#bow before his adorable might

[orange-eyed-struggler]

Ya boi is popping off on Marvel Rivals.

[tonycries]

50 Shades of Kento - N.K.

Synopsis. You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! flirty!reader, CEO! Nanami, office AU, pánty-stealing, jealousy (Nanami’s side), Higuruma cameo, he goes FÉRAL, ROUGH S, chokíng, semi-public, manhandIing, p talking, p sIapping, spítting, slight angry s, he’s BIG, cervíx kíssing, talking you through it, oraI (fem rec.), creampíes, cúmplay, male mast., ínnuendos, no curses AU, slight bóndage, use of “work wife”, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CEO Nanami? I wanna be SAVED.

“-the boss looks really mad-”

“-where’s he storming off to before the meeting?”

“Bet he’s going to fire someone again-”

Now, it’s not like Nanami Kento intentionally built himself such a painfully strict reputation in the office. 

In fact, he’d spent the first few months as CEO wondering just what he might have done to make it so that none of his employees could even look him in the eye. Hell, they barely even seemed to breathe whenever he passed by. 

All of them except you - that pretty new hire always buzzing around his department. Even when it might not be too…professional. 

But, right now, professionalism was the last thing on his mind. 

“Dammit. Dammit.” Nanami’s hissing, sharp edges of his pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip to stifle away a ragged moan. Hard enough to bruise when he shuts the nearest bathroom stall with a resounding clatter! “B-before a meeting, too-”

Barely wasting even a split-second before unbuckling his belt and inching his greedy hand past the too-tight hem-

All because of you and that damn skirt.

“God fucking dammit-” His voice tumbles out in heady puffs into the air, murked with a growling tint of desperation.

Fingers usually so dexterous and deft whenever he’s typing away, now fumbling with the mere latch on his stubborn zipper. He’s spitting out a few slews of profanities before panting out an impatient tut and all but ripping his formal slacks down to his knees. 

Nanami’s sculpted thighs weaken, smearing out widely as he leans his back against the firmly shut door with a groan. Cold against his feverish body. 

Shit, he’d barely even touched himself yet already feels like he’s melting.

Because Nanami wasn’t just rock-hard - it was as if his swollen cock was built out of fucking diamonds. 

Hot. Heavy. Sobbing out a glistening streak of precum that slobbers access his washboard abs and wayyy down to his tawny happy trail. He wanted you. He needed you. 

“Fuh-fuck!” He gasps, instantaneously clamping his delirious mouth shut. Loosening that yellow speckled tie just so he can breathe, “Never been sooo fucking h-hard. Shit this isn’t- fuck.”

Achy red shaft throbbing out a needy ba-dump—! in his meaty palm, ribbons of treacly pre splatter in copious torrents down to his angled wrist. He’s making such a puddling mess all over the tiled floor, swiping up the fatly padded curve of his thumb to plug up those never-ending droplets. 

“N’ this is all your hngh- fucking fault.” Nanami’s canines glint in the dimmed lighting, snarled at that strawberry pink blush on his mushroomed tip. The very same shade of pink to match your flimsy panties today. Fuck. “Should fire you. Should really, r-really…”

But the heaving man can’t even finish those syllables, can barely even finish his thought before it’s once more overtaken by that image of you from only a few simple minutes ago. 

Knees bent to pick up some useless document for the meeting, too-short skirt hiking up just enough to flash him a good eyeful of your cute pink panties. You looked like the sweetest fucking dessert in it, and that adorable bow fastened onto your underwear was just the erotic cherry on top. 

That memory was going to burn behind his lids for the rest of his life. And oh, he could tell. 

That glint in your gorgeous eyes - how you’d batted your lashes up at him in exactly the way that made him gulp - told him everything he needed to know. 

You knew. Oh, how you pissed him off. 

“Sh-shit.” The thought makes Nanami’s poor heart race, plump balls twitching oh-so-eagerly when he dips into the side of his pants pocket to pull out something treasured. His secret good luck charm. “Know exactly what you’re fucking- hah- doing t’me. W-with your damn panties, n’ those skirts I hate and- and-”

And if anyone else had seen the uptight CEO of Jujutsu Tech right now, then they would have fainted. Undoubtely. Because dipping out of his pocket, he’s pulling out nothing but a frilly black garter.

Yours.

The very same one you’d “accidentally” slipped off in your chair after a meeting with him last month.

“Mmm—” He’s drinking back a few swallows of candied saliva once he brings the gauzy fabric up to his nose and sniffs. Long. Hard. The stuffy stall air notches up a few scorching degrees higher when Nanami curls his free digits around his bulky base and squeezes. “Bet that pretty pussy smells even s-sweeter.”

The thought only makes his slacked maw water even more guiltily. Bet you taste sweeter, too.

And like an animal, Nanami’s hunching his Herculean body over to spit out a steady stream of saliva right onto the bawling divot in the middle of his bloated cockhead. Watching it slosh in rivulets down his pulsing length.

Calloused thumb swiping over the weighty masses that top his filthy length like buttery icing. Biting back a whimper and tugging. He can’t stop.

“L-look how fucking hard y’got me–” He’s babbling away underneath his breath, clammy foreskin drawling up and down like adhesive with every roughened jerk. “All your fault hck! All your fucking- ptwah!” He gives himself another one, two, three more wads of excess spittle over his crownhead, taking a solid lick of your pretty garter. He breaks off with a pained mantra. “-fault.”

And shit, Nanami doesn’t know when he found himself acting like such a…pervert.  

But he blames you. Blames you and the way that thin lace of yours looks so sinful wrapped around his thick cock. Round n’ round coiling to massage every thickly inflated, lightning bolted vein-

“Hate how I’d never d-do this before-” He’s spilling out in throaty groans, swirling mahogany eyes widening at the sultry scratch of it up and down up and down his tender underside. With trembly fingerpads his smushing it all over the delicate curvature of his balls, “-before…you.”

And, shit, Nanami had a meeting in what- a few minutes? He can’t help but thinking about what his clients would think if they knew. What his employees would think. What you would think.

Would you…like it?

A muggy gust of air heaves out of his chest, sweat-slicked brows crinkling at the direction that those thoughts had just taken. Precum clinging onto his skin like adhesive, he fucks his fist like he’s angry.

He is - at you and every teasing touch of yours that makes every ounce of blood sprint down to his heavy cock. You, with your sunny smile and your eyes dazzling as if you weren’t just undressing him with your gaze. You, and your pretty outfits and stupidly sexy panties that make him run off right before important events-

“Gonna fucking- p-pay for this-” Nanami’s nose crinkles when he’s tugging his claggy white undershirt underneath his firmly grit teeth. Free hand straying to twirl little hearts over his puffy, bubblegum pink nipples, his tensed abs flex with every jerky buck. “-gonna- ngh-”

Gonna shove you down and make you feel just as needy as he is. Oh, Nanami’s thumbing underneath the heated line of his slippery slit, musing away just how much your clingy pussy would smooch it even better. 

“Wonder if I could ngh- fuck you stupid-” Nanami finds himself chuckling - chuckling. Low and crazed, plump lips twitching up at the sparks of bliss at the bottom of his abdomen. He was furious at you. “-would ya still be mouthy? Slutty? Ohhh, darling, I fuck you in every ngh- dream I have.”

And isn’t that what you wanted? What you’ve been driving him crazy for every since you stepped foot here? 

Joints in his wrist aching with that sloppy tempo, Nanami thinks he almost catches a rim of battered, stinging pink right where his fisted hand was hitting his toned abs. 

What he’d give to make your pretty pussy feel just as if she was his- what was it you call him? 

Ah, Nanami’s blossoming-red tip flinches as if being hit with a zillion volts of electricity as your words echo in his brain, his favorite melodic tune. His “work wife” was what you call yourself. 

“Tch, damn work- wife.” He’s murmuring, a blotchy blush taking over his handsome features - burning all the way up to the very tips of his ears. Fingers trawling faster and faster. Sloppier. He’s spraying out sheeny ropes of pre with every bruising pull off his swollen length. “Gonna show ya- gonna ngh- for how you make me- gonna make ya mine-”

“Kentooo? Are you in here?”

Fuck.

Without warning, Nanami’s teeth come latching harshly into his fist - he needs to. 

He has to, because just the mere notes of your voice from the other side of the door is enough for his ballooned balls to give a depraved pinch. Enough for him to cum.

Shit. Nanami’s head falls back against the wall, letting off strained gruffs around his flesh. 

A slow trickle of sweat beads down his temple at the sweltering splash of his undershirt being coated with vulgar cobwebs of thickly viscous seed - so much. Hot. 

And Nanami always did cum more whenever he thought of you - but this was almost too much. Such heaping volumes that it was like he couldn’t stop. Soaking your sopping garter, pooling out swashes of cum that formulate a sticky ring down his fingers. He’s leaking from his twitchy tip over n’ over-

“Fuck-” he’s hiccuping out, vision sparking with stars. He was too late - too entranced - to plug up his geysering orifice now for any semblance of order now. He hated how he was so weak for you. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” 

You really have corrupted him, because Nanami doesn’t feel even a single speck of shame when he leans even further against the door. Biting the insides of his cheek into silence, his ringing ears crane to hear just a syllable more of your tone-

God, he feels dirty.

But victorious. 

“Well, the meeting starts in a few minutes.” Nanami feels himself blush, he doesn’t give a single shit about some meeting - not when those words are enough for his aching cock to dredge out a few more ivory ounces that hit the tile with a deafening pap! “Hurry up, m’kay? It’ll be real boring without you, Ken—”

Minx. 

And Nanami doesn’t know what’s louder - the creaking shudder of the now-broken door hinges as you saunter out of the bathroom, or his beating heart.

Pulsing halfway out of his chest - not only at the fuzzy high of his orgasm, but at you. You, and those cute lil’ panties no doubtedly hidden away underneath your tight silken skirt. While you pretended to be all professional in the meeting that he is supposed to lead.

Dammit. Nanami’s head drops incredulously when his reddened cock gives another ravenous twitch. You were going to be the death of him.

.

.

.

You had no idea why everyone in the office was either scared senseless of your boss, Nanami Kento, or simply too intimidated by him to feel anything else. 

No one knew much. No one sought much.

But you knew that your self-proclaimed “work husband” was a gentle giant, surely - you’ve caught the way he silently comes into the building early with snacks for the break room, and leaves the latest personally finishing up documents he deems imperfect. What you simply didn’t understand was why no one else saw how hot he was.

Didn’t they see the absolute specimen of a man that towered around daily in tightly-fitted suits and perfectly combed blond hair? 

Those big, beefy arms, long lashes you’re almost jealous of, and regal features that dusted an innocent pink whenever you teased him too much. Always so worked up with the stress of running a company, that you couldn’t help but wonder if that would translate into bed.

Honestly, after years of men that disappointed and bored you - especially down there - could you really be blamed if you made things a little…unprofessional?

And you could tell that Nanami wasn’t complaining. 

Oh, he wasn’t complaining at all. 

No matter how much he’d falsely scowl or tut - you’d already “lost” one of your black garters, and you swear you saw just the slightest centimeter of it dangling from your boss’s pocket. 

The all-powerful CEO, but so weak for you.

What you really didn’t understand was why he didn’t take things to the next level.

You’d initially thought he would during your training period, whenever you’d stuck by him with your trusty notepad and tightest silky blouses that Nanami loved to pretend he wasn’t looking down. Always snapping his glassy eyes away after taking a long look at your bra, toying with his velveteen ties as if trying to choke either the hunger or the life out of him.

But when that came and ended, and you’d finally been awarded a permanent position, you finally got the chance to…have a little more fun.

Your favorite pastime was getting on your knees because of how oh-so-clumsy you are, brushing just past Nanami’s tersely bouncing knees. Lingering mere seconds longer when he presses his meaty thighs into you hotly.

“Oh?” It was like a little routine at this point, for you to faux gasp from your position on the floor as if you’d just noticed the touch. Each and every time. “My, how forward of you, work husband.”

Only to immediately get a choked-up groan of your name, and extra documents to finish by the time the work day was over. Worth it.

Because you had made the ever-stoic Nanami Kento blush. 

And the employee groupchat would text you about it for hours on end. Some swooning. Some skeptical. The rest of the office thought you were either very brave, incredibly slutty, or plain stupid. Possibly all three.

But seriously, you bite your lower lip to force down a giddy giggle when Nanami catches your winking eye for the nth time this past hour. Hastily looking back towards the hefty contract each n’ every time with a furiously grit jaw. He was so bad at pretending he didn’t want you.

Too bad you were getting impatient. 

“Right!” Comes the booming voice of a businessman that’d just secured a lucrative contract, you snap out of your whirlwind of thoughts when your client- President Higuruma from Kyoto Corporations, you think - stands up. Oh, the meeting was already over? “Now that the hard part is done, why don’t we all get the celebrations in, Kento old pal.”

They’d known each other a long time, you hear. And had apparently been rivals prior to forming this close relationship.

You think that your poor boss has never looked more grouchy than when he shrugs off Higuruma’s sociable hand off of one broad shoulder. Staring longingly at the clock that showed you’d all run way into evening overtime, “I’m not much of a partier myself, Hiromi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, when you have a team as good as this, then you simply must treat them.” The other man sweeps his dark eyes across the room, resting ever-so-slightly on you. “Or else the pretty ladies here will think you’re boring.”

“I-” Oh, you should’ve gotten tips straight from Higuruma - because Nanami’s cheeks ruddy. Eyes narrowing at you, then darting to his friend, “-I’m terminating our contract.”

“And I’m taking you to crack open the good whiskey I know you hide in your second drawer.” To everyone’s shocked amusement, Higuruma lugs his all-new business partner bodily out of the door. Words carrying from the distance, “You know you never did tell me whether you got a padlock for that drawer because of me…”

You’re still careening towards the glassy door to hear more snippets of that conversation when suddenly you hear a loud SMACK!

It hits your ears right before it hits your senses that Shoko had turned over in her seat beside you and planted a harsh swat on your arm. Hissing at the ache, you’re huffing at her knowing smirk, “What if I’m into that?”

She snickers, giving you another resounding strike just for the sake of it. You really, really didn’t know why the two of you were friends-

“Oh, I bet our boss would know, then.”

Kidding, of course you knew. And you can’t stop yourselves from falling into your familiar old gossip, the rest of your coworkers listening in curiously be damned. “I wish. You should’ve seen the way he reacted when I fussed over his tie before this. Seriously, it’s not my fault it was crooked for once n’ he almost ran away.”

“Ran straight back into the bathrooms, you mean.” She’s wiggling her brows, stopping only when you tilt your head curiously. “Oh- shit, you didn’t know? I heard from Utahime who heard from Yaga who heard from Ijichi who went to the bathroom that uptight CEO Nanami here was almost late to the meeting because he was having a fun little him time in there.”

You hear yourself gasp- no-nonsense, sensible Nanami Kento? Touching himself in the bathroom? “That’s why he looked…so fucked out. No.” 

“Yes.” She nods seriously. “And you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

“Ijichi - who was hiding underneath the sink out of fear, by the way, pfft- claims he’d been holding onto a frilly black garter.” Pointing very blatantly at the practically skin-tight skirt you’d decided to wear today. “And I know someone who just-so-happened to ‘lose’ a black garter in the office.”

“What-” you’re sputtering out, not because of the accusation - no, Shoko knew all about that - but about the confirmation of your suspicions that Nanami really did have your lacy lil’ number. “But if he liked that so much then why doesn’t he make a move?”

Shoko crosses her arms with the wise air of someone that had just solved the answer to the meaning of life, and was intentionally being coy about it. “Don’t you realize that you have the perfect solution for that?”

“What?” Wow, you really were on an eloquent streak today. 

Just then, the heavy meeting room doors slide open - and in walks a sternly reluctant Nanami and Higuruma with too many dozens of prized alcohol. Said Higuruma who winks at you garishly- 

You glance at Shoko’s smile, the kind she gets when she’s about to cement a contract that would result in several lawsuits that she already knows your company would win. Oh. You get it. 

.

.

.

And so does Higuruma, apparently.

Because even though he might not know of your little plan, the man was more than happy to keep you company amongst the thrumming masses celebrating. 

Somehow, the entire department had been roped in and packed inside the sprawling meeting room. Mingling over dim lights and softly playing music from the corner of your impropmtu office party. 

Which worked out in your favor, surprisingly, as it gave you the opportunity to eye a stony-faced Nanami’s reaction - stood right next to you when you leaned against Higuruma with a wheezing laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really funny, President Higuruma?” You’re tittering out and, admittedly, his humor was amazing - but what was more interesting to you was the way that Nanami’s neat brows furrowed. 

“Mhm, you’ll just have to get used to that, sugar.” You swear you hear the glass in Nanami’s vice-like grip clink! Thickened digits, so easily powerful and tightening until his mountainous knuckles shone white. “After all, we’ll be working together to take care of some big packages now.”

You feel your lips curl up into a sleazy grin, eyes locked dead-set on Nanami’s own. “Yeah, I’m quite excited to be handling those big packages, actually.” 

Higuruma raises a brow, “S’that so?”

“Of course.” And if you inched in ever-so-slightly closer to him, if you let your voice dip saccharinely in honey, then Nanami couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing but spill out a sharp huff, mouth tightening into a harsh line across his pretty face. “I only hope they’re bigger than what Jujutsu Tech has currently been working with.”

“Oh yeah, much bigger.” Nanami looked positively like an explosion just waiting to go off, and you didn’t know whether it was slight fear or anticipation that made your thighs clench sinfully together. “This contract will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“The bigger the better.”

You risk a glance downwards, just barely catching the way that your dear boss adjusts his sleek formal pants down near his thigh. Oh, lips parting, he was big, huh? Really big. 

And the quieter Nanami grew, the more talkative Higuruma became. More confident. “Pardon my forwardness, angel, but are we still talking business here?” And then comes the finishing blow - before you can blink, a strong arm latches onto your waist. “Because if we aren’t then-”

SLAM!

It’s all you can do to not shiver when you turn your gaze over to Nanami, who’d just clanged his half-full glass down on a nearby table. Veins bubbling with voltage from head to toe at the sheer metallic glint of something dangerous in his targeted gaze. 

Locked purely and utterly on you.

You can see the way his sharp jaw jumps with a furious tick. Fawny strands of blond curtaining over his furrowed brows, that slightly bumpy trail of his vein-

“I believe my employee is out of line, Hiromi.” Nanami bites out those words - sharp, and rugged. Piercing through your figure and sprinting right down to your heating core. The grin he gives you makes you shudder, “I will correct that.”

What? 

“Ken- ah!” You’re yelping when Nanami doesn’t give you the time for it to sink in, for you to even register anything other than the way his massive palm locks around your waist tightly. 

Doughy pads of his fingertips dig into the curvature of your hips, and you almost get whiplash at the tug of Nanami’s strong arms stealing you away from Higuruma’s touch. Tucking you into his blistering hot side, you think you feel dizzy with just how heady the combination of skin and cologne was. 

And then you leave - the both of you. Higuruma only calling after, stricken. 

