#the fumbled a few things pretty hard

[iinryer]

ok taking it out of tags bc i keep seeing “WHY would they cut that!!” — honestly? it’s more than likely just a contracted screen time thing. because i guarantee no one looked at that scene and was like “hmmm. not important enough” and tossed it on the chopping block. it’s a good scene! clearly they think it’s a good scene if they released it anyway!

sorry to bring a production perspective to the storytelling zone, but it was only a ten episode run. they haven’t done one that short since the pilot season, and there are so many more characters now, FULLY established characters. plus, at the end of the day: it’s a job. certain actors are contracted for certain types and amounts of screen time and, no matter what they film, that has to be fulfilled in the final cut 🤷

i also desperately wish they could have kept it in the show, it was such a great moment! but i promise it is sooooo not that serious. and tbh im glad to be getting the bonus scenes that they obviously wished they’d been able to include!

[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.

[circe69]

neighbor!simon riley, who trudges back to his flat after a long mission away, with sleepy eyes, tense shoulders and bloody hands. his palm reaches for the doorknob and as he opens it, the door right across from him opens as well.

and there you are, a pretty little thing, had to be at least a foot shorter than he was, clad in some stretchy shorts and an oversized college t-shirt that was hanging off your shoulders. simon's eyes drifted down the length of you, trying to memorize the freckles, occasional stretch marks and fluffy cellulite down your thighs, your shiny legs reflecting the eery hallway light.

"hi," you whispered with a wave, as you bent down to retrieve a package left on your doormat. simon's breath hitched as you leaned over, showing your soft tits almost spilling out of the sports bra you wore underneath.

he cleared his throat, "evenin" and fumbled with the doorknob. when he finally made it inside, he struggled even locking the door behind him, what if she needs me? he thought to himself. even off the job, he was nothing if not a protector.

as he laid in bed that night, stroking his neglected cock to the thought of you all laid out underneath him, squirming and whining for more, more, more. your pretty cries and soft body bouncing as he thrusted into you was all it took for him to come hard. he couldn't hold back the groans tumbling out of his mouth as he finished.

fuck, he thought. he was doomed, truly, and he had to keep telling himself that no matter what, everything was temporary for him. there's no point in trying something with you when he was just going to end up leaving anyways.

but as the weeks went on, you were making it harder and harder for simon. every small interaction and passing glances in the elevator left him painfully hard underneath his cargo pants, and his delicate skin had been made raw from all the times he had to rub one out to the thought of you.

one early morning, as he left at the break of dawn for a conference meeting at a nearby base, he opened his front door only to be met with you, his lovely doe-eyed neighbor, holding out a container filled with cookies. he could tell you had just woken up, from the way your sweatpants lopsidedly hung off your hips, and the way your tank top was wrinkled. "I made these for you, to take to work. if you don't like them, that's okay. i just wanted to make sure you had something." your raspy voice called out to him as you handed him the container.

simon's heart dropped and broke in two as he took the container from you, oatmeal raisin? he thought, how did she know? a small smile broke free from his lips as you scanned the rest of him. there was no denying it, he was one of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, and especially today, the way the dark-washed jeans hugged his muscular thighs, and the black muscle tee leaving nothing to the imagination. you didn't know much about him, but you desperately wanted to change that.

simon took a step towards you and lifted his balaclava up just enough to bend down and kiss your cheek. you gasped at the action, tensing completely as he said, "thank you, sweetheart."

as he started to walk away, your brain finally caught to up reality. you shouted after him, "please be safe!" simon turned around at your words, "you too, dovey."

a few days had gone by since you'd seen simon, and as you were picking out pajamas for bed, you found an adorable lingerie set you'd forgotten you'd even had. it was a lace, blush pink babydoll nightgown, with a bow in the back. you slipped it over your head, and felt the prettiest you had in a while as you looked in the mirror. it hugged your hips just right, and sloped down in the front, showing your full tits, as well as the skin down your back.

as you made your way to the kitchen, you could hear simons loud footsteps coming down the apartment hallway. this was your chance, you thought. you were going to show yourself off to him, win him over. and as you looked in the peephole, not only did you see him, but you saw a package waiting for you as well. the perfect excuse!

you opened the door with a twinkle in your eye as simon turned around.

he swallowed hard, and did a double take as his eyes wandered over you. it was too much for him, the way he could see your perky nipples through the thin fabric. the thought of his teeth grazing them rushed into his mind, and it only got worse as you bent down to get your package. you tease him like this regularly, but this time, you turned around first.

simon growled under his breath as he got a view of your pretty ass cheeks just barely hanging out from your nightgown. he could faintly see a tight pink thong as well, a perfect match for your set.

you were really testing his patience, but to your surprise, he hadn't made any moves yet. so you told yourself you'd try one more time, before leaning up and swaying over to him. you placed a hand on his chest and signaled him to lean down to you like you were going to tell him a secret.

