#arm away without breaking a sweat??

[niobiumao3]

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Nanami who drops to his knees the moment he arrives home, the feeling in his chest; indescribable because he knew his wife was upset… so very upset…

He loathed the guilt that clung to him as he had to work late and miss the date they planned just a few days prior. The front door creaked open as you heard him tiredly shuffle in, tossing his keys onto the counter with a bit more force than he intended. He rolled his neck side to side, in a futile attempt to release some of the stiffness in his muscles. He kicks off his shoes, not bothering to bend down and untie the laces, before commencing his walk of shame to your shared bedroom. 

Each step felt heavier, causing his heart to only beat faster every second. A thin sheet of sweat began to form on his brow as he approached closer and closer to the room. His fingers, diligently thread into his tie to pull it undone, tossing it mindlessly on the floor. A few buttons of his shirt came undone but it did nothing to relieve the growing tightness in his chest. He hesitantly reached for the door knob, and with a deep breath he opened the door as slowly as possible. 

And there you were. The soft light of the room revealed your silhouette as you sat up on the bed, your arms crossed over your chest tightly, as your eyes bored into him like daggers. No, you weren’t actually upset and he had obviously a good reason for his absence, but it was the first time he missed something like this– and the sting of it lingered in the room. 

He tentatively stepped closer to you, his expression full of guilt and desperation, like a puppy who had been scolded. The weight of an unspoken apology creeping on him. 

“Darling… I’m sorry," he whispered, barely audible. But he knew it wasn’t enough. No reaction from you, you wouldn't even turn to look at him, the silence between the both of you was suffocating. His fingers graze over your hand as his knees buckled, threatening to give away under the weight of guilt.

He falls to his knees before you, taking your hand in his. “Please, look at me, honey…” pleading eyes looking up at you, raw emotion in his voice as he presses a soft kiss on your delicate hand. His fingers intertwined with yours as you finally grace him with your gaze, the eyes he so dearly loved finally on him. His grip was soft yet pleading, almost as if he was afraid you’d let go. 

“I feel terrible…” kiss “It will never…” kiss “happen again…” kiss

Each one of his kisses had you in trance and you truly believed him, Nanami wasn’t the man to tell you empty words. You look down at the mess of the man on his knees for you, your hand comes to his cheek, caressing it. 

“I forgive you…” You utter, as you look at him, into his eyes of honey. 

Those three words…

That was all he needed to hear. His breath was caught in his throat and for a moment he just stared at you before taking a deep breath. Relief washes over him and all the guilt slowly disappears. His head drops into your thighs and rests there a moment, still holding your hands. 

“I will spend an eternity making it up to you…” he finally speaks up. His statement makes you smile. You thought he was joking but he wasn’t. 

“Starting now,” he declares, a spark of confidence returning to his body. 

Without breaking eye contact, he lowered his head down, his lips brushing softly against your knees. His kisses are tender and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing. His lips trailed along your thighs, the warmth of his breath sending soft shivers up your skin. 

You sighed softly, your fingers threading through his hair, delicately pushing it back from his face. You wanted to see him, to really look at him, at the man you loved now between your legs. 

His kisses trailed higher and higher. Nanami was a smart man. He knew just what to do and how to ease the weight of the situation from your mind, to make you forget. 

“You’re so gorgeous” He mumbles in between kisses. A red tint creeping up on your face at those simple words. “But you know that already, don’t you?” he presses a kiss just below your navel. “I tell you everyday…” He whispers, right into the heat between your legs. Your back arches up off the mattress and he knew he just had to have you already.

“May I?” he asks, his pointer finger hovering right over where you needed him most. You gave him a quick nod and that was all he needed. He slowly slides your panties down your legs before begging to devour you, entirely. 

Nanami learned everything that made his pretty girl feel good, and he planned to do everything tonight. Every flick of his skilled tongue had you in a chokehold, the way he held your legs open with his strong arms all while still on his knees. He explored every inch of you, lapping up everything you gave him, his fingers joining in to only make you feel that much better. 

Orgasm after orgasm had your mind hazy but Nanami had to make sure you knew he was sorry. And he did make good on his promise. He never ever forgot again. 

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Rome

wolf-shifter!Rome x human!Reader Good to know: somnophilia, non-con, breeding, rut Summary: Your best friend can't keep himself away from you anymore.

"Did I wake you up?" Your words are slurred when you break the silence of the quiet flat. The only sound is the traffic from the streets, filtering inside through the closed windows. A few cars pass by every now and again. Their engine rumbles through the air, echoing off the buildings.

Your back is against the wall next to the entrance door as your best friend kneels in front of you, trying to take off your shoes with a slight frown between his brows. His thick fingers can barely handle the delicate clasps.

"It's fine," he hums, pushing the shoes aside. "I told you to call me if you need me."

"Thank you," you reply, tilting your head back when he stands up and towers above you. Your makeup is a bit smudged around your eyes as you blink up at him sleepily. "You are a good friend, Rome. I love you."

The man just smirks at your words, tucking you against his side to lead you into his room. He knows the drill by now. You go out with your co-workers, drink more than you can handle, and call him to take you home. He helps you, of course, while listening to you repeat how much you love him until you fall asleep.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replies, opening the door of his room and leading you inside until you sit on the edge of his bed. Your posture is relaxed and tired. You don't even move a muscle when you feel him starting to take off your clothes.

"Arms up," he says, and when you do, he pulls up your top until it's on a chair nearby. It smells like your perfume, smoke, and alcohol.

"Do you want a shower?" Rome asks even though he already knows your answer.

"'m tired," you hum, letting your eyes close while you are still in a sitting position.

"Of course," the man chuckles.

While he searches for a shirt you can sleep in, he can't help but let his eyes wander on your almost bare body. Your tits fill the bra into a nice cleavage, and your panties match.

"Hold up your arms for a second, sweetheart," he says quietly, feeling a bit annoyed when the thin fabric hides your body from his dark gaze.

"You can lay down now," he adds, helping you onto his bed and tucking you in. By the time he straightens up, you are already asleep.

Rome has known you since he moved into the city. You met at a coffee shop where you worked after college. He knew you were the one him after a glance and a sniff in the air heavy with the scent of coffee and you. It was love at first sight, except you put him into a friend zone, and Rome never figured out how to get out of it without ruining your friendship. So he stayed in that damn zone, hoping that one day you will confess his love for him or he will grow some balls to tell you the truth. Pathetic really.

After making sure the lock of his entrance door is closed and putting a big glass of water next to you on the nightstand, he climbs onto the bed, trying to focus on anything else but your closeness. You are bundled up in the blanket so much he can barely see the top of your head, and your light snores are muffled by the thick fabric.

His brothers would laugh at him for sure. Their little brother can't get the girl, so he has to wake up next to her with blue balls. How funny. They would never let this go. Idiots. All of them.

He glances at you one last time. He is, too.

Sleep takes him after a while, but his dreams are heavy and troubled. When he wakes up, it's almost morning. The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, but it's there. He turns on his back and groans. His gums ache and burns, his mouth open to lift the pressure off his teeth. Sweat glistens on his heated body. His fingers dig into the mattress under him, feeling his claws wanting to grow out. And his cock. He closes his eyes tightly to keep a pained moan in his chest. It's hard and heavy between his thighs. His erection pulses with each breath he takes, and his underwear is already ruined by the precum soaking the black fabric.

"Fuck," he grunts, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He has a hard time making his tense muscles move. The wooden ground feels cold under him. His skin feels too tight and too itchy.

Rome circles his broad shoulders backward a few times before standing up to get to the kitchen for some water. And maybe he should go out for a run. Yes. Some fresh air would definitely do some good.

The man is almost at the door of his room when you turn on your back on the bed, still sleeping. His eyes rake over your body under the covers. He almost forgot you were there. He was so busy with his wolf wanting to come out he didn't even notice you until now. But now, he can't tear his gaze away from you. You are so peaceful and pretty. Your hair is a mess, and your makeup is smeared around your closed eyes even more than last night.

"Fuck," Rome groans again. You shouldn't be here. Not when his rut is approaching and the wolf in him claws on the inside of his mind to get out.

He should force himself to walk away and call an Uber for you. He should wake you up and make you leave. Or at least, he should force himself out of the room. You shouldn't be here so beautiful and soft while his cock throbs with the need to fill you up.

Images of you pliant and warm in his arms flood his mind. How would you feel under his hands? Under his tongue? Around his...

Rome stares at your chest for long seconds, watching you breathe. You are deep asleep. You always black out when you drink too much.

He steps closer.

His large hands curl into fists.

Another step to the bed.

He shouldn't.

"Fuck."

The change of his body comes naturally and quickly. His skeleton transforms into something more primal, with firm muscles and dark fur all over his skin. He grows taller and stronger. The ache in his body lessens, but his cock between his legs still bobs angrily with each step he takes to the bed to get closer to your sleeping form. His claws grip the blanket, pulling it down from the bed slowly and carefully. He drops it to the ground, keeping his eyes on your bare legs. His t-shirt barely hides your panties, and he can see your nipples harden at the sudden change of temperature.

For a second, his attention wanders up to your face. Your eyes are still closed, and your breath is even. The man climbs up on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. He hovers above your sleeping form, almost frozen. You can wake up at any minute, and there is no way he can explain the situation without you freaking out.

But it's too little and too late.

Taking a deep breath, his hand moves to his aching cock, his long fingers curling around the thick shaft. A groan escapes his open mouth, his long tongue lick over his upper teeth. His eyes wander down on your body, pausing at your soft tits and hard nipples before falling to your covered mound. His grip tightens on his erection, precum leaking from the dark pink tip. He throbs in his own hand, urging him to do something.

He saw you like this several times since you know each other. You are comfortable showing some skin even though it drives him crazy under the surface. The memories almost make him angry. So many times, he imagined you under him, moaning and crying for him while you were totally unaware of his desires and demons.

Releasing his cock, he reaches out for you. His touch is gentle and warm on your knees, gliding up on the soft flesh of your thigh. When you open your legs, he almost jumps back and out of the bed. Rome snaps his eyes up to your face again. You are still asleep.

It's so wrong on so many levels.

Now, that your legs are open, he can see the slit of your pussy through the thin fabric. Drool drips down from his mouth at the plump sight.

Maybe it's enough, he tries to convince himself. Just jerking off on the view of your cunt is enough until you wake up and go home. You won't know anything about it, and life can go on as usual. It's a lie, and the beast in him knows it.

His hand is on you again, caressing your thigh before sliding up to your panties. It's soft under his touch but does nothing but annoy him. His thumb moves between your legs, feeling the heat of your pussy on his own skin. His heart beats in his throat as he watches. Your clit is under his thumb, drawing small circles on the bud.

Rome doesn't have to wait long to feel your arousal in the air. It's thick and heavy, making him and his cock drool some more.

"Fuck!" He groans. His snout fidgets as he takes deep breaths from your scent. "You smell so good."

He moves closer, slowly, tentatively. He lifts his weight onto his arms at the sides of your body. His eyes are on your face again, watching you sleep while his nose almost bumps against your mound. A low groan rumbles in his chest. You are so close. So delicious. His tongue rolls out of his mouth, licking through your center over the fabric covering it. You are wet. He licks over your slit until your panties are soaked with your juices and his saliva. It sticks to your plump pussy.

"Let's take it down," he hums, hooking his long fingers on the side of your panties to pull it down and reveal your most intimate part. Your cunt glistens under the street lights that filter into his bedroom through the window.

The wolf-shifter's world spins around him once, twice, three times as he leans closer again. His snout rubs against your clit, taking deep breaths of your heavy smell. He lost control over his own body a long time ago.

"So pretty," he murmurs. Saliva drips down onto your wet center as he hovers above you. The sight fills him with satisfaction. You will smell like him. You will be marked by him. "You have such a pretty pussy, sweetheart."

Almost bursting with anticipation, he slides his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juices. When he flicks your clit, you moan into the dark room, making him freeze for long seconds. The sound escaping your mouth is hoarse and oh, so delicious. Your smell gets stronger in the air, but you don't move.

"Just a little bit more," he whispers, almost begging. He slurps on your pussy hurriedly, trying to suffocate himself in your cunt. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside your hot channel. He can feel you fluttering around his tongue, sucking him in for more. His whole body trembles as his muscles tense. Every nerve in his body is focused on you. Your smell and taste drive him deeper and deeper to the point he can't back away.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, leaking. His balls feel too tight, and his hips start to rock back and forth every now and again to find some friction. The knot at the base of his shaft grows with each second he spends between your thighs, munching on your cunt.

Biting off his own claw, he turns his attention back to your empty hole. His tongue slides into you easily. You are pulsing and fluttering until he adds his finger to stretch you out some more. For a second, you tense up, moaning again before continuing to sleep. He almost laughs. He could fuck you. You wouldn't wake up.

He almost cums when you clench around him. He scoops up your nectar with his tongue, gulping to burn the memory of your taste in his mind. Your breathing gets heavier, and a small, barely noticeable tremble runs through your body as you reach your climax. With his free hand, Rome has to squeeze his cock to stop him from shooting his seed all over you and the bed.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, keeping his fingers in you, feeling your still squeezing walls. "Can you do that again? Could you cum on my cock, hm? Are you ready for it?"

It's madness.

He climbs above you, pushing your legs apart to have enough space for his slim waist between your thighs. His erection rubs against your folds, mixing his pre-cum and your juices together.

"God," he groans. "Fuck! So good, sweetheart. Your cunt is so warm. She wants me, love. She wants my cock inside. You know it, too."

Grabbing his erection, he adjusts the bulbous tip to your entrance before starting to push inside. He growls at the feeling of you enveloping him. You are warm and wet and perfect. His balls jerk and his knot pulses.

"That's it," he groans. "You are doing so good, sweetheart."

"Rome?" Your voice feels like cold water. His name on your lips is thick with sleep and confusion. "What? What are you doing?" Your question ends in a moan when he doesn't stop. He pushes his cock inside you entirely, stretching you out and filling you up.

"Shh, sweetheart," he grunts, panting. "It's okay."

"Rome?" Panic laces your voice. "Rome! Stop!"

"I can't," Rome replies, shaking his head, licking up on the side of your neck. Your palms seem small on his broad chest as you try to push him away while he still rocking back and forth inside you.

"Enough! Rome!"

"Shh," he tries to calm you again. His mind is dizzy with the feeling of you around him. Tight and warm, clenching with every movement you make. Your trashing under him almost breaks his cock off, but damn his whole life if he stops. "It's okay, love. Your pussy wants it."

"What? No! It's wrong!"

"No!" He growls. "It's not! I should have made you mine a long time ago!"

Despite your panic and anger, a moan escapes your lips when he thrusts inside you. Your pussy clenches around his shaft, soaking his erection. Rome reaches every sweet spot in you, driving you higher and higher.

"So good, sweetheart," he coos. His words fan over the side of your neck. "You feel it too, right? My cock stretches your tiny pussy. You squeeze on me so tight, I can barely move."

"Rome!" You moan his name, your fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulder. Your legs curl around his waist to keep him close. Pleasure flares through your body even though you know it's wrong.

"And you taste so good, love," he grunst into your neck. Your skin is wet from his drooling. "I ate your pussy while you slept," he admits. "I drank up your juices. You got wet so easily. Your pussy knew it was me."

They shouldn't, but his words fuel you more. Your hips move under him, meeting his thrust as your back arches from the bed.

"Rome! Please! Fuck!"

Seeing you so responsive wakes up something primal inside him. You want him, he thinks, shocked. You want his cock, his warm cum. His mark. He almost shouts with pain when he forces himself to kneel up and leave your warm channel.

"Turn around," he says but doesn't wait for your reaction. Grabbing your hips, he turns you on your stomach, tugging you into a kneeling position. Your ass rubs against his cock while he hovers above you and pushes your head down on the bed.

"Present yourself for me, sweetheart," he groans, rutting against your bottom. "Show me how much you want my cock like a good bitch."

"Rome," you cry his name, screaming when he enters into your pussy again. His hold is firm and hard on your hips as he keeps you in place against his pounding. He fucks your pussy with newfound vigor. Your juices flow down on your thighs, dripping onto the bed.

"Fuck!" Rome groans. "Your pussy is so good to me, sweetheart. She knows what she wants, and it's my cock. She wants me to fill her up and soak her with my seed."

His words clear your mind for a second. Your fingers grip onto the blanket under you. "Wait! Rome! Don't! I don't…!"

"It's okay, love," Rome groans, still fucking you. "You don't have to worry. I will take care of you and our pup. I will fuck your cunt until you are round with my child. I want to see your tits grow with milk and your stomach with our pup. Maybe I will always keep you pregnant and ripe."

Tears run down your cheek from pleasure and fear. Your body and your mind tell different things, and you can do nothing because of the spinning world around you. Your walls flutter around his cock, your stomach tightens into a burning coil.

"Take my knot, love," he demands. "Let me fuck my mate pregnant. Let me have this, love. Just open up your pussy for me, and I will do the rest."

There is no way you can fight against him. His hold on you is too strong and tight, while your limbs feel like jelly. He bullies your cock, filling you up to the brim.

Rome's whole world narrows down on your sweet hole as he forces his knot inside your wet pussy. Every nerve in his body bursts with pleasure when he is inside you fully, and he can't move without tugging and pushing you with the rhythm of his hips pounding your hole.

His growl shakes the walls as he cums inside you. He shoots into your hole several times until, even through the barrier of his knot, some still escapes your pussy.

"Ohgod!" You cry, shaking and jerking. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you reach your climax. You suck Rome for every drop of his cum he can give you. Your pussy aches and burns so deliciously that you can do nothing, but rock back against him for more. His chuckle is hoarse next to your ears when he notices what you are doing.

"It's 'kay, love," he hums, still keeping his weight on his arms. "My rut will keep me going for a while longer before I'm done with you."

"What?" You gasp, breathless. "We are not done?"

"Didn't you hear me?" He hums, pushing inside you more if it's even possible. "I won't stop until you are with my pup."

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[auragasmics]

HIS PATIENCE IS MY VIRTUE!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ synopsis! with work piling up and stress reaching its boiling point, Nanami needs a break. And when his pretty assistant suggests a trip up to Kyoto for the hot springs, he’s taking the chance to spoil you, love you, and turn his 3-year spout of patience into your virtue!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ pairings! assistant!fem!reader x sex therapist!nanami kento

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ cw! 17.3k, pwp, age gap (reader is 26, nanami is 28), use of petnames, use of alcohol, splashes of fluff, (if you squint), solo play (male), voice kink, features a conversation with gojo satoru, cumshot,, handjob, oral(f.receiving), hand job, p in v, unprotected, sensation play(heavy), biting, doggystyle, prone bone, cowgirl, slow sex, needy!nanami, Nanami has a sir kink, implied aftercare

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ xoxo, chris! yessss it’s done! 17.3k of filth and it’s all dedicated to my man! thanks to my lovely friend and beta-reader @n3vr-f0und ! this could not have been possible without you! this goes out to all the nanami girlies, i love our man!

tags: @lalunanymph @4-leafed

He’s asleep again.

Through the slivered crack of his office, your eyes dwell upon Nanami’s slumbering form, casted beneath the glowing embers of daylight. He relied on his folded arms for a makeshift pillow, uncaring of the tousled golden strands of hair that lay waste about the top of the waxy oak desk. 

He’s definitely sleeping—and has been for a while.

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh, the breath fueled by concern. You could’ve warned him every morning at the start of the workday and every night right before rush hour began, during rush hour, but he never listened.  

For the three years you’ve been under his employment, there was always a single trend that never seems to hint at change: Nanami never knows what exhaustion is until he’s caught in its grasp with heavy eyelids and a slack jaw of yawns. 

And there’s one extra detail you know about Nanami is that he hates working overtime—but does it anyway. 

Originally when you first joined his side, you thought the job of a sex therapist was an easier task than most; he’d have an easy job; listening and finding a solution for others. After just one day of work with him, such a brazen thought was put to rest. Since that day, you’ve rewritten a new script in your mind, one free of judgment and assumption, because in turn, the job of a sex therapist was not easy. 

And for a sex therapist like Nanami who lacked compassion for himself, empathy and compassion for his clients claimed all his time. His days were spent in appointments and his nights were spent in books, nose-deep in pages of delegated knowledge searching for a solution. That was the role Nanami took on, the role of being a compassionate problem solver.

Compassion comes at a price, and his compassion costs him every ounce of his livelihood. Taking on a role that would reap no inherent benefits meant Nanami was always giving from an empty cup, using his blood, sweat, and tears to refill every drop he’d given away. 

He rebukes his efforts, truly. Yet, such innate dislike had never once interfered with his determination. 

It’s written all over his face once he’s done with a meeting, it’s draining work. It drains him of all his physical, emotional, and psychological energy, but he still wears a smile as a mask in time for the next session. 

If eyes can tell a story, then Nanami’s oak brown hues scream out a soliloquy that falls on deaf ears. Inside bleeds out and his story tells of a man who wishes to give up his life for the mundane. To spend his days basking beneath the sun, using the purest white sands as a mattress for his dream life.

Such a shame that the man’s only wish has yet come to pass.

For now, he’s come to terms with it, filling the pit of ever-growing resentment with work. 

It’s exactly why he’d be in and out of meetings with clients, spending late nights on the phone. Some days you even come into work to find him asleep in his office with papers scattered about his desk. 

His philosophy was simple, if he couldn’t enjoy the deepest desire to the fullest, the least he could do was help those struggling with the same reality. 

But as you watch him from the sidelines, a question plaques your mind: when will it end?

It’s redundant, but the question puzzles you every day. It rules over your mind even now as you scan over his sleeping figure. Standing along the door’s trim, you couldn’t help but admire how precious Nanami appears under such temperate conditions. 

Quiet steps deliver you just inches from him, granting you to play the role of a jury to a trial of a self-committed crime. 

Yet, the criminal in question glows beneath the ebbing light, his skin drinking in the rich hues of pink, gold, orange, and purple. His uniform binds him to his crime, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his black slacks melding within his leather seat. 

Though he committed a crime, there’s one detail that turns this prisoner into a charmer; and that’s the way he wears sleeps. The heft of his slumber can be narrowed to a point, down to his pursed lips, such pink velvety plush begging for a kiss of life.

Pity stains your heart like ink to a scroll, and it’s bleeding through in a passing heat. No fiber in your being could allow you to leave him alone, not when nothing but four lonesome walls and pestering neighbors await you.  

Pity carries a weight over its residents, and you were no different. It’s because of how heavy pity is that your hand breaks away from your side, reaching out to curl a loose lock of blonde strands around your finger. Even his hair’s soft, lacing around your skin like the finest silk. Now that you've captured a clearer picture of him, you can’t help softening your gaze over Nanami.

Was Nanami always this attractive? Even in his sleep, he possesses skills to lure you into a trance. Such smooth fair skin, a sculpted jaw clenched in sleep, his cheekbones perched high, and the dark rings beneath his eyes add a shameful appeal to him.