You’re walking - or, at least, it feels like you’re walking. Almost on autopilot, you’re stuck on the firm set of Nanami’s jaw when he guides you briskly through the throngs of people. 

“Kento-”

“What now, darling?” Darling? He’s never ever called you that before. Never manhandled you with only one of his arms until you’re striding - running - down the familiar route to his richly-kept office. 

Oh.

Your own fingertips dig into the shimmering fabric of his fitted suit jacket, words coming out a little bit more breathless than you’d have liked. “Ken- sir, what are you-”

But, of course, Nanami Kento never let up that easy. Of course, he would never let you get the last word in if he had the chance. And tonight was all about chances. 

Whatever probing question dies in your throat when Nanami pauses - for a mere split-second - although it feels like hours in slow motion before he bends down and jostles you into a princess carry. Firm curves of his biceps digging underneath your thighs, a tender palm splays out across your back. 

Yet, the way that he’s staring deeply down at you is anything but.

“Oh, you know what the fuck I’m doing.” He wrenches out, vibrating you with the rumbling baritone that husks from his chest. So close that your own heartbeat matches with his fervent ba-dump! ba-dump! ba-dump! Each word just coated and dripping in something so raw that you barely even notice until after he weightlessly carries you past that familiar arching doorway. “It’s what you wanted, after all. Isn’t it?”

Dazed. Until the metallic click! of the door being locked by one of Nanami’s hands pull you out of your whirling thoughts.

He’s striding inside fast. Depravedly. 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” You sing-song, fingers trailing up to rub over his fuzzy undercut. And the moment you touch him, it’s like something in Nanami snaps. Something in him blinks…awake.

“Stop that.” 

Wasting with not a single nanosecond of hesitation before cupping his greedy palms on the squirming curve of your ass. He sneaks in a nice, long squeeze with one hand, the other facing down on the table in a long swipe to clatter down everything but that golden CEO Nanami nameplate onto the floor.

You suck in a sharp inhale when he splays you out like some spellbound slut on the cool surface of his mahogany office table. Unceremoniously. 

You’ve never seen him like…this.

He spanks his thick fingers along where your sinfully tight skirt was perking up to show off skin that makes Nanami’s mouth water. That makes him angle his head greedily for a flash of those very same pink panties that had him forgoing all duties earlier today. 

“Trying to make me fucking jealous. You forget your place, my love.” His index toys over the ribbony straps of your underwear. “I’ve been crazy for you since you stepped foot in this place. I’ve been yours.”

You, on the other hand, were still reeling to make your jumbling thoughts somewhat coherent. 

Rutting up into the merciless weight of his sculptured front pinning you down - Nanami’s body was feverish. So hot that it made your skin break out in a humid layer of perspiration, you felt so hot. You felt like you were melting already.

And his muscles, oh- even through a jacket, and that cotton button-up you so loved on him, he was so toned that you could count every delicious ridge of Nanami’s glissading abs. 

Rounded centers of your knees attach around his slender waist, you’re gasping at the firm plane of muscled obliques that welcome you. “N’ that’s what made you jealous? Heh- that’s so cute- mmpf-”

“Does it amuse you to break me, my love?” Nanami grapples two of his tough digits to smush your cheeks together, sultry leer piercing its way through his mask of fury. He growls, “To make me fucking furious?”

“Ngh- Kento—” The whimpers just won’t stop spilling from your lips, his gaze drilling into your eyes and falling straight to your drenching cunt. Your hips arch needily off of the icy cold wood to nudge your pussymound for more more more- “I- fuck-”

SMACK!

“Talk to me like a big girl.” He hisses, knotting his fingers around your tender throat so tight. Tight enough to drain you of the necessary volumes of air strangling in your throat, letting only a few weepy gurgles leave your mouth. Hard. “Ah ah, a big girl I said. If you can talking with fucking- President Higuruma, you can talk to me.”

“Want- want-” Your nails claw patterned lines that paint across Nanami’s muscular forearms. “I want you to kiss me, Kento.”

There. You’d said it. 

And Nanami’s smile was almost blinding.

He’s closing in the hypnotic inches until his plump lips hovered simple milimeters away from your puckered ones. Much too far for you, in your opinion. 

Fisting a single hand around Nanami’s sapphire collar, you’re dredging up your strength to finally pull him in for the kiss you’ve been waiting ages for at this point. Finally. Singing off a brief sigh at the heated proximity of his maw-

Only for Nanami to pull away.

“Wh-where are you going?” You’re mewling out, brows furrowing with the type of upset desperation that only Nanami was able to bring out in you. You needed him - and you needed him badly. 

But the only answer you get is the balmy breeze of his snickers clouding down your body, so scorching that it made flames of want zip down between your legs. And Nanami does kiss you - between the heaving valley of your chest, right underneath your left tit, your tummy- down, down, down.

Rip—!

There go your limited-edition fishnets - torn right with only a few tugs of Nanami’s carnal canines. Right with his mouth that burrows between the pliable hole he’d made between your legs. 

“Hm? What was that, darling?” He’s drawling away, shuffling until he was right between your legs. Until your big, bad boss was kneeling in front of you. “Oh! My sweet girl wants a little kiss, doesn’t she? How cuuute.”

Rutting up your hips, you just barely manage to get the edge of your slick-flooded thighs to stroke his dimpled cheek. Lips jutting out into a pout, “Yes- yes.”

“Too bad she didn’t earn it, hm? As if I’d kiss a mouth that flirted with another man in front of me- no matter how pretty. ” Nanami continues, like he didn’t even hear your pleas right now. Thank goodness you couldn’t see the way the cracking rawness to your voice made his pants so much tighter. 

There’s the stubborn schwf! of your skirt being pushed up in a rough tug. And it’s only once he turns his heart-eyed stare down between your legs that you realize. “So, guess m’just gonna hafta kiss you.”

He wasn’t talking to you. He was talking to your dripping cunt. 

No sooner does this realization hit, that Nanami’s eager kiss does too. A filthy, sodden French snog planted right through your soaked panties. 

Nodding along as if he was translating every slurp weaving its way from between your bloated folds. “Oh? What’s that you say? More?” 

He’s trawling the pointed edge of his nose up n’ down the your slippery slit, teeth nipping along the rubbery folds to make your entrance gush out slivery ropes of slick. You count exactly one smooch at your dripping base, two right where your pussymound was the pulpiest, and the final - longest and most lingering - on your throbbing clit. 

“See?” He hums, fleshy thumb outlining the slobbering fringe of your pussylips. Just peeking his manicured fingertip past your useless underwear, and inching backwards with a saturated squelch whenever you squirmed for more. Tease. “Now tha’s a good girl, she’d never flirt with another. You’re mine, right- all mine? Or- well-”

Your breath hitches when you feel the wet splatter! of a slimy clump of saliva striking your teary cunt dead-on. And Nanami’s thumb rolls over the sheeny glaze with such utter love, “Now you’re all mine.”

Your fingers sneak their way to tangle into Nanami’s mussed-up locks, pulling his sappy mouth even closer. So close that his curved chin hits your pussy with a wet plap! And the crisp whoosh of him drinking in your scent deeply has you whining, “Ken- more. More.”

Nanami growls and it’s almost feral. He’s knocking out a deafening mewl from your lips with a sharp, sultry spank exactly on the target of your pulsing clit. “More? More, huh?” Purposefully rovering the chilling band of one signet ring - holding it firmly down where your hole was leaking. “After you got this wet for Hiromi? Nice try.”

“This isn’t for Higu-”

Thwack! The hollowing noise of flesh meeting flesh sings out in your ears, every swat after swat being left on your pussy enough to make your head throw back helplessly. 

The sight of it only makes Nanami’s scouring fingers pry apart your gluey folds even wider, kissing every nook and cranny. Over and over. Taunting. “N’ now you’re talking about another hah- man when you’re w’me? I should fire you, darling.”

You already know he never would. 

But you can’t stop yourself from spilling out a string of swears anyway, “Th-this is all for- ngh-” Flinching bodily when he wraps the waterlogged remnants of your panties around one fist, ‘round and ‘round until your pussy was allll on shamefully display, and your delicate pink panties dig into your fleshy mounds. “-for you, Kento.”

And when Nanami pulls at the silky fabric with one hand, you’re dragged down across the table right with it. Till you were exactly where he wanted you.

“Correct.”

Your panties were in tatters now - and he tucks it away into his pocket with a wink. For later. “Hate these slutty fucking panties. Wanted them off every fucking time.”

Swiping away the syrupy trickle of saliva overspilling from his mouth, Nanami’s instantly surging over to connect his lips with your puffy ones. Groaning out a throat mmmm– the moment that candied flavor sugarcoats his lips.

The most lecherous squelches! speak across all four corners of his decadent office when Nanami handlessly tilts his head to let his scratchy tastebuds maze through your weepy pussy. 

He doesn’t even care that he’s getting the frames of his glasses all messy. Swirling out slow circles around the elastic ring of your entrance, before pumping inches in-

“Fuck-” You’re squealing, throat clogging with a leaden ball the moment he’s contracting his tongue to stretch your entrance out wiiidely agape. In and out until your rubbery hole was tenderizing to his ravenous shape and texture, “-fuck just like ngh- that.”

“Oh yeahh? You like this, huh?” Meeting Nanami’s gaze from between your cracked-open legs results in shockwaves all over your body. Because his molten gaze was gleaming - practically glowing. “Getting so turned on s’like you’re a ngh- damn waterpark. Think anyone else could get you this f-fuck- soaked?”

And you couldn’t even hide it just how aroused you were. Just how close. 

Wiry ropes of your webbed slick clings onto Nanami’s mouth with each soppy plap of his mouth clashing onto your cunt. Harder. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his thick cock was aching to do right now-

SMACK!

“Mmm sweet girl, makin’ such a mess. Answer me.” He spits into your syrupy pussy, urging out a few fresh waves of slick that laminate his fat digits in pure gloss. A gloss that he sucks up happily.

“You-”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Because you were so adorable being eaten out until you were stupid, none of that usual flirty snark present when he was making out with your cunt like a man parched. 

Swirling out tiny hearts on your clit with the mushy tips of his fingertips, he yearns to skim the perked edge of his tongue all over your gummy walls. Bumping into every delicate orifice, Nanami’s free fingers fly down to trace your tight ring of muscle. “Oh yeah?”

“O-only you–” Your blubbers are so adorable, mouth loosened into an oh! yet the only thing coming out of it are repeated shrills of Kento! How cute, Nanami can only hope that these walls aren’t thick enough that those outside won’t hear. He wants them to. “-only you can make me so- ngh-”

“Shy, darling?” He sounded so painfully pussydrunk right now. Rouge blush burning, gazing up at you heavily shuttered eyes, a maw that was drooling more and more with every lapping snog placed on your slobbering pussy. “What happened to my flirty girl?”

His flirty girl. 

Shit- the words themselves affect him just as much as they do you. Nanami’s muscular thighs manspread even wider with just how fat his painfully hard cockhead was bloated. Close. It’s so sloppy how he quickens his pace to toy with the button of your clit.

His, all struggling to get out the words from your mouth - battling with your heavy tongue to get out a keening- “You. Yours. Hngh- Only y-you can make me feel like this. M-make me feel so hck! close, Kento.” 

His perfect girl.

“Ohhh, say that again. Dunno if I quite believe that.” He groans, budging your thighs over to suffocate his head even deeper, god, he knows that he could pass out right here and still be the most content man on Earth. Holding your ankles behind his hand with a second hand, you can’t help but ogle the rippling bulge of his biceps. “Lock them.” Your tangling motions were limp - weak. But Nanami finds himself grinning anyway, holding you in place tightly, he’s doubly stuffing in two digits past your slicked entrance. “Say my name.”

“Ken- Kento?”

Piling upon wads and wads of stringy cum that sprinkle all over your thighs, just the striking sensation is enough for you to see stars. Enough to gasp when his probing digits pillage your gooey depths, “Again.”

“Kento.”

And of course, Nanami Kento wasn’t a merciless man. Mean. Filthy with just how much he’s clacking his jaw to grind into the supple rim of your, your knee bounces up even higher at the taut spring of something hot pooling in your tummy. 

He could tell. Oh, he could tell. 

You were always so adorably readable - especially with your wobbling lips, and those crinkling beads of tears spilling over from the corners of your eyes. Mumbling, “Kentooo-!”

And all he really had to do was pound a battery swipe along your sweltering walls, deeply. Skidding right across where he knew your magical g-spot would be. He’s giving your perky clit not one - hell, not even two - but three solid pinches on your sensitive hood. Hard. 

The babbling words “C-cumming-” are barely starting syllables out of your mouth before it crashes into you headfirst. 

You feel like you’re being run over with such waves of bliss, pupils sliding allll the way into the back of your scrunched lids. 

The wooden desk trills out a ringing creak! when you arch your spine into the perfect semi-circle, dragging Nanami’s mouth all over each and every crevice of your quivering cunt. Riding out your high in long sloppy drags. 

Using him. And how Nanami loved to be used by you.

“Yeah- yeah yeah—” Holding your gaze fatally, you can only watch as the pearly beads spraying from your cunt drip the long trailway down to hit the back of his throat. Your fingertips dig into his scalp, mushing his face even closer, “-cum. Cum all over m’face, my love. Make a fucking mess of me.”

You swear that Nanami’s voice was shattering into a whimper towards the very end. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with every greedy gulp, and he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

Not even when your sparking high fades out into nothingness, not even when that white-hot pleasure formulates into something sensitive. Almost painful. Gasping out a sharp ah! with every drag of Nanami’s tongue over your too-tender cunt. 

“S-sensitive-” You’re mewling, desperately trying to push on his blond head. Stacks of sweat-dampened hair plastering across your palm, “Ken- Ken, m’too sensitive.”

“Tch.” He’s panting, eyes latching on instead to your glistening pussy - all pretty with trickling layers of sweet, sweet juices and his saliva. What a mess he’s made. He swears he can spot a darkening patch oozing out all over the desk. 

Nanami rubs his fleshy thumb over the tantalizing curve of your pussymound just a few repeated times, “Let me ask her- hm, wanna let me ah- go? Ready to say goodbye, darling?”

And whatever slurring squelches that emanate from your soppy lips speak to him. Enough so that he finds himself nodding mindlessly, “Fine then.” Planting an exaggerated mwah! on your clit, “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” 

He was so gentle kissing your pussy goodbye - but so, so mean manhandling you off of the desk. In a singular fluid motion, scooping you up with two beefy arms underneath your legs and falling back into the CEO’s cushy chair.

“O-oh.” You find your thighs straddling his sculpted hips, hands falling precariously on top of his bulging deltoids. What a feast Nanami Kento was. 

He barely even had to try to make your hips grind in a jerky up and down on his too-tight bulge. Splotching out gluey patches of slick wherever your driveling lips were hitting. Nanami counts exactly six slippery streaks before he grabs your throat and pulls-

“Think ya earned it now.” He hisses through a simpering groan. You’re so pliable like this - so open to being dragged into a filthy, filthy kiss. “Mm- might just be my favorite ngh- lipgloss on ya.”

You’re smacking at the curvaceous valley between Nanami’s pecs - nothing more than kittenish pecks for him, “That- that’s so filthy, Ken.”

Skin dappling with a second skin of goosebumps with every inch exposed to the heady air, he’s unbuttoning your blouse slowly. Lazily. Pop! Pop! Pop! Taking his precious time to watch every minute huff and puff you cloud out. 

“Oh, darling.” Bursting out a bout of laughter that hits you to your very core as soon as your top and bra hit the polished floor. Nanami tilts back in his seat sexily, angling you to take up even more space on the comfortable seat of his lap - his thick, outlined bulge. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

Fuck.

He pants, “Hated these slutty skirts- fuck- made me almost call HR because you looked so- beautiful.” With your skirt soon shed, you’re suddenly reeling with the realization that you’re the only one naked right now. “Better with them off.”

Never one to fall behind, you can’t help but tumble your greedy digits downwards. Mouth lathering with a sloshing wave of greed as soon as your fingertips skim the rock-hard tent struggling in Nanami’s pants.

“Fuck- greedy girl.” At this point, it’s as if the exact measurements of Nanami’s hand were branded into the mounded flesh of your ass. Because each spank has you crying, “Don’t you worry now, m’gonna fuck that ngh- feisty mouth shut soon, but for now…”

You’re left hanging, waiting on where Nanami’s drawling words would take you next. 

But it just-so-happened that you didn’t have to wait. Didn’t have to register anything but the way that he’s tugging down his too-tight pants and boxers just enough-

“Oh my-” You gasp at the sight below you, blinking your weighty lids just a few times to make sure that you weren’t imagining things. Because, sure, on those lonely nights you’d imagined Nanami to be big - but this was just ridiculous. “-Ken, you’re so-”

Big package for sure.

“H-heh.” He preens, wrenching down the velvety fabric until it looped halfway down the padded meat of his thighs. “Don’t act so cockdrunk, my love- s’only gonna make me ngh bigger.”

Roaming five dexterous fingers to grasp his bulky base, the rest of Nanami’s nine- no, ten inches drip down needy gumdrops of pre onto your hand. He was long, girthy - blushed on his swollen mushroom tip a pretty cerise pink that matched your ruined panties. 

“Wan’ you inside me.” You’re purring out, and Nanami’s heart races as he catches a few glimpses of that complete and utter tease you usually are. You swipe your thumb over the syrupy top coating of precum on his tip, plugging it into Nanami’s mouth.

Well, he might be the boss - but not in here.

After all, who was he to go against anything his pretty girl said? 

“Mmm- s’that so?” He’s suckling right on your doughy pads, fringes of his neat teeth nipping your flesh. Looking you right in the eyes while leaving a few streaky smears across your drooling slit, up and down. Golden blond lashes so long they flutter against the flushed apples of his cheeks, “Gimme a kiss first, my girl.”

So sweet.

Or so you thought.

Because you’d just inched your allured body closer to give him what he wanted. Digging your rounded knees into the sides of his body to just let your pursed lips brush in an innocent, innocent skim across his kiss-bitten ones- 

Before Nanami wraps his hand around your throat and tilts your head back to let himself spit. Just seconds before nudging apart your sticky folds and pushing in-

“Ah!” Your eyes sprint between snapping open in sheer shock, and screwing tightly shut at the pure stretch. The tightness. You could almost hear the elastic creak of your weepy entrance being pulled to its very limits around Nanami’s globed tip. “O-oh my god-”

“Shhhh you can take it, good girl- my good girl.” He’s thumbing away the purposeful spatteres that decorate the sagging edges of your lips. Rounded centers of his fingertips sinking in tight around your throat, “Mmm- s’this a big enough package for ya?”

It’s an uphill battle to force your lids to shutter open, only to peer into Nanami’s glassy eyes to see that yeah, there was still a glint of raw jealousy in them. Still. 

Your hand dips its way down to swipe open your dewy pussylips, rubbing over the most tender spots on your drooling cunt when your hips stutter down inch by fucking inch. 