"I'm wearing this for you, y'know" you whispered, as you pushed your tits up against his chest.

that was all it took for simon to grab you by the hips and throw you over his shoulder, smacking your ass as he hauled you into his flat.

"teasy cunt, aren't you?" he said as he threw you onto his bed. you tried to crawl away, but he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you back, "nuh uh, you've made it this far. you better sit tight and take the rest."

simon grabbed you by the hips and leaned down to kiss you, his teeth softly nipping at your bottom lip before breaking apart, "I don't even know your fucking name," he whispered as he kissed the length of your neck. you groaned at the feeling of him sucking a small hickey right under your ear.

"y/n. it's y/n." you breathed out as his lips latched on to one of your nipples, you swallowed hard at the pleasure, "fuck yes, feels -mmph- feels good." he smiled at your mindless babbling, and the vibration of his groaning sent shock waves of heat through your body.

"simon," you asked

"hmm?" he latched on to the other nipple, while your hand ran through his hair.

"why did you need to know my name now? couldn't -mmn- couldn't that have waited?" you whispered as he shifted up so that he was eye level with you, his lips hovering just over yours.

"hmm-mm, need'ta know who's name I should groan when I finish inside you."

[munsonify]

drunk call

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. when you’re in need of a safe way home from the bar, the first person you think of in your drunken haze is bucky, who comes to get you in an instant

content warnings. sm fluff, unestablished relationships, pining, idiots in love, alcohol consumption, r being super drunk lol, thunderbolts era bucky, softie!bucky (my beloved), slightly affectionate&touchy reader (sfw), pet names (sweetheart), r being called pretty, not proofread

word count. 1905

a/n. thunderbolts era bucky and tfatws bucky are rotting my brain away i love him your honor. not proofread

———

admittedly, you’d maybe had one too many drinks tonight.

when you received a text from an old friend of yours saying she was in the city, claiming she had the night free, of course you were going to make some time to see her. it was a night well spent at the bar, too. the drinks were good, you’d caught up on a lot of life with her, jokes were thrown around that had you both doubled over in laughter in the small booth you were cozied up in. the odd glances thrown your way at your giggles only made things worse for the two of you.

your friend called it a night around 11. the only reason she was in the area was for work, and with her luck, they’d scheduled her with a meeting very early the next day. it was time for her to head out, especially now that her boyfriend had arrived, ready to carefully help her to their hotel.

“do you want me to stay?” your friend slurred, grabbing ahold of her boyfriends arm as he guided her up to her feet. “we can stay. wanna make sure you get home safe.”

“i’m okay,” you told her, a genuine, reassuring smile on your face as your words slurred just as bad as yours. “promise i’ll get home safe, i’ll text you when i do.”

the way you rose to your feet wasn’t the most elegant, though you fit right in with the atmosphere. you wrapped each other up in a large hug, bidding each other a giggly goodbye, promising to keep in touch. her boyfriend gave you a small wave before he helped her out of the bar and away from your sight. that’s when you let yourself slide back into the booth, fumbling with your purse in search of your phone. your promise was true to her, you were going to get home safe. while you only stayed a few blocks away from the bar, you weren’t quite comfortable walking home in the state you were in, not like you’d walked there three hours ago.

your mind slipped straight to the thought of bucky as you pulled up your contacts, searching for his name and number. your thoughts often slipped to the man, it was hard for them not to. in the few months you’d known the man, living in the rebuilt avengers tower, you grew quite fond of him. it was a little unexpected.

you weren’t searching for anything romantic when you’d somehow stumbled upon the new team. you were focused on a list of other things - your mental health, your career (though being a now nearly full-time superhero wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned), your hobbies -, so it caught you off guard when you noticed your growing feelings towards bucky. you began to seek him out in a way you hadn’t with anyone else. despite being a little tough and uptight at times, not really the most talkative person ever, he was kind. he had a nice sense of humor, too. dry, sarcastic, a little playful. at times, you were convinced that playfulness with you bordered flirtation.

that’s why you had found your way to bucky again in your drunken mind. you always felt oddly safe with him, anyways. it was comforting how protective he could be, a subtle sort of thing that you admired about him. you pressed your phone against your ear rather harshly as you listened to your phone ring a handful of times. the noise had you zoned in to the point you barely noticed he’d picked up, a curious ‘hello’ ringing into your ears. your body straightened up at the sound of his voice, a dopey smile finding your lips.