Trailing along his form, you’re stuck at how the burly swell of his arms tests his white dress shirt, the cotton fabric choking at the seams. His shirt just barely hides his broad shoulders, carrying the careful cuts of muscle that rise with every breath he takes. 

“If only you would share your stress with me, Nanami,” the words whispered out into the tepid air. 

Your hand falls from his distressed bed of hair, the back of your hand dusting past the fishnet stockings beneath your red cocktail dress. The time’s come to wake him up….and hope that he’s as docile as ever.

A deep breath takes you far, your hand resting along his shoulder. It’s rigid, thick muscles that refuse to conform to your touch. The lump in your throat bloats up and you ease his shoulder to rock beneath your hand.  

 “...Nanami…Nanami, sir…,” you coo, “You’ve gotta wake up. I’m sure this desk isn’t as comfy as your bed.”

A low grumble acts as a response, Nanami shuffling about his makeshift pillow. His hands hide beneath his cheek, his laxed palms curling up into loose fists as he struggles to sit up.

As a courtesy—or more so out of nervousness; you step away from him with your hands behind your back, allowing Nanami to grasp his hazy surroundings alone. 

“Wha…What happened?” He rasps lowly, his words served with sleep’s baritone curl.

“Um...Sir?”

“Huh? Oh, did I fall asleep here again? That’s the third time this–hold on…” Nanami trails off, his raspy voice breaking through the air.

He’s hazy and those clouded hazel hues trickle onto you as he shifts towards you, his black leather chair swiveling under him. 

“Oh…what’re you still doing here? It’s way past the end of your shift, Sweetheart.”

Nanami watches you bite at that delicate lip of yours, supple plush taking on the jagged impressions. That mindless tick melds into a blooming pout, a decoy for the words that toss his groggy mind off guard. 

“Nanami, sir, I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore!” 

He’s dumbfounded, a rare state for him, but only you alone manage to pull Nanami into a place of confusion. A hand of his drifts to the back of his neck, itching at the sparse hairs of his undercut, trying to make sense of your outburst.

“And what exactly am I doing to myself?”

“This!” You point to his body, “This, in fact, is the third time this week you’ve slept in your office. And it’s been at least ten times this month! You’re tired, and you need a real break.”

Gawking is all Nanami can do. It comes at the price of a complete loss for words, but in some strange way, he’s intrigued by your outcry. Him needing a break? Of course, he needed a break, but he’s interested to hear what you perceive to be this “break”.

“A vacation is what you think I need?”

“I know a vacation is what you need…but I can’t force it on you,” you sigh, taking wandering steps that land you into the grand armchair sitting opposite to him.

With you seated before him, Nanami shudders beneath the stress of containing himself. 

Oh, he hates it when you get mad—but loves it all at the same time. It’s a parallel that consumes him, hating how anger sews along your precious features—while relishing it all the same. 

It’s the woe of taking every word you say seriously while admiring those plump lips bearing a firm purse and your finely plucked brows knit a harsh crease into your face.  

 And when you do get upset—whether it be at a client, the printer…or in rare cases, him. And when you get like this at him, he knows that a lecture can’t be too far off.

“Sir, you’ve got to take better care of yourself! You can hide it from the clients, but you can’t hide it from me. But…I think I have a solution!”

“Which is?” He contemplates with a brow quirked.

Resting his chin along the back of his knuckles, Nanami relies on the strength of his propped arm for support as he delves into your mind. 

He knows the expression he’s giving isn’t kind—dull eyes that reek of disinterest. And all the while, maybe it is disinterest because he’s all too aware of what he needs. But your intentions are pure, that much he knows. In the face of pure intentions, who was he to deny your presentation?

You drop your attention to Nanami’s desk, prompting him to follow suit. He studies your manicured finger carefully dragging along the wide calendar laid atop the waxy surface.

“This weekend from Friday to Sunday, you’ll be all free! I know you like to have at least one client a day, but I pushed some days around and managed to—”

“You were planning this…weren’t you?” Nanami hints sharply, his lungs prepping to bore a longing sigh.

To feign innocence, you shrug your shoulders. You hide your motives well, but the small smile around your eyes tells Nanami all he needs to know. 

“No comment, buuut, why not take advantage of this?” 

Out comes that sigh brewing in his chest. “All right…What do you recommend I do with all the magical free time? Pick up a hobby? Start a garden? Tell me, Darling.”

Nanami’s sights carry to your own, his eyes pivoting over your face deep in thought. Something about you working so hard on his behalf brings about a warmth to flutter in Nanami’s chest. As to how he’s been blessed with you is a mystery he thanks the heavens for every day. And you look so cut–

“Got it!” you snap, “Onsen. I think you need an onsen for the entire weekend. The hot water and minerals will do your body, mind, and spirit justice!”

Nanami tilts his head at the thought, “Hmm, the onsen? Like out in Kyoto?” 

“Mhm, I hear those are really nice!”

“Hm, okay then…”

Nanami swiftly dips into his back pocket for his wallet. He flips the thick bundle of leather open, pinching at his card with a single digit and his thumb. 

He places a matte black card in front of you, rattling off the steps to make your wish come true. “Go ahead and book the room and two tickets for the train tomorrow at nine, and—”

“Hold on, hold on! Are you inviting me to come along too?”

Nanami merely shrugs at your sweet naivete, “Naturally. I’m sure you’d want to come along too…unless I’m stepping over a boundary. I never asked if you had prior engagements or even a partner at home. But…if you could join me, I think the break would be good for you too.”

Your hands wave the infamous white flag of surrender, shooting down Nanami’s suggestions with a flustered chuckle, “Oh no no…just me at home! But um…yeah, I’ve never been to one. I’d love to come along. But for tomorrow…I’d have to start planning right away!”

“We could…do it together. I have my laptop right in my bag,” his shoulder nudging towards the side of his desk. “I know it’s last minute, so the least I could do is offer some help.”

Nanami struggles to hide the grin that teases his lips when you agree, taming his excitement with a guttural grunt of his throat. 

Three whole days with you, the pretty assistant he’s been plotting on since the day he hired you.

As rambles fall from your mouth, Nanami’s absorbed into thoughts of you, while supporting your thoughts with nods and gentle hums. He hasn’t been so outward with his growing affection towards you at all, that simply wasn’t his style. 

But has he tried?

Of course, by taking you out to high-class restaurants for lunch and dinner, buying you flowers every week (and blaming it on some client with a crush for you), he’s even found a way to secretly link your account to his so that not a dollar of your hard-earned money would enter the cruel economy. Why if Nanami could go as far as to pay your rent, he’d do it without any questions asked.

And now he has the chance to take you out of the city for three whole days?

Nanami wasn’t sparing a single penny, not when it came to booking that private villa with its own hot spring bath, the best seats on the bullet train, and even planning some excursions to explore Kyoto. 

“…Nanami…Sir?” 

The call of his name brings him back into the present and on your face wearing a giddy grin.

“Mm…so sorry, is everything alright?”

“Yup! We’re all set for this weekend!” you cheer, clapping your hands softly at the confirmation prompt on the laptop on the screen.

“Oh good! Well then, let’s break for tonight! Be at the station by eight-thirty, okay?” Nanami passing on a stern stare to you.

“I got it, but that’s so early!” 

“It’s a two-and-a-half-hour ride, we’ll be getting there right around lunch and with plenty of daylight to spare. Stop complaining and go home…I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nanami huffs out.

His eyes follow you as you lazily pull yourself out of the chair, your hands smoothing down the back of your dress. The steps you take are slow and saucy, leaving Nanami to bite down on his bottom lip. 

Such a tease and you weren’t doing it on purpose. You’re just yourself and that’s exactly what Nanami can’t get enough of.

You turn back to Nanami when you pull the door just enough to slip your body through, your lips curling into a fine smile.

“Have a good night…Sir. See you tomorrow!”

“Have a g-good…Have a good night!” Nanami rushes out, giving you a limp wave before the shutting door leaves him alone with his thoughts.

An exhausted sigh rips out from his chest as he leans back into his chair, his hand racing to palm his face. 

And in between the gaps of his thick fingers, Nanami’s eyes darted down to a familiar but embarrassing scene.

His cock twitching in his pants.

He couldn’t help it, hearing his name matched with the weighty title of sir sent his mind on a rampage. You calling him sir? And it just so happens to sound so melodic rolling off your tongue?

It already wasn’t normal for someone in his position to be head over heels for his assistant—but he was. It wasn’t normal for Nanami to give in to such silly whims—but he’s going to.

Before thinking it over, Nanami’s hand drops from his face and down to his lap, squeezing at the curious curve rising beneath the black fabric of his slacks.

“...maybe just one can’t hurt…right?”

A rhetorical question, he’s already tugging at the tiny zipper, pulling the slip of metal down its jagged path to its post. He switches over to fiddling with his pants button, yanking the thin button through its slit and tugging his pants down his legs with his briefs in tow. 

There’s a risk that some of those sinful moans will evade his resolve; it’s just his luck that his dress shirt’s objecting to the view of everything past his waist.  Yanking the shirt up towards his awaiting mouth, Nanami bites down on the white cotton as hard as he can.

He doesn’t hesitate to envelop his length in a fist, strumming up and down all eight inches of his pudgy tanned girth. It’s been a while but Nanami still knows what gets him going—a couple squeezes, focusing on his sweet spot, tracing that one swollen vein ruched along the heavy underside of his cock, all the turning cogs that bring him to ruin.

As he’s taking the time to swipe at the weeping bellhead, a thought pops into his head that he can’t ignore. 

He can’t help but wonder what would you think of his dick? A sinfully precarious thought, he knows, but that doesn’t mean he can’t think about it nonetheless. 

He’s no stranger to the concept either. Especially when he takes to the bars some evenings, his ears pick up all the talk of drunk girls gossiping about how “pretty” their boyfriends’ dicks are. It’s so vulgar then but now…he’s craving to hear your thoughts more than anything.

What would you have to say about his size, his length, the way his cock sits with a curve that defies gravity? Suddenly, he’s choreographing a scene in his head, picturing you on your knees, patiently waiting for him to rip down his briefs and expose himself to you. 

At the thought, he’s picking up a slow pace. His taut fist lazily drags up his shaft and down to the base, utilizing a deathly grip that sends shivers down his spine. 

Just for this special occasion, he pulls his shirt from his clenched teeth for a moment to curl over his thighs. Through the pucker of his lips, Nanami sends a thick spool of spit to dance over the flushed head of his cock, the soapy pool dribbling down his length. 

His hand meets the trail of spit gradually, his thumb back to swiping along his now glossy underside. 

“Oh fuck…” he hisses, writhing in his seat at the new sensation claiming his being. Just stroking himself was decent but stroking himself when he’s dripping like this makes for a new cadence to be found. 

Why, it’s so much better that he’s eagerly picking up the pace, his fist sent to swivel up and down his endlessly hardening cock, squeezing at the tip whenever he saw fit. 

His eyes risk exiting the scene, fluttering back with the mean strides he weaves. Just to his dismay, a flickering light pairs annoyingly well with the vibrations of a call cursed Nanami’s chance at relief.

He usually isn’t this careless, picking up the phone call without identifying the caller.

“Hello?” He drones into the microphone. 

And it’s just his luck that it’s you.

“Hi, Sir! I had a question…”

Sir. Three letters, a single syllable, and the key to Nanami’s lustful demise. If only you knew the filthy hold that ghastly word held over him.

Just by hearing your sweet voice utter such a word, lawless pangs laid waste to Nanami’s fisted cock in sinful bliss. Was this some form of karmic reward? To hear your voice right before indulging in himself had to be some prize.

He’s forced to bite down the groans in his throat and trade his cries for coherent words. “Wha…What’s wrong, Sweetheart? You just left the office.”

“Oh, I know!” He can hear the pout in your voice, those plump lips pushed out for everyone but him to see. “It’s just that I was thinking…nine is just so early! And our tickets are good for all day. Can weeee leave just a little later?”

Nanami wants to listen to your pleas, he truly does, but he has to deal with something new befalling him: his body’s blatant betrayal.

His hand’s moving on its own, choking the fat girth of his cock all the way up to the tip, viciously squeezing the pink crown into nasty pale hues. Even at a time when he’s meant to be serious, his body’s adamant on milking itself dry. But must he be so slow yet unforgiving to himself like this?

“…Sir? Hello? Did the call drop?”

“No! I’m still here…” Nanami’s sudden outburst breaks the silence.

He pins the phone between his ear and shoulder, relying on his two hands to ease the relentless pit boiling at his core.

He had to find some way to get that sinful title rolling off your tongue again. So what could be brought up to keep your voice purring?

“So…since my suggestion is too early, what do you have in mind…Honey?”

“Glad you asked, Sir!”

One. 

He’s pulling on his cock with a heavy drag, only for all his efforts to be spat out in glossy tears of precum. He’s making a mess of himself, the glassy rivulets trickling down his ghostly knuckles. He’s nowhere near the sacrums of nirvana but the display he’s forced to bear witness to hints at an early arrival. 

“Uh-huh, go on.” he’s mumbling between gritted teeth. He’s losing temperance over his breaths. 

“…and we’d still have plenty of time to explore the town, Sir.”

Two.

Now, Nanami’s getting the best of himself, purposely focusing on the head of his cock in short yet quick pumps. He’s extra keen on how sensitive he is too, pitting his thumb to curve right along the against his sweet spot.

He’s so close, shamefully closer than before. He knows that if he keeps on swiping at his underside like this, he’ll be binded to an explosive fate any minute. 

“I know you like to be punctual but please, Sir?”

Oh…now you’re begging him. That’s three.

The thick gush of white splatters all over Nanami’s heaving stomach, his chiseled abs glistening in a hot, opal tinge. 

Before he can even afford to echo the bliss ripping through his body, Nanami yanks the phone from his ear and presses the microphone against his chest to muffle any pathetic whimpers that slip him by. 

The poor man, fair skin licked by a familiar fleeting heat and flinching in his seat by the cold wash that follows. He can’t remember the last time he’s let go like that, but the splattered canvas he’s reduced himself to tells him exactly what intuition would scream at him. 

He’s just about ready to clean up but something feels…off. There’s just something he can’t put his finger on—

The phone call. 

He panics, rushing to press the phone to his ear.

What was the last time you said? Something about please si—

“H-Hey, hey…you don’t have to beg me. Do me a favor, ‘kay? Just text me what time you want to meet at the station and I’ll be there.”

“Okay! Well then…get home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow…sir.”

Four.

It’s a punch in the gut this time because while he thought he’s been milked dry, Nanami’s eyes shoot apart at a bewildering sight: He’s still cumming.

His twitching cock’s forcing out a timid stream of white that’s dripping down his black slacks and running off onto the floor beneath him. 

Nanami’s husky voice is washed in grief, the desire to cry out against the bliss of overstimulation dances on his tongue—but he has to send you off first.

With as mellow of a tone as he can rally, Nanami sends you his final thoughts.

“You too. Get home safe and see you tomorrow.”

The call ends and Nanami’s seething behind gritted teeth. 

“Fuuuck,” he cursed to himself, his soiled hand still gripped around his twitching length. He wants to move, clean himself up, and get home to prepare for tomorrow, but fatigue’s already batting behind his eyelids. 

Slouching back in his chair, Nanami finally allows his lungs to catch some air, his heaving chest stabilizing at last. 

He’s a mess, the chair’s a mess, and even the floor too, but he isn’t focused on such miniscule details that nothing a good cleaning couldn’t take care of. Fresh off his orgasm, Nanami’s back to thinking about you and the weekend ahead. 

The gears in his head are clicking and he’s thinking that maybe—just maybe, he’s earned the opportunity of a lifetime to do the one thing that’s been on his list for the last three years: to make you his girlfriend.

He can’t take it anymore, being in the office acting like he’s so standoffish when he truly wants nothing more than your presence. Your smile starts his day, your care for his well-being motivates him, and your kind words fill his heart in ways he can’t even describe.

He hasn’t regarded you as his assistant these past three years, more like his girlfriend who isn’t aware of his full-fledged commitment.

It’s so pathetic, he knows. But thanks to you, finally…Nanami’s goal was within reach. All he had to do was chase it. 

Nanami’s sentiments only grew during the night and into the next day: Friday, the day he’s set to journey off with you. 

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞

It’s been a blur since Nanami’s woke up—he’s been busy packing, cleaning his apartment, and standing in front of the mirror deciding which suit he should don for the day.

 As the clock struck two, bags gathered by the door and a plain black suit with a white button-down dresses his body. He’s forgoing a tie for the weekend too, a few undone buttons present the dips of his collarbone prepared to bear the day’s breeze. 

But there’s peril racing through Nanami’s mind, and has been since the previous night: he has no clue how to act or even go about courting you into being his girlfriend by the end of the hot springs trip. All he knows up to this point is subtlety—and subtlety is not an option in his arsenal. 

The field of romance is a realm he’s barely pillaged through except for a few flings that led to nothing. You’re too different for his typical approach. He needs his message to come out clearer than glass, and for those kinds of results—he’s turning to one…annoying person for advice.

As Nanami reaches into his pocket, he can taste regret staining his tongue. And as he’s clicking onto that damned contact, he’s cursing himself for even thinking of turning to this man for advice.

And when the line connects, he’s kissing his teeth at the sound of his nickname falling from the lips of one…Gojo Satoru.

“Nanamin! You rarely call me these days! I miss you y’know,” the smooth voice trumpets out into his ear. 

Huffing out the last bit of his pride, Nanami sighs into the phone, “Ah well…um, Gojo…I need some…help.”

“With?”

“A woman. My assistant, to be precise. We’re going out of town for the weekend and—”

“Nanami? Going on a trip? I must’ve died. And with a lady? I’m in an alternate universe now,” Gojo teases. “So, what do you need help with, I’m a little lost.”

Nanami drops himself on the edge of his sofa, the taupe leather dipping beneath his weight. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at his tensed skin. 

“She’s my assistant but…Gojo…I really want her to be my girlfriend. I have for the past three years. But my hints are too subtle and this is my best chance to finally be honest with her. I just don’t want to mess up. We’re going out to Kyoto

“Three years? You’ve always been patient, but this is extreme, Nanami. And the hot springs…you planning on—”

“Stop it right there. Just…tell me what you’d do.”

Nanami stares at his phone as the line goes silent, waiting for Gojo to say something—anything, really. 

“Nanami, now I can’t help you too much, I’m not the relationship type. But just think about it like this, if you’ve had your eye on her for three years…and she’s been working with you for three years, obviously there’s something she likes about you too. This is so cliche and I’m cringing at the thought but…be your—”

“No.” Nanami immediately shuts down. 

“Yes, and let me explain. Don’t try to be some guy you’re not, women pick up on that too easily, especially since you guys are going out on this trip. Be yourself and when the time comes, tell her how you’ve felt. And no matter what happens, just be proud that you were honest with yourself, okay?”

“Yeah…that works.”

“Good!” Gojo cheers, “Now go have fun and bring some condoms! You never know what’s—”

“Goodbye, Gojo,” and just like that, Nanami’s thumb isn't hesitant to end the call with a click. 

“Just be myself…” he’s mulling over. While it’s sad to say that Nanami already knew that, he was hoping for something a little more out of Gojo. But himself is all he can be, then that’s exactly how he’ll act. 

Slotting his phone back into his pocket, Nanami catches a glimpse of the time from the face of his watch.

3:00 P.M.

He had just an hour to himself before sitting on a two-hour train with you. But before that reality could be realised, He had a few errands to knock off his list.

The next time Nanami checks his watch, he’s leaning against a white tiled column in Tokyo station. 

And the time is…3:45. 

Those that surround are others caught up in their own lives—teenagers dressed in uniform, businessmen in their suits chasing the next transfer, and families strolling out the exits; all the people and not a single one knew the nerves that ambush his calm mind. 

Not a single one knew of the havoc crashing through his body at the reality he’s set to enter. He did all he could to prepare, yet he can’t comprehend that he’s the last piece to the puzzle. Everything’s in line like dominoes, and all he had to do was strike the porcelain trail down.

And something about that, such ease, nothing about that sits right in Nanami’s mind. 

Until the winning move falls right into his unexpecting lap. 

“Oh! Nanami! Hi, sorry for making you wait! This station is just big, thankfully I just followed my gut and found you here,” the familiar voice rings in his ear.

He looks up to find your starry eyes already set on him from a few paces away. Nanami’s staring at you, hard. He’s never seen you in anything that wasn’t professional wear, that’s the excuse that plays in his mind over and over like a broken record. 

You, in that silk yellow blouse that grants so much cleavage thanks to its low-cut neck. And the pleated light gray skirt around your waist is just so short, just one mishap and it’s all over.

Amidst all his leering, Nanami almost allows himself to forget manners. He meets you just halfway, wearing a soft smirk as he reaches for your bag.

“Here, allow me.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Sir—"

It’s that damned word again. The letters rolling off your tongue bring a haunting memory from yesterday back into Nanami’s mind. He clenches the leather strap of your carry-on ever so tightly, gradually collecting himself before speaking. 

“Hey Darling, you can drop the ‘sir’, okay? We’re on vacation after all. Nanami works just fine, or even…Kento works, if you want.”

He’s enlightened by the smile you put on your face, the peaks of your cheeks polished beneath the station’s fluorescent lights. 

“Oh, sorry about that! ‘m just so used to the honorifics. But…alright then, Nanami. Is my bag too heavy for you?”

“No, no, it’s really not heavy at all. But we should get to the platform, though,” Nanami tokens with his head towards the destined path. “Are you ready?”

A kind smile grew across your glistening lips as you leaned towards Nanami, your hands softly clapping with approval. “Lead the way then, I’m right here.”

And Nanami does just that. He spins right on the heel of his shoe and walks with occupied hands, a tepid stare of his path ahead, his mind swirling with thoughts of you, and you at his side. 

The station’s loud, loud with chatter, giggles, running feet, and warbling notifications on the intercom, and as all this goes on around him, Nanami can’t help but be absorbed into his own world. A world that included you. 

Every so often, he steals a glance at you, his wistful eye watching you marvel at the station’s lively atmosphere. But all he can think about in his world is you; you and your beauty. He’s enamored at your mindless antics, the way your lashes flutter with each blink, the way your lips twist up–he’s even stuck over. But looking at you wasn’t enough, not when there’s this wall between you two. 

It’s invisible to everyone but him. It’s one that he can look over, one that he can easily topple over with a sigh, but it’s one that he can’t fathom to crack without a proper plan.

The wall of silence—Nanami’s greatest ally turned enemy. 

He isn’t used to this: sharing his intimate time like this. If he’s not holed up in his office, he’s out on his own tending to errands or matters of business. His usual standoffish method stands no chance today if he aims to woo you.

So, he went to the first thing you both had in common for the moment: emotion. 

“So…” Nanami begins as he scours his mind for the words. “Are you…excited?” 