Splitting your tight orifice in half with his vast cylindrical cock, every wild rut that pumps Nanami even deeper makes you dizzy. Your ajar maw spilling with drool while he fucks himself furiously harder and harder and-

Head lolling over into the clammy crook of his shoulder, your tongue licks up a long stripe along his neck. “Ngh- s-so fucking big– Don’t know if I c-can take it.”

“Now now.” With a rude spank! your fingers are swatted away meanly, Nanami’s own taking over in its place. Not to do the job - just to toy with the buzzing nub of your clit while he pumped you snugly full of his never-ending shaft. “Move that hand, lemme see my girl’s hah- pussy take my big fuckin’ cock.”

Salty tears spring to your eyes and end up dripping onto Nanami’s awaiting tongue, voice laced with something primal. “Poor baby, getting nervous. Don’tcha remember what you told Hiromi?” You did. “The bigger the better?” You remember. “So buckle up n’ take it like a good girl now, my love.”

Your answer is nothing but a half-lucid nod, “Y-yes, Ken-” 

“Hm?” He pinches your clit. A warning. 

“Sir.”

“Atta girl.”

And then Nanami’s bottomed-up, his hefted base sagging against your sopping wet lips, globular swell of his breeder balls nestling up behind your cunt in a congratulatory smooch. And he was kissing your other lips just the same.

Leaving wet swabs that decorate your pulpy cervix in translucent streams, you’re squealing after each n’ every fat thud! of Nanami’s rotund cockhead mushing into your gooey depths. Probing veins massaging you incessantly.

He couldn’t get enough.

“Atta girl-” He’s snickering into your mouth, pounding and pounding even more despite the clingy push of your pussy. Despite the way that he can’t even go any deeper - his cock was still aching for more. To strike the bullseye of your womb. “O-ohhh atta giiirl. Open wiiiide f’me.”

Like a mantra. You weren’t any more coherent, with your words garbling out over every leathery creak! of the pristine office chair. “Loud- g-gonna be loud, Kento.”

“I don’t care.” Nanami spits out immediately, leaving a heavy-duty swat on your bulging pussy folds as if to ask why should you care, too? He had such a way of speaking to you with his body, rendering you speechless after only a few seconds in the presence of his vicious tempo. “Let them hear, they couldn’t fuck you like this. Let them know hck! wh-who makes this slutty cunt feel so good.”

And it wasn’t a question, but you’re answering anyway. Looping your boneless arms around the expanse of Nanami’s broad shoulders, your limbs stick to the sweat-drenched fabric of his button-up and you huff. 

“You- need you to-” You’re murmuring away, numb tips of your fingers fumbling with his pearly buttons. Two seconds away from ripping this damn shirt off of him, “-need to see you.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s letting his top fly open to reveal what looks like yard upon yards of smooth, sculptured skin. Shiny with a glimmery sheen of humid perspiration and slick - puddling from your weepy cunt at the way that Nanami was so sexy. All jiggling pecs and abs for days, you find your pussy gulping his length up n’ down even faster. Nipping along bites that redden his flesh prettily, “Woah- Really are a slut, my love. N’ I fucking love it.”

Nanami was always such a possessive man, one hand latched onto the side of your waist and helping you stumble along with every pap! The other wandering down to pat that proud curve where your cozy hole was being overstuffed with his fat cock, before traipsing up to your clit-

“Mmm– gonna have everyone know.” He’s biting down on his bottom lip, looking up at you through teary lashes. Tapping your clit, “Say my name, my love.”

“Ken-”

“Louder.”

“Ken!”

The chair bustles with every jerk, and the unsteady motions only have Nanami driving even deeper. “Mmm- now say his name-” He’s settling your mouth open with another clump of saliva, kissing away the smearing excess. “-say his name. Say Higuruma-”

But it was no use. The only thing your mouth seemed to be able to form into was a loud Ken. Just as he’d wanted. Just as what makes him chuckle, “Gonna fuck you s-so good that fucking Hiromi s’gonna know from a mile away.”

Ohhh, how he loved that cute lil’ thought. 

He was certainly jackhammering you like it, motioning your hips into eager gyrations even faster than your fatigued legs could handle. Practically carrying you through every claggy slap of skin-on-skin, Nanami’s tensed core burns with the friction. 

But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even burn the sting of anything other than the way his sensitively enlarged balls were papping against your skin. Painting sweet, sweet bruises for days. 

“Would ya like that?” He’s mindlessly babbling away, and even through his hooded eyes you could tell that Nanami was completely pussydrunk. He wasn’t even circling your clit now - he was writing out on top a rapid K-E-N-T-O. Gone. Ruined. Rolling his hips in sloppy bucks, “Wan’ me ta fuck you until everyone knows?”

You’re nodding. Nodding and nodding away, and Nanami thinks this can’t get any better. You’re so gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this, who knew his office tease would be so…pliant?

He’s already in heaven with each saturated slip n’ slide massaging your weeping orifices. Angling his hips ever-so-slightly to the side to feel more of you-

That’s when he hits it.

That spot. 

And oh, Nanami thinks he could cum right then and there with the way your slicked walls kiss his length in a lingering smooch. Just as lovers do. 

“There-” you’re mumbling out, your lips leaving tiny pecks across the grinning corners of his lips. But you didn’t even have to start for him to already be bouncing you with the target of exact, precise strikes to your g-spot. Spotting steamy splotches of parched precum over that bulging spot, “R-right there, Ken- don’t miss don’t miss.”

“Would never fuckin’ imagine.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes. 

You believed him - just as much as you believed in the flurries of stars bursting countlessly behind your eyes. Hushing out, “M’close, Kento- gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum.”

How could you not be close when he’s back to his favorite hobby that makes you squirm - pinching your throbbing clit right in time with the long, long lines his battering tip glides across your sweet spot. Ending allll the way back at your cervix. “Mhm, gonna make you cum on m’fucking cock. Hafta l-let those fucking ngh- losers know whose pretty pussy this is.”

And once the ever-stoic Nanami starts babbling, it’s like he can’t stop. 

“Mine-” Sucking on your bruised lower lip like his favorite candy. “Mine.” Twice. “Mine.” Thrice. He’s fucking you like he’d die if he slowed down right now, massaging your rubbery entrance deliriously raw. Teeth grit the closer and closer he inched himself, “Gonna let Hiromi know. Gonna let Ijichi know- Shoko- fucking Ino who w-was making eyes at my girl. My wife.”

You’re gasping, “W-wife?” And it seemed like such a highly tense moment to finally accept you as his work wife. That is, before-

“Mhm—” And there’s no regret, none of that usual shyness in Nanami’s eyes as he fucks you with deep eye contact. Thumb finishing off drawing a final KENTO on your clit, “Better know that m’gonna buy you th-the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen, my love.”

Maybe it’s the way that he’s so serious. Maybe it’s the drilling pace of his thumping cock. Or maybe it’s just Nanami himself; boring up at you through droopy eyes and foggy glasses, a delirious smile plastered all over his face while he rammed you to your orgasm.

Fat tears collecting on your waterline, your vision blurs with just how intense of an orgasm he’s wrenching out of you. You swear it’s the best you’ve had in years - maybe even in your entire life.

“F-fuuuuck–” Your fingers drag unorganized lines all over his smooth shoulders, making it out as if he’d just been attacked by wild cats - but it’s just you. You and your sappy folds milking Nanami’s very soul, hot puffs of condensed breath hitting his craned neck when you lean in. “A-all for you, Kento.”

And the exact moment Nanami feels your lips descend upon his skin to suck - the exact moment he realizes that you’re marking him - his breath strangles in a gasp. 

“Darling- darling.” He’s panting out, shivering fingers setting the soft spots of your cunt free to get a good grope of your ass. To muster all his fucked-out strength to whack your pussy against his sharp hipbones with a resounding pap! “Oh, darling m’cumming- fuck- better take every drop now.”

But it was impossible to.

Because Nanami was cumming so much - even more than he had in the bathroom just hours earlier. Torrenting out sticky webs of seed that glue your walls feebly together and scratch such a primal urge inside you to have him fill you up.

He’s fighting to keep his head from throwing back, blinking away the sparks that bolt behind his eyes to drink in the sight down below. 

In awe at just how much of it was overspilling in ivory ribbons from the stretched-out ends of your sodden slit. Stretching thickly over his bulked base in a buttery ring, it’s so messy that he’s barely thinking before smearing over the wadded mess.

“Ken- mmpf-” Your mouth falters as soon as he stuffs in the glazed-over tips of his fingers, swirling around a slow circle inside your unhinged maw. He already knows this is going to be good. “Want more.”

More.

More.

Here you were - stuffed until your poor pussy couldn’t even handle just how much cum Nanami was still fucking into you. Spraying out a fountain of creamy globs with every pressurized thrust planted on your pussy - and you still wanted more?

Something flashes behind Nanami’s eyes.

And before you know it, you’re whimpering at the loss of his girthy inches weighing down in your cunt. There’s a saccharine fwop! followed by the slosh of trickling cum when Nanami pulls out, “C-come back.”

With a ringed finger plugging up your geysering hole from losing any precious ounces, Nanami carries you over to that familiar office desk in a single stride. Splaying you out - manhandling you - with ease until you were bent over the cool surface. 

Your cheek being pushed into the currently saliva-soaked wood, wrangling hands instantly tied behind your back with something silky - fuck, Nanami’s tie. Your cunt once more stuffed to the very brim with all of his throbbing cock. 

He’s leveraging the little restraint to jostle your hips ever-deeper. You’re squealing at that stretch - one you’re sure you’d never get used to. “K-Kento, sir–”

“Shhh, my love.” You hear in throaty groans from above you, and Nanami’s muscular weight pinning down your body makes you even wetter. As if he was just melting his abs into your curved back, smearing back n’ forth in tiny smudges after he starts pushing- “Say another word n’ m’gonna get ya pregnant- then they’ll really know you’re mine.”

.

.

.

It’s not like Nanami Kento to ever be late to a meeting.

Given, there was that one time a year ago when he’d almost been late before an important contract discussion with Kyoto Enterprises. But thirty five whole minutes late to a meeting? 

Well, that was unheard of. Impossible, really.

And Shoko finds herself sighing, tapping her nails impatiently on the glass table. Honestly, there were so many better things she could be doing with her time than waiting for her mystery of a boss. And - just her luck - you weren’t here today to distract from the boredom of corporate life, either. 

The universe is against her, really. 

“Oi, Ijichi–” She calls out to the fidgeting man seated across from her - and she doesn’t know whether he jumps because everyone on the team is on edge, or simply because this is Ijichi. “Five more minutes, then we file a missing persons report.”

“I-I am sure Mr. Nanami is ah- fine-” He pushed up his dangerously low glasses, muttering underneath his breath. “...hopefully.”

“I think we should go with the missing persons report.” Higuruma pipes up from one end of the room, the man had become a much-loved addition to this department since the contract. “Because I hate to say it, but the man has no life. There’s no reason for him to just-”

SLAM!

“My apologies, I’m late.” Nanami pants out into a silence that could only be caused by the object of your conversation suddenly intruding. A blur of impeccable suits and blond hair. 

Well, Shoko couldn’t see his face properly from the way he was hunched over to catch his breath like that - but she was glad he seemed unharmed.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

Because then Nanami stands up properly.

And honestly, she doesn’t know what makes her heart stop more. The fact that Nanami Kento arrived late to a meeting - or that he arrived late to a meeting with lipstick stains all over his lips, his jawline, his neck. And- and were those hickeys bruising his neck?

The coffee cup in her hand falls, and it’s not the only one. Surely, this had to be a prank- wait, does her boss even know what that is?

Still thinking it’s some strange practical joke, she’s squinting to get a closer look at the strangely familiar color of that lipstick. That- shit, wasn’t that your favorite shade?

Nanami snaps his head to Shoko the very moment she says your name - almost as if a form of experimentation. Before looking down at himself and finally - finally - seeing the state he was in. He sighs, fond. “Ah, my apologies again. My beautiful wife held me up, and I forgot to check if she left marks.”

Wife. 

Higurua drawls out the question striking through everyone’s mind right now. “What. The. Fuck.” 

And Ijichi squeaks out the second most striking question, “W-wife? D-do you mean your w-work wife, Mr. Nanami?”

“No.” He’s tilting his head in confusion, as if there was any possibility of anything else otherwise. Pulling out a glinting golden band hung around a simple chain from underneath his suit. A wedding ring. With your name engraved. “My wife wife.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[daemonbrain]

"One of me is cute but two though!"

2.4k, cw: breeding kink, smut, kinda baby trapping (?), not proofread

a/n: based off Juno by Sabrina Carpenter hehe happy reading :)

Simon would go to the ends of the earth for his bird. You wanted to watch your favorite movie for the millionth time with him? Done. You were craving take out from that special spot across town in the middle of the night? He’s placing your order and grabbing his keys to go pick it up after a quick goodbye kiss. You wanted him to kill a little red-haired prick who got too close to you -grazed your arm- yesterday at 17:37 while in a crowded line when he went to the loo, with his bare hands? Fan-tastic. (He may be projecting a little)

But he was worried. He might not be the most perceptive man, but he wasn’t so thick headed he couldn’t see the signs.

The way you made googly eyes at every baby you passed by. Fuck sakes he had never seen so. many. babies. 

Little things everywhere nowadays, though it might just be he’s now paying enough attention to notice. It definitely helped the unintentional search that your grip on his arm tightened every time you saw one. Your soft coos as you turned to him to say for a third time in a row that the babe was the “cutest thing you had ever seen”.

He loved you like he loved his gun after it got him out of a tough spot (he loved you more, but he's pretty poor at putting an example on it), but there was one thing he was wholly unsure he could give you. Being a father has never been something he was sure of, his own making his childhood a living hell assuring him that it wasn’t in his genes or anywhere in his future. He came to terms with that years ago and shoved the idea out of his mind entirely. 

As you both sat down at a coffee shop while taking a break from your park walk, you just happened to get seated right next to another woman, a stroller in your direct view.

Fuckin’ great.

Biting your lip you take a peek at the chubbiest little thing in a deep sleep. Catching the gaze of the mother you smile. “She’s adorable” you chirped. 

As the mother responded with a smile of her own, Simon felt a foot gently nudging his leg as gave him the prettiest eyes. Did you even try to hide it anymore? No, you really didn’t. Eyes filled with thinly veiled intentions, eyes that said “Look how cute! Jump across this table and give me one now,” 

“Isn’t she cute Si?!”

He sighed and replied in his usual grumble, “course, ‘er little jumper is nice.” Tactics. Swiftly move out from the topic and do not let the missus see the little bows… on the jumper… he just pointed- for fucks sake you saw it.

After quite some time giggling with the mother over photos, because of course that had to be the natural progression of things, Simon observed in his characteristic shadow-like demeanor before the little one began to fuss in her sleep. The mother excused herself and the babe to nurse and it’s then you finally turn back to your silent companion with your usual beaming.

“ ‘avin fun there, yeah?” He laughed which came out more as a snort as you mockingly kicked him under the table.

“I am as a matter of fact!”

Pulling his hands into the air in surrender he looks you head on. “Okay, I get it.”

“The baby was just so- ugh! Did you see how chubby she was? Her little hair.. Gosh!” Stay on task. Do not get distracted by the target's beautiful smile or laugh. Someone had to be the voice of rationale after all.

“Like I said ‘er jumper was nice, luv.”

When the pout came to your lips, he considered it a success (you were hot either way) and chalked the whole thing as a minor bump in the road. Whatever this baby fever was would pass.

Nonetheless, he should’ve known his bird better than that. She wasn’t a quitter, that’s for damn sure. As you cooked up dinner in that cute apron and served it plated up so nicely it dawned on him just how… domestic this all was.

It was nice, he concluded. Calm.

You remained pensive and quiet for the most part during dinner, clearly desperate to say what you had been on your mind for weeks. He could see the way your mind's gears turned, wanting to blurt it out. Like an animal going feral at the bars of its cage. Except your the animal and your cage is the inherent trust you will not go awol and chuck your birth control pills into the trash while he’s not watching.

“Simon…” 

Here it comes.

Simon grunted out his response while chewing on his food, looking up to meet your cautious gaze. Leaning across the table you gently lay your hand on his which held his fork, pushing it down.

“I’ve been thinking… a lot lately.” There you went with that look again. “Have you… ever thought of kids before? I- I know we’ve had this talk before… but-”

“C’mere.”

He outstretched his big arms and patted his lap. With quick acceptance you hurried over and let him pull you on top of him, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on your ass for support. The deep kneading of it was also for support of course. 

“You know how I feel about them. ‘Is jus not somethin I think about, luvie.” He didn’t dare look away from your eyes. If he was about to take that gleam out of your eyes he at least owed it to you to watch.

You grabbed his face with a light touch and caressed the stubble which had begun to grow with a look beginning to resemble a spot of desperation. Pressing yourself further into his body, you couldn’t help your protests.

“Si.. I just- I want one so bad.” You began to slide your hand down the side of his neck, pressing forward to gently place a kiss. Leaning your forehead in the junction between his shoulder and neck you continued before he could respond.

“Don’t you? A little baby with us all the time.”

Someone had to be the voice of reason and Simon was going to have to put his foot down on this.

“You’re not thinkin straigh’, luv. It would be cute-” He was cut off in shock as he felt the slight rock of your hips as you cowered into his shoulder.

“Just imagine it! One of me is cute enough, but two!” The pace began to speed up as you blatantly started grinding against him. He let out a little huff. Voice of reason. Though his reason was nowhere to be found when he put his hand that was idly on the chair to your backside to encourage the movement.

You knew what came next, you had to sweeten the pot. You knew you were being mean, but you just had to! You were practically given no choice!

“Don’t you want that Si! Don’t you wanna make something together?” You all but pleaded. He looked straight past your head with a crumbling steely demeanor. Fuck.

You already began to tug at his shirt and with a final glare, Simon couldn’t help but look at his pretty bird. His pretty bird on top of the prize she coveted, heat passing between their bodies. Just one time. One time and then they could talk about this properly. 

Simon gathered you up in his arms and stood while pressing an eager kiss to your lips. It was a soft and long thing as he brought you both to the bedroom you shared. He threw you down on the bed and stripped himself as you excitedly did the same.

Smiling up at him as if you won. You did not win. This was not a win, right? You were on your birth control either way, he would pull out as needed. What harm is there in fucking his own girl.

Pushing you on to your back he parted your legs to look what lay between them. There was the prize he was most proud of. Puffy cunt at the mercy of the cool air being pushed out by the vents. You were already beginning to shine.

“You were just waiting for it weren’t you? Knew I couldn’t leave you hanging, yeah?”

With a giggle you spread your thighs further and wiggled your hips teasingly. Simon dropped to his knees and pulled your body to the edge of the bed. Throwing each of your legs on either of his shoulders he spit into your cunt, taking two thick fingers and rubbing it in, catching on to your hole lightly as he played with the slick. He could see the way your stomach tightened as he circled your clit and he winded you up further when he firmly flicked it.

“Si” you whined.

“Wha’ is it?” He grinned as he lowered his head to press a kiss down. Devolving from a kiss, he grabbed onto one of your thighs with a strong grip and began to sloppily lick while you let out your breathy little moans, sensitive to the absolute tank holding you still as he ate straight from the source.

