other, the moment charged. You lunged for the chocolate again, but Logan is already halfway across the kitchen, waving the chocolate around teasingly. 
“Logan, please” you laugh, following around the island. He cocked his head to the side, smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You were seconds away from stomping your foot and demanding he hand the chocolate over, when his smirk grew into a grin. 
“Alright bub,” he made his way around the island, depositing one of the chocolate bars in your hand. “You know I can’t say no to you.” 
You did your best to tamp down the butterflies that suddenly made a home in your stomach, but his smile was so gentle and he looked so soft, it was hard not to feel a little lovestruck. You snapped a piece of the bar off, and held it out to him. You dutifully busied yourself with breaking off a piece for yourself, ignoring the way that his affectionate gaze seemed to never leave you. 
“You’re not usually up this late,” he says, holding his hand out for another piece. You shrug, dropping another section into his hand. 
“Couldn’t sleep.” 
“Welcome to the club.” You knew that Logan had trouble sleeping, he was usually the first one hunched over a cup of coffee in the mornings, steadfastly ignoring inquiries into how he slept. 
“I, um” You hesitated. Usually offers of using your powers didn’t go well. You took a breath, steadying yourself. The worst he could say was no, right? “I could help with that, if you want.” 
Logan reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You could tell your eyes were the size of saucers, but you couldn’t find words. After a few moments, Logan took a step back, shaking his head slightly. You blinked owlishly, taking a breath to steady yourself. 
“That’s sweet of you, bub. But I wouldn’t want to tucker you out.” It was no secret around the house that although you had a less physical mutation, it still took some of your energy. Sensing emotions was as natural as breathing, but influencing them was newer, and took much more focus. 
You pointedly glanced at the clock over the stove, noting that it was well past any reasonable bedtime, before facing Logan once more. “That actually sounds really nice.” He mumbled something about not wanting to take advantage of you, but the words died in his throat when your hand found his own. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he would be able to see how earnest you were being. “I don’t want to force you, but I want to be asleep more than anything, and I can tell that you are too wound up about something to even begin to fall asleep.” 
His thumb stroked over the back of your hand a few times, before he stepped around you and led you out of the kitchen. You expected him to turn towards the living room, where you’d caught him ‘resting his eyes’ a few times in the middle of the day. Instead, he turned right making sure to skip the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) and right up to the door of your room. 
“A bit presumptuous, no?” You asked, before opening the door and walking through. 
Logan rolled his eyes, leaning against your doorframe. “I was there the first time you tried this. Figured it was best that no one has to pick you up off the floor.” 
You felt your face grow hot, remembering the unmitigated disaster that had occurred the first time Charles suggested that this application of your powers was a possibility. Your chin tilted up, doing your best to project confidence. “Well, it’s been a while since then, I’ve gotten better.” 
If the lighting had been better, you would have seen the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. “Rogue’s in my room.” You couldn’t help it, your eyebrows shot up near your hairline. “She and Bobby got into a fight, she wanted somewhere she would be left alone.” His hands were twisting in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he ducked his head down low. 
“Is that why you were prowling around the kitchen?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” He looked like he was about to object, but you held your hand up, effectively silencing him. “You’re doing a favor for Rogue, let me do one for you.” 
“Thought you were already doin’ me a favor, sweetheart.” He protested, all while moving towards your bed. 
You perched on the edge of your bed, consciously doing your best to keep your heart rate in check. The students always joked that between Charles and Jean’s mind reading and Logan being able to hear cheaters hearts speeding up, it wasn’t even worth it to try and cheat in class. It hadn’t occurred to you that if he could hear your heart fluttering, he could definitely hear the measured deep breaths you were taking to mitigate the issue. 
You reached for his hand, and he accepted it readily. His palm was shockingly smooth under yours, it must be from his regenerative powers. Your thumb gently ran across his knuckles, still slightly red from the training session he’d had with some of the students earlier in the day. You tugged on his arm slightly, and he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you. “I thought that it’s important to work as a team, sometimes.” 
“You spyin’ on me, bub?” You sheepishly meet his eyes, but find nothing but tenderness waiting for you. “I’ll try to forgive you.” He drops a kiss on your knuckles, before motioning for you to lay down. “I’ll take the floor.” 
You tightened your grip on his hand. If he really wanted to, he could have broken away easily. Instead, he paused, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “Not much of a favor if your back hurts in the morning from sleeping on the floor” you shrugged. 
“Only if you’re sure-”
“Just get in the damn bed Logan.” He grinned, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed. You followed shortly after, and slipped your hand back into his. The both of you laid in silence for a few moments, adjusting to your new arrangement. You were nice and toasty warm, able to feel the heat radiating off him under the covers. You were in the middle of working up the courage to actually use your powers, when soft snores began to emanate from the other side of the bed. You chanced a glance towards him only to find his lashes gently fanned out over his cheeks, and his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. 
After a few moments, you followed him into dreamland. In the morning, you woke up with his arm firmly around your waist, feeling fully rested for one of the first times in your life. Again, you waited for the awkwardness to come, for your face to flush and your stammer to pick back up, but you were left waiting.
feedback is very much appreciated, as I’ve never written for Logan before! let me know what you think <3
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sttoru · 1 year ago
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‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’
☀︎|tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.
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a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.
“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.
and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.
“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.
sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.
though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.
sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.
were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?
he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.
“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”
sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”
lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.
but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.
sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.
you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.
“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.
you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.
you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.
“where’d you think you’re going?”
sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.
you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.
his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.
he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.
“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.
you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.
even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.
you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.
“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.
you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”
a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.
“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.
you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.
sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.
“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”
it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.
the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.
until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.
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