You extend a kind look to him, soft eyes that pair well with your smile. “Of course I am! I’ve never been to a hot spring before, but I’ve heard so much about them and how good they’re supposed to be. I can’t wait for that hot water to hit my skin! How about you, Nanami?” 

“Me?” He echoes with an arched brow. “Well…guess I’m excited too. Breaks are something I always want to take, but I never seem to act on them. The second I give it some thought, I’m already calculating missed opportunities and risks. I appreciate you pushing for this, Honey. Just make sure you have fun for me, okay?”

“For you?” Maybe you weren’t supposed to catch that slip-up, but being with Nanami like this was already fulfilling you beyond words. For him to be walking beside you, holding your luggage like it's nothing but a feather, it’s all too much for your mind to contain. 

Moving dates around to have the weekend available worked in your favor. Three whole days tucked up beside Nanami, waking up with him, exploring Kyoto together, and even bathing together clouds your imagination with sinful thoughts. 

He hides the full extent of his figure beneath suffocating suits, but you know all too well that Nanami’s physique is on par with the gods themselves. With his arms, back, and thighs banded with muscle, his developed chest taut with contour, and his big hands teeming with veins, your eyes were ready for it all. 

And if the weekend ends with you bent over to help relieve all the pent-up stress he talks about in sessions, it would all be for a promising cause.

“Aww, Nanami…then let’s have fun together. But if I–Oh look, here we are! And the train’s boarding too, should we board? Looks like we’ll have to look for seats too,” your voice carrying a dull sigh.

“It’s fine, I think I can see two seats right there,” Nanami directs with a tilt of his chin. 

He leads the way once more, urging you to board the train in front of him. The seats he took note of. You slip inside first, taking the window seat just as Nanami saw in his head.

Before he could join you, Nanami marks his spot with a small white plastic bag on his seat before loading the suitcases into the overhead bin and grabbing it again before sitting beside you.

Tugging the bag open, he reveals two sandwiches inside.  “Oh, I stopped by the bakery on my way here and grabbed sandwiches. I um…I noticed what you like on yours, so…here you are.”

Trying to still his trembling grip, Nanami carefully places the tightly bundled sandwich into your awaiting hands. 

“Aw, thank you so much! You really didn’t have to! I was just gonna wait until we got to Kyoto to eat!”

The smile that consumes your face is contagious, prompting Nanami to hide his own grin behind a clamped hand. 

“It’s a long ride and I have a feeling you might have missed breakfast, so…hope you like it, Sweetheart.”

Nanami’s hope of gawking at you is cut short when you catch his leering sights. 

The heat of embarrassment crackles beneath his skin, something he knows he can’t hide from you. 

Rather, he adjusts himself, pushing his glasses up against the bridge of his nose with an excuse fumbling out from his lips. 

“Sorry. I was just, uh–”

“Y’know, I was wondering,” you swiftly suggest a new subject, “…what do you look like without your glasses?”

Quirking up a brow, Nanami finds himself turning towards you amidst the cloud of blush claiming his cheeks. “Curious?”

“Very. But if they’re prescription, then please just ignore–”

“They’re not. They’ll more like sunglasses, but here, I have nothing to hide.”

At your implied request, Nanami’s glasses sit squeezed between his grip as he pulls them off his face. He’s met with your awestruck face—widened eyes and gaping lips.

“Scary, huh? I bet I look…uh…Sweetheart?”

“Nanami…you look so…different?”

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “I’m gonna sound old here but you look so handsome! And your eyes, they’re like brown with a dash of green?! That’s so pretty!”

He’s handsome??? That’s a word Nanami never expected to hear fall from your lips. And you’re keeping those doe eyes pinned on him and only him too.  Now how is he going to play this off? Hide his entire face behind his palm? Or maybe he should get up altogether and try to calm down…

“Oh…thank you, Darling. Um…I’m gonna go use the bathroom, alright? Be right back.”

Nanami doesn’t get the chance to hear you reply, not when he’s dead-set on returning to you. Just his luck that the bathroom is at the end of the cabin—and unoccupied.

He nearly throws himself inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Beneath his feet, he can feel the train’s latent drags over the tracks, officially beginning the long ride to Kyoto. 

Nanami leans against the white sink, grasping the thick porcelain rim with a bruising grip. He’s met with the slender mirror tucked between the chamber’s corner, and just as he knew it—he’s red. From the tips of his ears down to his cheeks, it’s all pink…and seems to only grow richer. 

That was…pathetic. A few words of kindness—no, a compliment from you about the qualities he already knows about himself places him in this sweating, breathless rut. 

He’s pathetic. If that’s all it took for him to crack, how could he be allowed to think about sleeping in the same bed as you or even bathe with you? This was the place to shake out all those nerves, all those second thoughts haunting his mind, because after this moment, Nanami would no longer be alone. Because at this moment, Nanami is staring at his last moments as a bachelor before he’s married off to the idea of being yours. 

He reaches out for the handle, granting cold water to shoot out of the facet. 

A few chilly splashes contrast the heat and he’s back to staring back at his fair-skinned reflection. 

‘A calm mind keeps a sound body’, that’s the mantra that plays in his head as he tends to his suit, tugging at the sleeve cuffs gently before exiting the bathroom and walking back to his seat. Upon finding you again, he finds you peering out the window of the passing landscape, the city slowly fading out into the countryside’s green pastures. 

He notices your fidgeting fingers, nervously linking around each other. Of course, you felt something and his jetting to the bathroom only made things worse. 

“I’m back,” he utters for your ears to hear. 

Tilting your head back against the black leather, your eyes find Nanami’s, his unfiltered mossy hues falling onto your own.

“Feel better?” Your soft voice greets him. 

Sheepishly, Nanami nods as he drops back into his seat. “Yeah, I just needed a moment.”

You shift closer to Nanami, resting your arms along the armrest between your bodies. “Did I…say something wrong?”

That’s when Nanami’s heart drops straight to the soles of his feet. He’s tossed into a state of sheer panic, raking his mind for some makeshift apology to soothe your worries. So many things he could say, but he’s settled for something he would prefer to hear: the raw and honest truth, no matter how pitiful it may seem. 

A sigh breaks out of Nanami’s chest and into the air. He resorts to squeezing at the bridge of his nose to assemble his mind. “No, no, never that, Honey! It’s just that I’m not used to getting compliments…at all, really. And I get so red, it’s all just embarrassing to me.”

You perch your chin within your open palm, a faint smile gathering on your lips. “That’s so cute, Nanami! Well, since you’re not used to ‘em, I’ll give them to you. Because…you really are handsome…sir.”

Oh, you must be doing this on purpose, pushing all his buttons to get a reaction. He can’t even hide his grin anymore, not that he wants to, you’re getting a rise out of him—and he’s loving every single moment.

He’s loving it so much that he can’t help but join you, levering his neck to give you his attention. He’s doing so with a rare smile, one that leaves the peaks of his cheeks brimmed. 

“Oh, but that’s not your job…that’s mine. How could I have forgotten to tell you just how beautiful you look? Yellow looks really nice against your skin, Sweetheart.”

Nanami catches himself in the moment, how he’s moving closer to your beaming visage. He allows his sights to shift from between your eyes and down to your lips before taking in a harrowing breath. 

There’s only one thought in his mind…this was going to be an interesting ride. 

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞

“C’mon! The villa’s just around the corner!” You point, turning around to gauge Nanami’s awareness. 

“Slow down! I’m right behind you!” he chuckles, tucking the luggage beneath his arms. 

Two and a half hours, that’s all it took for Nanami to break the ice of workplace formality with you. Since his outbreak on the train—and your affirming words; he’s found himself floating on a cloud. 

Now he’s trudging up some stairs behind you all the way up to the villa, secluded from the outside world. 

Since arriving in Kyoto, Nanami’s been taken away by the historic landscape of the area. Lush green trees stand tall amongst bushes and shrubs, and blooming flowers surround the quiet town at every corner.

The only unfortunate fact about the town was that everything closed at six on Fridays, and the train ride got you both here at six thirty. Which meant no nighttime browsing, no dinner, and room service was about to close.

But it’s a fact that Nanami’s willing to dismiss the moment he stood at the villa door with you at his side. 

He’s dipping his hand into his pocket for the key, pressing the gold-plated metal through the slot. “Here we are, go on ahead,” Nanami grins, his hand pushing the door open for you.

“Nanami,” you coo, “You go in first, you’ve been lugging those bags up here.”

“No, it’s fine. You know the saying, Sweetheart, ladies first,” He smirks.

What Nanami didn’t anticipate was how close you were, your body flush against his own. And your eyes, they’re lingering on his own as you slip past him, pulling a breathless gasp from his lungs. 

“Well…if you insist. I’m gonna go shower first then, meet you in the water, Nanami.”

“O-Okay,” he stutters out dumbly, his eyes left to hinge on your disappearing figure. 

There’s another fact that Nanami’s taken note of since the train ride, how casual you’ve become with him so quickly. The fact brought him back to his phone call with Gojo and all that was shared.

It has Nanami mulling over what Gojo said, you already have some kind of feelings toward him. The train ride provided him with enough evidence, but logic tells him not to assume anything further. 

And maybe you did feel the same way about him that he’s felt about you for the past three years. Tonight he was willing to put all that to the test, and he only hopes the results come out in his favor. 

Dragging the bags inside, Nanami shuts the doors behind him, only to take in the villa with a scanning glare. 

Takami mats replace the hardwood floor he’s become used to, with white walls surrounding him. The living room is quaint, with a black sofa against the wall with two armchairs joining the assembly. Just past the living room is a deck that looks out over the town, with a pool of steaming water just past a few steps. 

“Nanamiiii?” You sing from around the corner, breaking his focus with ease.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” He’s chuckling to himself. God, if his last name sounds this good, how would his first name roll off that tongue of yours?

He walked towards the source of your voice, only for him to be greeted with the scene of you standing in the middle of the hallway with nothing but a towel wrapped around your body. 

To ground himself fast, Nanami clears his throat and keeps his eyes pinned on you. And only your eyes. 

“Is the shower off or something?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. There’s soap, towels, toothbrushes, and toothpaste, the bathroom’s great. I was thinking, should we order something? Maybe some hot sake and snacks? 

“Get whatever you want,” he shrugs, taking a hand through his hair.  I’ll have some too, so don't wait for me. I’m gonna go shower too, so go ahead and soak.”

You give Nanami one of your smiles before walking past him—just in time to give him some words of encouragement. 

“Don’t take too long, it’s gonna get lonely without you.”

Nanami stands in the doorway of the bathroom, taking one more glimpse at you with his head shaking. 

“I won’t.

The next time Nanami gets to see you is after his shower, a brief ten minutes that’s synonymous with an eternity. He leaves the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair weighted by water and his mind running on mischievous fumes. 

Finally, he has you all alone with no outside noise to impede on his slice of heaven. He’s strolling down the hallway with his head held high, exuding the sheer heat of confidence off his slicked skin.

Who knew that the moment he caught a view of you, all his hard work would be swept up under the rug and replaced by naive awe?  

Nanami swears to himself that he’ll look away, but it’s a promise bound to be broken because he simply can’t find elsewhere to rest his sore eyes except on you. You and the gentle curves of your glistening body perched along the ring of rocks compassing the private hot spring. Beside you is a small bowl that floats, holding what he can safely assume to be the hot sake you wanted. 

He doesn’t quite get what’s so amusing about the scene either, but there’s something about observing you participate in the mundane task of peering out over the settling town made Nanami’s cheek swell with a rousing heat.  

A part of him almost doesn’t want to distract you—but his imagination was painting him too many scenes that needed his hand to unfold. 

Biting the innards of his cheek, Nanami gathers what’s left of his ebbing confidence to walk down the deck steps, the wood creaking beneath his every step. 

“How’s the water?” Nanami’s question breaks the silence. 

His voice coaxes you to meet him with a welcoming grin, “It’s so nice! And the sake got here too, it’s not too sweet and it’s still warm, just for you.”

Nanami stands at the pool’s edge, his hand encircling his hidden waist. “Yeah, y’know I’m not even much of a drinker, but I’ll try my hand at it tonight.”

He’s still got your regard, the two of you trapped in a trance until he notices your gaze wavering further along his body. Down his bulging chest bejeweled by water droplets,  the carefully sculpted contours of his abdomen, down to the fluffy white towel hanging around his hips. 

“Well…,” you purr, “Aren’t you coming in, Nanami?”

Slowly, Nanami lowers himself into the steamy bath, his foot settling onto the shallow bottom. The misty water splits around him as Nanami introduces himself. The water comes up no further than his mid-thigh, but the moment he sits down, he’s pulled into an embrace that captures most of his chest.  And yet, he can’t hide the sigh of relief that trumpets out his mouth, his head dropping back between his shoulder blades.

“Oh wow,” he pants, “Feels so good.”

“Right, and with a little sake…” you push the wobbling bowl to swim across the pool towards him, “You’ll feel even better.”

“Really?” Nanami smirks as the sake enters his realm. He’s quick to pour himself a cup, filling the stout ceramic cup to the brim. 

“If you want some more…gotta come a little closer, Sweetheart,” he teases as he brings the rim of the cup to his lips. 

“Guess I could go for a little more,” you give into him with a chuckle, rising from your spot with a hand clipped to the overlapping layers of your towel. 

Slow, sweeping steps cut through the water as Nanami gawks at your bearing silhouette. That pesky towel clings to your body, but all it does is complement your curves—those very curves that sit nuzzled to his side as you sit beside him. 

“How’s this? Close enough?” you press, your head lolling against the rocky edge to face Nanami’s flushed face. 

“I’ll take it,” Nanami snickers as he works himself to pour your cup. “Here, should we make a toast?”

“To what? A vacation?” you question with your cup in hand. 

“Hmm…” Nanami weighs, “To…us. And this long-awaited vacation.”

“To us, then” you cheer as your cup rings against Nanami’s.

He’s back to eyeing you; there’s a grin working onto your lips as you push down the sweet liquor, one that brings a liberating wave to wash over Nanami’s mind. He wishes he could see you like this all time, relaxed and free from the stresses of the world. 

A moment of silence falls over the scene, allowing you and Nanami to simply bask in each other’s presence. The sake’s finally settled in his system too, leaving him with a faint haze over his mind. He places his empty cup back onto the wobbling bowl before shifting towards you, his eyelids resting at half-mast. 

“Y’know, I’m really happy you agreed to come with me, Dollface,” he sighs happily, “ I like seeing you calm like this.”

“I could say the same thing to you, I don’t think I’ve seen you smile so much,” you return fondly. 

“But I’m only smiling this much because of you.”

“Pfft, what did I do?” You push off—but Nanami catches the disbelief in your voice with a squint. 

That’s when Nanami's eyes shoot toward your own. He isn’t playing around either, not with the courage coursing through his veins. Was this the moment he’s been waiting three years for? And if it was, would he ruin it by saying too much? So much doubt, so much second thoughts cloud his mind—but when he opens his mouth to speak, it’s all rooted from the depths of his heart.

“So much. You’ve done so much, all your time and care have never gone unnoticed. A-and…I …have so much I wish to tell you, but…I’ll be honest, I’m nervous.”

“Nanami? It’s okay, I’m right here and I’m here to listen.” You aimed to soothe him, your hand breaking through the water to lay against his chest. 

Oh, how he wishes you wouldn’t have done that. His heart’s already throbbing up to his ears, and with you finally laying a hand on him, he might burst right there. But the tranquil aria of your voice brings Nanami back down into his body and a clear mind. 

He clips his bottom lips between his teeth, using the sharp pain to calm the heartbeat you had complete access to. “Doll, I can’t…I can’t keep this up. I’ve um…always…always wanted to tell you that since the day you walked into my office…I knew I wanted to be yours.”

“But I mean…” There’s the logical churning in Nanami’s brain when he enters a space of realism—where he analyses everything down to the letter without regard for how cold it may roll off his tongue. 

And that includes an analysis of himself.

“And I know, what sane woman would wanna be with a man like me? I don’t express much emotion, I’m too technical and I overwork myself. But I promise to be—”

“Kento?” you interrupt, rapping the tips of your fingers against his chest. 

“Yeah?” He sulks with a frown. 

The hand you keep at his chest creeps up to his inflamed features, that same heat meddling in with your palm as you cup his cheek. A gentle turn pits Nanami to face you head-on, but to ease his rushing mind,  you give him a smile paired with the softest of tones.

“Any sane woman might not, but you’re grouping me in a category that doesn’t suit me. I don’t mind for my man to be a thinker, a hard worker. And if he has some trouble expressing himself, it’s okay. I have patience…just like you do.”

Nanami’s hiking a brow at your remarks, “So…you’ve known this entire time?”

“Known is a strong word. But Nanami, we’ve been working together for the past three years. How could I not fall for you when you treat me so kindly? All those lunch and dinner dates, the random gifts that pop up on my desk. I mean, playing it off on clients is sweet and all but the office doesn’t open until ten and the mailman doesn’t reach us until twelve. Still…the effort was sweet.”

“God, I feel so childish!” Nanami groans as he screws his eyes shut to avert your gaze. “Guess I shouldn’t have been so nervous, huh?”

“Yeah but, think of it like this,” you try to shed some light on his woes. “Three years have passed and we know each other better, down to our habits too. I think we were better off waiting rather than jumping in when we first met.”

“But that only leaves one question…” Nanami whispers to himself. He opens his eyes again and finds you as his refuge. Space isn’t a stranger in his mind, not when he’s barely a few inches away from your visage. When he finally gathers his thoughts, the words spill from Nanami’s lips without another second pass. 

“Will you…be my girlfriend, Angel?”

Nanami can hear you swallow down that lump in your throat.  Nerves, that’s the one thing he did calculate for. He’s throwing a relationship on you, without asking if you were anywhere near ready for the commitment. 

But he’s hoping. Nanami’s hoping and praying to any god that exists that you’ll grant him this one selfish wish. 

“Y’know, if we do this, things can’t go back to how they used to be…ever again.”

“I know,” Nanami hums as he brings his thumb to brush along the crest of your cheek.

“A-And, we’ll have to talk about things moving forward.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“But…what if we’re making a mistake?”

Nanami catches your chin with between his thumb and index finger, compelling you to look up into his eyes. They’re gentle, free of their usual cold stare, and superseded by a blossoming twinkle. He’s capturing you in a trance that’s leaving you breathless; breathless and at Nanami’s every whim. 

“If this is a mistake, then I’ll do anything to prove to you that it’s not. There’s no mistake here, that much I know. Whatever you want, whatever it takes…I’ll do it if it means we can be together.”

A pout pushes out onto your lips, touched by Nanami’s dedication and devotion to you. 

“Okay…but what about right now? This isn’t going to end in only a kiss.” 

“Mmm, call it consummating the relationship,” Nanami suggests under his gravitation beneath tension’s heat towards you. His eyes hang low and pin right onto your lips, hinged at the fated words speaking through the air. 

“Well then…guess I’m all yours, Kento. Yes, I wanna be your girlfriend—”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” That truly is all Nanami needs to hear because he didn’t even grant your monologue its deserved spotlight before his lips are sinking against your own. 

He has half a mind to call it the kiss of life, a weight lifting off his shoulders the moment he delves into his long-awaited bliss. It’s as he’s imagined—no, better than that. The soft plush of your lips entices him, pulling him into a game of chase. You pull back and he’s right there for more, and when you push he’s taking it all with a pathetic whimper seeping from behind his clashing teeth.

It isn’t long before his hands dip back into the water for the treasure he’s calling your hips. Hidden behind that towel, but it’s no match for him when he’s holding you now, so close that not even a drop of water could invade. 

And if Nanami had the strength to find the words, he would. But he’s using every ounce of his strength to fight against the water to have you closer. He’s guiding you right onto his lap, your body smothering against his as you straddle him. 

“Can I…take this towel off?” He quizzes between a breath—and he smirks when you conjure up a feverish nod. 

Like a feather in the wind, Nanami’s using a delicate touch to peel away the wall, his eyes growing at the sight of your bare skin in reach. It’s a reward when he yanks the thick cloth from beneath you and off into the dark abyss behind him. 

And now that Nanami’s finally got his hands on you, no force in the universe could move him. 

You’re so soft in his palms, with skin so supple he’s almost afraid of what his touch could do to you. Even with all those precautions, his faith is an unwavering one. You’re too cute for him to abstain from such bliss, especially with three long years of patience behind his belt. 

He simply has to get his hands on you, all over you until he’s become acquainted with every crease, crevice, and curve your body has to offer.

“Let me give you a quick lesson on something, Baby. I think you’ll like it too,” he hums, pulling away from this kiss.

“Oh?” you entertain, tilting your head at Nanami’s new persona. He’s grinning, his smile so wide that you swear it has to be a figment of your imagination. But the way his hands glide across your skin pulls out a vivid reminder in the form of a helpless whimper. 

 “Go ahead, show me everything you know.”

“Erogenous zones. The places where you get extra sensitive. I wanna see how many I can find. Like…right here.” He tends to your breast first, his vast palms carefully skimming along the delicate skin. He’s cupping your tits in his care, using his girth fingers to knead into the pillowy plush.

“How does that feel, Sweetheart?”

Oh, aren’t you the cutest, pulling back from the steady stream of kisses to watch how intentful Nanami is with his words. The hands you brace onto his shoulder pick up a dangerous grip when his fingers feather at your nipples, pinching the dormant buds awake. 

With this newfound audience, Nanami can’t help but perform now. He’s taken to the valley of your chest, his lips simmering against your skin as he sketches the grounds for his act in fluttering pecks. Bit by bit, he’s planting his path, nipping at your skin until his lips brush against your nipple.  

You pinch at your lip again, praying that it grounds you from what Nanami has in store. “Feel so…so good, Ken,” you whine with setting eyes. 

He doesn’t get his way without hearing your mouth, a delicate chirp that melts into a moan. As your eyes crack open once more, he’s sure to meet you with gentle olive irises. 

“That’s my girl. Too pretty to hide when I’m merely teasing you. I’ve got all night with you, remember?”

That’s as much as a reminder to himself too, he has all night, two days, and the rest of his days to explore you. But already he’s missed out on so much time, so he hopes you’ll excuse him for the rush now.

The rush of his back finally traveling past your tweaked ties and down to l the small of your back, his burly hands dressing your delicate body like a corset. If he remembers from his days back in university, the back is a special place. It’s where your spine can be found, where your curves take shape, but there’s something else here that Nanami can’t quite put his finger on.

Until he does.

His fingers dust right over the divots in your back, those two dimples waiting for attention. He remembers now, the insane levels of sensitivity hidden in plain sight. He doesn’t want to give away his ruse, but for all you know, he’s merely inches away from grabbing onto your ass.

So he does it, delicately allowing a few fingers to slip past the water and sink into the pert plump flesh, leaving only his thumbs to fill out those precious jewels of your lower back. The pads of his thumbs lay teasing strides as a ploy until he’s located those hidden cords of nerves. 