He licked and it just kept going. Dragging his tongue around your cunt, up to your puffy clit. He harshly sucked as he latched on to it drawing a cry from your vulnerable form. Tugging at his hair, he only looks up with his eyes, refusing to pull away his mouth. 

Shaking your head with wide eyes you couldn’t help but push your fluffy little agenda.

“Si please. Please. Please, I need it! I’d never ask for anything else-” you moaned in surprise once again as he added a finger into your hole. Willing himself to pull away from you, Simon continued to fuck his finger into you as he spoke up, spittle and slick coating his mouth. He had to switch gears, use logic (and cum) to deter you.

“We’d never have time. All this?-” He added another finger into your clenching pussy “Gone. We’d be cleaning spit up instead.”

“We’d have a baby!” You exclaimed insistently.

You were practically off the edge, usually by now Simon had you fucked into your own little world. This incessant begging for a little one of your own is keeping you sharper than usual. He’d fix that.

“Please Simon” You pulled him up, the strain of his cock to be inside you encouraging him to follow your movements. He looked at you pretty tits, pretty like everything else on you. Taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling hard.

“These’d get all full.”

Fuck that backtracked his own point. His mind fighting back the onslaught of thoughts at the sight of your tits growing round and heavy because of something he could do. Would your body get all soft- NO.

Lining himself up and looking at that pleading expression, the only time he’d ever seen you so wanting of something you were willing to roll around with nothing else on your mind.

“Just one Si, just one with your eyes your nose your hair-” Your breath went short as he pushed himself in, giving shallow thrusts to feed into your aching cunt. Recomposing yourself you gripped on to his bicep, “Just do it, lock me down tonight.”

Simon couldn’t help the way he subconsciously began pushing your thighs up to give himself a deeper angle, your ankles dangling weightlessly above your head, knees to your chest. The groans which sounded through the room as his hips hammered into you in a desperate chase. 

The two of you could do nothing but stare into each other's eyes, losing yourselves in each other while your cunt squeezes him like a vice. Determined to keep him there, body obstinately stuck on one thing.

 Someone had to be the voice of reason. Someone had to object to a little one with his eyes and your personality. Someone had to be rational and not think about painting the nursery while you waddled about. Someone had to remain level-headed and not imagine the way your eyes would light up with unfettered joy.

You tossed your head back and he couldn’t help but grip your face in his hand, tugging it right back to him.

“With me luv, with me. Look at me.”

Someone had to be rational.

Nodding your head shakily you keep your eyes on the massive man pounding away at you, feeling the way your stomach bulges trying to accommodate all of him, your cunt coaxing him further into the sticky trap.

Your body begging for one thing, you looked like you needed it. Tongue lolling out of your mouth as you were fucked stupid, sweat collecting on your brow. You looked perfect. Your whining swallowed by his own mouth when he presses another kiss to your swollen lips, body enduring in hopes the fat cock ruthlessly disturbing its peace would grant it the big load it craved.

Someone had to be rational?

Maybe it was the way you sucked him in, the way he couldn’t stop thrusting into you, but it’s as if your body sent some message to the receptors in his mind. All that flashed before him images of happy and full and with his baby.

As if you could sense his thoughts, your own peak quickly overcame you white hot. The way you spasmed around him with a loud cry of pure ecstasy.

“Give it to me!” You somehow managed. His mind went blank as drunk off the pleasure as you were, the only thing he could do was thrust, unable to comprehend anything else.

 A shame Simon couldn’t be rational when it came to his bird.

With the final slam of his hips, his release went into the deepest depths of you. His grip on your hips burning from how tight it was as he kept himself flush against you.

It took a few moments to come down from the high. Simon looked at your sweaty face, hazy from lack of energy. Maybe you did win this one, but he really didn't get all this effort (not that he was complaining) if you were still on birth control.

Birth control... which he hasn't had to remind you to take for quite some time...

Out of pure curiosity at his realization, he gently pushed the two of you further up the bed while keeping you plugged up. Opening the first drawer he manages to grab the box which contained your birth control pills. Upon further inspection, he notices it remains unopened and untouched. Shaking his head with a gruff laugh he peers down at you as you shiver from the rumble.

“Dirty girl”

You just smiled.

[ara-the-great]

Sylus would sometimes intentionally keep his hair messy while going out. It wouldn't be much maybe a cow lick or one of Mephisto's feather sticking out of his head. He knew it would bother you.

"I think you have a feather in your hair? Shouldn't you remove it before we head out?" You pointed out, trying your best not to be rude.

"Hmm fix it for me" he says bowing his head in front of you. But this cheeky crow intentionally didn't bend far enough. He enjoyed seeing you on your tippy toes with absolute concentration on your face.

"You know I can't reach you like this! Why are you so tall? For all I know you might be the descendant of a titan" you grumbled trying to pull him down.

Sylus leaned forward, his breath fanning over your face, his lips hovering over yours "is it that I am tall or that you are tiny, kitten?" His eyes sparked with mischief. Darting between your eyes and your lips. The slow caress of his hand on your back didn't go unnoticed either.

"I am not tiny. You are just a behemoth of a man. Now get lower and let me fix your hair" you tried to seem stern while fighting all those butterflies in your stomach and honestly you were losing.

He didn't say anything nor did he back away from you. He gracefully began dropping to his knees while keeping his eyes glued to yours. His hand slowly traveled from your back to settle on your hips and held on to you like a devotee praying

"You are the only one in this world who is able to order me around like this" he drawled seeming almost intoxicated just by the sight of you. You couldn't help but notice how his words seemed more like a confession than a statement. And that fact flooded your heart with warmth.

"And you wouldn't have it any other way" you said smiling and fixing his hair.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way" he repeated with absolute devotion and adoration in this eyes

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hi! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your art and headcannons! I wanted to ask if you would be interested in making a headcannon for our lovely harbingers where there is someone trying to sabotage their relationship with the reader like for example the person is saying that the reader is cheating or is saying mean things about the harbingers and that they have ,,proof" it is if course a lie. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't want to tho!

(Absolutely genius idea! Sorry to keep you waiting! I’m a slow writer…)

✦ When others try to sabotage your relationship with them

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

(tw: general mentions of violence and blood. sfw) 

Being intimate with a powerful Fatui Harbinger provides the illusory dream of having riches, power, and status. Some watch you with hushed murmurs as you accompany your beloved with linked arms, looking all elegant beside him. Perhaps some people cannot comprehend how such a ruthless Fatuus can even court someone like you. Others simply cannot comprehend that status and money is not a key factor in your relationship.

✧ To crossfire with Pierro is to go against every single Fatui Harbinger. The Director is known far and wide as a man of cold words and power beyond the seven nations. All valuable intel and actions are reported to him first and foremost, as even the top Harbingers bow before him. You, on the other hand, were not meant to bow before him. The Jester shall never let you lower your head, because it is he who shall stoop to worship you. 

However recently, a certain rumor reached his ears. His spies related to him info that certain Fatui soldiers, some lowly commoners at the bottom of the ranks, are spreading uncouth jabs about you and Pierro. Intel states that these fools think you infiltrated the Fatui and The Director’s inner circle by some intimate provocation and seduction; that you’re in it for the money and status.

Pierro’s gloved hands gripped the papers. Nevertheless, his expression is placid as always. 

Thus, the culprit now sat in Pierro’s office, trembling as the room oozed with murderous silence. The Jester never raised his voice, nor did he question the man who “joked” about you. The fellow kept spitting apologies, begging for mercy. He knew it was futile to lie or waste the Director's patience.

And the Jester? It took everything in his power not to get his gloved hands bloodied. To hear someone accuse you - his most cherished, as a shallow harlot? Consequences shall be faced. Calming his boiling turmoil, Pierro continued to conduct himself professionally:

He made sure the man and his entire generation met their oblivion. 

With the recruitment of his best spies, he ascertained that the culprit’s disappearance was not felt by a single soul, his entire family gone, and all traces of spread rumors eradicated. Above all, it was orchestrated so that you would remain unaware that anyone dared to tarnish your reputation.

You carried on with your life, blissfully unaware and undisturbed. Even now, you came in knocking on his office, asking: “Long day at work, honey? I can bring you some tea or coffee if you want.”

The Jester's smile returned, throwing away some crumbled documents into the trash can - “A tea break would be excellent, my divine.”

If it’s blood that needs to be spilled to protect you and his private affairs, then Pierro won’t think twice. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the way of the blade speaks more for its wielder than words. If you wish to prove your stance, you better be prepared to face the First Fatui Harbinger, as his might will test you in a relentless duel of strength. So what do you think happened when Capitano overheard someone calling you “weak”? That his beloved does not deserve an ounce of his attention, because you are a meek being compared to the Harbinger? 

His hand instantly found its place on the hilt of his claymore. He left no room for negotiation or doubt. He marched straight towards the culprit, unsheathed his weapon, and pointed the sharp point of his blade straight at the person.

“If you are so confident to spit such insolence about them, then you must be equally confident with your strength. Let your blade speak.”

The poor fool tried to defend himself with excuses. But his mocking meant nothing to the Captain’s weapon. Before you know it, there is an ongoing duel initiated by Il Capitano. The witnesses know that whoever is on the receiving end of his wrath has no chance of surviving. Not when a single swing of his weapon causes craters on the ground.

The man was about to collapse, accepting his violent demise. But just as Capitano was about to unleash his final lesson, your voice rang out amongst the crowd.

“Hey! Cease this commotion at once!” - you stepped up, your expression stern as you stood in front of your beloved. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the Captain’s already stoic body language shifted. His claymore was sheathed back to its place.

“My beloved, you shouldn’t have seen this…”

“And yet I did. It would’ve reached my ears anyway. What did I say about temperamental duels, Capitano? Morons are not worth it.” 

“He called you weak. I cannot allow it.”

For a minute, Capitano kept his head hung low in reverence. You stood with your arms on your hips, scolding him. Was it not for your intervention, that person who vocally mocked you would’ve been lying dead now. Instead, you spared the offender, and the man was allowed to flee in humiliation. 

The conflict was eradicated, and Capitano's imposing demeanor showed he didn't regret his actions. Considering how even Capitano bowed to your words, the accuser realized - you are not weak. Because if there was one person who made the First Harbinger go motionless then it was you. 

✧ Today was a good day for Il Dottore, but you weren't sure why. He was a tad clingy, his steps laced with a sense of giddiness. Giving you extra squeezes while hugging, smothering you with longer kisses on the cheek. Even as you sat idly in his lab, you watched him as he worked on some paperwork with a grin.

Thus you questioned him, lazily strolling around his lab and observing the countless tools or vials. But he waved off his excitement, tapping his pencil over some papers - “Nothing of major importance, but I did have something interesting happen recently.”

You raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“An idiot made a pathetic attempt at spreading rumors about us.” - You stopped in your tracks, going still as you held some miscellaneous container with what seemed to be tissue samples. The Harbinger continued: “Some fool spoke behind your back; stating that anyone who is close with a heretical scholar is bound to be equally insane. They thought that if their words didn't reach you, then it's of no consequence.”

Your expression fell somber with each word Dottore spoke. He said it with such profound avidity, that his voice demonstrated threatening intent behind them. So he continued. “But you know me, dear. Nothing goes past me. Vile nicknames are nothing new to me. My work is not for the faint of heart, and those pesky cretins enjoy concealing their fear with profane titles. And they can call me whatever they want. However, I won't allow them to call you names. Not because of my work.”

You averted your gaze sadly onto the samples of veins and organs in vials. You pretended to inspect them, but your sorrow was more prominent. You suspected Dottore already did something, hence his unusual giddiness today. Thus, you inquired in a soft whisper - “So… what did you do?”

“I handled it, naturally.”

“...You did? What happened? To the person who said such things, I mean.”

“What happened? Dear, you're holding them in your hands right now.” - Il Dottore beamed, pointing at the vials of organs you held. 

✧ Today, Scaramouche was eerily silent. You were accompanying him during one of his work expeditions, aiding him with certain formalities regarding his Fatui subordinates. The 6th had soldiers working under him, and although he did not care for their training, he did not tolerate any incompetent weaklings.

Therefore, you decided to lend a hand. You helped conduct a training program for his underlings, making sure all standards were met. It’s not the first time you did so, since The Puppeteer often placed you as the second in command whenever he was absent. And the Fatui soldiers did not conceal their thrill - it’s like you were their favorite substitute teacher who was more cheerful and forgiving than their superior.

Either way, Scaramouche saw that the mission was going smoothly. But soon, lightning would strike. A certain Fatuus, an agent in training, was getting too charmful with you. It was during the usual training assigned by you, and this person was focusing more on his conversation with you than his training:

Telling you how you are a remarkably skilled person. How it’s a marvel to see someone so delightful as you working alongside the Balladeer. How you shouldn’t waste your time with someone as aggravating as Lord Harbinger Scaramouche. He’s even leaning closer towards you.

You smiled uncomfortably, your attempts at polite disagreement did not work with this agent. Yet now you felt the static in the air, and that’s when you realized - Your beloved heard all of it.

On this usual, unassuming morning, Scaramouche walked silently and struck a man with lightning. All eyes turned towards the commotion as you stood behind the Harbinger. His fists were clenched, sparks of electro crackling from them.

He may have been silent the whole day, but don’t mistake his silence for impassivity.

“Next time, know your place,” - he seethed, standing over the person who endeavored to sweet talk you. He permitted his subordinates too much leeway, now they dare charm you with empty flirts. Scaramouche would’ve stomped that man’s head if he wanted, but he wouldn’t create such a grotesque scene in your presence. Instead, he turned away, held your hand, and pulled you away.

He gave you a day off, his mind already conjuring plans to deal with his underlings later. At least he scoffed out an apology. Not for what he did; he does not lament that. Just a small ‘sorry’ for giving you a quick fright. The lightning strike was very loud, after all. 

✧ Pantalone often gets invited to luxurious meetings or extravagant galas. Any party that is attended by the richest man in Teyvat is a guarantee to make high-society elites turn heads. However, considering your prolonged relationship with your darling Pantalone, you know he secretly despises these social gatherings. Therefore, he takes you with him. Dressed in your finest, Pantalone proudly shows you off to the pompous aristocrats.

People would watch enviously, thinking to themselves: The Regrator’s sweetheart, spoiled by his riches. Your attire is as glorious as his expensive suit. His arm is tenderly linked with yours, always offering you his hand like a true gentleman whenever you two walk. Even as he conversed with various business partners, he always had to make sure his hand was around your waist or your hand.

This dotting behavior made certain ladies of Snezhnaya jealous. They could see you were not a noble-born, nor were you used to the attention during such gatherings. You just timidly accompanied him, and Pantalone kept rambling about you and your benign achievements. Childish, really. You’re probably someone who just ran after and clung to the Harbinger until he relented to keep you. Therefore, a group of ladies initiated the conversation: 

“It’s a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself, Lord Harbinger.” and “Why, a man of your status is probably seeking some interesting company. Oh? You are with someone? My, my, I did not notice them.” or “Surely you desire connections worthy of your status, sir.”

Pantalone had mastered the art of courteous smiling, yet even his act was about to crack. He noticed the way these ladies tried to stand too close to him, pretend you were not in the picture, or even passively mock you. Their insolence stenches, and noticing your silent discomfort caused his heart to sting. But he had a plan.

“Why yes, you are right,” - Pantalone smiled with his charming looks “I do value my time, and it’s important to not waste it on shallow conversationalists. Oh, but it’s such a shame that the people in front of us are just that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Pantalone turned to you, his arms encircling your waist while speaking such backhanded comments with triumphant smiles. The ladies’ smiles fell instantly, and you tried everything to avert your gaze. “Um, Pantalone? Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t bore ourselves with such lowly individuals? Hmm, I agree. There isn’t much to do here anyway, only the greedy will seek something in this superficial gathering. Oh well, let’s go so I can take you to dance, dear.” - Pantalone concluded in his usual enamoring tone “Ladies, if you would excuse yourself.”

In this world, the 9th of the Fatui Harbinger doesn’t excuse himself - others do. Therefore, he took you away, scoffing and checking up on you with hushed whispers. Pantalone was offended. Why do they assume it was you who desperately sought out the rich Harbinger? Little do they know it was Pantalone who used to run and seek your attention just to be yours. Honestly, they’re discrediting his neediness for you. 

✧ Should anyone meddle with Tartaglia’s personal life, they are picking up a brawl. Someone dares to flirt with you? His fists are ready. Someone said something unwelcoming about you? Anything in the vicinity can be used as a weapon. Someone endangers his relationship? Their life is now in danger.

Of course, you’re the one who consistently yanked him out of these fights. Usually, it’s nothing serious, as when you scold your boyfriend for such reckless behavior it ends with his heartfelt words and apologetic chuckles. He finds solace in embracing you from behind, gently enfolding his arms around your shoulders, reassuring himself that all is well.

However, Tartagia is still a Harbinger. Away from home, he’d personally search for intel on the culprit who dares to offend your relationship. Names, records, locations, anything to keep tabs on those who think they can drag his family into bloodshedding matters. Tracking is of no issue, after all, when he was still a young rookie, training as a Fatui agent was just the first step.

Once he determines the offender, he’ll pay a discreet visit to them. And this time, without you dragging him away from fights, there is no place for mercy or jests.

At night, Childe returned home, cheerful as the sight of you getting ready for bed welcomes him. Yet in the dim lights, you’d gasp and approach him with concern, catching traces of smeared blood on his face or hands.

Ajax would just smile; he didn’t need to explain. Instead, he would quietly approach you from behind and envelop his arms around your shoulders in quiet stillness.

[gutsby]

Stuck

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel gets nominated to play Santa Claus for Jackson’s holiday festivities. Of course, you’re into that.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Breeding kink. Age gap. Santa Clause kink (it’s brief). F!Oral. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: Kinda inspired by Otis Redding’s Try a Little Tenderness

Word count: 5.5k

“Give your old man a kiss before he leaves?”

The invitation shouldn’t have made you as wet as it did. But it had. And Joel just grinned, lips twitching beneath his big fake beard and palms pulling you toward his body.

The kiss had had to be wholesome and quick. Before long, he’d be surrounded by a sea of eager, wide-eyed, and awe-stricken children in the middle of Jackson’s town square, and what sort of example would you be setting if you were the girl caught kissing Santa Claus?

It wouldn’t rally much confidence in Father Christmas, if either of you had had to guess. You let him go. With a soft, innocuous tug of his belt buckle and a pat on his padded belly, you’d promised to be extra good while he was gone and leave more than just milk and cookies out for him later. Joel had blinked twice, and in the glint of one look, you could tell he’d wanted to say much more.

But then Tommy, dressed as an elf and scowling like Ebenezer Scrooge, had tugged him off your porch.

“You can get those cookies later, Nick. Let’s go.”

And that had been the last you’d seen of the pair before you’d snuck off to see Maria about Joel’s secret gift.

Now, two hours later in the glow of a roaring fire and near-unbearable excitement, you were perched on the sofa. Sitting with your knees tucked underneath you and a glass of milk, a tray of cookies, and a small, rectangular box tied with a bow set beside you on the coffee table.