“hey!” you said cheerfully, hand gripping your phone tight as you began rambling to him in an obvious slur. “i’m so sorry if you were asleep or if you’re busy, but i’m kinda really drunk right now, i’m a few blocks away at a bar. is there any chance you’d, i dunno, come get me and walk me home? so i’m not alone? it’s totally okay if not!”

you realized how desperate you must sound calling him like this. you weren’t sure if he’d caught on to your slightly obvious feelings for him yet, but if he had even an idea that you might like him, this call was incriminating. you were calling him of all people, rather than simply calling a cab or an uber, or even just sticking it out and walking anyways.

“of course,” bucky told you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. his response was immediate, without a second thought. those two words alone made your heart flutter inside of your chest. you passed along the name of the bar, one he’d remembered from passing so many times. he knew his way around the city well, and promised to be there in 10.

the moment you’d hung up the phone, soft giggles slipped from your mouth, the same wide smile on your face still present. you ordered yourself one last drink while you waited, closing your tab while you were up before you left and forgot. you sat in your booth in silence as you waited, gaze settling on to the drink that you sipped on. your body was beginning to feel a little heavy, the alcohol and your sleepiness starting to settle in now that you weren’t so focused on an ongoing conversation.

you were so zoned in, in fact, that you didn’t realize bucky had finally found his way to the bar, beelining to you in a slow, steady strut. his head tilted to the side when he stopped at your table, biting back a smile. you still hadn’t noticed him yet.

“hey there sweetheart,” bucky spoke smoothly, sliding on the opposite side of the booth. he noticed you still had a drink and decided to give you time to finish. your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and gleaming the moment you recognized his voice. you gave him the same dopey smile you had when you’d called him. “mind if i take you home?”

you giggled at his words, biting your lower lip as you began to put on a show, thinking a little for a response you already had. you gave him a hum, words slurring still as you respond. “well i suppose so.”

you sipped the rest of you drink away after you spoke, quickly wiping away the drop that slipped from your lips clumsily. whether that clumsiness was because you were drunk or because bucky made you nervous, you weren’t quite sure. regardless, your nose scrunched up a little in embarrassment, trying your best to shake it off. he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. bucky had a small, content smile on his face, his blue eyes shining gently as he gazed at you.

the moment you set the glass down, his fingers found their way to it, taking it into his hand. he pushed himself back up from the worn booth, watching as you fumble to grab your purse and phone. the hand bucky offered up was his left. the metal felt nice against your buzzing warm, buzzing skin as you accepted it, letting him assist you to your feet. despite how hard the metal was, he was gentle with the way he held your hand, guiding you towards the bar again to give the bartender your empty glass.

bucky’s hand left yours, only to grasp ahold of your purse and your phone to carry it for you. he helped you towards his right side, wrapping that arm comfortably around you, hand bracing your waist as respectfully as he could. he began walking the two of you out the bar and onto the streets in a comfortable silence neither of you broke. you began leaning into him, still a little unsteady on your feet as you stumble slightly down the street.

your head eventually found comfort in bucky’s shoulder, the weight becoming nearly too much for you to bear on your own. you missed the way he smiled, small and proud as he continues to guide you through the city. that’s when he started to speak in a low mumble, voice deep, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

“you look pretty tonight,” bucky complimented, his head turning to look down at you fondly. it wasn’t often he got to see you like this, a little skirt he’d helped you pull back down into place just a minute or two previously. the shirt you wore was a little low cut, too, just enough to show some cleavage. that’s not why he gave you the sentiment. he rarely got to see you put together. it was usually sweaty work out clothes or bloodied uniforms he saw you in. this was a nice change.

bucky watched the way you smile wide, nose scrunching up again at his words. you tilted your head up to see him, sincerity laced in every inch of his face. while collecting your thoughts, you pressed your cheek into his arm as you stare up into his eyes, clinging to his body for dear life as you try not to fall. his strong arm kept you upright, though, careful not to let you drop to the ground.

“thank you,” was all you could manage out in a small voice, a hand of yours gently grasping at the sleeve of his leather jacket. it was then that you’d finally made it to the rebuilt tower, bucky swiping the both of you in, before holding the door wide open for you. he watched the way you stumbled into the building with an appreciative smile, before looking back at him expectedly. you had your hand extended outwards for him, searching for his touch

bucky took your hand without a second thought, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, before you guys made your long way towards the living quarters. even when you’d entered the elevator, three empty walls and a long railing for you to grasp ahold of to find your footing, you still held onto him. he was already helping you, anyways, so why would you let go now?

he continued to walk you out of the elevator when it’d reached high inside of the tower, helping you all the way to your bedroom door. bucky positioned you in front of him, letting go of your hand only to reach to your hair, tucking pieces behind your ear and out of your face.

“think you can find the rest of your way?” he asked, his hands smoothing down your hair once, before dropping it to his side. you gave him a lazy nod, eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion.