He can’t wait anymore, softly pulsing his thumbs against the dips, solely for his ears to be graced by the prettiest of chords: your heavy gasps drumming into the air.

“This is an overlooked one. Known as the lumbar, but it’s simply your lower back. By using a liiiitle pressure like this—”

“Kennn…h-hold on, that’s so…Ohmy–!” 

That’s the gasp he’s looking for, the satisfaction parading itself somewhere deep inside Nanami. The jolt wrecking through your body only brought you right into his hands and pinned against his chest.  His lips take to your ears for his own bliss, hiding a sadist smirk behind his encouraging words. 

“Now, now, those nasty words don’t suit you, Angel. Can’t you find anything else to say with that pretty mouth of yours?”

“B-But, I—“

Another slip along your back dimples sends you reeling against Nanami, your head dropping to fill the crook of his neck.

“Nanami! That’s …t-too mmuch for me,” your plea falling on deaf ears.

“Oh Baby, did you forget who I am? The body…this body….your body…there’s so many ways to touch you, tease you, make you cum without getting remotely close to your pussy…’nd I’m just getting started.”

Nanami veers himself enough for his eyes to be cast upon you, his hazel hues scanning over your fucked out face; those eyes fluttering at half-mast, your lips broken fleeing hot pants chest. He can’t help but soothe the pain with pleasure, painting the flustered tips of your ear in deft pecks.

“You just so happen to land yourself a sex therapist for a man.”

It’s a truth that Nanami doesn’t let you absorb, not while he’s playing with you like this. His thumbs taunt your lower back and his hands strapped along your ass pull your hips into transit, rutting against him for a sliver of relief. 

But Nanami’s grown so desperate that he’s slouching—permitting his back to slip against the bath’s wall if it meant he could plug your pleas with his bulge. 

And wasn’t his theory proved right on the first try?

Because the second his hips curl right up under you, he’s gasping at how the lips of your cunt drag against the drenched towel—and along his poor cock. So much fervor, so much passion is driving your hips to rock like this, forcing the towel to lick at your clit.

But…that’s his new job. A new task that comes with his promotion—and one that he’s dying to commence. 

“Ken,” his name highlighted behind your moans.

He gets the chance to watch you reach out for him, your hands lacing around the nape of his neck and pulling him close. So close that your foreheads rest against each other and all you can do is dress each other’s mouth with aimless pants. 

“You want more, don’t you?” He chuckles. 

And you could respond, but you allow your lips to deliver the message to him loud and clear. Back to that familiar cadence, your lips falling into a dance made for you. But when your tongue dips into his mouth for the first time, Nanami swears he could cum right then and there. 

Your tongue, velvety and so kind, traces along his own—riding up along every curve and back down to his bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is all Nanami can mutter…because…fuck. Such a dirty word, but his mind’s running on nothing but the lust clouding his core, and rushing to bully his cock with relentless pangs. 

“Kento…is that?...” you giggle, breaking from his lips when something hard perks up between your legs. 

“That’s what you do to me, Baby. ‘m so hard already, waiting for you to be mine.”

“Aww, but I am yours, Honey,” you avow, raking your nails along the deep chisels of his back. Against his lips, you whisper such a lulling coo that pulls at Nanami’s restraint, using the exact words he didn’t need to hear. 

“So…what are you waiting for?”

Nanami kisses his teeth, sparking a devious grin to claim his mouth.

“Part three of this lesson.”

A hand of his snakes between your bodies, twisting and tugging his towel out from under him until he’s free. 

“Another erogenous zone, huh? Can I…try to find yours?” 

Nanami could never deny you, who was he to start now of all times? He decides to help you out by laying a grip around your wrist, leading your hand down between your bodies

When your hand laces around his pudgy length, he’s gritting his teeth at your bestowing grip. So loose but cradles his cock with such care he could almost shed a tear. 

But all you do is lug your lax fist up and down, singly to tease Nanami of what could come to pass. And you do it all without failing to keep your sights aligned with his own. So, just this once he’s letting you take the reins. 

“Go on, I’ll even give you extra points if you know how to handle it.” His hands float back up to your hips and he finally relaxes—his body stills, his mind blanks, and Nanami inhales a breath what he deems to be tranquility at its finest.

He’s resting in your care, closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel everything—every beat of his heart, the waves crashing against his chest, the stirring of nerves brewing in his stomach. 

That alone grows, its futile persistence slowly consuming Nanami. He’s touched himself so many times before, but it all fails to compare when he has you working on his behalf. It’s more than he can handle.  

And he’s too keen on hiding it either, Nanami’s head lolling back when your hand gains fervency. Your wrist works sloppy twirls around the belled crown of his cock that coaxes a livid heat to rip through his nerves. 

“J-Just like that, niiice ‘nd slow…g-get the tip too—fuck!” 

Your lips cling to his exposed bobbing Adam’s apple, littering his skin with kisses and taunts. 

“Aww, so sensitive, Ken. And ‘m only touching you exactly how you want me to,”

“Fu-fuuuck, that’s…d-don’t squeeze down like that o-or–!” He’s barely huffing out. His chest’s struggling to keep up, relying on labored breaths to feed his lungs what bits of air he gathers.

Only a few minutes into the relationship, Nanami’s already pushed to the edge, his body teetering the dangerous line of pain and pleasure. It feels so good to have you touch him, but the heft of his impending high has him seeing stars each time he blinks. It’s a line of pain and bliss that has tears welling in Nanami’s eyes, his broken mind split on an outcome that dooms him either way.

“Ha-Hah! Baby, please! I don’t wanna cum yet, slow down!” He’s sobbing with hands clipping to your waist. His nails sink into your plushy skin, marking you with a bruising belt of crimson crescents. 

“But you’re so close, Ken!”

“I know, I know, but I can’t cum before you do, Angel. Wouldn’t feel right to me.”

His hand finds a new hold along your wrist, pulling your worked hand through the water and pressing along the bulging ripples of his chest. 

“Besides���All that sake’s got me craving something so sweet. Think you can help me out with that, Honey?”

“Mm-hm…’course, Ken.”

“Good.” He hums as his gaze falls over the salacious scene’s background: the wooden deck. He’s also keen on calling the towel he freed from you back into play, tugging the soaked cotton towel across the deck. 

Patting his hand atop the deck, Nanami ushers you to join his next lesson, “C’mon. Bend over and keep that pretty ass in the air for me, alright?”

If there’s something Nanami knows about you, it’s your ear for direction. Every task, every favor, and anything he’s asked of you during the past three years was always completed beyond expectation.

And this was no different. 

The arch you take on is nothing short of heavenly, your face hidden behind the blossoming spread of your ass. “Beautiful,” he ponders aloud, his wandering hands rowing along the luscious junctures of your curves. “I still need your help, Darling. Spread yourself fr’ me.”

He oversees the hesitancy that claims you, your trembling hands reaching around the globes of your ass. Ever so gently you pull yourself apart before him, only for a whimper to bring all your hard work crumbling down. 

“But Ken…that’s so—fuck!”

Obiviously you’re nervous, he’s asked you to reveal yourself like it’s something so easy. As his newfound position entitles, he’s supposed to ease your woes, not enforce more than what the world already dishes out. That’s why Nanami takes a thumb right over your clit, drawing loose rings around the timid bud. He’s so painstakingly slow too, ensuring that every nerve is caught beneath his tantric trance. 

“That’s so what, Baby? You don’t have to be nervous with me, just wanna make you feel good.” And that’s a sworn promise of his, the kiss he places onto your ass brandishes it as such. 

“Take your time, ‘m right here.”

Words have power, and he’s witnessing the magic with naked eyes. Your hands, once trembling and timid, now pries yourself apart for Nanami’s sake. 

“How’s that?” you press, tilting your head to find Nanami’s hidden silhouette. 

“Perfect. So pretty too, Baby. Oh, look at how cute your clit is! Mmm, I know you’re sweet too, aren’t you, Darling?”

What else had to be said, Nanami’s really taken a liking to your pussy, the way your clit drinks up his touch with jaunty throbs. He can’t ignore that blatant fact that you’re dripping into his impressions. He could take some credit for the sticky mess unfolding between your legs, but he’s more interested in furthering his role.

So it’s no wonder when Nanami can feel himself drawing nearer, his heavy eyes guiding him to meet your splayed cunt within mere inches. 

“Tell me, y’know that this cute clit of yours is another one of those erogenous zones ‘m teaching you about, right?” He breathes out against your bare cunt. 

“Y-Yeah…” you huff, biting at your lip. 

“Good girl. Let me see how long it takes to make a mess out of you.”

A man starved, that’s all Nanami is as he falls victim to your displayed cunt. He nurses you with a pout, granting him the exclusivity of tending to your clit. He places a soft kiss as a foundation, melting all your woes beneath his supple curves of a ruined grin.

He seals the spry bulb between his lips, his purling jaw working to bring your clit to its blushing bulbous swell. 

He’s allowing his tongue to slip onto the scene, the slicked palette pedaling kind, short strokes to the pink pearl. His heavy tongue drifts along the raw nerves softly, curling just at your swelling hood to tease. 

Between a thin stare, Nanami’s thinking of how cute it is that your plump clit dances along with his tongue. It takes two to dance and Nanami couldn’t have asked for a finer partner. Whenever he takes the time to twirl, swirl, and nudge at you, he’s met with a grand pirouette that laces around his tongue. 

“Fuck!” the curse ripping from your puffy lips. It feels good, that much he knows thanks to your melodies. But if only you knew the discipline it’s taking Nanami from not burying himself between the fat mounds of your cunt. 

You’re like silk against his slicked muscle, those soft folds of yours sewed along his curled tongue. He can’t even begin to account for how many times he’s traced at the pulsing hem of your folds, nipped at your fluttering hole, even the number of kisses he’s tongued out of your clit, all to pull out that saccharine stream of ambrosia from your slit. So sweet, so sticky, exactly what he needs to soothe his mind from the edge it sits on. 

He hears your cries too, your sobs, the whimpers, and the need to cum blended with each word. Nanami wants to soothe you too, feed your numbed mind kind words of reassurance. But greed’s got the better of him, the sin staining his very tongue as he indulges in your honey. 

But when he catches the way your hands dig into the plush of your ass, he’s wincing at the sight.  

He’s also keen to that hand of yours drifting dangerously close to his canvas. He’s aware of your game and allows for that stubborn digit of yours to nip at your slit. 

Those subtle pulses lead to you sinking in a little deeper, a certain detail he can’t let slip for too long.

“Am I not enough for you, Honey?” Go on, show me how you touch yourself.”

His chocolate hues break wide at how greedily your puffy hole envelopes your finger, swallowing each sloppy stride you pump into your core. But that’s all it is—cheap, sloppy work.

Somehow and someway, your body’s enjoying it, the addition of your finger bringing shivers to rake across your skin. 

And while Nanami isn’t a jealous man, he’s resenting that touch of yours with a nasty sneer. 

He could shy away, let his mouth help guide you through that high begging to crash through your body. You’re working so hard—but Nanami works harder. 

The longest finger he has pecks at your busy hole. He doesn’t think much of it at first—until he catches your hole latching onto his teasing scheme. Before he can go on about how much of a mess you’ve made out of yourself, a dumbfounded awe strikes him. He’s able to attest to it, how his digit is being suckered inside you. 

“Oh fu—knew you still needed my help…but we can work together too.” He’s chuckling to conceal that crack in his voice. 

It’s a slow, wet draw that has you stretching, gasping to be stuffed by the oblivious girth of his finger. But it’s so wet that your pussy and your mouth have to squeal out against his deepening reach. 

“K-Kennn, fuck! Right there!” You gasp, yielding your endeavors at Nanami’s introduction. 

“Now I didn’t say to stop, Angel. Keep going, pretend like I’m not even here.”

And he means every word, he’s waiting for you to pick that sloppy pace, one that he challenges with the slow drags of his own. You lack the grace he strives for, the same grace that brings him right to your sweet spot without fail.

“O-ooh shit, Kento!” Your hips jerk from his ministrations, but he isn’t letting your sobs distract him from such a discovery. 

“Hm? Is that your spot, Honey? Right here?” He taunts, sending his ruined digit to thrash against the stiffening bundle of nerves.

“‘M so close, Ken! Plea-Please don’t stop!”

Don’t stop? Don’t stop? He had no plans of stopping, yet your body seems to cry out against your compelling demands. Why, Nanami wants to bring about the lush high you deserve, whereas your hips suddenly picked up such a nasty habit of jerking away from his mouth has him thinking otherwise. 

“I told you already, you don’t have to beg me. It’s right there, hm? Let it all out for me.”

He tags a hand at your rebelling hips and pulls you right onto his coiled tongue, where defeat lies along the horizon. He relies on his lips,  now plump and plush, to tack onto the sputtering bulb of your clit and melt away all that prudish tension with a kiss. 

Such a kiss allows him to trace over your spry hood, to roll out the glossy pearl in riveting tides. And when paired with his pummeling finger, Nanami can only count the seconds it takes for your body to crumble.

Nanami draws him back exclusively to watch your beautiful demise. He keeps his hand at your hips, kneading at the grip he used to restrain you out of pity. It’s an honor for him to be by your side, aiding you through what he deems to be a perilous high. 

He’s so endowed to your allure, that Nanami can’t keep his thoughts all to himself—no, he utterly has a duty to share all he’s thinking with you, even how pretty you look in the face of ecstasy. 

“Look at you, wanted to cum ‘nd I did it all for you…give it to me, c’mon, Angel.”

Your hand can still be found in his, clutching at his palm through every tremor, every sob, and the heavy sacrifice of your breath. He’s right there with you, decorating your skin with soiled pecks until your breath is caught and steady.  

“Good?” He checks, his hand skimming along your skin. 

“Oh, Ken…th-that was really good!” 

“Well then…can you give me one more?”

That’s when you finally turn around to face him, gems of water adorning his body. Your eyes hinge on a particular sight though, his cock standing up at a slight curve.

Tan with the pretty cream hues of his shaft that contrast his own skin—and the blushing pink tip of his cock by miles. Vibrant veins line his every inch, lacing around his girth without fail. The underside’s heavy too, defined by the contours that flush out his cock. And of course the tip’s fat, what else did you expect, the blushing pink heart that tops him off pecks at you, his cock primed by tease. 

Nanami’s touched by how quick he’s got your attention, and he plans of keeping your time well-spent. That’s why he’s swift to bestow a coddling grip around his, feeding himself with a few lazy pumps for your explicit viewing pleasure. 

“But…I forgot to bring condoms—didn’t think we’d get this far. We don’t have to–”

“No,” you grin, passing a sinister glint back to Nanami, “It’s fine.”

Oaths spill from his lips the moment you grant him such a blessing. He’s already nuzzled against you, preparing his fragile mind with what lies beyond your hole. 

“Oh, you got so wet for me, fuck,” the words he’s mumbling aren’t even made for your ears—he’s raving straight to your pussy. He’s dragging his slicked tip through your folds, up and down, tracing at your slit with lazy nips. His prodding bellhead comes to smother your tight hole in messy kisses, lathering up a rich foamy web that’s waiting to be destroyed. 

“I’ll be gentle, so be nice to yourself too ‘nd don’t rush,” Nanami hums as he hunches over your body. 

He’s keeping his hips loose as he sends his cock eight inches deep. Eight inches that he’s chosen to feed to you through kind snaps of his hips. Your puffy entrance suckles at the slit of his cock, drinking up every drop of his precum before he’s hidden inside your walls.

“Fuh–Angel, t-that’s just th-the tip, al-alright? Got a litt-ttle more to go,” He gasps. But that’s to serve as a reminder to him that he has more to go–which means Nanami has to grasp onto his composure for just a little while longer.

The urge’s there, but why rush when you feel so good right here? Warming up his tip with silky pulses that test Nanami’s resolve. The hands he’s chained to your hips grow heavy, bearing a harsh grip once he’s glued his hips to the thick plush of your ass.

“Gonna move now, Angel. Tell me if it’s too much right now, ‘kay?”

Nanami’s so ingrained with your suckling heat that he almost doesn’t want to pull out. If you keep squeezing him like that too, he knows he could in a matter of minutes. 

But then a thought laps through his mind—he’s wearing a rare honor of delving into your pussy bare. 

And that’s a chance he’s not willing to risk.

Slowly, his hips reel from you, stealing back those girthy inches from your greedy walls. He darts his eyes down to the sight, his cock bore with your slick. So messy what a few minutes can do, and it’s left him with a fixture for sore eyes. 

Creamy, thick, and yet…it’s not enough. No, it’s not enough for Nanami, he needs you creaming a nice cloudy ring around the base of his cock.

Since that’s the task he’s chasing, Nanami doesn’t hesitate to seal himself back into you, finding a kind rhythm to alleviate your walls to his bulling girth. Every roll of his hips brings him closer to his goal, you’re easing up around him. He’s almost inspired by your resolve to take him to feed you just a little more of a tempo, his hips catching wind of your welcoming advances.

Your voice breaks his concentration. “Ken?” 

“Ye-yeah, Honey?”

“M-More…I can take it, Baby.”

He had no business hearing that fall from your lips, that request only makes Nanami throb. He’s all for it now, reeling his hips back until the very tip of his cock threatens to leave you. The filthy rut he’s fallen into reads through your ass, towing hypnotic waves to ripple through your skin. 

You feel so good around him, your satin-like walls snuggling his girth. He can feel you working at his own demise, all that squeezing feeding the knot in his stomach. Oh, how he wants to cum, to paint you in his seed—but that’s not an honor yet deserved, not while your orgasm has yet to present itself. 

He’s so hellbent on being so kind to you that every bit of his body acts in accordance towards his wish. The thick head he delivers to, the girth of his cock keeps your greedy walls at bay, and the swell of his heavy balls babies your clit with light taps of rapture. 

He’s almost forgotten where you two were—outside with neighbors under a kilometer away. But who’s Nanami to stop those delicious moans from leaving your mouth? You’re singing him a song of  how well he’s pleasing you, how deep he sends his cock to reach. He’s been busy at your sweet spot for sometime, painting the nerves in his scent, in his kisses, and in his fervor. 

“That’s it, stay with me. Y’re taking me so damn good too, Angel. Squeezing down on me like that…

“Fuck, Ken..I-my legs…can’t keep them up anymore…”

Before Nanami can even offer some advice, your body’s already given up the hope of support. Your legs stretch out along the towel, forcing you to lay on your tummy. 

“Hm, don’t worry about it, just lay there all pretty and take this dick, okay?”

Of course, Nanami’s found a solution, as he always does. This solution prompts him to trap you beneath his world when planting the flat of his hands beside your head, his hunkering body stretching over you. He slots his chest along your back, leaving his hips to break away from you. 

All your curves, all your breaths, all your whimpers and your moans were his own when he’s this close. He can feel everything, even the way your walls flutter around him with this newfound angle. 

He gives you time to adjust while he gets to explore you, his eyes searching for where to lay his artwork. 

Right there, along your shoulder, he’s already imagining all the kisses and bites claiming your soft skin. 

“Tell me…” he mutters between a trail of pecks along your shoulder. “You know what I love about you?”

“N-No…what’s that?” you quiz, levering your chin back to find Nanami hard at work. 

His earthy hues fall prey to your gaze. He’s compelled to abandon his work to favor you, the answer to your question dribbling from his mouth. 

“Oh, what do I love about my sweet baby? It’s how vocal you are, always telling me what’s on your mind. Just like right now…” he smirks, “Even though I can’t see, you always seem to tell me  how deep I am…and how much deeper I can go. Just…liiike this…”

A lazy drive of his hips sends his cock to deliver a wispy kiss right to your cervix, coaxing your tummy to cave in against the towel.

“Oooh shit! Ken! Fuck!!”, your gaping mouth mewls.

Nanami simply grins at how fast your hands ball up the towel between your fists, he’s proven right. Not that he cares all that much, bearing the privilege of hearing your sweet cry is all the reward he needs. 

“Oh I know, Baby, I know,” his voice carrying a suave chord, “I’m gonna be nice, fuck you right too.”

A man of his word he is, Nanami Kento. 

“KenKenKen! ‘M gonna fucking cum again!” you sob, bucking your hips up against him.

“Again? That’s my girl. Gonna cum on my dick, right? I’ll make it a good one too, don’t you worry!”

He’s working on your behalf, grinding his hips along the swell of your ass. He can’t go any deeper than this, but he’ll admit that he’s neglected your sweet spot for quite some time now, Blame it on the feverish heat subscribing to his body, but he’s ready to focus his all onto you.

That includes kissing at your sweet spot with the head of his cock. Rolling his hips ever so carefully, sketching along those inflamed nerves with buttery pecks, he’s ready to make you cum—hard. Harder than what any toy, your fingers, and any man ever could.

Though, it’s when he slips up and finds your cervix—that’s what brings about your downfall. His ill-minded finding brought about deep-rooted tremors to wreck your core, capturing your entire body with a hellish wrath. Your walls clench at Nanami, cursing him for being such a fate before you.

Yet, all he can do is cheer you on, chuckling at how his efforts brought him to a place of bliss. 

“That’s it, cream all on me, Baby. Fuck, trying to make me cum too, aren’t you?”

“Ken, I-I—ohmygod!”

“Shhh, I got you, Sweetheart,” he’s humming along your cheek, “Come back down to me…we’re not done yet.”

“We’re not??!”

Nanami hides the sly grin on his face as he turns back to the awaiting pool of water behind you both.

“Of course not. We came all the way out here, did you think I wasn’t going to take you in the water too, Baby?”

“Ken…I…I don’t think I can cum anymore!” 

“Oh yes, you can! You didn’t even squirt for me yet! But if you don’t do it tonight, I’ll make you squirt tomorrow.”

Selfish, so utterly selfish of him to try and pull another round out of you, but his tempered patience challenges this rare spout of excitement. For in simply a few hours, Nanami’s become addicted to you—your lips, your body, your moans, even watching you cum at his hand, he’s addicted to it all.

“One…one more, ‘kay?” you wager, a look of your glossy doe eyes consuming his sights.

“Okay! That—”

“But…” you swiftly intervene, your weary hand searching for rest along his thigh. 

Nanami’s eyes follow your lithe hand, tracking the lazy path it takes up his body. He’s still waiting to hear the rest of your deal, but how can he when your hand trails up his thigh, curving up around the base of his cock and up towards his flexing abdomen. 

“Ken, baby?” The melodic call of his name breaks the trance, Nanami’s sights meeting your own.

“Y-Yeah?”

Nanami’s eyes light up at the smile adorning your face.

“I wanna ride you. It’s the least I can do for makin’ you work on your vacation.”

He’s gawking at you. Dumbly too. His mouth surrenders to that gap and he merely stares at you. That’s all he can do to distract himself from the mind-numbing rush of blood filling out every inch of his cock. 

Because thanks to you…he’s painfully hard again too. 

“Aww, you like that idea? You’re already making a mess, Ken.”