You really hoped Joel would like his present.

You also guessed it wouldn’t hurt that you were currently half-naked in a ruby red satin teddy for his return home.

As soon as you heard the creak of the front door, you straightened up. You watched a body shuffle in, head bowed and shaking snow off his sprayed-white locks. Joel looked perfectly ancient in his present get-up: thick black boots, velvet crimson pantsuit, chest-length beard, and lopsided hat. He looked haggard and adorable, too. You could tell by the way he kicked off his shoes and left them stranded by the door he was absolutely drained by the events of that night—dealing with every kid in town under the age of ten likely hadn’t been his first choice.

But now he was here. Joel had been so preoccupied with getting off his boots that he hadn’t even seen you on the couch, and the instant his gaze landed on you, it froze.

“Baby…” he groaned.

His whole face softened, like he couldn’t believe the sight in front of him then, and his arms stretched out for you.

He looked childlike, almost, with the way he lumbered over. His limbs were heavy, and they felt that way coming to crash over your cowered frame on the sofa. You leapt back and squealed, only to feel two big palms grab you by the hips and pin you underneath him. Joel’s breaths were warm, and his eyes were alight with rapt intrigue.

“This all for me?” he asked, sliding his hands down your thighs and in between them. He cursed feeling the heat.

You had to bite back a laugh at how silly this looked—Santa Clause, a staple of your childhood, prying your legs apart and all but drooling at the sight inside. Pawing at your legs, then at your hips, then at the band of your panties beneath the tulle hemline of your teddy. It felt fun in a depraved sort of way. You felt naughty, like you might not want to share Joel’s gift with him until after all the fun was over. But, deep down, you weren’t that cruel.

“Don’t you wanna see your gift? Have your milk and cookies?” you asked sweetly, just narrowly managing to slide an arm out from underneath Joel’s weight and pointing to the assortment of goodies on the table.

Joel looked that way briefly, but then his gaze was back on you. Its warmth was smoldering. Darkening in time.

“Later. Santa’s got a bone to pick with you first.”

You squealed again as fingers hooked in your panties.

“But— but— you’ll really like this gift, Joel. Really.”

“Yeah? Already got one for you right here, kiddo.”

In a crass, graceless sort of gesture, Joel removed one hand from you to grab his crotch, and shake it firmly—‘Got a good seven inches of this gift to share, sugar’—and from there, you had no choice but to acquiesce. If Joel really didn’t mind putting off his gift for yours, at first, that was on him. You leaned back to get comfy.

“If you insist.” The smile you flashed him was coy.

Knowing, as your underwear was slid down your legs and Joel nestled in between them on the couch. You propped your head on a pillow and watched, feeling another small wave of sick nostalgia wash over your senses; Joel was still fully dressed as Kris Kringle stripping you naked.

He’d just moved to pull off the white beard, tied snug with a string, when you reached down and stopped him.

“Leave it,” you said, voice quavering with the threat of a giggle. This was insane. “Leave the beard. Leave all of it.”

Joel flashed you a look with a brow cocked up, confused.

“You want me to eat you out as Santa Clause?” he asked.

He grinned, and you almost laughed again. His expression was still puzzled—mixed with arousal, the look suited him well—and before he could say another word, you just nodded. Shimmied your red panties the rest of the way down and kicked them off at your feet.

But when Joel reached for your legs to pull you closer to him, you slipped off the couch. Your limp, shimmering frock that barely covered the globes of your ass underneath it brushed the bare skin as you darted off.

You’d meant it to be playful. Joel couldn’t brush aside gift-giving and get his way quite that easily. You stood on your own two feet, pivoting back to face him before starting to make your way toward the stairs. You waved.

“Okay. Give me a minute. If you’re giving me my present now, I need to get the rest of yours ready. It’s…upstairs.”

Joel’s—or Santa’s—whole face dropped. He stood.

“That wasn’t the deal, kiddo. You before me.”

He was already pacing after you, slowly at first; then, when your feet reached the first step, he broke off in a run. You screamed, and tried to tear your way up the rest of the stairs, but before more than four thuds had sounded on the wood, you were being thrust back in Joel’s arms—hoisted off your feet, and carried to the living room without another breath or pause from him. You kicked your feet, pretended to be indignant, and were smiling to yourself, inwardly, the whole time. He would really be kicking himself for this later, you knew.

“Gonna be a good little girl for Santa and stay put now?” he huffed, setting you down on your feet. Rather than heading for the couch, he’d placed you on the rug by the warmth of the fireplace and the winking lights of the Christmas tree, where he knew you felt coziest. And, in the glow of both, he could drink the view in completely.

You dropped to the floor where you knew he wanted you.

Still smiling. Fighting a laugh: “Yes, daddy. I’ll be good.”

Joel laid you back. Spread your legs. Tugged your butt right where he wanted it beside the fire and slotted his torso in between your thighs. Your body was practically humming with anticipation as he brought his head lower.

The fluffy white bobble at the end of his hat swung in front of his face, preventing his mouth from sinking in.

He groaned.

“Fuckin’ kids.” He batted the thing out of his way.

“Been toyin’ with my hat and beard all goddamn night. You’d think I was a…a jungle gym to those little hellions,” Joel added with an edge of taut frustration to his voice.

You knew he’d liked the ‘hellion’ antics, whether he was willing to admit it or not. He’d pretend to be pissed at the kids for being kids, but deep down, he was always more than willing to oblige. He’d practically volunteered to take on the role of Santa before the ballot had even been cast for who’d get to play the Big Red Man for the festivities.

He was your old man. A softie at heart.

Hard in other places, but that was just how you liked it.

He spread your legs with both of his hands and practically moaned at what lay before him now.

You were wet. Glistening. In the light of the fireplace and the evergreen behind him, he could see it all too clearly: how pretty and slick and shiny you were along your slit. You’d been patient awaiting his return, and he could tell. Though you were dripping nectar through your folds, you hadn’t smeared one drop with your fingers—you sat like a gleaming, unwrapped present for the man to devour.

And maybe it felt wrong, all swollen and stiff beneath his costume pants and his hair dusted white to make him look even older than he was—about 1,700 years, give or take, instead of fifty-nine—but the look in his eyes said he wanted it all. He felt raw, and needy, and debased.

You liked seeing Joel this way. You liked feeling wrong.

It was what most of Jackson thought of you, anyway. What had taken Tommy, Maria, and the closest of your friends the longest time to accept, nearly all of your neighbors still thought was pretty strange: how Joel was decades your senior and you two were dating—happily. What they were liable to think when the news of you trying for a baby spread in town was anyone’s guess.

Joel seemed to forget all that as his head sank lower. He forked two of his big, meaty fingers in the shape of a ‘V’ and pushed your folds apart in just the way you liked, and he breathed out slow, warm puffs of air over your cunt. You shuddered, and you waited for his tongue.

“Baby…” he trailed off again.

“Yeah?” Your voice was tight.

A beat of silence passed.

“I’m…probably gonna need to take off the beard.”

You breathed out a soft, reflexive laugh, and you didn’t protest. Joel tugged down the big, white, wiry clump of hair from his face and let his other, shorter one surface.

This one wasn’t white, but it was a handsome black and grey, with a lot more of a silver sheen to its these days. You smiled as Joel drew closer, and that smile only faltered a little as the man kissed your inner thigh.

He did the same to the other leg. He dragged his mouth down the skin toward your center and let his lips part a little. He kissed you again, this time at the top of your mound. It made an extra low, almost lewd sort of sound. He rubbed his nose against your lower belly, and the contrast of the weathered texture to your own was stark.

Joel was old. He looked it even more with his hair painted white and his mouth hovering over your slit.

“She been good this year?” he hummed, peering up.

Before you could answer, Joel’s tongue slid out, and he drew a fat, wet line over the seam of your pussy. Your hips jolted in response, and his free hand held you down.

“She tastes good,” he went on in the most casual tone.

Then, without further warning, his jaw slackened some more and he started lapping at the tender flesh beneath it. He dragged his tongue through the thick, stringy mess and closed his eyes, like he was savoring the taste. His lips curled, and he kissed you again—this time, it closed around your clit, and he suckled you gently. With the first wet pop and a sickening squelch from his mouth, your eyes nearly rolled back in your head; Joel’s opened again as he flashed you a shit-eating grin between your legs.

“She’s been real good for me this year, hasn’t she, hon?” And he squeezed your leg to indicate he wanted a reply.

You tried to answer, but it came out garbled and weak:

“So good, daddy. So— so—”

Oh.

Joel’s fingers moved from their forked position to push his index inside your weeping hole. At the same time, the tip of his tongue flicked delicately against your clit. The two parts of him moved in tandem, and from the feeling of both, you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a cry. Your hand reached down to grab his hair, but all it could find was that goddamn Santa hat. Joel snickered.

With his lips, tongue, and finger still working your needy cunt, he couldn’t help but smile as you cast the hat aside

“Damn thing,” you cursed, fingers lacing through his hair.

“Language, young lady,” Joel murmured.

Like he was one to talk.

You made a fist with the chalky white locks and rutted your hips the tiniest bit, too flush with pleasure to give a single fuck what words came out of your mouth, and from the way Joel grinned and slid a second finger inside, you had only to guess he didn’t mind either.

He could pretend, though. He licked a little harder, then:

“She’s gonna be sweet for her old man, isn’t she?”

“Y— yes, she is.”

“Nice and polite before she gets this cock?”

“I promise.”

Appearing satisfied with this response, or else simply wanting to bring you to the edge and make you cum on his tongue, Joel wedged his fingers even deeper, then curled them. He brushed the soft, fleshy wall in a beckoning motion and, at the same time, sucked your nub between his lips. He felt you tense, heard you moan, and likely sensed there was no better time for his tongue to dart out again. Just as he released your clit from its airtight kiss, he was back licking circles on the tender, swollen thing, eyes flitting up to yours to hold their gaze.

“Daddy,” you whimpered.

When his fingers curled another time, you cried out.

Your brain was on the fritz; your heels were digging in the rug, stomach tight as it had ever been, and your hands seemed to move with a mind of their own. One was gripping Joel’s hair, giving you leverage to cant your hips against his face, and the other was palming your breast through the thin lace fabric of your teddy. You craved stimulation—couldn’t breathe without the feel of something on you, and in you, as you were about to cum.

Joel nodded his soft approval. He watched you fondle yourself and seemed enthralled, even from where he lay.

“That’s it, baby. Touch yourself while daddy licks your pussy. Lemme see how good she’s feelin’, sweetheart.”

His words were all the propulsion you needed and more. You pinched your nipple through the fabric, whined at the pleasure wrought by your fingers and by Joel’s simultaneously, and felt an even deeper twist in your gut. You grip constricted in his hair; you didn’t need to speak.

“She’s right there, isn’t she? I know that feels nice, baby,” Joel groaned, voice low, “Gonna cum for daddy now?”

You whined. You gripped tighter. Your body needed this.

“C’mon, hon. Let me have it. Cum on daddy’s tongue.”

Two more strokes of his tongue, a gentle thrust of his fingers, and the brush of your own touch across taut, pebbled flesh was enough. The next second had you clamping down on Joel’s hand and giving him all you possibly could, lips parted and spilling a feverish, shrill whine while your orgasm washed over you. Your toes curled into the rug, and Joel pressed your hips down as his tongue fucked you through it. He licked and sucked and coaxed your needy walls again and again; he felt you tremble, and he let your wet essence soak him through.

By the time you were done, his face was glistening.

He lifted his head from between your legs, gaze wild and lips shiny with your full release. He licked them, elated.

“All good, hon?”

“Amazing.”

You let out a shaky breath and pet his hair. Joel smiled.

“Wanna go upstairs? Be a little comfier in the bed, I bet,” he offered, slowly starting to rise, before wincing. Then when his knees audibly cracked, “Your old man needs it.”

You had no doubt about that. You sat up and smiled, and let him lift you to your feet along with him. Another snap.

“Aw, hell,” Joel hissed, shaking his head.

You wrapped an arm around his waist before pacing another step. He leaned a little into you, though not too much, and you couldn’t help but flash him an arch look.

“Did your wishlist include new kneecaps, by chance?”

“No ma’am. Just stronger hands to spank with.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat, grinning down at you.

You would’ve returned with something equally cheeky and light, had you not remembered that thing close by.

“Wait, wait—your present!”

Joel eyed the square box as you retrieved it. His eyes flashed with curiosity before you reappeared under his arm and helped him start up the stairs. He walked, and let out a soft groan, and when you’d made it halfway up, he shook his head at you again. It was slow but emphatic

“Gotta finish your gift first, sweetheart,” he murmured.

And, try as you might to get an inch of give after that, you sensed fighting Joel’s generosity was futile by then. You knew him well enough to guess that he’d only be satisfied receiving his present once yours had been properly secured with another orgasm, and his spend dribbled in big, thick rivers down the insides of your legs.

You heaved a sigh and smiled, walking slowly with him.

Joel, if you only knew.

Despite his best efforts, the man still couldn’t work out how he’d ever gotten so lucky to find something like this—someone like you. As his hips worked their way up to a near-desperate pace, bordering on frenzied as he fucked into you, Joel decided that he wouldn’t bother guessing.

He’d accept this for what it was: a gift he didn’t deserve.

The two of you hadn’t even gotten around to the business of unwrapping your presents yet, and Joel already knew that he had it all just looking down at you.

With your back arched and your hands making fists in the sheets beside your head, wet and glistening cunt accepting each one of his thrusts and squeezing him tight on every stroke, Joel had to steel himself just feeling how good you were, knowing how well you fit him in every way, and sensing this was as close to replete happiness as he’d ever get. He couldn’t ask for more.

Even without a baby, he knew things would be okay.

The two of you had been trying for months now, wholly without success of yet. There had been the night he’d bought a blue pill and fucked you four times in one day, and you’d told him at the end of it all that your period was late. But then you’d bled the next morning, and your hopes, for the present moment, had been dashed away.

No pregnancy hopes since then had amounted to anything else, and at length, you’d agreed not to let it get your spirits down—or try not to, anyway. You’d fuck as often as you could, but you wouldn’t let the thought of wanting a baby make the process less fun for you now.

That didn’t mean Joel couldn’t remind you every now and then what you were hoping the endgame would be.

Presently, he leaned over your prone body on the bed and pressed his lips to your ear. He ground his hips against your ass so his cock wedged itself all the way in to the hilt, and when the tip was just threatening to graze the edge of your cervix, he dropped a kiss on your cheek.

“Want me to put a baby right here?” He spoke gently.

Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, and your head reared back to fall against his shoulder. Joel took this as his opportunity to start peppering more kisses. He knew how much you liked the dirty talk while he was deep inside, talking about how much he wanted to blow his load and knock you up. It was a melting point for you both, and he sensed that you wouldn’t last long after it.

He had your head tilted to his, your lips spilling moan after moan as his dick plunged further inside and your eyes struggling to stay open. They flitted between his, and they gave him a hopeful look. You managed a smile.

“Right…right there, daddy,” you whimpered out.

Another sound escaped your mouth and flooded his, and Joel couldn’t help it: he kissed you, and he fucked in deeper. He couldn’t have wanted this more if he tried.

His forehead was slick with sweat, as was yours. Your bodies were grinding together—Joel’s soft, warm belly filling the concave space where your spine curved down, and he rutted repeatedly into you, like an animal in heat.

His face was right beside yours as his teeth gritted out:

“My sweet girl want a baby in her for Christmas, that it?”

Again, you whined and rolled your hips against his, nodding your head, and the look in your eyes was wild.

“Baby—please. Please fuck your baby in me, Joel.”

Joel could do more than that. Much more. Ask him for twins, triplets, or however many kids you could’ve wanted, and he would’ve given it to you then.

He wished it were that simple, and he could’ve knocked you up and made you happy a long time ago, but sadly, that hadn’t been in the cards for you two. Joel shortly brushed that thought away, not wanting to lose his momentum or delay the oncoming orgasm about to rattle your body underneath him. He kissed your shoulder this time, thrusting with his stiff, wet cock in just the way you liked, and in seconds, he got what he wanted—what you needed, clearly, as your muscles seized and your lips let out a sharp, shrill cry in response.

Joel held you to him as long as he could. He felt you melt into the bed and only held your body tighter, rutting his hips at their relentless pace to keep your pleasure alive. He heard you whine, tell him to cum inside me, daddy, please, and from that point on, he sensed he’d have to slow a little. It couldn’t be helped. When he came, he had to pin you down and fill you completely—take his time working his spend inside your needy, pulsing cunt, and when he was done, just keep you there. Let you feel him. It was a satisfaction unlike any other for you both, and it was one he’d come to love these last few months. He stilled inside you, feeling his cum coating every inch of your walls around him, and he grinned. You let out a sigh.

“So I…I made the ‘Nice’ list, Mr. Clause?” you panted.

Joel’s head dropped to yours in a short, rumbling laugh.

His dick twitched inside you, and his belly growled a bit. He definitely should’ve taken you up on those cookies.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d say we’re square,” he breathed back.

How long you laid like that was anyone’s guess. Joel didn’t bother keeping track of the seconds or the minutes spent splayed out over your body; he only sensed when he was starting to go soft and you wriggled your hips underneath. He shifted and let you flip around.

His cock now completely out and a smile touching your lips as you turned to face him, your gaze flitted to his.

“Can you go get me one of your shirts, please?”

You were also both stark naked, thanks to the lightning-quick stripdown you’d both done the second you’d made it to the bedroom. Though Joel was sleepy, he knew the routine: get you a shirt, get him a clean pair of boxers, and get the two of you off to sleep. It’d been a long day.

“Yes, dear,” he answered dutifully.

He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before rising. He padded his slow, heavy feet over to the dresser at the opposite end of the room, and he opened the top drawer.

“Second one, please. With the flannels,” you called out.

Okay.

Joel snagged a pair of underwear for himself, then went to the next drawer to get you a flannel to wear, since the scorching heat of your house evidently wasn’t enough to keep you warm. He smiled to himself, about to crack a wiseass comment about you being cold-blooded or something, when the man was obliged to stop. He took one look inside, dropped his boxers, and paused a spell.

When Joel started again, it wasn’t to speak—he just turned and lifted the first thing he saw in the drawer.

“Wha—oh, shoot. I was supposed to wrap that,” you said swiftly, wincing as he held it. Still smiling at him, though.

“Seems a little small to be a gift for me, don’t you think?”

In his grasp was a miniature onesie. Beneath it, in the drawer you’d directed him to, there had been at least four more just like it. All soft, pastel-colored, and small.

Your smile stretched even wider as you shook your head.

“It’s from Maria and Tommy. More of a…future present, for the two of us,” you shrugged, pushing to sit up in bed.

Joel eyed you a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say.

On your face, he saw hope and excitement etched bright. Like you were fine to keep waiting on this ‘future,’ no matter the duration. One glimpse of that and Joel felt a lump the size of his fist in his throat. He walked over.

And it had to be the last thing you wanted to see, surely—him setting the onesie down, dropping beside you in bed, then fumbling gracelessly, uselessly, to hold you.

Feeling every bit the remorseful, too-old man who couldn’t give you what you wanted. He wanted it, too.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he blurted out, unthinking. He pulled you to his chest; within his own, his heart was pounding, “I know…I know it’s taking us awhile. That’s my fault—”

“Joel.”

“My cum’s as old as dust and that’s probably why—”

“You don’t—”

“—you aren’t pregnant yet. I know it’s frustrating for—”

“Seriously, Joel—”

“—you to deal with. All of that disappointment, I mean—”

“JOEL.”

“What?”

His pulse was still thudding away. You blinked once.

Then, in a slow but deliberate path, your gaze trailed over to the nightstand. Joel’s followed after in similar fashion.

“You still haven’t opened your present,” you said. Stern.

It wasn’t the tone Joel had been expecting to hear at all.

And when you handed him the box, he felt his blood pressure spike. Absently, he thought that couldn’t be safe for a man his age. He couldn’t even tell what it held, and still, the prospect of it had him anxious beyond words. He turned it over; something rattled inside.

‘Go on, Joel.’ Your voice coaxed him gentler then.

And he did, though his fingers trembled some.

The weight in his grip could’ve been an ounce, a pound, or a ton, and his hands would’ve shaken all the same. Joel felt a current pulse through him as he slid the lid off.

Then he just stared.

His eyes widened.

“That’s…”

“Exactly what I have been trying to give you all night!” You laughed. The sound was light, not derisive or cruel.

When he looked up to you, your cheeks were as full and high as he’d seen them all day—you were smiling so big.

That made him think that this wasn’t a joke. Or a dream.

Surely his brain couldn’t have contrived both the most perfect, blinding smile on your face and a slim, white, pink-capped little stick with a ‘+’ on the screen at once.

It still hadn’t hit him completely, though, so he blinked.

“Really?” His voice was hoarse. Vacillating.

“Really.” Yours was more certain. Happy.

And, while the truth of it was slow to seep in, Joel knew he couldn’t waste another moment. He didn’t think—just pulled you in and squeezed you to him as tight as a vice. He couldn’t think—the rush of his blood in his ears and the puffs of your breath and the clatter of that positive pregnancy test in its box, discarded, were all too much.

As soon as he squeezed, your next breath was a sob.

“I meant to tell you, Joel. I meant to. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Your confession came out muffled against his chest, though Joel heard it all with total clarity. In a blink, he had you drawn back a little, just so he could hold your face and search your gaze with his own in a wide look.

Before he could even speak, he saw the tears welling up, as if coming from nowhere. You were still trying to smile.

“It’s been weeks. Since…since my period. I just—” With a wince that could’ve shredded Joel’s insides in two, you went on, “—I couldn’t stand disappointing you again.”

The same way he’d felt. Why you couldn’t tell him.

“Baby, hey, no— no. No, no, no. Please don’t say that.”

It was all Joel could do to keep his own emotions at bay.

“After the last time, and the— and the way you looked so happy at the thought of being a dad, I…I…had to be sure. Maria got me a test, and we triple-checked.” You sniffled.

Moving to wipe at tears as if any of this was your fault. Joel’s thumbs only grew more fervent in their path to smear the moisture away, and his head kept shaking back and forth—‘No, sweetheart, that’s not on you. Don’t even think that. Come here.’—as he tried to be a comfort. He couldn’t be happier. He hoped you were too. While tears engulfed his hands, he hoped you would be.

Even if his bones were old and his knees were weaker than he wanted them to be; even if you couldn’t count on two hands how many years stretched out between you and the decades made it seem like forever to the people in town. Even if this baby was the first, and last, you had.

Joel just wanted you happy.

It was all he could ask to have.

“We’re gonna be parents,” you said, half in awe.

You blinked harder and more tears slid down, but the look behind them was brighter. Your eyes were on his.

“We’re gonna be parents,” Joel repeated, “You and me.”

Then he pinched your puffy, wet cheeks, pictured a baby that looked the tiniest bit like you, and he had to lean in. He kissed slower than he meant to—had to savor you.

A baby.

His baby.

Your eyes were a little wider when he pulled away.

“Happy with your present, daddy?” you teased.

Joel blinked, and he thought of the dozen-odd boxes he had laid out under the tree downstairs—all for you to unwrap in the morning—and he realized then that you had him soundly beat in the gift department that year. Though none of what he’d bought could even hope to hold a candle to what you’d given him tonight, there were still ways to try and make it up. Say thank you.

“I love my present. And I love you.” Joel answered softly.

And just as you smiled, were about to slide back under the covers and tell him you loved him just as much, he grabbed your ankle. Started to lower himself after you.

Your eyes widened more.

“Joel Miller.”

His smirk widened right back.

“One more present before bed?”

You might’ve rolled your eyes, but you let him climb over you just the same. You felt his weight shift over yours, sensed a familiar stir in the depths of your body, and peered up to meet a matching smile you knew you’d find.

Joel was beaming from ear to ear like this was the luckiest day he’d lived to see. Like he couldn’t wait to show how glad he was to be a dad—over and over again.

“Just wanna make sure we made it…stick, y’know?”

He was grinning now. Gently laying you down.

You sighed, smiled, and spread your legs.

“Too late. You’re stuck with me, Miller.”

“Yeah? I like the sound of that.”

“What?”

“Stuck.”

[ozzgin]

What if there was a shy!reader who's the biggest fan for a monster band and absolutely LOVES their music, showing up to their every show and having all of their merch. They would have the biggest crush on them too but is too afraid to do anything about it.

One day, they decided to have a meet and greet after one of their shows. You quietly came up to them to ask for an autograph but no words came out and you started to panic a little.

They looked at you like you're the most adorable thing they've ever seen and signed your poster along with your shirt without you saying anything. You bowed your head down as thanks and walked away in shyness.

Now, in every show they perform in, they would look around just to try and find one particular face, yours. The moment they lock eyes with you, they don't stop. Why would they? You're the cutest fan they've ever met.

- 🎸

That's actually such a great idea. Monster!Band, a fan favorite among the monstrous population. Unbeknownst to them, they have one singular human follower: you.

The concert venue is always crowded, so your existence remains a mystery. Not even the other attendants notice that a human frequently sneaks its way closer to the stage.

At the latest meet and greet, a pair of foreign hands reaches out for an autograph. The members take a moment to stare in silence, earning a flustered shuffle from you. Have you said something wrong? Did you skip your place in the queue? No, they simply didn't expect to see a human. As a matter of fact, it's the first time in their life. An encounter of a lifetime.

Thankfully they're quick to regain their composure, smiling and signing your merch, then following your figure with a pang of regret. It would've been improper to ask for your contact, especially before the hungry, envious eyes of other fans.

They begin searching for you every night, walking onto the stage and scanning the area with an almost pathetic need to find you. A cheeky sort of competition develops between the band mates, taking turns in approaching you, winking in your direction, or targeting you for interactions. You've suddenly become the lucky owner of several items thrown into the crowd; the priceless goods always land in your hands.

You might think of yourself as their biggest fan, but the beastly artists have taken quite an interest in you, too. That photo you managed to snap after their show? It's the lead singer's phone wallpaper now. Remember the time your bracelet somehow flew at the feet of the guitarist? He was ready to kick it away, until he realized it's yours. It is now his most prized possession.

Indeed, it seems that the fan behavior is slowly shifting the other way around. If only they'd find a way to get closer to their human.

[toovaeloe]

post-nut munchies

Satoru doesn’t get post sex clarity shame or guilt. He gets hungry.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

mdni•18+

content: small minific, gn penetration, established relationship, dumbification if you squint, mating press but again: only if you’re looking through a foggy window, mostly aftercare and a gojo being goofy (being a FATASS) ((he’s my fave fatty))

wc: 826

Clarity. That might as well be the universally defined antonym of Satoru Gojo.

Because if there’s one thing Gojo doesn’t own and his fat paycheck can’t buy, it’s shame.

“fuuuckkk,” 

He’d groan a guttural draw as he pistoned into your tight heat, before alternating into slow, powerful grinding of his hips that had your brain vacating the premises to make space for his dumb fucking dick. He knew it, too; could see it in the way your your eyes struggled to stay in focus and the way your back bowed off the sheets you were gripping with white-knuckle intensity— he’s fucked all the thoughts out of your pretty little head. And the bastard couldn’t be cheesing any harder about it.

“My pretty baby,” He’s muse, somehow finding it in himself to giggle breathily as one of his large palms slips away from where he was squeezing the underside of your thigh. He smooths up towards your abdomen, featherlight fingers grazing up your chest and over a pert nipple before traveling back down to splay over your hip, all with deliberate gentleness. “so beautiful like this.”

“feel me right there, yeah? That deep?” The husk of his voice rumbles just above you, the pad of his thumb skimming over the skin below your belly button, eyes crinkling at the way you whimper out soft frantic mhm!’s when he adds pressure. His grin is from ear to ear, the sigh he lets out dreamy and adoring. “yeaahhh.”

He’s only smug for so long, however, with the way your eager hole was sucking him in, milking him like you wanted to siphon his soul out his body via cock. Satoru leans down as a string of curses tumbles from his lips with a groan, sweat-slick chest meeting yours as his hands scramble to find your legs once more. Blunt nails dig into your flesh as he forces them up next to either side of your head, effectively folding you in half like a goddamn lawn chair. The change in angle has you keening as he rammed into that gummy spot inside you, with no less accuracy the other 6 times he’s made you cum tonight.

“shit, shit, yer so… mmh’fuck ‘can’t think— needa cum s’bad,” He quite literally whines as you barrel over that peak, his mouth latching to yours to share your muffled moans as he follows suit. His hips stutter against yours as he spills inside of you, before he goes still entirely, the both of you riding the waves of the ebbing high until he collapses atop you- and with how exhausted you both are, it’s undoubtedly the last one tonight.

Or at least one of you is bone-tired. After a few minutes of Satoru floating in the afterglow, he’s littering affectionate wet kisses all across your face, offering you praise of what a good job you did for him as he eases your legs back down and kneads your hips- having the audacity to tease you with the idea of juuuust one more round. HELL no. He gets the memo when you weakly kick at him, but it doesn’t stop him from chuckling at your incredulous expression as he slides his softening shaft out of you.

His snowy bangs still stick to his brow as he rises from the bed with a grunt, making a show of stretching, cracking stiff joints, and flexing muscles before returning to your side with a warm washcloth. He’s still all smiles and chipper beaming as he tenderly cleans in between your legs, biting his lip to stifle himself from blabbing out about how much pride he felt seeing you like this- it’d probably fluster you into chiding him if you saw the goofy ass expression he was making. Not that you were really paying any mind; your eyelids fluttering closed every other minute and about ready to conk out.

“Y’know what sounds good right now though?” Satoru chirped out of the blue, yanking you back from the cusp of slumber.

“Some fro-yo. Maybe strawberry- with chocolate chips, gummy bears, marshmallows, cookie dough, and a fuckton of rainbow sprinkles. Cherry on top, of course,” He’d ramble off his abominable go-to order as his hand absentmindedly wandered to trace soothing patterns against one of your knees. You’re just dumbfounded at how he could possibly be fantasizing about frozen yogurt right now; limp-dicked and in his birthday suit after he just fucked you into next Tuesday. “God, my mouth’s watering just thinkin’ about it.”

“I know a 24 hour fro-yo spot. It’s only, like…a 20-ish minute drive?” He’d muse, sapphire eyes redirecting from the ceiling and back to you. When he caught your flabbergasted expression he’d coyly duck his head and bat his frosty lashes at you, as if that was about to convince you. You wondered if you could even walk, or if maybe you’d need at least 5-8 business days to recuperate.

“Doesn’t that sound good, hm? You up for it, angel?”

a/n: craving a ben&jerry’s cherry garcia🤤 also i hate him a lot today. like so much 😒 but i gotta finish writing this Ino thing for a diff thing so im forcing myself to resist writing Gojo. Instead i will say, “i hate him”;

I hate him.

have a wonderful day and do something nice for yourself! 🫶🏽

[gfmima]

category : 米哈游 原神 work title : another woman claims to be his girlfriend?

with a subtle bow of your head, you raise the teacup to your awaiting lips, a veil of porcelain disguising the laughter that threatened to escape. how absurd… you muse, as you savor a sip of your tea.

far across — two tables away, there sits one of the new acts of lyney and lynette’s show. she was interesting, to say the least. she sings tall tales with intricate detail, weaving major falsehoods about the nature of her relationship with him.

her words describe his love confession, demanding they be together because he couldn’t bear a day without her. she didn’t fail to mention how his sister adores her and refers to her as ‘my future sister-in-law.’

the outlandish narrative lasts with an overt nudge about his frequent visits to her dressing room after every show, which you tune out due to its unsavory implications.

most women would have risen from their seats, confronting her for spewing fantasies about their lover; not you, though. instead, you stay rooted in your place, your curiosity piqued for what else she might spin.

you were engrossed, and if you were to be fully honest, you would’ve readily admit to the guilty pleasure of eavesdropping on the mundane conversations of strangers. your penchant for gossip was shared with your lover, turning it into an unusual pastime. it was a fun exchange of information over cups of coffee or tea, normally ending with one of you left scandalized by what was said. archons, were you excited to tell him about what you overhead…

“do you swear not to say a word about this to another living soul?” her voice hushed to a near whisper, but it still carries to those within earshot.

“of course! right, ladies?” one of the women quips, with the other two chiming in agreement, creating a chorus of “yes!” and “we’ll keep quiet!”

“if you say so…” she takes a deep breath, as if the weight of her revelation was a heavy burden about to be lifted. “lyney and i are dating…” her shoulders then turn slack, exhibiting the instant wave of relief that washes over her.

you couldn’t help it; a snort of amusement passes your lips. it earned you a few disapproving glances from the nearby patrons, chastising your lack of propriety in a public setting.

she embarks on an exhausting tangent, yakking on the long months she had to weather before she could have confided in her dear friends about her supposed private affair.

she emphasized how lyney insisted on maintaining it under wraps for over a year — eh, wrong! the twins met her for the first time five months ago — out of his desire to protect her from the clutches of obsessed fans and admirers.

the longer she spoke, the closer her stories cross into more ridiculous territory. at one point, she spun a yarn about his grandiose profession of love for their anniversary, including dedicating an entire routine inspired by her.

however, what left you scratching your head was the lack of skepticism from her friends. a quick read of her body language would’ve shone a light at her deception. it had you questioning whether you had somehow gone mad or if they were genuinely as dim-witted as they seemed.

“i knew it! no wonder you’ve been smiling a lot  lately!”

“ah, i’m so jealous~! sigh, he’s such a handsome man.”

“so romantic… i wish that was me!”

assessing the present circumstances, one might figure you would now reveal all of her lies. you didn’t. rather, you found yourself more inclined to watch and observe how this fiasco will play out.

you trust lyney, enough to know he loves you and wouldn’t pursue another woman behind your back, especially a woman he and his sister worked with. it allowed you to cast aside your initial worries about her and her interest in him. regardless of your opinion, she did her job well, even though you secretly wished she wasn’t so uncomfortably obsessed with him — a notion she made no effort to hide.

clearly, given what you were witnessing.

“oh, look, ladies! here he comes!” one of their voices pierces the air, overtly eager to see the ‘happy couple’ they were led to believe. conversely, lyney’s self-proclaimed lover appears to be positively distraught.

the man in question enters cafe lucerne, his gaze firmly laid on you. he shows little to no mind towards the group of women who shadow his every move. he walks by and greets you with a kiss on the cheek, taking the vacant chair in front of you.

“and how was your day, ma belle?” he removes his hat then runs his fingers through his hair — a simple gesture that left you swooning.

his charming demeanor momentarily distracts you from the comedic disaster unfolding in the background.

it was a tumultuous stir of “huh… who’s that?” and “gasp, is he cheating on you?” while the two of you converse in mindless chatter. one second, he was recounting his chores for the day; and the next, three indignant women loom over him whereas the source of this mayhem cowers in the back.

“ugh, the audacity to have a mistress and meet her in broad daylight! you have no shame!”

he glances from you to them, genuine bewilderment etched upon his face. “i beg your pardon?”

“oh, don’t play dumb! you know exactly what you’re doing!” another of the women upturns her nose at him.

witnessing the heated back-and-forth, it was remarkable to find that even arouet was invested in the drama.

it transforms into a three-versus-one impasse, but you were impressed by how gracefully he navigated through their baseless accusations. the culmination of the situation came when recognized his ‘lover’ and didn’t hesitate to call her by name, pressing answers for the lies she’d been spreading to her friends.

“i think you’ve all been misled, the only woman i’m seeing is this lovely one right here.” he turns then directs the gentlest of smiles at you.

unable to resist the itch, you finally laugh at the sudden turn of events. karma was indeed on the prowl, and to be a bystander for the incoming argument after she made a fool out of her friends, just to feed her delusion, was gratifying… for one of you, at least.

“care to tell me what just happened?” lyney tuts, his fingers extending across the table to grasp your hand in his, urging to draw your focus on him.

“later,” you mutter, absorbed by the evolving spectacle. it’s obvious you both will spend the whole evening discussing this…

from the very start, you weren’t one to rejoice in having any eyes on you. it was natural your bond with the one and only wanderer flourished discreetly.

this change in your life required no announcement. it wasn’t information that demanded broadcasting to the world; it could exist on its own if someone were to ask, you’d directly confirm the status of your relationship. otherwise, you find it irrelevant to insert this in areas where it held no relevance.

in the comfort of your solitude, you thrive, cocooned from nosy onlookers. your happiness, his happiness — these two were what truly mattered to you.

as time flowed by, your connection deepened, evolving into a union that grew stronger with each passing moment you shared. it was a sensation both of you held dear, a genuine and keen emotion that, if you dare to admit, could be called ‘love.’

of course, you weren’t ignorant to assume that your journey would be obstacle-free. beyond his undeniable intellect and esteemed role as the assistant and confidant of the dendro archon, he also began to draw attention for his otherworldly beauty.

you were aware that you might coming across his admirers one day. after all, you weren’t oblivious to the wistful glances sent his way by other women, nor the coy attempts at flirtation. still, you hadn’t taken into account the unusual lengths some individuals would go to win even a sliver of his time and attention.

it was painful to watch their efforts be met with a scoff or a withering frown. on a good day, they might receive nothing more than a mocking, “what do you want now?” from him.

on a sun-drenched afternoon, you find yourself perched on the steps leading to the sanctuary of surasthana whilst you await his return from his meeting with lesser lord kusanali.

yet, the tranquility of the sacred place was soon interrupted by an unexpected revelation — you weren’t alone. a trio of researchers positioned themselves near the entrance, their presence blends into the revered location, evoking no more notice than the everyday sights that surround you.

the sunlight dances upon your skin as you, absentmindedly, fiddle with your bracelet, a habit that had taken root over the years. the food container you had brought stays on your lap, and you can feel its warmth gradually dissipate. a frown on your face as you whisper a plea that he arrives before the snacks you prepared grew cold.

your gaze strays and locks onto one of the women standing nearby. suspicion dripped from her eyes, it lingers far longer than you liked. at first, you considered it a peculiar coincidence — perhaps she mistook you for someone else she knew?

unable to contain her curiosity, she approaches you with an air of authority, disregarding her friends’ endeavors to stop her from creating a scene.