He looks down. You’re right. All this excitement has him dripping aimlessly, the back of your thigh covered in patchy drops of his precum. 

But he can’t bring himself to move, not when he’s caught between a place of utter embarrassment and pitiful arousal. Should he apologize? Should he wipe it off?

As you crawl back onto your hands and knees, suddenly his cock’s sitting homely between the soft, thick globes of your ass, Nanami doesn’t know where he found the restraint to not paint your skin white right then and there.

And you have all the confidence to taunt him now too? Taking advantage of his dumbstruck silence to roll your hips against him, stroking his weeping cock ever so slowly.

“C’mon, Ken, I’m waiting. Don’t you wanna go back in the water and relax…with me? We can all that fun we’ve been talking about too.”

He’s stuck on the sight. Up and down, you’re dragging back on his cock, leaving the white-hot tip raw and aching; leaving those portly veins to bloat and flourish along his length; leaving the spill of precum to dangerous tread behind the lines of milky white. 

“Fuck” Nanami’s voice rattles out at last. “I might—no, if we do…I'm so sorry…Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I’m not gonna last long!”

“That’s okay,” you coo, “We can go nice and slow just to calm you down.”

Shamefully, Nanami nods at your assurance. As to how you ended up with a hand over him is shameful—but a well-played card. 

Slowly, he descends back into the haze of steam, the water welcoming his body once more. He sits himself at the bottom of the pool, the water coming up just above his navel. 

In the corner of his eye, Nanami carefully watches as you slip back onto the water and crawl into his sprawled lap to straddle him. Your arms drape along his broad shoulders and he’s already reaching for your hips with hungry hands.

Your forehead presses up against his own, sealing  Nanami in a spell he couldn’t imagine breaking from.

“Gonna go slow, okay?” You whisper, your hips drifting above the pink crown of his cock. 

Though he’s been buried to the hilt of your heat, it’s still foreign to Nanami’s mind what it means to have you split over him. He doesn’t know that to have your pretty pussy split and sputtering dumb means to carve your walls into his shape, his size, to mold you around every single detail that comes with a man of his caliber. 

And that upright curve he’s donning too. 

The sweltering gush that your walls paint Nanami behind has him reeling beyond comparison. He’s so desperate too, the urge to snap you down to his tensed thighs teases the very hands he keeps pinned to your luring hips.

But he can’t forget that it’s an effort you make to accommodate him, laggardly drowning your poor hole beneath the sinful weight of his length. 

Taking him like this, it’s overwhelming to have something so thick, so hot, and stupidly twitching out of sheer excitement fill you like it’s easy. 

Yet, you do it anyway with that cute break between your lips, gasping like something so shocking has your attention. You do it with furrowed brows, confounded as to how you’ve ended up gaping around his fat cock out of the kindness of your heart.

It’s all so shrewd, but your sacrifice makes everything worthwhile once Nanami’s immersed in your spitting cunt once more. 

He’s right back to relish how your walls pamper every bit of his cock in those flirting embraces. He’s right back to gritting his teeth, finding it in himself to bear that persuasive hold you’ve laid before him. 

Nanami has it in him to cry out, to rattle off hymns of how well that sloppy pussy of yours got him—but all he can conjure up is the will to pin a sloppy kiss on your lips. 

His mind might be fleeting, but Nanami’s learning you too are a woman of your word; slow is an understatement for the mesmerizing toll your hips adopt. It’s a mesmerizing toll that’s slow enough to have the likes of Nanami—a man of rigid logic—gasping for air. 

You’re still squeezing him, but it’s more aligned with your intentions now rather than the nerve of taking him on like before. It’s all so tedious, having your hips roll all the way to the top,  dangling at the tip, only for your walls to lather up the fat pink bulb in gummy kisses. 

All the teasing has his cock threatening to slip out, cursing your cunt in twitching for stealing back the shared bliss. 

“Oh fuck—Wha…What are you doing to me, Angel?” He’s whimpering against your lips, and your smirk catches every single word. 

You feign innocence with him, pressing a merciful peck onto his quivering frown. “What are you talking about, Honey? I’m taking my sweet time with you, just like I said I was.”

That’s what you say, but Nanami’s aware that there’s more to your claim than what meets his ear. If you were really taking your sweet time with him, why is he spiraling down this pit of ravishing piety? 

You’re drawing out whimpers he himself never heard before, his jaw slacked by the sudden song on his heart. You’re only riding him, but can you feel how every bit of his body surrenders to you? You’re following through on your word, yet here Nanami is, chasing after your swiveling hips with mindless bucks of his own. 

You’re too clever at having him dance in your palm, and that’s something Nanami can’t help but plot against. He isn’t one to challenge the powers that be—but something about this moment taunts the very chemistry of his psyche.

He has to even the playing field, though, in his current state of writhing and plight, all he has is his hands.

For his ruse to taste success, Nanami’s hands can be found bound to a particular parlour of your back—the lumbar, or…your lower back. He’s sure you’ve forgotten about his speech from earlier, but he meant every word. For what he possessed in his hands was both the power and knowledge to have you cum without any real need for penetration.

And while that holds true…he does have you on his cock right now, working so hard to relieve him. He’s musing over the idea, hungry to see  how hard you’d cum if he picks up his teasing.

His thumbs slot themselves back along those dimples he’s grown fond of, his sinking digits shattering the powerful strides of your hips. 

“Oh—You’re back to that again?!” You jolt, your hips seized by his mischievous ploy. 

Nanami’s drinking in your exasperation with a smirk. “Told you, there’s so many ways to make you cum. 

He’s bracing for the torturous words you have in store for his brash rebuttal.  That’s the fate he’s anticipated to befall him. 

He wasn’t, however, prepared for your encircling arms to pull him closer, your bodies simmering against one another. He didn’t anticipate the kisses you’d place at his gaping lips, gentle and sweet. And there’s no possible way that Nanami could have orchestrated the words set to leave your lips.

“Oh yeah? Then let’s cum together, Ken.”

“Are…you close?” he whispers softly.

“Mhm,” you nod, “And I know you are too.”

Nanami’s taken aback by your tentative nature. You know his habits, mannerisms, and now how dangerously close he was to spilling in your womb. He had the strength to press you up along the pool walk to finish himself off, but where’s the fun in such bold novelties?

Because if he did follow through on that thought, he’d be missing out on bearing witness to your eyes screwing shut when you drop your hips a little too hard, bringing his cock right back to your sweet spot.

“K-Ken, I’m–!” That’s all he needs to hear, not when your face paints him a clear picture. With your eyes rolling back into your skull, your forehead sunken along the crook of his neck, and that breathless sob warming his skin—you were right at your peak.  

It doesn’t help his cause that you get all the more sensitive, that minor mistake throwing your whole body into the heat of chaos. You’re ruining him in flittering clenches, pulling every ounce of Nanami’s strength to the surface of his skin. 

He’s seeing stars in his eyes, white patches seizing his vision as your poor pussy stutters around him. He knows what’s due to follow—that all-powerful weight that pins him down and forces that tragic cycle to crash down on Nanami. 

His legs are subdued by a trifling rip of nerve, rendering Nanami’s reprisal futile. He’s going to cum, that’s the pill he has to swallow. But he can’t begin to fathom that he’s going to cum inside you. 

Sure, it’s a thought he’s paid some time too—every day for the last three years. But now that he’s faced with that want, he can’t help but rebuke it completely. 

He’s reaching between your bodies to grab at his cock, wedging himself from your heat with a sob. You were so good to him, even better around him and now he’s forced to bear his orgasm alone while your own courses through your veins. 

“‘m…c-cum—cumming! Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Baby!” He seethes, clenching his jaw when his overworked body is faced with the lone choice of release. A release that has opal hues spitting from his twitching slit, thick ropes of white staining the water. 

He’s devastated by a hitching breath that leaves his stomach caved and his burly chest shuddering for air. Nanami’s head is sent to roll, dropping back as he’s doing his best to hold back that woeful moan. 

And he’s still going, still tainting the water with his definition of healing. The hot spring was healing, but your pussy was the epitome of rejuvenation. 

“Hey,” Nanami’s hitching voice rasps as he strokes the small of your back, “Still with me?”

All you can deliver is a sheepish nod, your arms still clinging to Nanami for support. And he’s got you, his hands cradling your delicate body through the reeling fatigue that comes after such bliss. 

He’s exhausted, worked raw and to the bone, but Nanami still finds the energy to pull both you and himself out of the water and into the bedroom. 

With just the indirect rays of light from the hallway, Nanami gently lays you to rest upon the vast face of the bed. You look so peaceful like this, nodding off with a faint grin plastered to your puffy lips. He finds himself inclined towards you, hovering above you as he dusts the back of his hand past your cheeks.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, “You did so good for me, so proud of you! I’ll take care of the rest, don’t worry–”

“Ken?” your hoarse voice croaks out. 

Nanami immediately gives in to you, concern dressing his face with knitted brows. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

Your hand creeps towards his own, your fingers weaving around his own. He can tell you have a question on your mind, it’s begging to come out too. 

“It’s okay, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well…can I still come to work Monday?”

Nanami’s eyes soften as he peers over to you. Even in this darkness, he can make out the frown playing at your lips. His hand comes to soothe all your worries, cupping your cheek with his thumb and stroking the highs of your cheek. 

“Of course, Baby. You can come in, leave early, whatever you want.”

“So then…can I still work with you?” 

That question troubles Nanami, striking him inaudible as he cautiously considers his answer. If he had things his way, Nanami wanted you to go shopping, to spoil yourself with spa days and classy cafes. He wanted you to enjoy the bliss of free time, while he worked to ensure all your dreams could come true. 

But then again, he didn’t have it his way. 

He has you to consider now, and if working with him brought you joy, who was he to ruin that?”

“Well…I want you to go have fun, go shopping, go to the spa. But that’s what I want. I also love having you at the office with me too so…if that’s something you really want, then…”

“It is! Now that we’ve figured that much out…let’s go.”

You make an attempt to stand, only for Nanami to catch your trembling body within his care. “Um..where are we going?” He asks, draping an arm around your waist.

“To shower. I may be tired, but I think I can handle a shower with you…and only a shower, Kento.”

“That’s fine by me. But, since you’re up…we should also plan out what we’re doing tomorrow. I was thinking we leave here at 9:30 and—”

“Kennn,” you draw out, “It’s vacation. Let things happen, okay?”

He muses at your words, “Let things…happen, you say?” 

Let things happen? That’s the kind of advice he prefers to steer clear of. And yet, it’s gotten Nanami to achieve his wildest dream—turning his pretty assistant into his girlfriend. He steals one more glance at you, a look that fetches a smile to grace his timid features. 

“Then, we’ll let things happen, won’t we, Darling?”

[gumified]

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

[teamred]

focus on me

✩‌ qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.

WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!

You stumble back with your palm soiled wet. 

Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for what’s to come next. 

Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.

It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you break–and he knows you’re far from your breaking point. 

Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too. 

Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. He’s gained followers over time since you've known him, but you’re his one and only acolyte. 

Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk? 

Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day and– 

Your master calls out your name playfully, “I hope you’re focusing on me.”

“You know I am, Master.” You’re not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction. 

He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body.  

“You're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,”—he paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every step—“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

“Well, I can’t help it that my master can be so distracting!” you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him. 

Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts. 

Master Qimir’s style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so you’ve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him. 

However, your confidence blinds you.

Too close. 

He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop.  

Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down. 

In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength. 

“Breathe, think, and focus,” he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him. 

You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.

Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.

And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core. 

Your sparring composure absolutely shatters–a gasp and small moan release, and you’re back to struggling once more. 

You assume it was a mistake, but you’re relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress. 

“Focus, my acolyte,” Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. “Focus!” 

Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation. 

With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions. 

Now, your staff is pressed against his throat. 

“Is this better, Master?” you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. “Am I focused now?” 

He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes. 

It reads as a rare time he’s overly impressed, but there’s something else. 

Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why he’s letting down his guard against you during training.

“Master Qimir,” you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, “is this another test of yours?”  

He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from him–tenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face. 

“Training’s over for today.” 

The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards. 

His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better.  

“Master–” you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more. 

“You like this a lot…” His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.   

You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, “So it was intentional before.”

“Of course.” His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. “You need to learn to push aside your desires when training.” 

“Should we stop then?” The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. “To teach me a lesson?” 

He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth. 

“It doesn’t mean I want to push aside my desires.” 

You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.

Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs. 

Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; you’re back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours. 

In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest. 

The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him. 

You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.

The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimir’s throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you. 

He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes you’re giving him. 

Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerability–a sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve held myself back…”

The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple. 

“...wanting to see you like this for me.” 

You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit. 

At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what he’s suggesting.   

Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock. 

When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir. 

As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him. 

You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length.  

The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest. 

He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.

When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.

“You take my cock so well.” 

A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. It’s drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.   

You freeze, and then you feel it.

The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.

But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh. 

On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act.  

“Do you enjoy this?” he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.

“Yes,” you mentally scream.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” you manage to croak. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Nu-uh,” he says. “Say my name, my beautiful acolyte.”

You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you don’t reply, he might not let you get there. 

“Yes, Qimir.”

His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.

“And how does my cock feel?” He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.

“Feels good, feels so fucking good…” 

Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so close— 

And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.

You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.

“Before I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.”

That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Can you do that for me?” 

You nod breathlessly.

Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.

“QimirQimirQimir–” 

And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like you’re praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe. 

Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later. 

Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.

You couldn’t just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated? 

But of course, Master Qimir can hear what’s going on in your mind, and he doesn’t even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code: 

“‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion…’” 

He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.

“‘Through passion, I gain strength.’” 

Holds your hand against his beating chest. 

“‘Through strength, I gain power.’” 

His grip tightens. 

“‘Through power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.’” 

Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.

And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, he’ll always care for you. 

That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, he’s just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 2 | masterlist

-

Sweat beads on your brow as summer approaches its zenith. Its hottest point. You splurge on an iced caramel latte from the gas station on the way over and pick one up for John as well. Your arm is already stretched out when he opens the front door to let you in, offering it to him. 

“I, uh…thought you might want one as well,” you explain, stuttering through your words. Crumbling under his amused expression. 

You crave it though. His approval. That fond smile that seems reserved especially for you. The rare murmured good girl, his hand sometimes coming down to ruffle your hair. Even the memory of it makes your breath get lodged in your throat. You covet every crumb of it.

He takes the iced latte from you though before heading out for the day. Gift received. Even squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he shuts the door behind him, and you manage to keep from swooning until you hear his car pull out of the driveway. 

You stand by the window with the baby pressed to your chest for so little that you can’t blame when a little fist tugs at your hair. 

“Sorry, lovie,” you whisper into his fuzzy hair. Inhale deeply. 

It’s not as though you’re starved for things to do. Were John’s son a few years older, you might have your work cut out for you, but there’s still plenty to do around the house even when you put the baby down for his morning nap. You save the vacuuming for when baby is awake and you’re not in danger of hearing him suddenly start crying through the baby monitor, but you dust and fold laundry and start the dishwasher and take the recycling out and by the time the baby is ready for lunch, you’ve already broken a light sweat. 

Let no one tell you that babysitting is a walk in the park.

That being said, you do put the baby in his stroller for a walk in the park after lunch. 

The park isn’t terribly far from John’s house, so coupled with the short path around the park and the walk back, you’ll get a good amount of steps in today without risking the baby being late for his mid afternoon nap. 

It’s hard to not have an accidental, forbidden thought. Something like I wonder if anyone thinks I’m the baby’s mom when you push the stroller past a group of moms gathered together near the jungle gym, their kids sprinting on wobbly legs and climbing like dexterous little wildlings. 

Those thoughts are dangerous though, best kept under wraps. Clandestine. Because once you start having those thoughts, they never really go away; they just get relegated to a part of your brain that switches on when the lights go off and you think about what it must have been like to carry a baby in your stomach for nine months. 

You’re in danger, girl, a small voice in your head warns you. It’s hard to hear her clearly these days. 

John comes earlier for once, around midday. It takes you by surprise. You jump when the door opens, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot and, in that same second, a wave of terror and rage washes over you, your heart already racing at the thought of someone breaking in while it’s just you and the baby home. You spring to your feet, hands already trembling by your sides, and then his familiar shape walks into the room, boots still on and all.

He pauses when he sees your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, heart still racing. “I thought you were…” Your voice trails off towards the end because you don’t know how to say it without sounding silly. 

His eyes cut to the baby in the bouncy chair behind you, your body still stood protectively in front of him, and then they soften. 

“No, that’s on me—should’ve given you a ring before I left,” he says, a light apology in his voice. He throws his keys into the bowl in the foyer before stalking towards you. You stare up at him wide eyed, only blinking when he ruffles your hair before bypassing you to go pick up his son. 

“How’s my baby?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the baby’s milksoft cheek, and your heart spins and cartwheels in your chest. All sorts of tricks that keep you rooted in place, unable to manage a single word. “You been good today?”

I’ve been good, you almost croak out, the words on the tip of your tongue. You swallow. Force them back down. You’re not his baby. 

Another dinner invitation that you can’t turn down. Not because it wouldn’t be polite but because you couldn’t muster up the will to refuse even if you really did have plans. Lucky that you don’t. 

When he puts the baby down to sleep for the night, you linger by the door, sure you’re a platitude or two away from being shown out for the night. John calls your name from the kitchen though, drawing you deeper into the house again. 

“Go put something on,” he instructs when you idle under the archway of the door. With his back to you, you can’t make out the expression on his face, leaving you no choice but to gawp at the undulation of his shoulder muscles as he washes out the dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. “You want something to drink?”

“Just, uh—” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Just juice, thanks.”

You can’t settle on anything to stream, nothing perking your interests; or maybe you’re just too antsy to make an informed decision on what to watch right now. 

There are other things to worry about. Like John moving around in the other room or the way your denim shorts ride up when you sit down, bunching up at the crotch. You make an attempt to lift your hips and pull them back down as much as you can, but you panic and abort your plan when John comes into the room, embarrassed at the thought of being caught readjusting yourself. 

The cushion under you bounces slightly when John drops himself down onto the couch beside you, the motion making your shorts ride up even more. You wince when the seam presses tight against your clit, on the edge of mildly painful and turning you on. 

“Here, sweetheart,” he says, putting his own drink down on the coffee table before handing you your glass of juice. 

“Thanks,” you bleat, taking a sip almost instantly to mask the look on your face, afraid he’ll read the panic there and press for details. 

He sits closer than usual, as he always does these days. It’s not something you ever discuss. It just seems to happen. Slowly, like ice sheets drifting over water. One day you’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the next he’s all up in your space, thigh to thigh with you while the living room goes dark and the TV glows, the reflection throbbing against the glass. An ever-flickering light that illuminates the side of his head when you peer up at him.

Your tongue rests against the roof of her mouth, dry; sparing.

With his arm resting on the back of the couch over your shoulder, the scent of him is almost smothering. Each inhale makes your head spin. If you were to tilt your head to the side, you’d be level with his armpit, his scent strongest there, and that thought spins in your head like a merry-go-round until someone in the movie you’re supposed to be watching shouts, dragging your attention back to it. 

“Christ, these are little, huh?” John grunts, suddenly reaching over to pinch the frayed ends of your shorts between his fingers. “This what the kids these days are wearing?” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. Your body’s so hot that you feel like you’re swimming in heat, sweat prickling at your hairline and on the back of your neck. 

“I-it’s hot out,” you stutter, your whole body suddenly hot. With how high your shorts have ridden up, his fingers are precariously close to your core, just a hairsbreadth from skimming up your inner thigh and brushing against your folds, now plump and sensitive. 

You wonder if he can make out the outline of your pussy from underneath your shorts. They hug into the seam of your legs, pinching the skin of your inner thighs. You don’t dare glance down. 

He hums, pulling his hand away and you stare wide eyed at the television in front of you when you shift and the glide between your legs tells you just how wet you are. Sitting on the couch next to your boss twice your age with a wet pussy. 

You lean forward to try and readjust, masking the movement by reaching blindly for your glass on the coffee table at the same time. You must pick up the wrong glass by accident though because when you go to lift it to your lips, John’s hand stops you, fingers curling around yours and easily tugging the glass away from your mouth. 

“No, baby, that’s mine; bit young for a drink, aren’t you?” John chuckles, eyes squinting with his smile. 

“I’m legal,” you frown, pouting. 

He acts like that sometimes; like he doesn’t keep track of how old you are. 

“All right, but only a sip, got it?” he cautions, handing you the glass. 

You don’t know why you take it. You would’ve been better admitting to your mistake and putting the glass back down. 

He chuckles when you wince on your sip, nearly spitting it up. Horrifically embarrassing because it’s not like you’ve never had a drink before. You’ve gone out for drinks plenty of times with friends. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, taking the glass from you and flicking his knuckle against your bottom lip as he does. “That’s what I thought.”

And it happens again and again. Head resting on his shoulder when you drift off on the couch before he shakes you awake. In the grocery store, he comes up behind you while you’re pushing the cart and puts his arms around to steer you down another aisle, his broad chest pressed against your back. 

You hold your tongue. Bite off and chew the words. Because it’s nothing; it’s innocent. You’ve known from the get-go that John is more of a man of action than words. If anything, you’re the one reading too much into things. Little touch-starved girl from the bad side of town. It’s not his fault that you preen when he praises you; that you bunt your head against his hand when he ruffles your hair. Every drop of affection soaked up, savoured. Nourishing your heart and your soul. So lonely, so wanting. All those years holed up on your own, no warm body in the bed beside you. 

Then John Price waltzed in and you expected to keep everything sealed up tight in your chest.

So it’s no wonder you gorge yourself on his touch and hope he doesn’t notice the way you lean into it. The rabbit-quick beat of your heart. Your want simmering under your skin, a disgusting, base thing desperate for gentleness. 

You wonder if he sees the same thing when he looks at you.

In the heat of summer, John invites you to join him and the baby for a weekend at the beach in Portugal.

You only say yes because it’s the dog days of summer. At the beach, there’ll be umbrellas to sit under and beer coolers of cold drinks and the ice cold Atlantic to swim in. Plus, you’ve had little opportunity in your life to travel—you’ve barely stepped foot in France, never mind Portugal. But John has friends with a house in the Algarve that have graciously offered him the week, so who are you to say no to such a thoughtful gesture? 

The only reason you consider not going is because you can’t shake the sense of foreboding. 

“Baby, can you get my back?” John asks when you arrive at the beach the first day of your trip, and when you turn back to him, you have to act quick to catch the sunscreen lobbed your way. 

That’s how you find yourself kneeling in the sand behind him, rubbing sunscreen on his back. His shoulders flex under your hands, and you can feel the muscle bunching and relaxing with each swipe across his shoulder blades. The worst is when you get to his low back. John’s groans are obscenely loud, guttural rumblings from the back of his throat. Ravenous. 

“Okay, that’s everything,” you chirp, rubbing the excess off on your thighs. 

“Good,” John says, twisting around. “Now it’s your turn.”