“state your business,” she dictates, her tone icy.

you stand unwavering, refusing to yield an inch in the face of her bid to intimidate you. “if you must know, i’m here for wanderer.”

your words invoke a profound reaction within her, it coursed through her like an attack. “well, save your breath and don’t waste your time bothering him.”

“why not? who even are you to tell me what i should do and shouldn’t do?” your cadence steady and colder than hers, a testament to the time you spent with your dear wanderer — it seems to be paying off.

you expected her to either insult you or begin a monologue about her superiority as a researcher, but her reply took you by surprise.

“i’m his lover, duh! i don’t appreciate you flirting with him.” then, in a single motion, she confiscates the container from your grasp.

glances were exchanged amongst her peers, who advance to mediate the interaction. one of them pulls her away and positions himself between you. “i’m sorry for her behavior, miss. her sleep deprivation has her spouting nonsense.”

“i am not! there are clear signs he feels the same way. we’re dating; he’s just very reserved about his emotions.”

before it can escalate further, a familiar voice slices through the tension like a blade. “where have you been?” he chides, as he descends the steps.

beneath his hat, you spy the glaring discontent he directs at these strangers for taking your time away from him.

when your eyes locks, his gaze softens. the sour expression dissolves and was replaced by a flicker of warmth. you offer a reassuring smile in his direction, a gesture that noticeably eases his mind.

he was a stride away from you when she, flaunting a smirk, stops in front of him. you lay a hand over your lips to quash your laughter after spotting the look of disgust he tosses at her.

“wanderer, honey!” she tries to touch his arm but fails when he sidesteps her. “don’t worry, i already handled this pest to lessen the burden for y—”

“who are you?” he sneers, and the haughty look on her face instantly disappears. she attempts to stutter a response, an effort to remind her title as his lover, but his menacing gaze he wore silences her.

“moreso, who are you to advise my wife what to do?”

eh? his wife?

“your wife?!” her friends turn pale, realization dawning upon them. they shiver at the thought of unintentionally crossing him, all thanks to her behavior.

“i-i just thought…”

“well, you thought wrong; know your place.” in a last display of irritation, he shoots them a cutting glare. then, he seizes the food container from her grip, his fingers then intertwine with yours as he guides you away from them.

as you walk away hand-in-hand, you cast a quick glance at her and stick your tongue out to mock her.

“i saw that,” he snickers and tugs you along, nearly causing you to stumble, “and you say i’m mean.”

“don’t get all smart, you called me your wife earlier.”

“shut up! it was meant to end the conversation early.”

[httpsserene]

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

view replies

oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

© httpsserene2023

[lildiva00]

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

[irndad]

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

[mlyscha]

❝ 𝒟𝖺𝖿𝗎𝖼? ❞

( ENHYPEN ── 𝒻𝗼𝗿. 𝓣IKTOK. ) » ℐ𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 . . . you came across a trend where you say "dafuc" after every single sentence that comes out of your mouth. 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 : crack, trendy. 𝓌𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌! none. ( 𝗐𝖼. 16OO ) 𝓮𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮' … 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋-𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 ༘ . 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

𝒶-𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. oh my god. oh my god oh my gooooddd thank you guys for all the support on my last posts◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜i'm so happy and thankful <3 also, i've never had crumbl cookie before so idk if riki's part is accurate or not but... 😜

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍! ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾&𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀&𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

𝒽eeseung ( 희승 )

"OKAY, SO, MY BOYFRIEND IS gonna rate these sylvanian families i got this week, dafuc," you spoke to the camera while holding a small box filled with the little cute characters. heeseung nodded to the camera, waving at it. "alright, pick one from this box and rate them," "okay-" "dafuc!" "wha... okay, this one is... a rabbit..?" you nodded. "yes, it is," "um... i'll rate this a..." "dafuc!" your boyfriend looks at you funny, frowning as a grin began to spread across his face. "what are you doing?" "what? dafuc..." "there! why do you keep saying that?" "saying what? i am just making you rate my new sylvanian families, babe," "you're playing with me," "dafuc!- no i'm not, dafuc," heeseung threw the little rabbit and it landed in the box you were holding. "babe! dafuc?! rate my-" "i know what you're doing, you little thing-" "AH!" you squealed when your boyfriend suddenly jumped against your body, holding you close and giving your neck subtle bites. and then he would say something like: "yeah, dafuc, dafuc!" with that big grin of his while hearing your laughter.

𝒿ongseong ( 제이 )

"HEY GUYS, SO, MY BOYFRIEND is gonna rate and review my new purse! dafuc. i bought her yester-" "what was that?" jongseong snapped his head at you after the sudden change in your tone. "i don't know what you are talking about," you held his shoulders, moving him to fit the camera's frame better. "okay, anyway guys, i bought this beautiful purse yesterday and i'm obsessed! dafuc!" he ignores. "just to clarify some things: this purse is y/n's boyfriend sponsored, 'kay?" you rolled your eyes behind him, hearing his amused chuckle. "okay, this purse is nice and feels good quality," "what else? dafuc!" "um..." ignores again, just giving you a amused and subtle side eye. "the colour is great and it might fit lots of things in here..." he analyses the purse's inside. "it's cute and it suits you really well, i'm glad i were part of this," in a comic way, jongseong bowed at the camera, giving your purse back to you acting in the same way.

you ended up ending the video after a brief goodbye; "babe, didn't you notice anything off?" "mhm? what exactly?" "ugh... nothing..." you were just about to walk out of the room when you heard your boyfriend's shout: "dafuc!" "babe!"

𝒿aeyun ( 제이크 )

JAEYUN IS ALWAYS AMUSED BY everything you do. you know that videos of golden retrievers just adoring their owner? that's definitely him. "and today my beautiful boyfriend- "it's me!" his aussie accent echoed, making you giggle a little. "anyway, yeah, he's gonna review this new lip gloss i bought a few days ago, dafuc! here you go." you handed him the lip gloss. "what should i rate?" "um... the smell, the feel..." "oh, okay," "dafuc!" "mhm... i like the smell, it is not very fruity but still sweet, is good." the gave the camera a thumbs up. "can you apply it so i can taste it and feel it?" "sure, dafuc." you couldn't ignore jaeyun's pouty face while waiting for you to apply it. "can i kiss you now? please, please, pleeeeeasee?" "yeah," you giggled, cupping his cheeks. "dafuc," you spoke before smacking his lips. "that's all?" "mhm-hm," you nodded. "how petty," he complained. jaeyun licked his lips tasting the lip gloss. "mhm... is not that good actually," "it isn't?! dafuc?"

suddenly your boyfriend just stared at you, confused yet curious about your actions. "what? dafuc...?" "there! why do you keep saying that?~" he whined while giggling, hugging you right after realising you were playing with him. "you're so silly, y'know that?"

𝓈unghoon ( 성훈 )

"HEY BABES" FIRST SIDE EYE. "so, today i brought my boyfriend and he's gonna rate some new clothing i bought this week; dafuc!" "y/n," "mhm?" "why do you call your followers 'babes'?" "tsk, it's just a pet name, you're my ultimate baby, 'kay? dafuc..." you smiled at him and you noticed a small smirk appearing on the corner of his lips; even blushing a little. you chuckled before speaking: "okay, so the first clothing piece is this cute skirt~ dafuc~" "isn't it way too short?" "no is not, feel the fabric and rate it bae, dafuc." second side eye. "it is still short but is cute and suits you really well, i like it." sunghoon nodded while analysing the skirt. "'kay, and...? dafuc," "i rate it a 5/10." "alright," you nodded your head, agreeing with him. "fair enough, dafuc," third side eye. "this next piece is one of my favourites, it is so pretty and ugh, perfect, dafuc." you hid it before bringing it out. "are you ready; dafuc?" fourth side eye followed by a subtle nod. "yes i am, dafuc...?" he mimicked you, kind of confused making you giggled. "tadaaaa~ dafuc~" a beautiful flowy dress was revealed. "it is indeed pretty, i like it baby, 9.5/10." "oh~ dafuc!" and that was his last side eye before the confrontation.

"why'd you keep saying that earlier?" "that...? what?" "the dafuc thing." "it is just a trend babe, like a joke, you know?" you spoke between a fit of laughter. "oh... yeah, i knew it." he pursed his lips, giving you a very last side eye. ― he'll probably search the definition of this word a few minutes later.

𝓈unoo ( 선우 )

"HI EVERYONE, SO, TODAY MY boyfriend is going to review and rate some of the halloween costumes i've worn over the years, let's get started; dafuc!" sunoo sides eye you for a second, kind of annoyed by your sudden shout, but kept smiling. you abled the green screen video on the tiktok camera and began to search for your halloween costume photos. "alright, so this is the first one, dafuc!" sunoo just looks at you with a curious but amused big grin, almost like he was laughing at your silly action. "um, i would rate this costume an... 8? i think 8.5, it's not good but it's not bad either." he shrugged and you nodded, agreeing with him.

you replaced the last picture with another one, a different costume. "alright babe, i love this costume i think i ate this fit up so rate it carefully, dafuc...!" "um..." he sides eyes you, confused this time by another one of your shouts. "i think i like it...? it's actually really cute, i lied, i like it so much; i actually loved it, babe, oh my god you look so good in this dress, wow..." "awn... thank you babe~ dafuc~" you heard sunoo sigh before covering the camera with his hand. "okay, what are you doing right now?" "what'd you mean?" you pretended to be actually intrigued. "dafuc?" "that! that! why are you saying that after everything you say? should i do it too?"

𝒿ungwon ( 정원 )

"HI GUYS, SO TODAY I brought my boyfriend; say hi, dafuc..." you whispered. "oh, yeah, hi!" jungwon waved at the camera, showing off his dimples while smiling. "and today wonnie' gonna rate my cooking skills, dafuc! because i made a-" "wait," your boyfriend's fit of laughter began to echo. "what was that? the- the- 'dafuc!' thing?" "i don't know what you are talking about," you brush it off. "um, so, i made a beautiful and delicious cheesecake, 'kay, baby, taste it~ dafuc." he stops laughing and cuts a slice of it and takes a spoonful. "mhm! i'ts very good!" "really?! thank you, wonnie, dafuc!" jungwon starts laughing again and you knew why, but kept your poker face. "what? something wrong with the cheesecake?" "not with the cheesecake, but with you, baby," finishing taking a few sips on his water, he looks at you after almost chocking on his dessert. "you are so weird with this dafuc thing..." "um... okay? anyway, how much would you rate it? dafuc." "out of ten?" "yeah, out of ten dafuc," "a nine." he shrugs. "WHAT? WHY DAFUC?" "because the one who made this is weird," "you're done, jungwon." "... aren't you gonna say the word?"

𝓇iki ( 니키 )

"HEY Y/NNIES, SO, TODAY I brought my boyfriend and we are going to rate this week's crumbl cookies, are you ready baby? dafuc..." "yeah," he nods, checking himself out on the camera. "stop checking yourself out, dafuc?" riki sighs, sitting back on his chair. "are you excited, babes?" "i actually am, i've never had these i just saw them on my for you page sometimes, so..." "yeah, riki never had these so.. let's get started i guess; dafuc." riki gives you a discreet side eye, squinting his eyes at the camera mocking you while you opened the box. "and for our today's crumbl of the week we have... chocolate chip, a... butter cake? i think it is; a peanut butter one, the original pink sugar cookie, a strawberry cupcake and the new york cheesecake cookie, dafuc!" "what was that?" "what do you mean?" you whisper, kind of ignoring him.

"okay baby, which one you want to try first? dafuc!" side eye. "um... this one...?" he points to the strawberry cupcake flavoured cookie. "alright, this is the strawberry cupcake, dafuc." you handed him the cookie, waiting for his reaction. riki bit it and handed the cookie back to you. "what do you think?" you asked after taking a bite out of it. "i dunno..." he shrugs, scrunching his nose. "'kay guys, i forgot to mention riki doesn't really like these sugary things ― slash ― cookies, so... dafuc, yeah, but, how'd you rate it?" "4 dafucs and a half."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆ 24.

[d-targaryenshoe]

To Protect And Adore - Aegon II Targaryen

Word Count: 1219

Summary: Queen nor a Princess shall threaten an unborn child, should they? Most surely not if it's the king's child.

The dragonfire flickered and danced in the hearth, casting long shadows across the walls of the Red Keep.

You sat in the dim light, your hands protectively cradling your swollen belly.

The child within you was a secret you had kept for as long as possible, but the inevitable truth could no longer be hidden.

You were with Aegon's child, a fact that could change many lives.

Aegon Targaryen, the king, had taken you as his mistress at the time when his marriage to Helaena had been strained and loveless.

You were no noblewoman, but your beauty and grace had caught the eye of the dragon king.

What began as a passionate affair soon deepened into something more, and now, you carried the heir to the throne within you.

But with Helaena's tragic death, the court was rife with intrigue and whispers.

Power was up for grabs, and the position of queen was vacant.

As you sat in the quiet of your chambers, a knock at the door disrupted your thoughts.

Before you could respond, the door swung open and Alicent Hightower swept into the room.

Her face was a mask of cold fury.

"Y/n," she began, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "You should not have allowed this to happen."

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. "Your Grace," you said, bowing your head slightly. "I did not intend for any of this."

Alicent's eyes narrowed. "Yet here we are. You are carrying my son's child, a bastard that will only bring disgrace and scandal to this house."

You felt a surge of protectiveness for your unborn child. "He is Aegon's son, and nothing will change that."

Alicent stepped closer, her expression growing darker. "You are a fool if you think I will permit this child to live. There are ways to deal with such inconveniences."

Fear gripped you, but you stood your ground. "You would not dare harm your grandchild."

Alicent's smile was chilling. "You underestimate me. If you value your life and that of your child, you will leave and never return."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to show weakness. "Aegon will protect us. He loves me, and he will not stand for this."

Alicent laughed, a cold, bitter sound.

"Aegon is weak. He is ruled by his desires, not his mind. But you are correct about one thing, he will protect you, at least for now. But even he cannot disobey me forever."

With that, Alicent turned and swept out of the room, leaving you trembling and alone.

You knew you had to tell Aegon, but fear for his reaction and what it might cost him stayed in your hand for a moment.

You could not put it off any longer.

The next morning, you went to his chambers.

Aegon was lounging on his bed, a goblet of wine in his hand.

His violet eyes lit up when he saw you, but his smile faded when he saw your expression.

"What is it?" he asked, setting the goblet aside and rising to his feet.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Aegon, I need to tell you something. Your mother... she threatened me and our child. She told me to leave or she would... she would see to it that our child did not survive."

Aegon's face darkened with fury. "She said that? To you?"

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I am frightened, Aegon. I do not know what to do."

Aegon's hands clenched into fists, and he turned away, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"She has gone too far this time," he muttered. "I will not let her harm you or our child."

He strode towards the door, and you hurried after him. "Aegon, please, do not do anything rash. She is your mother."

He turned to you, his eyes blazing. "She may be my mother, but she has overstepped her limits. No one threatens my family. No one."

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving you to follow in his wake.

You found Alicent in the throne room, deep in conversation with one of her advisors.

She looked up, startled, as Aegon burst in.

"Aegon, what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, rising to her feet.

Aegon strode up to her, his face a mask of fury. "You threatened y/n and our child," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You think you can control me, manipulate me, but you are mistaken. I will not let you hurt them."

Alicent's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your mother, and I know what is best for this kingdom. That child is a threat to everything we have created."

Aegon took a step closer, pressing a finger to his mother's chest. "You do not get to decide who lives and who dies. I am the king, and I will protect those I love. If you ever threaten y/n or our child again, I will see to it that you are punished for this."

Alicent's face paled. "You would not dare."

Aegon grabbed her arm, his grip firm. "Try me."

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then Alicent wrenched her arm free and took a step back, her expression one of fury and disbelief.

"You will regret this, Aegon," she spat. "You are making a mistake."

Aegon shook his head. "The only mistake I made was not standing up to you sooner. Y/n is carrying my child, and I will marry her. She will be queen, and our child will be the heir to the throne."

Alicent's eyes widened with shock. "You cannot be serious. The nobles will never accept her."

Aegon turned to you, who had been standing silently by his side.

He took your hand and looked into your eyes. "I am very serious. I love her, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her and our child."

Your heart swelled with love and gratitude.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, you knew you would face whatever came together.

Aegon was willing to fight his mother, and risk everything, for your love and your child.

Alicent stood there, her face a mask of fury and disbelief. "You are a fool, Aegon. This will be your undoing."

Aegon turned back to her, his expression hard. "If protecting my family is my undoing, then so be it. I will not be a puppet for you to bear. This is my decision, and it is final."

With that, he led you out of the throne room, leaving Alicent to fume in silence.

As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, Aegon squeezed your hand.

"Do not worry," he said softly. "I will keep you safe. No one will harm you or our child."

You nodded, tears of relief streaming down your face. "I know. I trust you."

Together, you faced the uncertain future, your love and determination stronger than ever.

Despite the challenges and dangers ahead, you knew you could overcome anything as long as you were together.

Aegon's promise to protect his family was a vow that would never be broken, and your love would become the foundation of a new era for the Targaryen dynasty.

[munsonsmixtapes]

It's So Easy to Bite With Your Hands Pinned

Eddie Munson x inexperienced!fem!reader

summary: it’s Eddie’s birthday, but you’re the one who gets the gift. 

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) bondage, blindfolding, nipple play, body worship, oral (f receiving) breeding kink, cockwarming, fingering, finger sucking, dom!eddie

part one part two part three

You anxiously awaited Eddie’s arrival as you sat in your living room, wearing nothing but a robe. You had no idea what was going to happen, but what you did know was that you were wanting to give him a show. Now only did you want to thank him for everything he had shown you so far, but you also wanted to make his birthday feel special, feeling honored that he had wanted to spend the day with you. 

The front door unlocked and your nerves were at an all time high once he opened it, standing there in a sheer shirt that showed off his tattoos  very nicely. It was accompanied by a very tight pair of leather pants and in that moment, you swore that the man was trying to kill you with his looks. He pulled you in for a kiss and you tried your best to hold back a moan, realizing just how much you always missed kissing him when he wasn’t around. 

“Happy birthday,” you told him. “Are you ready for your gift or do you want it later?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and 

Eddie couldn’t help but notice just how good you had gotten at seducing him. He was so close to having his way with you right there, but he restrained himself. 

“Well, I actually have something for you,” he said, holding out a small, light green gift bag. 

You looked at the thing in his outstretched hand then back up at him, seeing that he wasn’t able to hide that adorable smile. You were confused as to why he had gotten something for you when it was his birthday. 

“Why did you get me a gift?”

“It’ll all make sense when you open it.” You slowly pulled the tissue out of the bag as you eyed him, seeing his own lighting up with mischief and you were almost afraid to see what was inside. You then reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of silk, looking up at Eddie in confusion.

"There's more," he said and you reached into the bag one more time and pulled out what looked like a piece of black rope. You thought about it for a second and Eddie's smile quickly turned into a smirk once he saw that you understood what he meant.

"I think this is the best gift I've ever gotten," you told him as you held your gifts in your hands.

"I thought you might think so," he replied, placing his arm across your shoulders, turning towards the hallway that led to your bedroom. "Now let's make use of them, shall we?"

Eddie led you to your room and you couldn't help but notice how quickly he was moving, clearly excited about the events that were about to take place. As soon as he got you inside, he slammed the door behind it, pushing you up against it before his lips found yours.

The kiss was hot and messy, Eddie taking no time to slide his tongue into your mouth, letting out a gasp as you brought it between your lips giving it a hard suck. You did it one more time and felt yourself getting wet just by hearing his whine.

He pulled away before your were ready and felt his cock hardening just by seeing your lust-filled eyes. God, you were so irresistible and you didn't even have to try. It was unfair just as it was hot.

"You gonna unwrap your gift now?" You asked, your tone sultry. Your hands moved to the bow you had tied with belt of your robe to keep it closed, but Eddie got to it first, pulling it slowly as a way to tease you and tried his best to hold back a laugh at your frustration.

Eddie pulled the belt from your robe completely and the thing fell open, revealing your naked body and Eddie let out a dramatic gasp as he took you in. He was mesmerized by your looks, his breath completely taken away by how you looked even though he had seen your naked body more times than he could count by then.

He pulled you to him gently, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that was nothing but teeth and tongues, filthy sounding moans leaving both of your mouths as Eddie pushed the robe from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap behind you.

He then grabbed onto your hips and pushed you down onto the bed, pulling the blindfold and rope from your hand as he did so. You scooted back so you were lying flat, your head just inches away from the head board.

Eddie followed you, quick to take one of your wrists and pinning them to the headboard, tying them together as they pressed against one of the poles.

He then took the blindfold and slowly moved it towards your face, giving you plenty of time to back out. Once he was sure that you were okay, even making you say it, he put the blindfold over your eyes and you lifted your head so he could tie it at the back of your head.

You stayed quiet, your heart racing in your chest as excitement coursed through you. You had never experienced anything like that before and were glad that it was Eddie who was introducing you to it. He had been nothing but gentle the whole time. Well, with his words, not so much his actions.

“When one of your senses is removed, your other ones get stronger, more sensitive. So I’m gonna test them out, see just how sensitive they are. Now you just sit back, relax, and tell me what you enjoy, hm?”

“O-okay,” you responded and waited for him to get started.

“Good girl,” was all he responded before leaning down, pressing his lips to yours once again. You were focused on the way he tasted, like cigarettes and the minty gum he always chewed to cover it up.

Before you could get another taste, though, his lips moved from yours, migrating to your cheek, the kisses featherlight and gentle before he went in for your neck, reaching up and moving your head to the side to give him more room.

The kisses were soft at first as he warmed you up, wanting to give you an appetizer, just a little taste of the main course. He then began to suck, light little movements to show that he could also be sweet and gentle. But that was quickly shattered when he went in with his teeth, letting them scrape along you skin, hard enough to make you gasp, but light enough as to not break the skin.

He continued and your eyes shut even tighter as more moans fell from your lips. How could he not when you sounded so hot? He wanted to keep going until you came. He wanted to see just how many times he could get you off that night. How many times he could get your absolutely delicious moans to fill his ears.

And then you whined, making Eddie’s cock twitch, feeling it harder even more. He was convinced that was his favorite sound of yours, the noise signifying that you wanted more but couldn’t get yourself to say it. And when you eventually did ask? Oh, he was absolutely done for. Wrecked even.

“More,” you whined. “Harder.”

“As you wish,” he replied and the moan that left your mouth as he slid his teeth across your skin was borderline pornographic.

“More,” you demanded, and why was he to say no? He bit down this time, hard and you gasped, focusing on the feeling of his teeth scraping against your neck. He had done it before, but this time it was different. It felt more intense, much better than it ever had with him previously.

Eddie then diffused the sting with his tongue, gliding it all along the forming bruise before going it for one more suck as another loud, filthy moan spilled from your lips.

He pulled away, admiring his work while simultaneously watching you orgasm underneath him. The noises mixed with the way you were holding onto him and how well you were adapting to being blindfolded, jesus, he was just living one of his wet dreams.

Eddie then leaned down his lips right by the shell of your ear and he blew into it, loving the way you squirmed underneath him, bringing your shoulder up to your ear to get rid of the weird sensation.

Once your ear was exposed again, he leaned down, bringing his lips closer. “Look at you, doing so well and we’ve barely even gotten started,” he whispered and the breath passing his lips felt so intense against your ear that you actually felt goosebumps forming on your skin.

“Then what was that?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Honey you know that was just the appetizer,” he chuckled, the gust of air making you shiver slightly. “All of this had just been the warm up. And you’re doing so well. Responding to my every move. Such a good girl for daddy. I think you deserve a little treat for that.”

Once he was done speaking, his gave your earlobe a little nibble then pulled away, moving lower, pressing kisses to every inch he could find. He was going to show you just how beautiful he thought you were. That wasn’t exactly his thing, but he decided that it was what you deserved. He needed you to know exactly what he thought about you and he was going to show you the only way he knew how since he wasn’t exactly great with words outside of the bedroom.

He brought his hand up and began to massage one of your nipples, his ears perking up as he heard yet another gasp fall from your lips. It wasn’t getting old, in fact, he loved to hear it, how sensitive you were to every little thing now that one of your senses was taken away.

He could feel that it was already hard and he smiled to himself as he thought about taken it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it as you came and came until you didn’t have anymore in you. Until you were begging him to stop because you were too tired to put out anymore.

So he brought your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it at first, feeling your hands fisting his shirt as he began to suck hard, harder than he had on your neck. You were moaning already and he had barely even done anything. Oh, this was going to be a fun night.

You were itching to scratch down his back to let him know how much you were enjoying yourself. Everything felt so intense and you were living for it. This was the most you had ever felt alive in a long time. Steve would have never been down for a thing like that. It would have been too adventurous, too weird.

Just as you were getting used to the feeling of his tongue, he bit down, harder than he had on your neck, causing a wince to fall from your lips and he immediately stopped, pulling away to make sure he hadn’t hurt you.

“Do it again,” you commanded.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Hadn’t he just hurt you?

“Do it. Again.”

Eddie hesitantly lowered his head down to your tit once more, bringing your nipple into his mouth once more and biting down just as he had before. Your loudest moan yet fell from your lips as your back arched, signaling to Eddie that you had reached your first of many orgasms that night.

“That was amazing, babygirl,” he complimented. “Need to hear that sound again. Wanna make it for me?” All you could do was nod but that wasn’t good enough for Eddie. He needed verbal consent. “Use your words.”

“Yes, please,” you begged and Eddie took no time to move to your other nipple, biting down on it, eliciting another moan from you, this one even louder. He pulled away just in time to watch you come again and decided that he’d never get tired of watching you like that.

The way your mouth fell open, the lovely sounds that spilled from it and it the way you were always holding onto something for dear life, whether it be his shirt, bare back, or even the sheets. But his favorite part was how your back always arched without fail, how your toes always curled as it all coursed through you. The entire thing would live in his head forever and that was exactly the way he liked it.

“Need your cock, Eddie,” you whined. “Need it so bad.” When you were whining like that, how could he have possibly said no?

“Alright, chill out,” he commanded. “I’m gonna give it to you, gonna fuck you until you’re crying on my cock and then I’m gonna eat your cunt, lick up every single bit of my cum out of you and then I’m gonna lick you absolutely clean.” His tone mixed with his words were making you absolutely soaked. If those were his plans, you had no objections. The whole thing sounded so hot.

“Gonna get undressed, okay?” He asked and you just nodded, waiting patiently, going over all your past interactions in your mind to keep yourself occupied.

“Okay,” you replied and he began to pull his clothes off in record speed, wanting to go ahead and get to it, but also wanting to not keep you waiting.

Once he was naked, he grabbed onto your waist, giving each side a little pinch which made you yelp in surprise. He then lined himself up with you, but paused, looking up at you to make sure that you were ready.

“You ready, hon?”

“So ready. Please just do it.” And so he pushed himself inside you, taking no time to pound into you, his ears picking up on the squelching coming from your cunt. Jesus, had you been that wet before.

“You’re soaked,” he pointed out and you were suddenly feeling embarrassed, your cheeks burning and apparently Eddie had picked up on it. “No, no, it was a compliment, baby. Just means I’m doing my job right,” he winked even though you couldn’t see him.

He continued to pound into you, eating up the moans that were falling from your mouth, those being what kept him going. The very thing that always made him hard as a rock without fail. He watched your mouth fall open, wishing he could see your eyes since he loved how expressive they were, how he could see exactly what you had been thinking just by looking into them. 

You bucked your hips against his as best you could as you the moans that were coming from both of your mouths mixed together into the air. Your ears were tuned into the sound of the springs squeaking underneath the two of and the squelching on your sopping wet pussy that Eddie was fucking into with so much force, pushing all of himself into you to the point where you thought you were going to split a the seams. And wouldn’t have that been a such great way to go? 

But you could take it and you were, Eddie’s raspy voice filling your ears as he told you as much, cheering you on, letting you know just how good you were doing, that you were so close to earning your treat, even though the whole thing was starting to feel like one. It was his birthday and he was the one giving you a gift. Now you were beginning the one you had for him to wasn’t as good even though he assured you that it was the best he had ever received. 

“Look at you,” he said through labored breaths. “All fucked out and you haven’t even come yet. Let’s see just how many times you can before you’re absolutely spent. And wow, you’re almost there,” he pointed out with a devilish smirk, seeing your mouth opening wide as a loud almost scream came from it. “Come on, baby, just a little more-that’s it.” 

You were reaching your second orgasm and Eddie kept up his pace as he talked you through it, never being able to keep his damn mouth shut, especially not in the bedroom. And as you collapsed against the mattress, you begged him to keep going, not ready to give up quite yet. You needed him inside you for just a little longer, for the rest of the night and into the morning if you had it your way. You’d go multiple rounds and then afterwards he’d clean the both of you up and pull you into his arms while you both slept the day away, going at it again as soon as you woke. 

“That’s one,” he said, his lips brushing yours, his thumbs digging into your skin and you wanted him to do it harder, silently begging for the pain. “How many more, baby?” He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Two?” Another. “Three?” Another. “Maybe five? Or is that just wishful thinking?” He pulled you in for another, this time slotting his lips between yours, this one more gentle than he ever had been before. It was a kiss that was shared between lovers and the more time Eddie had spent with you, the more he was wanting to be yours. 

“One more,” you told him as you were catching your breath and he smiled into the kiss, not even able to hide just how happy you made him. 

He kissed you once more then tightening his grip on your hips as he fucked into you over and over as your hips bucked against his, trying your best to contribute considering your state. You were focused now on him and the sounds he was making, feeling wet as you picked up on his hot, heavy breathing and his fucking moans. It was so hot, sounding just like the men from the app you used to help get yourself off when Eddie wasn’t available. And the words he was using to talk you through the whole thing weren’t helping. He knew exactly what to say to make a mess of your cunt, to make you absolutely melt underneath him. 

His movements got even faster and harder as he reaching his own orgasm, his moans sounding so loud in your ears as he cum filled you. He usually pulled out before he could, but you honestly didn’t care. You would have felt honored to have gotten pregnant by him. Even though he never would have admitted it, he was nothing but soft and gentle outside of the bedroom. Especially when it came to you. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, daddy,” you told him and before you could stop yourself, you added, “Bet you’d make such a good one.” 

Eddie stopped as soon as you said it and you really wished that you could remove the blindfold to see his face. You were always able to know what he was thinking when you looked him. But you just sat there, the silence almost deafening, suddenly feeling panic rise in your chest. God, you had ruined the night by saying too much. 

“Yeah?” He asked as his movements continued. “Want me to make you a mother? Want to have a baby, baby? God, you’d look so good pregnant-“ his words were cut off by another moan, more cum leaking out of his cock. He almost sounded like he was in pain and you didn’t know why you were finding that so hot. Maybe you would take that into account next time you invited him over. “See? I’m coming just thinking about it-“ 

Eddie pulled out and stood at the edge of the bed, letting the two of you come down before he moved onto the finale. His favorite part that he was going to take his time to enjoy. It was his birthday after all, and he thought he deserved some dessert. Who needed cake when his treat was right there between your legs? It was far sweeter any cake he ever had. 

He slowly spread your legs and got a good look at what he was working with. Your slick was spilling out onto the bed and he realized this was the wettest you had ever been. He had his work cut out for him, he decided, and he was going to have a great time doing it. But he was going to do it slowly, savoring the feeling of your cunt on his tongue, the way you tasted. God, you always tasted so good and he couldn’t pin point why. It was probably just because it was you. 

“What a mess I’ve made of you princess,” he chuckled as he bent over the edge of the bed. “Looks like I’m have to clean it up.”

“Looks like it,” you responded as you felt him grab hold of one of your ankled, pressing a kiss to the inside then trailing kisses up your leg, chuckling as you yelped as you felt his teeth sink into your thigh. 

“Sorry, princess,” he apologized. “You’re just good enough to eat, and guess what?” He asked and he didn’t have to look at your face to know that you were on the edge of your seat, desperate for his answer. 

“What?” You asked, genuinely curious. 

“You look good enough to eat,” he responded as he went in for another bite before moving to your other leg, doing the same exact thing, biting down on your other thigh even harder, knowing exactly what you liked. “So easy to bite with your hands pinned,” he told you. That man and his mouth, always catching you off guard with his filthy words. And you ate it up every time, wanting to hear exactly what he was thinking, knowing that he wouldn’t shy away from sharing with you. 

“As if I’d stop you,” you replied and he went in for another bit, this time, licking away the sting and couldn’t help notice that there was a sweet taste to your skin. One that he definitely wasn’t making up in his head this time. 

“What is that?” He asked as he went in for another lick and you were too embarrassed to tell him. “Oh, don’t go shy on me now, princess. Gonna make me guess, hm?” He went in for another lick, his touch so featherlight that it tickles and you had to hold back a giggle. 

“I-it’s edible lotion,” you told him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and he licked once again, a long, slow stroke so he could pick up what the flavor was. 

“Wanted me to taste you, hm?”

“Yes,” you choked out. “It’s-uh-it’s birthday cake flavored.”

“Very fitting. Guess now’s as good a time as any for dessert, don’t you think?” 

Eddie spread your legs and threw one over each shoulder as he lied flat on his stomach, pushing himself further up the bed so that he your cunt was right in front of his face. He took no time to bury it between your legs, his hands moving up to hold onto your thighs. 

You gasped as his nose brushed your cunt, his lips taking no time to move to your clit, flicking his tongue back and forth with as much force as possible, your moans filling his ears as your heels dug into his back. He gave it a rough suck as his tongue continued to do most of the work as it swirled around, licking at it, wanting to get a really good taste of every single part of your cunt. 

You wanted so desperately to weave your fingers through his hair, tugging on it with so much force that he was wincing, knowing that he loved receiving the pain as much as you loved inflicting it. You felt like your moans along weren’t enough, that you needed him to feel just how much you were enjoying yourself. 

His mouth moved lower south, his tongue dragging from your clit to your slit where it made a home, his hard sucks met by mewls and loud whines as you begged for more, wanting the two of you to stay like that for hours. He pushed himself further into your cunt as his lips pressed against your slit, licking back and forth between the lips as he sucked even harder, hearing your cries get quieter as your thighs pressed against his ears, muffling your delicious sounds every so slightly. 

“Fuck, Eddie, so good,” You mewled, your eyes shutting even tight as you could feel each one of his lips and his tongue so intensely, every single movement making you squirm underneath him. He continued to flick his tongue back and forth between as his lips sucked as hard as he could, wanting you to really feel them, feeling like what he had been doing before just wasn’t enough. 

Your head moved backwards as his tongue slid inside you, feeling your eyes rolling back as he pushed it in and out of your cunt, your moans getting even louder signifying that he was doing his job right. You were practically screaming now as your heels dug further into his back, your toes curling as his tongue fucked you. 

His movements picked up as he pumped it in and out, doing his very best to make his pretty feel good. He curved his tongue and apparently it had hit just the right spot because he could hear that you were hitting your climax, your eyes rolling back into your head once again. But Eddie wasn’t letting up just yet and you didn’t want him to. You needed more. 

“Yeah? Like when my tongue fucks you, princess? What about my fingers?” He asked he shoved them inside you and you let out another moan at the pure bliss you were experiencing. They pumped in and out, in and out and you came over and over, new slick covering his fingers as it leaked out onto them. He had never had anyone react this way to just his fingers and he was beginning that maybe he was getting good at it. But then again, maybe you were just the perfect partner. Yep, that was definitely it. 

“Come on, just one more. I know you’re fucked out, but just one more, princess. You can do that for the birthday boy, can’t you?” He asked as he curved his fingers, watching you do exactly what he had asked, reaching your last orgasm of the night, still as enthusiastic as you had been at the very beginning, but he could see that you were fading and quick, your body going limp. 

And once your body collapsed against the bed, Eddie pulled his fingers out of you, placing his body on top of yours as he hovered his fingers over your mouth, your slick dropping onto your lips. 

“Open up,” he instructed softly and you opened your mouth, Eddie laying his fingers flat onto your tongue. “Now close.” You closed your mouth, your lips wrapping around his fingers as you did so. “Now suck, baby. I want you to see just how good you taste. This is your treat so you better enjoy it.” 

You sucked on Eddie’s fingers, the taste and feeling foreign to you, but you enjoyed both and maybe you just wanted an excuse to run your tongue along Eddie’s calloused, rough fingers. Your tongue slide up the back and he helped, flipping them over, simultaneously whining at not only the feeling, but the way you looked with your lips wrapped around his fingers, wondering if they would look as good around his cock as you licked and sucked on him as he fucked your mouth. He was going to have to test that theory just to be sure. 

Once you had gotten every last drop, Eddie removed his fingers, leaning down to press his lips to yours to lick up what was still on your tongue before he forced you to swallowed. 

“Would you look at that,” he chuckled. “Tastes even better from your mouth. Now I want to see you swallow it.” You did ask he asked without protest and he watched your throat bob as the slick slid down it. “Good girl,” his lips brushed your forehead. “Gonna remove the blindfold now, okay?” 

His hands moved up and his thumbs slid underneath the fabric as he fingers rested on the other side, lifting it ever so slightly, your beautiful eyes coming into view, squinting just a bit as they got used to the feeling of finally being free. 

“There she is,” he said with a smile as he kissed you again, his hand coming to rest against the back of your head. He pulled away before you were ready and began to untie your hands, bringing your arms down slowly, hold your hands gently in his hands. “Did so good, princess,” he said, as he pressed a kiss to each wrist, feeling the indents from the rope against his lips. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” you slurred. “So good.” Your eyes were fluttering shut and Eddie helped you get under the covers before pulling you to his chest, bare skin to bare skin as he decided that next time, he’d be on the receiving end, wondering what you’d come up with as sleep took over him. There was only way to find out, he supposed.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.