Your eyes widen.

“Wait—I don’t need to—”

You don’t know quite how he manages it, but a couple minutes later, you find yourself lying flat on your stomach on your beach towel, John squirting a good amount of sunscreen onto the middle of your back. All you get as a warning is the sunscreen bottle tossed to the ground beside your head before two big hands come down to your back to massage the cream into your skin. 

There’s nowhere for you to go when John throws a leg over your hips to straddle you. He holds the majority of his weight off you, but despite his best efforts, you can still feel his dick against your ass, his loose swim shorts doing nothing to hold him in place. 

He doesn’t ask for permission before undoing the knot holding your bikini top together, one quick pull and then the garment loosens around your chest. You can feel the fabric pool around you on the towel. 

“John, you—” you start, almost coming up onto your elbows before realizing that your top won’t be coming with you if you do. 

“Just gotta make sure I get your whole back, baby,” he reassures you, both hands gliding up your back to curve around your shoulders before dragging back down. “Won’t be more than a minute.”

It’s no use calling him out on the lie because there’s nothing you could do even if you did.

With hands as big as his, his fingers can’t help brushing the sides of your tits every time he smooths his hands down your back. You bite your lip nearly raw to keep from letting your moans escape, toes curling in the sand underneath you and thank god John is facing the other way or else your arousal would be clear as day to him. The gusset of your bathing suit is already damp and you haven’t even gotten in the water yet. 

His hands drag up and down your back, lathering the lotion into your skin, massaging it into the muscle. Each pass of his hands making your eyes roll back, breath coming out in choppy pants. Tweaking when the palms of his hands easily encompass your shoulders, nearly tickling under your arms.

“There we go. All done,” he announces, jolting you out of the lustful fog you’d slipped into during his ministrations. 

“All good?” you ask, a touch breathy. 

“Mhm,” John rumbles, smoothing a hand up your back one last time, just to double check. Only clenching your fists until the skin around your knuckles tighten keeps you from shuddering at his touch. “Lemme just—” 

Your throat constricts when you feel him reknot the back of your bikini top, fingers quick and deft for their size. He’s tied knots before. It’s better not to let that thought sink in too deep. 

Turning over onto your back takes a near insuperable amount of energy, the rest wrung from your body by the hands now preoccupied with readjusting his shorts. 

“You alright if I take him for a swim?” John asks, holding his squirming son against his bare chest. 

You wave him off, a hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

You can’t help but stare at his ass as he walks away, practically mesmerised. In the water, he wades up to his knees with his son still cradled in one arm. The ocean water laps at his shins, dappled with light, low waves in the distance scintillating at their peaks. The ends of his swim shorts cling to his legs as the water leaches into the fabric. 

Trying to keep your eyes off him is a losing game, not when John’s clad in nothing more than a pair of swim trunks, broad shoulders and chest on display, and now your hands tingle with the memory of how they felt rubbing suntan lotion over his skin. His trunks are pulled taut around thick thigh muscles, just barely loose enough to keep from being indecent. 

The panic returns when you catch some nearby women ogling him, one angling her body towards him like she’s considering walking over, and that’s when your heart beats too fast and you stumble to your feet, leaving your beach towel and umbrella behind to go join John in the water. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets when you’re only a few steps away, shivering when the cold water touches your feet. “Missed us, did ya?”

He reels you in with his free arm, pulling you into his side before transferring the baby into the cradle of your arms. Doesn’t even flinch when your breast is pressed against his side, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. As if your cheek wasn’t nearly flush with the pelt of dark hair growing in whorls on his chest, your eye level with a dark, flat nipple. 

The girls hovering nearby scrunch their noses up when they notice you snuggled up against John’s chest. Assuming you must be someone special for him to be holding you that way; like a girlfriend or a wife—

You choke off the rest of that thought before it can take root. 

The rest of the trip is no better. You’re a right mess made worse by the cloying heat and the forced proximity. At the restaurant, John pulls your chair out for you and then sits right beside you, arm resting on the back of your chair while he talks, cologne clotting the air around you. He’s popular wherever he goes—easy candour and winsome smile able to make anyone, from the servers to the other patrons, want to get to know him better. 

All you can do is bask in the radiance; a sun in the middle of any room. 

Back at the house, you sleep in the other room, only a single, flimsy wall between your room and John’s. The walls are so thin that you can hear every groan and snore and snuffle, head ringing with his sounds until you fall asleep and they permeate your dreams instead. 

At seven in the morning, you wake to the sound of him rolling over in his bed, the mattress squeaking under his weight, and taking himself in hand. The sound of flesh against flesh; the groans bitten off too late for you not to catch them, sweat beading on your hairline as you stare at the white wall and picture John on the other side, big chest panting with his breaths as he tugs on his cock. You listen until his final groan, fingers petting at your clit until you have no choice but to turn your head into your pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As best as you try to put it out of mind, you can’t meet his eyes at breakfast. 

You flinch when the same hand that he must’ve used to jerk himself off comes down onto the top of your head when John goes to refill his mug of coffee. “Sleep well last night?” he asks, deep voice still coated in sleep. 

“Not bad,” you whisper. 

Shivering when he drops his hand to the junction between your shoulder and your neck and gives it a squeeze.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

a bet's a bet

rafe participates in no nut november

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female masturbation (with toys), p in v sex, unprotected sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

nov. 1

“this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.” you cross your arms over your chest, but your boyfriend doesn’t give in, remaining steadfast.

“i already agreed to the bet, baby. you can’t change my mind.” rafe simply says, focusing on looking out the window instead of at you, avoiding your glare.

“i have needs too rafe! i can’t believe you’d agree to this without talking to me first.” you stand up from the couch, tired of this conversation. you grab your laptop and head up to your shared bedroom.

if rafe was going to make a stupid bet to not cum for the entire month of november, then you are at least going to repurchase a vibrator and dildo that rafe threw away when you first started dating, claiming you’d never need them again.

you pay for rush shipping and use rafes credit card, because fuck him.

nov. 3

“come on, just eat my pussy.” you groan, legs spread wide open on the bed, trying to convince rafe to pleasure you, but he just shakes his head no.

“baby, if i eat you out, i’m going to fuck you too. i can’t cum and break the bet, it’s only november 3rd. it’s been three days, we can do this.”

you close your legs as rafe lays down in bed next to you. you shouldn’t even be particularly needy yet. it’s not like you haven’t gone this amount of time before without having sex, but knowing you can’t have him is torture. 

you can’t imagine a world without rafes cock, you’ve gotten so used to being stretched out by him on the regular that an entire month without is giving you withdrawal symptoms, increasing your horniness to unbearable levels.

nov. 5

look what just arrived. you attach a picture of your opened package, pink dildo and vibrator sat inside the box.

rafe reads the message but doesn’t deem you a reply, too busy doing whatever with barry. you honestly doesn’t care as you cunt pulses, needing to feel something inside of it, knowing it won’t be anywhere near as satisfying as rafes cock, but it will do. for now.

you strip yourself free of clothing and lay down on the bed, not even needing to go into the hidden album on your phone of nudes rafe has sent you, or when he snatched your phone off the nightstand and videoed you getting fucked, you simply imagine rafe being there, being the one touching you.

you send snaps to rafe, hoping to entice him into coming home and giving you his cock, but when you send him a video of you coming on the dildo, he simply replies with good try princess.

nov. 6

“aren’t you jealous of my dildo?” you ask, purposely leaving it out on the bed, but rafe doesn’t say a word as he lays down for the night.

“of course i am. this is hell for me too, y/n, but a bet is bet.”

nov. 7

“they won’t even know. just fuck me, i need it.” you whine, rocking against the seat that you’re sat on, not even caring that you’re out on rafes boat, and anyone could see you, not when he’s shirtless, muscles gleaming in the sun, a slight sweat sheening his skin from the high temperature.

“i can’t lie, princess. besides, they’ll know.”

“please, i’m desperate.” you beg, sliding off the stool to sit next to rafe on the captains bench as he effortlessly steers the boat towards deeper water.

“sorry baby.” rafe just tsks.

“can we make out at least? you’ve barely kissed me at all this month.” it’s true, in an effort to keep himself from growing a boner and losing self control, rafe has kept all of your kisses brief.

“fine, but keep your hands away.” rafe says, also missing your lips against his.

you were hoping you could press your body against his, at least get some relief, but rafe does make you keep your distance as your lips glide over his.

nov. 9

“i think this counts as girlfriend cruelty.” you cross your arms over your chest after another unsuccessful attempt at begging rafe to fuck you.

“i’ll make it up with a shopping spree.” rafe offers, and it’s not as good as his dick, but you still agree to it.

nov. 10

“does it feel as good as me?” rafe whispers in your ear, resisting the urge to reach down and help you out as you’re sat on the bed, fucking yourself with your new dildo as he tries to ignore the pulsating erection, forcing himself to think about things that turn him off, even as you’re laid out masturbating in front of him.

“fuck no it doesn’t.” you grunt, desperate for an orgasm even though you hate doing it solo, especially when rafe is right there, able to help. “which is why you should give up on this stupid bet and fuck me. need your cock, baby, i miss it.” “sorry.” rafe kisses your cheek, but still watches you in fascination as you cum.

nov. 12

“miss you.” you tell rafe, snuggling into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you tight to his body as you cuddle, having just enjoyed a lazy day together.

“miss you too baby.” rafe kisses the top of your head, letting his hands touch your, rub over your back, but never venturing into dangerous territory.

“want you so bad.” you complain. you don’t mean to ruin the sweet moment, but you really are beyond desperate for rafe.

“18 more days, we can do it.” rafe says, but you’re really not sure that you can.

nov. 13

“maybe i’ll go sleep with topper.” you say, hands on your hips, finally getting rafes attention as his head snaps up.

“fuck you will not.” he grunts.

“well, this bet is between you topper and kelce, right? maybe i’ll just go make them cum and then you can finally fuck me. i would also get some new dick out of it.” “you’re being a brat.” rafe says, knowing they’re idle threats, there’s no way you’d ever cheat on rafe, you just want to get him to break.

“well what are you going to do?” you taunt. “it’s not like you can punish me.”

rafe just smirks.

nov. 15

“what are you working on?” you ask rafe, placing your hands on his shoulders as he types away on his laptop. you bend down and give him a kiss on the cheek as he hums about whatever project he’s doing. you rub your hands over his shoulders, mumbling something about tension and working too much.

you let your hands move forward against his chest, and then lower and lower, until rafe is pushing your hand away from his crotch.

“come on, please.” you pout.

“you’re halfway there, baby. we can do this. a little bit longer and i’ll make you cum every day in december.” “multiple times a day, i think i’ve earned it.” you argue back.

nov. 16

you’ve had it. you’re sitting watching rafe work out, pussy dripping into you’re underwear, and you’re done with the games and the stupid bet, you’re getting your boyfriend to fuck you today.

you leave the home gym, rafe asking you where you’re going as he lifts the weight, but you ignore him. you head into your bedroom, changing into rafes favorite pair of lingerie and a tall pair of heels that still don’t cause you to reach his height.

you walk back down the stairs, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you reenter the gym.

“fuck, baby, don’t do this to me.” rafe drops his head into his hands, physically unable to look at you.

“no. fuck this bet. it’s so stupid, rafe, i’m about to explode. i need you to fuck me. i don’t care what you lose.” “fine.” rafe says, and you think you misheard him at first.

“what?” you question.

“get the fuck over here before i change my mind, god i need you.” rafe stands, meeting you halfway as your bodies clash, lips pressed hard against each others as you paw at rafes clothes, needing to see him in all his naked glory.

you don’t even care that he’s sweaty from the gym, or that he’s lowering you onto the tiled floor instead of your bed. you’re not going to take the time to move even a foot.

“take your shorts off, fuck.” you groan, hands slipping as you try to push them down his hips. 

rafe pauses his assault on your mouth to push his shoulders and underwear down, his hard cock springing free, tip already leaking with his balls hanging heavy down, filled with need from going without an orgasm for so long.

you pull your underwear to the side, revealing your soaked cunt. all it took was rafe agreeing to have sex that you got a rush of wetness.

rafe doesn’t waste time fingering you to open you up. you’ve been consistent enough with your dildo that it doesn’t hurt at all as he slides in, his warmth pressing against your walls as rafe groans, eyes fluttering shut as he cums before he even gives you one thrust, spurting into your pussy.

it’s too quick for you, but you still moan, clit pulsing as you finally get your boyfriend inside of you again.

“fuck, forgot how fucking tight you are.” rafe moans, and despite just cumming, he begins to snap his hips again already, fucking the cum further into you.

you reach down with one hand to rub your clit, pulling your boobs out of your bra with the other, letting them bounce with every hard thrust rafe delivers, not going easy on you despite it being 16 full days since you last had him.

“never doing no nut november again.” rafe promises you, pressing your lips back together in a searing kiss as you wrap your free arm around his shoulder and pulling him into you, his chest pressing against your sensitive nipples.

“i love your cock so much.” you moan, knowing when this is over you are going right upstairs and throwing that dildo away again.

“cum for me baby.” rafe begs, already feeling a second orgasm build, somehow having more cum to give you.

“yes, rafe!” you shout, back arching up off the floor as you cum, rubbing your clit to completion as rafe finishes inside you again, the excess of cum spilling out even as he keeps himself deep inside of you.

rafe collapses on top of you, twisting to the side so all your weight isn’t on him. he flinches when his bare skin hits the floor. “fuck, it’s cold.”

“it’s tile, dummy.” you giggle, causing rafe to groan when your pussy tightens. “take me upstairs, please.” you press your lips to rafe.

“i need a little bit of a break, baby.” rafe says, and you can tell from the way his cock is steadily softening inside of you.

“nope, you can eat me out until you’re ready to go again. i absolutely deserve this.” rafe laughs softly, “okay, you do.”

nov. 17

“you didn’t tell me this is what you had to do if you lost!” you shout at rafe as he looks at himself in the mirror.

“would it have changed how crazy horny you were?” rafe asks.

“i mean- no.” you sigh. “but you could have told me! i probably could have made it 15 more days if you just fingered me or something!” “do you wanna do it for me or do i have to do it myself?” rafe asks, causing you to snatch the clippers out of his hand.

“i’ll do it.” you run the blade over his head, watching as the gorgeous blond strands of hair fall off your boyfriends head, having to buzz it because he couldn’t resist fucking you for an entire month.

[peachsukii]

✮ content. pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero fem!reader. late 20 somethings + married w/ a toddler. family fluff while he’s away on a mission. slightly suggestive (aka Katsuki’s down bad for his wife). ;)

“Momma!” Your daughter shouts from the living room, the little pitter patters of her feet echoing down the hall as she sprints toward you with glee. “Phone’s ringing, pick it up, please!”

Her small hands shove the phone against your thigh, bouncing up and down in place with excitement. You tuck the folded towel in your arms into the closet and bend down to her level. When you take the phone from her, your husband’s name —💥Katsuki 👑💕— is displayed across the screen, accompanied by a photo of the three of you on your last beach trip. Clicking the “Accept” button, the visual of Katsuki in his hero costume appears, his attention focused on removing his gloves while waiting for you to answer.

“Hey handsome,” you greet, heart swelling when you catch him smirk at the compliment. “Someone’s been waiting for you to call.”

“An’ where’s my little girl at?”

Your daughter hops into view, jumping up and down with her hands waving frantically.

“Hi Daddy!” She giggles, dancing back and forth on her tip toes. “Did ya beat up the bad guys today?”

Katsuki laughs heartily, finally sitting on the bed in his hotel room. “Sure did. I’m keepin’ you and Momma safe. How’s school goin’?”

“S’good! I got a gold star today for my drawing.”

“Yeah? Proud of you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for ya to show me when I come home.”

The time on your phone reads 7:30PM, and like clockwork, your daughter begins to stretch, yawning the same way Katsuki does when he’s exhausted after a long shift.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed, sweetie?” You suggest while rubbing her back. “I know you’re tired.”

“Okaaay,” she pouts, trying to fight off her sudden sleepiness. “G’night Daddy. I miss you!”

“Only two more days. Love an’ miss you, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

With a wave and a smile, she trots off toward her bedroom to change into her PJs, leaving you with a few minutes to talk with Katsuki before tucking her into bed. You walk back into your joint bedroom, leaving the door cracked as you lay on the bed. Katsuki does the same, shifting the camera to follow his movements as he stretches out across the sheets.

“Goddamn, I miss you somethin’ fierce,” he admits, sighing into his forearm as it crosses his face to hide the soft dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You put a spell on me or some shit?”

“Not this time,” you chuckle, feet swaying in the air behind you like a giddy schoolgirl. “I miss you, too. How was your day?”

“S’alright, nothin’ crazy. Can’t wait’ta be back home, sleepin’ alone sucks.”

“Yeah, the bed is cold without you.”

There’s a short lull in the conversation before it shifts into something more sensually charged. Katsuki tends to get clingier the longer he’s stationed away from home — all the telltale signs of it are reflecting in his eyes through the camera, sparkling under the dim moonlight from his hotel room window.

“Good thing I know how to keep ya warm,” he purrs with a wink, the mischievous grin stretched over his lips telling you how he’s truly feeling. “S’how you got knocked up the first time.”

There it is, that familiar warmth flooding into your belly and heat spreading from your ears to your toes.

“Kaaats!” you whine, shyly tucking your head into your chest. “Shut up.”

“Don’t get shy on me now, Peaches,” he teases, laughing quietly at your bashfulness. “S’cute how easy ya are to rile up.”

You wave him off and roll your eyes lovingly. “I should go put her to bed. Are you gonna be up in an hour?”

His brow furrows curiously. “Prob’ly. Why?”

“Gives me time to get her settled, put away the laundry and finish the dishes. Up for a little late night date?”

Oh, Katsuki knows exactly what that means. Why was the thought of watching you doing chores around the house and taking care of your daughter making him suddenly break out in a sweat?

“Earth to Katsuki?” You call again and recollect his attention. “If you’re too tired—”

“Never too tired for you, baby. Go do what ya gotta do, I’ll be waitin’.”

“Okay, I love you!” You sweetly sing as you roll off the bed. “Get comfy, bye babe.”

“Love you too, Peach. See ya.”

The “End Call” screen flashes briefly in front of Katsuki’s eyes, the darkness of the hotel room returning once the screen dims into nothingness. He mumbles a breathless ‘fuck’ into the air before jumping off the bed to stomp toward the bathroom.

Only you can leave him hanging by a thread on simple promises, even when he’s miles away. And damn, did he love it.

[sugugasm]

BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

[honeyxbee]

TW: NSFW, fem!reader, possessiveness, handjob, fingering, size kink

words: 368

Thinking about big, beefy boyfriends.

Large, brawny men who make other guys look tiny in comparison, easily towering over any man who dares to even think about trying to attract your attention. All he has to do is wrap one of his big muscular arms around you, pressing a sloppy kiss against your cheek to send the guy scampering away.

To say that he enjoys the size difference between you is an understatement ― the word obsessed is more fitting. He just loves how small you are compared to him, how his hand envelops yours when you hold hands, and how you drown in his clothes when you wear them. You're such a fragile little thing; he could break you without so much as breaking a sweat.

Oh, but he's always so gentle with you, careful to ensure you never witness the brunt of his true strength, keeping it hidden behind his easy smiles and gentle croons. He doesn't want to scare you away, after all, it would ruin everything. So he is patient with you, always trying his hardest to show restraint.

Even when all he wants to do is flip you over and fuck your brains out.

"There we go baby, just like that," he groans quietly from where he lies back on the mattress, his eyes fixated on your flushed face as you straddle his thighs, clumsily working his massive cock with your hands. He finds it cute how focused you are on trying to please him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration as you stroke his shaft with both of your hands.

One of his large palms is wrapped around your hip to keep you pressed against him, his other one busying itself. "Ya gotta relax, baby," he croons as his thumb rubs lazy circles into your clit, his large fingers beginning to prep your hole.

It doesn't take long for a small moan to escape your lips, making him chuckle and pull his hand away, your arousal glistening on his fingers. He presses several open-mouthed kisses on the column of your throat, a slight grin appearing on his lips when he realizes that his patience and restraint are about to be highly rewarded.

MHA — Endeavor, All Might

JJK — Toji, Kenjaku

HXH — Uvogin

[rikupid]

[3:00] 💭 your teeth in my neck . . . wc: 1.7k

warnings: haechan x afab!reader, nsfw (MDNI), dom!haechan who is still kinda whiny, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), breeding, degradation, light humiliation, use of pet names (baby, angel, whore), dacryphilia, overstimulation, hyuck is just stressed!!

author’s note: winnie writing dom haechan… WHAT HAPPENED TO ME… looks around nervously bc Who am i!!!!! anyways i hope u all enjoy 😖😖

haechan didn’t mean to snap.

he didn’t mean to grab you by the waist and push you up against the wall with so much force that you thought you had done something wrong, staring at him with a confused expression.

you know he’s not usually like this, his behavior catching you completely off guard, and his only excuse is that he’s just stressed. he hasn’t gotten a break, jumping from schedule to schedule, being told to do this and do that, pushing him over his limit. haechan’s stressed, but he really didn’t mean to snap.

his hands are rough, roaming all over your body and groping whatever he can reach. haechan’s normally sweet, treating your body with so much care that it makes you want to cry, but suddenly, like a flip had been switched, his hands begin to trail lower and lower, squeezing your ass and tugging your hips forward.

you gasp as you feel his bulge pressing against your core, mind trying to process what exactly’s going on because haechan’s never acted like this before, never taken what he wants without desperate little pleas, begging for you to make him feel good.

“hyuck,” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against his bulge, despite your earlier confusion. “what’s—mm, what’s wrong, baby?”

haechan just groans, burying his face into your neck and pulling you impossibly closer, itching for your body against his. he mouthes messily at your neck, biting and licking your skin until it’s wet, flushed red and properly claimed.

“hyuck—“ you try again, but it’s obvious that haechan doesn’t wanna talk, too wound up to even think about voicing his stress properly if the rough sink of his teeth is anything to go by.

he pulls away from your neck, sliding his hands up towards your waist and underneath your shirt, mapping the smooth feel of your skin. “mine,” haechan mumbles, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip. it’s the first word he’s said all night, and something about it makes you throb with desperation, this new side of your boyfriend weird, but not unwelcome.

you nod your head, leaning forward to connect your lips fully and tangling your fingers in his hair. haechan moans into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside and gripping your waist with so much force that you’re sure it’ll bruise.

everything’s so hot, making your head spin as your boyfriend practically eats you alive, almost as if he was trying to prove that you were his, leaving no room for argument.

haechan’s the first to pull away, leaving the both of you gasping for air, lips slick with spit and swollen a pretty red. his gaze is heavy as he locks eyes with you, swimming with a mix of emotions that you can’t quite read. without a word, he slips a hand down into the front of your pants, past the waistband of your sweats and underneath your panties, fingers immediately sliding between your folds and spreading them, marveling at just how wet you are.

“barely even touched you,” haechan mumbles, staring at where his hand is deep inside your pants, rubbing small circles on your clit with his middle finger. “so fucking wet,” he adds, biting his lip.

“yeah—yeah,” you breathe, head falling back against the wall with a loud thump. you roll your hips into his hand, chasing more of the pleasure that comes from him touching you.

“stop moving,” haechan hisses, using his other hand to hold your hips down, forcing them to stay still. his words are harsh, void of any emotion as he growls, “you’re gonna take what i fucking give you.”

you can’t help the whine that slips from your throat, nodding and not daring to try moving again. your pussy throbs at the rough treatment, turning you on even more.

haechan says nothing else, pulling his hand out of your pants and flipping you around, crowding you up against the wall. you moan, an unexpected noise at the sudden switch in position, and his bulge strains against the curve of your ass.

his movements are rushed, little to no care behind them as he tugs your sweats and panties down, leaving them pooling around your knees. you shiver at the sudden exposure, closing your eyes and pushing your ass back against him, desperate for whatever he’s about to do to you.

“hyuck,” you moan, pressing your forehead up against the wall. you hear the faint sound of his zipper, biting your lip in anticipation.

haechan ignores you, pulling his leaking cock out of his pants, barely even bothering to pull them down, before grabbing the base and guiding it towards your slit. he teases, dragging the tip between your folds and wetting it with your own arousal.

“could jus’ slip it in if i wanted,” he whispers, talking to nobody but himself and pressing the tip inside as if he were really going to. “gonna fuck this pretty pussy, make it all mine,” he breathes out, hands pressing into your back, forcing it down into a pretty arch.

“please, hyuck,” you whine, walls fluttering around the tip of his cock that’s just barely pressing inside you.

haechan scoffs, a lazy grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you, pressing your ass back into his cock as if you were some kind of cheap whore. “begging and i haven’t even done shit,” he sneers, holding your hips in place to keep you from moving.

he pulls the tip of his cock out before spitting into his hand, slicking up his length and groaning at the stimulation. before he can lose himself in the pleasure, he places both of his hands on your ass, spreading your cheeks to slide his cock inside your pussy, bottoming out in one slow and deep thrust.

a long moan is ripped from your throat, the girth of his cock stretching you out so good, any thoughts you had disappearing and melting from your brain. “hyuck—oh,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

“tight—so fucking tight,” haechan gasps, hunching over your back and digging his face into the back of your shoulder. he pulls out, just barely leaving the tip inside, before slamming his hips against yours, bullying his cock back into your pussy. like this, he builds up a rhythm, fucking you without mercy, his thrusts too fast for you to stay coherent, moans choked and words stuck in your throat.

he’s so deep it feels like you can’t breathe, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, fingers digging uselessly into the wall. your body rocks with slam of haechan’s hips, legs going weak as you try to keep up.

“take it so good, baby—fuck,” haechan whines, voice shaky and out of breath, but his hips keep the same relentless pace, never letting up. “made to take my cock,” he babbles, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer, “gonna make me fucking c-cum.”

“please,” you moan, feeling your orgasm build up. your pussy throbs, heat boiling in your stomach and threatening to explode so hard you’ll break.

“yeah? maybe s’all you’re good for,” he says, slowing his hips and rolling them in deep, pointed thrusts. “just a whore that’s only good for cock,” haechan mumbles in your ear, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit. a choked moan leaves your lips, spit beginning to pool inside your mouth.

“so dirty baby, so fucking dirty, getting off on me fucking you like this,” he continues, words punctuated with each thrust.

“hyuck—hyuck,” you gasp, barely managing to get the words out. he picks up the pace again, leaving you breathless, and finally, the tension in your belly snaps, orgasm washing over you in strong, powerful waves. your legs give out, body supported only by haechan’s grip, and fuck, he’s still going.

“that’s it, baby,” haechan groans, hips stuttering from the way your pussy clenches around him, practically sucking his cock back inside.

“too much, s’too much,” you whine, loud and pathetic, tears welling up in your eyes. your hand flies down to grab his wrist, trying to stop him from rubbing at your oversensitive and throbbing clit.

“shut up,” haechan spits, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them behind your back. “k-know you can take it, angel, c’mon,” he pants, thrusts turning sloppy as he feels his orgasm getting closer and closer.

“hyuck,” you sob, too stupid to think of anything else, haechan’s cock having properly fucked you silly, leaving you with nothing but the thoughts of hyuck, hyuck, hyuck.

finally, after what feels like years, haechan pushes in with one last final thrust of his hips, groaning as he spills inside your pussy. “fuck,” he whines, biting his lip as he cums, the tension in his shoulders disappearing with every last drop.

you’re both panting, completely spent, and for a moment, it’s silent. haechan nuzzles into the back of your neck, rubbing his sweaty bangs against your skin, and it should be disgusting, but you’re too tired to actually scold him.

he pulls his cock out, backing away to watch as your hole flutters, a small trickle of cum beginning to pool and spill out. “mine,” he whispers, hands caressing your skin like an apology, trying to make up for the rough treatment.

you nod, finally coming back to your senses. “yours,” you agree, sniffly and quiet. haechan gently guides you back into a standing position, crowding you against the wall and nuzzling back into your neck.

“love you,” he mumbles, voice quiet and obviously drained, his body slouching against you. he tightens his arms around your waist, sighing.

“love you too, hyuckie,” you hum. “what was wrong?”

“just—you know,” haechan whines, not wanting to elaborate.

and yeah, you know. with you, words aren’t necessary for you to know what your boyfriend needs.

a/n: ummmmm… Not sure. the haechan voices got to me and that video of him moaning during the asmr with jisung did Not help!! lmk what u guys thought about this :>

tags: @haetrack @injunnie-lemon

[auroralwriting]

his little finger

spencer reid x fem!hothead!reader

part two!!! | part one

spencer has you wrapped around his finger; you'd do anything he said without question. your team can't quite understand it. little do they know you and spencer have an unsaid.. thing.

warnings: reader has a hot temper, reader gets injured, innuendos for smut (they did it) | words: 1k again im sorry but i have plans for spence!!

It finally happened. The day everyone had been dreading. Finally, your hot temper got you injured during a case.

You caught a guy, he fit your profile exactly. You knew deep down it was him. He didn't react well to confident women, so Hotch sent you in to interrogate him. You would break him down, reduce him to mere atoms.

"Come on, Charlie," You had your hands on the table, leaning over to him. "We know you killed those women. We have all the evidence right here. Save yourself some jail time and just admit, yeah?"

Charlie kept his eyes trained to the floor, "I didn't kill those women." He stated, voice quiet.

You could see the sweat on his face, the way his foot tapped. "You can't even look at me!" You laughed, "Of course you didn't kill those women. You can't even look at one without almost pissing your pants." You gave Charlie a small tsk, "But I guess that just goes to show you aren't so tough, huh? You couldn't control a situation, not if you wanted to, not even if you tried. You--"

Stars. You saw stars and heard a loud clang. It took you a moment to realize you were on the floor. You felt absolutely nothing for a second, then a searing hot pain in your head. Finally, you looked up to see Charlie had a thick, sharp rock in his hand. He had struck you. The table and chair were on opposite sides of the room, and there was blood on the rock. Your blood. You pushed yourself up to the wall, unable to stand up or speak.

"Yeah? I can't control a situation?" Charlie taunted, "Guess you got your fucking profile wrong, you little bitch!"

The door was busted open, Hotch and Derek running in. Derek got the guy under his control as Rossi and Spencer ran in.

"Hey, hey," Hotch kneeled beside you. "Come on, let's stand." You felt his arms under you, lifting you up.

Spencer was quick to take one side of you, helping you out of the room. "Hey, sweetheat, it's alright," You heard Spencer say. "You're okay now. Come on, say something!"

The genius refused to leave your side, even as the paramedics came into the room. One went to touch your head, but you flinched away harshly, grabbing his arm. "Don't you dare touch me," You hissed. It was the first thing you'd said.

Your team watch in shock, surprised you refused help. Spencer was quick to jump in, recognizing you were in flight or fight mode. "Honey, he's just trying to help you," Spencer softly explained. "He's gonna help your head,"

"It won't hurt?" Your voice turned soft, nearly a whine due to the pain.

Spencer shook his head, "It won't hurt. I'll hold your hand the whole time, okay?" After a slight hesitation, you nodded. Spencer laced his fingers with your own, letting you lean on him for support as he rambled about random statistics to help occupy your mind.

Hotch instructed that Spencer was to take you back to the hotel for the rest of the night to rest. He drove you there, allowing you to pick the music and temperature for the car. The whole time, you held his hand.

Once you got back to your room, he helped you in. He was kind enough to help you take off your jacket and slip off your shoes. After he was done, he turned around, ready to leave.

"No," You called, pulling him back with your hand that you had in his. "I want you to stay."

Spencer was quick to turn back around, "Of course, yeah, I'll stay." He slipped off his own shoes and sat next to you on your bed.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh," You muttered. "I got myself hurt."

"Hey, no," Spencer shook his head. "That guy would've hurt someone no matter what. He was ready. You didn't get yourself hurt, okay? It was all his fault. You were doing your job, one you're damn good at."

You felt your eyes water. "I'm too mean, too quick to anger." You muttered as Spencer took his hand, gently pulling your head onto his shoulder. "I wish I wasn't."

"I don't," Spencer responded, voice soft. "I, uh, love you just the way you are."

Finally someone said it.

You didn't even respond in words, you just pulled his face to yours and pressed your lips together. Spencer took no time in reciprocating, kissing you back with a firey force. You'd both been waiting for this for so, so long.

"I love you too," You breathlessly responded as you pulled back. Spencer didn't let you have another moment as he pulled you back to his lips, chasing the gratifying feeling it gave him to finally be kissing you. "Spence, air," You gasped, pulling back.

"You can last three to five minutes without air," Spencer mumbled, pressing kisses to your lips as he spoke. "I think you'll be okay for a few more."

Even while practically making out with you, you loved that Spencer couldn't help but use his big brain to ramble off some facts. "Thought you had to go back,"

"They'll be fine without me," You giggled at Spencer's response.

After a half hour, Spencer's phone began to buzz. It was Derek. Spencer, half undressed, rolled over to look at his phone. "Who is it?" You asked.

"Morgan," Spencer said. He hit the decline button, leaning back over to you when it buzzed again. He let out a frustrated groan and picked up the phone. "What, Morgan? I'm busy."

You could hear Derek from how close you were to Spencer. "Busy? Doing what?" He paused, "Oh, doing who- Wait a minute--"

Quickly, Spencer hung up the phone. "I think he got the point." Spencer smiled as he silenced his phone. He turned back to you, caressing your cheek. "Where were we?"

Back at the station, Derek's jaw was slung open. "Guys, you aren't gonna believe this." He turned back around to the team who stared at him curiously, wondering where their genius went. "They're having sex, Reid and L/n."

"No way!" Emily laughed, "Now?"

"Hotch did send them to the hotel," JJ smiled.

With a shrug, Hotch held out his hand. "Today is day four. Pay up,"

"You!" Rossi pointed his finger at Hotch. He slowly began to pull out his wallet. "You sent them back on purpose!"

"She was hurt," Hotch held back a smile. "I would do no such thing, especially on a case."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Case's over. Right after we detained the guy again, he admitted to it. You just wanted to win this." Derek slapped a crisp twenty in Hotch's hand, along with the rest of the team. "I guess I'll let Garcia know she owes you."

Hotch smiled to himself, "I'm always right."

[stxrslut]

LET HIM REST 𐙚⋆.˚

pairing; s4 jj maybank x cupcake!reader

summary;  it's safe to say jj may have crashed out tonight, and you are the only person he can turn to. so you make it your goal to get him taken care of, and at least a little content after the turmoil of tonight

content; hand job, mommy kink, titty sucking, adjacent to s4 plot

authors note; as much as I am a season 4 hater I did happen to find a small bit of inspiration from it... so without further ado...

jj is pacing around your room, hands on the back of his head, breathing erratically. you’re sitting on your bed. his boots are loud against the wood floor which is the exact opposite of what he’s supposed to be being right now. he’s supposed to be laying low and that involves staying quiet so that anyone going past or around the house wouldn’t hear him. 

“jay.. just.. just sit down.” you sigh, trying to get him to be calm, but he doesn’t listen. he’s limping a little, only because he’d jumped off a roof after starting a whole fucking riot, not a big deal at all. 

god, if you weren’t being the responsible one here you’d burst out crying. he’s being so frustrating, you need him to be calm so you can be calm. 

“can’t— I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore!” he yells and kicks the wall, making you flinch. you need him to calm down. 

“jj.. jj please. please sit down.” you stand now, placing a hand on his arm only to be pushed away. you sigh, “jj.” the agitation in your voice is made obvious by the weary sigh you let out. 

“shit.” he kicks the wall again, it cracks a little. you’re not sure if it’s sweat or tears coating his cheeks, maybe both. 

“come here jj,” you pull him back, speaking with only a little forcefulness in your voice. “please sit down… please.. let me help you.”

he complies, though he’s still agitated and probably still ready to break something. you guide him to sit down on the bed where you were before and then you take a place next to him. you put an arm around him and rest your head on his shoulder in an act of attempted comfort for both him and you.

jj reaches a breaking point right about now, you think. now it is tears. you're certain of it as his breath becomes ragged and his body begins to shake with small sobs that he's trying ever so hard to hold back. 

“jj… oh jj dont cry.” you rub his side. you feel so much sympathy for him in this moment, his whole world has fallen apart in the last few days. there's no legitimate solution that you can offer him. the least you can do at this point is try to help him get his mind off of it. “what do you need? tell me what you need, jj.” 

he sniffles, “just.. just don’t wanna think about it okay. don’t wanna talk.” okay, you can do that, you can not talk. you press your lips into the side of his arm. he needs a distraction, you can do distraction. 

“hey… why don't i look after you for a bit… take your mind off it.” your hand goes to rest on his leg as you look up at him from where you are. his eyes are red and sore, filled with excess tears. 

he sniffles almost pitifully but he nods, realising now just how much he needs a distraction. “yeah,” his voice is breathless, from the tears and the yelling. “please.” 

your hand begins to run up his leg, stopping when it reaches the top of the zipper on his jeans. “just concentrate on me, okay. i'm gonna take real good care of you baby.” you pull it down, revealing his boxers which you also pull down by the waistband.

he exhales shakily, leaning back on his arms. you pull him out of his pants and slowly begin to work him with your hands. it doesn't take much to arouse him, despite all the turmoil, it's still jj. 

you start to jerk him off, slowly at first, you don’t want it to be over too quickly. when you’re sure he’s ready you begin to move. 

you guide him and reposition gently to have him laying down on his back, you get onto your side next to him. your hand keeps working on his dick with a practised skill.  

you don’t quite notice when his hand comes up to tug on the neck of your shirt. it takes you a moment to realise what he wants, but when you do you’re happy to comply. you pull the clothing off, revealing your tits to him. his lips part and he moved himself over to easily attach his lips to your nipple. 

“mmh.. m— ma-” he’s babbling incoherently, but it’s okay, you know what he wants to say. you’ll let him say it. 

“it’s okay baby… mama’s gonna take care of you. s’all gonna be okay.” you murmur, free hand tangling in his hair whilst you keep jerking him off. 

his whole body is reacting. his hips buck and jerk and his stomach ripples though you don’t see it through his clothes. he keeps letting out noises too, whimpers and whines, ones you know that he only lets out when he really needs to. 

you don’t care that your nipple will be sore after this, you don't care that your arm will ache from moving it like this, you don’t care that you’re not receiving an ounce of pleasure. you love this boy, you need to take care of him otherwise you’ll be good for nothing. 

jj’s hips move more, you can tell he’s approaching a much needed climax. you keep going until he cums, making a mess on the sheets and both of your clothes but you don’t care. 

“oh.. there you go.” you make sure he rides it out, and when he does you let go and bring your hand up to rub his side. 

“felt good.” he breathes out, his mouth is still not fully detached from your boob but you pay no mind, he has needs. 

“yeah.. I’m glad.. you just relax now okay.. just relax.” you stroke his head as he settles down to shut his eyes. he’s still messy but it’s okay, you’ll clean him up when he’s asleep. get him changed too, his clothes are mucked up and ripped. 

but for now, just for now, you’re going to let him rest. 

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝑶𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. Fluff, mentions of nightmares, cuddling, smut, cockwarming, caressing, age gap, established relationship etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by the talented @anitalenia 🩶

Lately… Logan has been seeking your arms during the nights. You’ve always been there to get him through the night be it a nightmare or a bad dream. He often woke up drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. Sometimes you took warm baths together to calm him down.. you loved sitting with your back towards his chest in the bath surrounded by warm water and his arms coiled around you keeping you close. His beard rubbing your cheek as he affectionally cuddled you. You didn’t have to talk much.. this was your save place. Your made heaven.

Tonight you went to bed early, you found him smoking a cigar sitting on the edge of the bed watching the sky through the window. Warm nights like this.. it kept him awake. He was mostly alert to any danger upcoming your way.. you loved that about him. How he took care of you no matter what–

“Lo..” you whispered touching his shoulder gently. He didn’t respond but reached for your hand to caress it lightly. “Can’t close my eyes..” he broke the silence softly. Without further talking you climbed to his lap wrapping both arms and legs around him keeping him close. “I love you..” you whispered resting your cheek on his heart. “Love you too kid..” he mumbled after taking a hit of his cigar blowing the smoke in opposite direction away from you.

When he finished smoking he wrapped his arms around you squeezing you tight in his arms his strength handy. “Lo.. can’t breathe” you gasped with a muffled giggle against his chest inhaling his woodsy, whiskey scent. “C’here princess” cupping the back of your hair he pulled you up towards his mouth kissing you. You moaned softly into his mouth accepting his tongue as it was begging to climb into your mouth claiming you taking your breath away making your belly wake in butterflies. Your arms slid around his neck fingers stroking his greyish hair. You both sighed affectionally into the kiss which lasted another moment before breaking away. “Back to bed..” he kissed your forehead letting you go.

You climbed under the covers peeking at him from under them watching him take off his clothes. When he slipped under the covers next to you, he was bare naked making you blush. His strong hand pulled you at him making you squeal “Lo!” He groaned burying his face against your neck you were sprawled on his chest, thigh hiking over his hip as he lied on his side. Hands skimming over your back, groping your tender flesh. Soon he was stuffing his cock inside of you, your wetness giving him a coat as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and then more and more watching you– holding your cheek your eyes meeting. Lustful eyes of his, hooded gaze clouded in desire watching you as you shamelessly clenched around his cock trying to fuck him back but he was holding your thigh around his waist. His little girl you were, his young everything– you made it all better, his wounds, his heart “Your Oldman can’t sleep princess.. need this heavy cock wet” you mewled in response burying your face against his neck gripping his shoulders squealing as he battered his cock inside of your tight heat. “Fuck fuck fuck..” he cursed breathlessly speeding up his thrusts until you came violently crying out his name tiredlessly your voice dying with a broken whimper “atta girl..” he growled slamming his cock in your wet heat few more times before coating your walls in his creamy spend. “Daddy..” you whimper snuggling close to him letting him slide into you even deeper. “Ya? Gonna cockwarm daddy all night long and make his nightmares go away?” He whispered kissing your cheek wiping your tears away with his thumb. You nodded letting him snuggle closer to you, arms around you holding you close to him making sure his cock is planted and nestled inside of you all night long.

no more nightmares

-

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke x fem!reader

you and Luke end up stuck in the same motel room on a mission, but as he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible, he ends up with you sitting on his lap and moaning his name.

warnings: enemies to lovers (?, reader’s godly parent is not mentioned, CLASSIC share-the-same-bed prompt, cussing, clothed s3x, pet names, teasing, kinda virgin!luke, dom!luke for a sec, luke sees reader in her underwear

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The groan of the rusty –stolen– car door echoed in the woods like a death knell. You slammed it shut with a wince, the throbbing ache in your shoulder protesting the movement as you placed your bag on it. The vehicle now lay crumpled against a giant redwood, a testament to the gigantic beast you'd just barely managed to outrun before Percy took take of it with Anaklusmos.

And him, ever the optimist, managed a weak attempt at sarcasm. "Well, that went great, don´t you think?" he muttered to you, his voice laced with exhaustion. A fresh cut adorned his cheek, a reminder of his near-death experience, from their recent encounter.

Luke, face dirty and torso sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the exhaustion etched on his face. Dirt smudged his usually perfect features, and sweat plastered his black hair to his forehead, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl at camp. On you, however, it just fueled the simmering fire inside you that made you want to punch his face.

He slung his worn backpack over one shoulder, the weight of responsibility and fatigue pulling him down.

"Remind me not to let you drive again. Ever." he said to you, his voice laced with a mocking lilt.

You rolled your eyes, the familiar irritation sparking within you. "Oh, give me a break" you spat back, hands on your hips. "I'm the only one with a license here, genius."

"Is your license useful when it comes to a stolen car, genius?" he replied, voice lowering to match his mockery and a punchable smirk playing on his lips. He really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both staring down the barrel of another night on the run, another night without a decent meal or a good night's sleep.

"At least I can drive" you countered, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that ran down your spine. "Besides, who else would have gotten us this far? You?" You gestured towards the flickering neon sign of a ramshackle motel in the distance, a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness.

"Enough" Annabeth said, her voice firm despite the tiredness in her tone. "You two can fight later, but right now, we need to find somewhere to stay. I am not spending another night sleeping on a tree"

With a determined stomp, she marched towards the side of the road. You and Luke both took a step forward at the same time, then stopped, locked in a silent battle of who would yield. You mockingly straightened your arm towards Annabeth's path. "Ladies first" you said to him.

He squinted his eyes playfully as he walked past you. “Very mature” he muttered.

The flickering neon sign cut through the twilight like a neon lifeline as you walked. ‘The Sun n' Sands Motel’ proclaimed in faded glory, the letters crooked and the sun sporting a single, sad-looking ray. It wasn't the exactly luxury, but after days on the run, a crumpled car, and a near-death encounter with a creature straight out of your worst nightmares, this place looked like a five-star resort.

"Finally" you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. You could practically smell the promise of clean sheets and a bed that didn't groan ominously with every movement. And a shower. Gods, you craved that.

Pushing open the glass door, you were greeted with a musty scent that hung in the air like a forgotten memory. The lobby was small and poorly decorated, the faded floral wallpaper clashing horrendously with the worn brown carpeting. Behind a chipped counter sat a woman whose age defied easy categorization. Her hair, the color of tarnished silver, was pulled back in a tight bun, emphasizing the deep lines etched around her eyes. She sat engrossed in a beauty magazine, oblivious to the four weary demigods who had just entered.

With a sigh that condensed the exhaustion of your entire journey, you approached the counter. Slamming a wad of crumpled bills onto the counter, you declared, "Rooms for four, please."

Percy shuffled behind you, his eyes flitting around the room with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Annabeth scanned the lobby for any signs of potential danger, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her dagger.

The woman finally looked up, her gaze lingering on you for too long before flickering to the rest of your group. A slow smile played on her lips, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "One room, two beds?" she drawled, her voice thick with a southern twang that seemed to grate on your already frayed nerves.

"Two rooms" you corrected, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. Sharing a room with Luke Castellan, a roof, again, even in this desolate outpost, was an idea so abhorrent you couldn't entertain it for a second.

As if sensing your objection, the woman tapped away at a dusty computer terminal. A smirk played on her lips. "Couple's getaway, huh?" she asked, her eyes darting from Luke, back to you.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a surprised and disgusted look. "What?" you demanded, your irritation bubbling over.

But before you could react, you felt Luke´s heavy arm slunging casually around your shoulder, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Looks like we're gonna have to get a little bit cozy, don't you think, baby?" he drawled playfully.

You gritted your teeth, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding. You knew perfectly well he was just trying to get under your skin, and the worst part was, it was working. The thought of sharing a room with him was bad enough, but the idea of him calling you "baby" sent shivers down your spine – not of pleasure, but of pure, unadulterated annoyance.

Faking a sickly sweet smile, you leaned in and delivered a sharp elbow jab directly to his stomach. He doubled over with a groan, clutching his center for a moment. "Call me 'baby' again," you hissed, your voice low and dangerous, "and I'll punch way lower than that."

“Got it, muscles” he wheezed.

The receptionist, clearly enjoying the spectacle, leaned back in her chair and tapped away at the computer again. "Right now, we have one room with a double bed, and another one with two single beds" she explained.

You glanced back at Annabeth, a silent question hanging in the air. She nodded in understanding. Two single beds might not be ideal, but it was infinitely preferable to sharing a room with Luke.

"We'll take them" you declared.

The woman expertly counted the money, her lips pursed in concentration. "Rooms thirteen and fifteen." she announced, handing you two keys. "No smoking inside, and do not break anything, or you'll be charged double" the lady continued, her voice laced with a warning that was clearly aimed at you and Luke.

As you all four walked towards the stairs, you tossed the key to room fifteen at Luke. He snatched it reflexively in the air, a hint of confussion in his face. “Boys, you´ll share a room” you declare.

Luke scoffed behind your back. "What are we? Eleven?" he asked.

"It was a nightmare to drive a car with you in it" you retorted, "can't imagine what it would be like to share a room."

Later, after some questionable inspectioning around the room and re-organizing your bag for when you leave tomorrow morning, you finally had a little time to yourself.

The cool water splashed against your face, washing away the grime and exhaustion of the day. You glanced over at Annabeth, who was meticulously placing her most important things on the floor to clean and organize her bag; her dagger, her cap, a rope, a squished water bottle, and a few maps. Despite the cramped confines of the motel room, a sense of peace settled over you. Even with Luke's irritating presence hanging over your head, it was a welcome change from the constant fear and adrenaline that had fueled your journey.

A sharp rapping on the door snapped you out of your reverie. "Coming!" Annabeth called out. She opened the door just a crack as you peeked your head out of the tiny bathroom door. You were greeted by the sight of a very smug-looking Percy. His cheeks were puffed out, and he was clutching a brown paper bag that seemed precariously close to bursting.

"Uh, hey" he mumbled, his voice muffled through a mouthful of something chocolatey. "I raided the vending machine downstairs” he simply explained.

Annabeth turned towards you. “Dinner?” she asked.

The offer of a snack, however meager, was enough to send your stomach grumbling in protest. The idea of a proper meal sounded heavinly, the food from camp, the meat, the mashed potatoes. Gods, you really wanted to be back. But right now, even the greasiest bag of chips could be enough for you.

Percy shoved his way past Annabeth and into the room. He disgorged his loot onto the small bedside table that sat between your beds. Annabeth, with her usual organizational skills, started to create a semblance of order from the chaotic pile of snacks.

Across the room, you noticed Luke still leaning against the doorway. He had shed his usual polished exterior for a pair of worn sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, a sight that momentarily threw you off balance. He took you in with a lazy glance, his eyes lingering on your tired face and messy hair. "Looking good" he called, a smirk playing on his lips.

One of your eyes twitched in irritation. Grabbing the wet towel you'd been using, you flung it at him with a growl. He managed to snag it out of the air just before it connected with his face.

"Hilarious" he remarked.

Annabeth jumped in before the playful hostility could escalate further. "How about a movie?" she suggested, her voice laced with a hint of forced cheer.

The idea wasn't exactly appealing, but the prospect of some semblance of downtime outweighed the absurdity of watching television in a dingy motel room. You and Luke exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between you. You didn't know how much peace you could get in the middle of a mission, or for how long, but the idea of just sitting down and eating calmly while watching a movie was undeniably tempting. Even with the dubious snacks and the cramped quarters, it felt like a small oasis in the storm of your current situation.

The movie selection on the ancient TV was limited, to say the least. After a series of disgruntled grumbles and channel surfing, they settled on a cheesy romance movie with a plot that could have been predicted by a hyperactive squirrel. The acting was atrocious, the dialogue predictable, and the special effects looked like they were created by a bored teenager with basic editing software. Yet, despite the movie's inherent ridiculousness, a strange sense of camaraderie filled the room. Laughter, albeit tinged with exhaustion, erupted at the predictable plot twists and overly dramatic dialogue.

As the minutes ticked by, Percy and Annabeth succumbed to the fatigue of the day. Annabeth curled up by your side on her bed, but her eyelids eventually fluttered shut and her head lolled back against your shoulder. Percy managed to stay up for a little longer with Luke, but his snorting could easily be heard just ten minutes after.

Silence stretched between you and Luke, punctuated only by the rhythmic snores of Percy and the occasional sigh from Annabeth in her sleep. You glanced over at your friend, her head resting peacefully against your shoulder. Despite the discomfort of the shared bed and the dubious snacks, a sliver of normalcy felt oddly comforting.

Across from you, Luke mirrored your posture, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on the flickering television screen, but you knew his attention wasn't on the atrocious movie. He was lost in thought, a furrow etched between his brows.

There was tension in the air, a constant undercurrent simmering between you two. You didn't like each other, that much was certain. He was arrogant, self-serving, and his loyalty always seemed to have a price tag attached. Yet, a grudging respect had grown between you over the years. You both understood the weight of your responsibilities, the burden of protecting those younger, more innocent.

He cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Hey, Per—" he began, his voice a low murmur.

“Hey” you called. Luke´s head snapped towards your direction. "He's been out for more than half an hour" you interjected softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't wake him up."

Luke's head tilted to the side. Confusion flickered across his brown eyes before settling on a scowl. "What?" he hissed, barely louder than a whisper.

"Think about it" you countered, your voice a low murmur that wouldn't disturb the sleeping teens. "Percy's been snoring like a miniature thunderstorm for at least ten minutes. Annabeth wouldn't wake up even if a centaur stepped next to her right now. Waking them up would just cause a monster of a different kind."

You knew Luke understood. You weren't just talking about Percy's physical exhaustion. You were both keenly aware of the burden these young demigods carried. They craved normalcy as much as anyone, and these stolen moments of peaceful sleep, however fleeting, were a precious commodity. Watching them, so vulnerable and carefree in their slumber, filled you with a fierce protectiveness. The last thing you wanted to do was disrupt that.

Luke didn't reply, but his gaze mirrored your sentiments. A flicker of something akin to respect softened the harsh lines of his face. You weren't friends, not by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, you shared a common enemy and a common purpose – to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

The silence stretched for a momento before he cleared his throat again, the sound sharp in the cramped room. "So," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of resignation, "what do we do then?"

You sighed, frustration creeping into your voice. "Guess we're stuck sharing a room after all" you muttered, throwing your hands up in defeat. The idea was far from appealing.

Luke's face contorted in horror. He let out a theatrical whine that would rival any crying toddler. "Oh come on" he whined, stretching the word into several syllables. "Sharing a room with you? Talk about cruelty and punishment."

“Oh, just shut up” you whispered-yelled at him. “Trust me, I don´t wanna sleep next to you either. I´ll build up a wall of pillows before you can even start snoring”

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with your least favorite person. But beneath the surface, you both acknowledged the unspoken truth – the safety and well-being of Percy and Annabeth took precedence over any personal discomfort.

You both rose from your beds, a tense air crackling around you. Picking up your backpack, you hoisted it over your shoulder with a sigh. "Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with."

Luke followed, his movements mirroring yours. The walk down the cramped hallway was filled with an tension. Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching his door, Luke fumbled for the key, his irritation evident in his clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room identical to yours – basic, cramped, and thoroughly unappealing.

Stepping inside, you couldn't help but let out a groan. A single, double bed dominated the room, leaving absolutely no room for separate sleeping arrangements. God, why did Percy have to fall asleep? Why didn´t you and Annabeth pick this room earlier? Everything was going the wrong way for you. You exchanged a look with Luke, the message clear in your burning eyes.

"Snort or drool" Luke began, his voice a low growl as he pointed a finger at you "and I swear I'll throw you out the window"

"Hm, how charming" you replied sarcastically, stepping past him and into the room.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you dropped your backpack onto the nearest chair. Luke began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. You rolled your eyes at the sight. This was so ridiculous.

A glance at your watch confirmed your suspicions. It was not too late to hop on quick shower. Percy and Luke walked down to the vending machine so quickly earlier that you didn´t even have time to wash yourself before they came to your room with the so called dinner. Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. You looked for a clean shirt you were sure you packed before leaving camp days ago. The possibilites of a shower were low in missions like these, but you never knew.

Leaving your backpack open on the chair, you made your way to the bathroom door, silently pushing it open. Luke watched your movements for a fleeting moment, but quickly went back to his pillow fortification once your figure disappeared inside the small bathroom. He didn't think much of it at first. You were just getting ready for the night, whatever your methods.

Inside the bathroom, you began stripping off your clothes, the cool air a welcome sensation against your heated skin. In your state of exhaustion, you neglected to fully close the bathroom door. A foolish mistake, perhaps, but in your defense, the room was tiny and the it wouldn't be winning any awards for spaciousness. Right now, all you craved was a chance to scrub away the road dust and find a clean shirt for the —uncomfortable— night ahead.

A few seconds later, a muffled curse broke the silence on Luke´s side. Luke, realizing he'd left his toothbrush in the bathroom, stopped himself from the pillows task and approached the bathroom door. He was expecting it to be shut. A polite knock, a request for his forgotten toothbrush – that was the plan. But as he drew closer, his steps faltered. The door wasn't shut.

“Seriously!?”

There you stood, completely devoid of clothes except for your underwear, taking off your camp´s necklace and your earrings. The warm glow from the bathroom light accentuated the smooth lines of your shoulders and the curve of your back. Time seemed to freeze for a beat. Luke's breath hitched in his throat.

You whirled around, startled. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw Luke's flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his brown eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Didn't think you'd be so shy, Luke" It was a playful jab, a way to lighten the sudden tension that had filled the small space.

Luke sputtered, his voice barely even a regular tone. "Shy? I'm not-, I mean-…” he kept cutting himself off. “This-, don´t you know what privacy is!?"

His indignation was adorable, you couldn't help but think to yourself. You'd never seen him so flustered, so utterly out of sorts. A mischievous glint sparked in your eyes.

"Oh, come on" you countered, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't tell me you've never seen a girl in this state before."

The question just didn´t have an asnwer. Luke's mouth clamped shut. His eyes widened for a moment, then darted back down to the floor, avoiding your gaze. There was a flicker of something in his eyes – a memory, perhaps, or a realization – but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. You realized you had hit a nerve, a part of Luke you hadn't expected to expose, not in front of you. A pang of unexpected curiosity pricked at your insides. Just what kind of experiences had this arrogant, self-assured perfect golden boy had?

You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe apologize for your teasing, but Luke beat you to it.

"Just shower and get dressed, okay?" he mumbled, his voice tight with suppressed frustration. "I want to sleep."

He didn't wait for a reply, simply turning on his heel and retreating back to his pillow fort. You watched him go, a smile playing on your lips. The encounter had been unexpected, to say the least, but it had definitely shaken things up.

A low chuckle escaped your lips. "You'll wait for me?" you called out playfully, knowing full well he wouldn't answer.

"Shut up!" came his muffled reply from behind the pillows.

The silence in the cramped room was thick enough to spread. You emerged from the bathroom, a clean shirt clinging to your damp form and a towel wrapped around your head like a makeshift turban. You caught sight of Luke burrowed deep beneath the barricade of pillows, a picture of forced nonchalance. His eyes were resolutely fixed on the ceiling, but you could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

A mischievous glint flickered in your eyes. He might have gotten away with a verbal escape route earlier, but you weren't done yet. "Well, aren't you going to say something?" you queried, amusement dancing in your voice. "Speechless, Castellan? That's a first."

Luke remained stubbornly silent, his jaw clenched tight. He could feel the blush creeping back up his neck, a burning reminder of his moment of weakness. How was he supposed to act normal after seeing...well, after seeing more of you than he ever bargained for? The image of your smooth skin and the graceful curve of your back was burned into his memory, a stark contrast to the sarcastic warrior he knew.

You flopped down onto the bed, the makeshift wall of pillows separating you from Luke. You turned off the bedside lamp in silence before removing the towel off your hair, gently brushing it. The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft rustle of your brush. Just as you thought Luke had successfully retreated into a silent sulk, his voice broke through the tension.

"Look" he muttered, whispering "it was an accident. Just forget it, alright?"

You couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, come on" you teased, leaning back against the pillows. "Didn’t expect that seeing a little skin was such a big deal for someone like you."

Luke shot you a glare, but it lacked its usual bite. Someone like him? What the hell did you mean by that? Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe it was the way the dim light had cast your figure in a different light, one he hadn't noticed before. Whatever it was, it had thrown him completely off balance.

A sudden, and quite unwelcome, thought struck him. Just what kind of experiences had you had? He knew you weren't naive, or dumb. But the thought of you with someone else… the possessiveness that flared up within him surprised him. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, but a strange sense he couldn't quite explain.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on calming his racing heart. He needed sleep, not a philosophical debate about his feelings for his least favorite demigod. Just as he was about to drift off, your voice sliced through the silence, sharper than any blade.

"Are you a virgin, Luke?"

The question hung in the air, a verbal bombshell that shattered the fragile peace. Luke's eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief. Gods, you were bold. He stared at you in the dark, lifiting his head up just enough to peak from the pillows in between your boides, his mind struggling to process your words.

"What?" he finally managed, his voice husky with disbelief.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, a stark contrast to the playful glint in your eyes. "You heard me" you countered.

Luke felt a surge of annoyance mixed with a strange vulnerability. He wasn't used to being caught off guard, especially not by you. He opened his mouth to retort, to deflect the question with his usual sarcastic wit, but the words wouldn't come.

His gaze drifted towards the wall, a silent battle raging within him. Should he answer your question honestly? The thought of revealing such a personal detail to you, his nemesis, was unappealing. But then again, a small part of him, the part he kept hidden away, craved a different kind of connection with you.

He took a deep breath, the decision made. "Does it matter?" he finally replied, his voice a low murmur.

You turned on your side, facing him across the wall of pillows, getting rid of some of them, dropping them to the carpeted floor. The moonlight filtering through the window cast an ethereal glow on your face, making your eyes seem to sparkle with mischief.

"Maybe it does" you said, your voice soft and laced with an undercurrent of something else - intrigue? Even in the darkness, you could see the way your words affected him, the way his dark eyes seemed to flicker with a mixture of emotions.

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, you cut him off with a laugh that seemed tinged with nervousness.

"Forget it" you said, shaking your head slightly. "Just... hormonal thoughts." The explanation felt flimsy, even to your own ears. This wasn't just idle curiosity; it was something deeper, something you couldn't quite explain yet.

Luke remained silent for a moment, your sudden change in direction throwing him off. Part of him was relieved you weren't pressing the issue, but another part, the part he usually kept suppressed, felt a flicker of disappointment. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't found your boldness, your honesty, even your sudden vulnerability, strangely appealing.

"Hormonal thoughts, huh?" he finally echoed, his voice husky. "Does that mean you wanna have sex with me?" He dared to voice the possibility that you might be attracted to him. He must´ve been out of his mind.

The thought was simply impossible. Yet, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight, the way you'd turned towards him, discarding some of the pillows as if to bridge the gap…

"No!" you blurted out, as if reading his mind. The defensiveness in your voice surprised you both. "It's not that at all. It's just... I don't know." Frustration laced your words. This whole conversation was turning into a confusing mess. “Just… how far have you reached with a girl?”

Luke stared at you, dumbfounded. This night had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. Why were you even talking about this? Why were you asking these questions? Why, despite the initial irritation, was he finding himself answering?

Heaving a sigh, he sat up against the headboard, exhaustion finally catching up to him. "Not too far, actually" he mumbled, the words laced with a weariness that surprised him. The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, a confession he wouldn't have made to anyone else. He hadn't meant to dwell on past experiences, especially not with you. He hadn't realized how much he'd carried on his shoulders, the weight of overlooked desires he never truly got to satisfy. Suddenly, the frustration in your voice clicked into place. Was that why you'd asked? Was it because you felt the same way, burdened by an unfulfilled yearning?

But as you shifted in your bed, suddenly sitting up on your knees, he couldn't help but notice the way your silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight. And then he saw it — the lack of shorts beneath your t-shirt, a detail he'd managed to conveniently overlook in the heat of the moment, which didn´t make sense at all.

"What are you—?" he began, the question dying on his lips as you moved closer. You began to dismantle the remaining wall of pillows, clearing the way between you.

His heart hammered against his ribs as you sat down on his lap, one leg on each side of him. You were close, closer than you'd ever been before. A mix of confusion and arousal that left him speechless. You stared at him, your eyes reflecting the soft moonlight, as your hands reached for his.

"Have you ever done this?" you asked, your voice gentle, devoid of the usual sarcasm you wielded like a weapon. You weren't mocking him, weren't trying to pry. This was a genuine question, a moment of surprising intimacy that neither of you could have predicted.

Luke stared at you, his mind reeling. His hands, usually quick and confident, felt heavy and clumsy under your touch. You guided them to hold steady of your thighs, even though you were not moving, not yet.

Luke had never been more confused in his life. His mind raced, searching for a coherent response, an appropriate action. Was this a trap? A test? 'What the hell?' his mind raced.

But as he looked into your eyes, searching for an explanation, all he saw was a reflection of his own thunderstorm. You were just as confused as he was, caught in a moment of unexpected intimacy.

Neither of you knew what to say, what to do next. This wasn't part of the plan. You were supposed to be enemies, rivals forced to share a cramped motel room.

You know, the classic shit.

But this wasn’t it. This was something strange that even though he hated to admit it, he didn’t want it to end yet.

So he trailed his hands higher. Higher, higher, higher. Then placed his hands on your hips. He was breathless, and a sudden feeling of dumbness filled his insides as he stared at you, reading you like a book; you were waiting. And he had no idea what to do.

But you surely did. A slight sway of your hips was all he needed to breath out the amount of air his chest was holding. Then another one, and another; each movement pressed deliciously against his cock, already hardened.

He let out a deep groan, teeth tightening and head falling back slightly.

You placed your hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, almost chest to chest. Your hips kept rolling over him. If this felt good to him, it must’ve feel like heaven to you, due to your lack of lower clothes.

“You’re big, Luke” you whispered, a tiny smirk smudged along your lips. There it was. You again.

He thanked the darkness for hiding his red cheeks, but his state was not going to make him vulnerable again. He gripped your hips tighter, pulling at the top of your ass towards him over and over. “Fuck, just shut up for five minutes” he breathed out.

You didn’t answer. Your mouth hang open over his own. Your lips were dangerously close to touching, to kissing. But it was not gonna happen. As your hips rolled at a fast pace his breath tangled with yours, his moans, his groans, everything was swallowed by your own sounds.

He should feel embarrassed of behaving like this, not only because it is you but because he’s supposed to be in the middle of a mission. But come on, he knew this would happen soon or later.

All those years in which he secretly saved his feeling for himself. He had to hide the fact that whenever he touched your skin, whenever he felt your warm body against his hands, even the slightest and most teasing touch, a bolt of lighting went from the tip of his toes to his head.

He felt drunk in you in just a second and what, because he accidentally saw you almost naked?

He had to thank the gods for his luck.

“Oh, Luke” you moaned, head tilting back as you squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, he liked that.

He audibly chucked, laughed at you. “Who would’ve known?” he asked. “Who would’ve known you’d be so dirty, baby?”

Your eyes sparkled with fire, piercing Luke’s insides as the scar on his face twitched like every time he smiled. Despite the look on your face, your hips kept rolling over his; you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, too hot, too wet, even under Luke’s sweatpants.

“Don’t call me baby” you managed to blurt out, but the sound coming out of your mouth just made the whole sentence something pornographic. Luke didn’t complain.

You removed your hands from his neck. He was convinced you were gonna climb off of him and he would have to apologize repeatedly so he could finally get to cum with you on top of him; but instead, your hands travelled down his torso, and hid under his white shirt, pressing your palms onto his abs, pushing your own body harder against his.

“What should I call you then?” he whispered against your mouth, hands gripping impossibly tighter, finally gripping to your asscheeks. He had to hide a groan from the very back of his throat. “Bunny? ‘Cause you can’t deny you wanna hop on my cock?”

Now that was new.

If you were shocked, your face wouldn’t show it, but your body surely did. Your movements became sloppy, tired, and your chest moved up and down faster than ever. Luke rolled his own hips into yours, moaning uncontrollably at the feeling of his cock being constantly rubbed under your clothes pussy, and at the sight of the small wet patch you had on your underwear.

“Luke. I wanna cum” you moaned out. He liked that you didn’t warn you were going to, but you wanted to. As if you were asking for his permission.

“You won’t get off me until I cum, get it?”

He was a possessed man all of a sudden. His groans, growing deeper with every movement, his hands holding onto you for dear life and his breath twirling with yours as if you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

The tight feeling on your belly snapped as fast as you started to feel it. Yet you were obedient, so you kept moving.

The overstimulation was too much already, but when was gonna be the last time you would get to almost fuck Luke Castellan? Probably this time, you wouldn’t want to screw it up.

In fact, you wanted to do so much more. To suck his dick, to gag on it. To let him play with your body as much as he pleased and craved for. To let him take you anywhere and anytime he liked.

It didn’t take Luke long enough to hit his climax too, thankfully. His hips twitched against yours repeatedly as he placed his forehead on your chest. His breath was heavy as if he had run a million miles, his forehead sweaty.

Your hand reached his curls, smoothly running them down the back of his neck as if you were comforting him from the worst experience he had ever had. Little did you know this was his best so far.

“Do we-,” he cut himself off to swallow thickly. He didn’t realize how dry his throat was until he tried to speak. “Do we get to share rooms again?”

“What do you think?”

part two <3