“yeah, i think should be fine,” you answered, offering a small smile. before you could overthink, you took two steps forward, arms reaching up to wrap around bucky’s shoulders. he blinked a few slow times, arms finding their way around your torso carefully as he embraces you. he tugged you a little closer to him, letting his chin rest gently on top of your shoulder. the hand that wasn’t holding your belongings smoothed up your back, a weak attempt to soothe you.

“thanks for walking me home, buck,” you whispered. “it means a lot. you’re a great guy.”

“anytime, sweetheart. just give me a call and i’ll be there.”

[seungisms]

( skz headcanons ) virgin!skz

🖇️📂 some bitchless skz headcanons 

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, virginity loss, dryhumping, oral (female receiving), teasing, putting cocky!minho in his place 🗣️ note: y’all already know i’m gonna have to make a series out of this 🤤 so please keep a look out for that! in the meantime enjoy these filthy little headcanons i had gathering dust in my drafts

방찬. BANG CHAN

virgin!chan who can’t stop thinking about fucking you. he’s a little bit of a perv - he lets you walk up the stairs in front of him so he can steal a glance of what you’re hiding underneath your pretty little skirt, makes dirty jokes around you just so he can see that cute flustered look you get not being able to meet his eyes, fists his cock at night with your name dangling from his lips. sometimes he can’t keep his filthy thoughts at bay, especially when you’re bending over in front of him, skirt riding up and giving him a nice view of your cute ass that he wished he could part to sandwich his cock between. he swears you do it on purpose to get a reaction out of him. when you finally let him between your legs he’s so eager. it’s pathetic the way he’s so desperate to please you, how he fights off the almost painful need to cum just so he doesn’t disappoint your little pussy so early on, especially not when he’s finally got the chance to fuck you. he can’t keep his mouth shut either, asking you every few seconds if you like it or if he’s doing okay - tearing up and slurring over his words the closer he is. he’s so thankful, little thankyou’s spilling out past his lips as he drills deeper into your pussy, arms trembling on either side of your head and before he knows it he’s cumming, hard. spilling out past your folds and onto the bed, pretty and creamy and he almost wonders how he’s went so long without the sight. 

리노. LEE MINHO

virgin!minho who acts so confident and cocky until he’s inside you, and suddenly he doesn’t know where to put his hands or what to say. minho will never outright admit that he’s a virgin, he has too much pride for that, but you’ll find out the second you get him between your legs. you were so sure he fucks, but with the way he looks up at you so unsure over your mound, eyes silently begging for guidance as he strokes and thumbs at your cunt with long fingers, fumbling nervously over your clit - it was clear he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. he’s a little awkward, stutters over his words a lot when he tries to dirty talk you, breath hitching and an uncharacteristic whimper falling off his lips when his fingers slip into your cunt and he feels how tight you are, just imagining how it’ll feel when it’s his dick being suffocated by the warm plush walls of your pussy instead. he gasps and groans and whines when he finally nudges his cock inside of you, stilling his hips when he’s only a few inches deep to catch his breath, holding onto your hips with shaky hands and a wild look in his pretty brown eyes, panting beneath you like a bitch in heat cause just cause he doesn’t wanna cum so soon but you’re making it so hard for him :( it’s cute the way he can’t seem to live up to his name, the cold, almost bad-boy like reputation he’s had all this time suddenly out the window with one taste of pussy and instead replaced with a whimpering, tearful mess just begging to lose himself in the heat of your cunt, begging you to take his virginity.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

virgin!changbin who’s a fast learner. show him where to touch, tell him what to say, how deep to go, how fast or slow - he’ll listen, acting like he’s done it his whole life. all those nights spent thinking about stretching and tiring out your cute cunt couldn’t prepare him for the real thing. he gets hard at the most inconvenient times and he hates the way his cock jumps in excitement when you notice with a sweet giggle, only to end up mocking him for being such a virgin. he wishes he could shove his dick between your lips to finally shut you the fuck up, make you apologise on his cock for ever thinking about making a joke out of him, force you to moan and cry his name and admit he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he could leave you to get fucked by 100 men and the little virgin you love to mock would still be the one you run back to. but he just walks home and kicks stones and resorts to fucking his own fist, spewing vile cruses underneath his breath that should’ve been tainting your ears instead as he fucks you to tears. the first time he eats you out you almost think he’s enjoying it more than you - groaning and slobbering messily into your cunt, nudging your sensitive nub with the tip of nose everytime he lays a fat swipe of tongue against your clit, humping into the bed when he hears your little gasps. as soon as he loses his virginity he’s just eager for more, looking at you with a pathetic desperation glinting in his eyes, wondering when the next time you’ll let him play with your pussy will be. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

virgin!hyunjin who’s mouth dries up everytime you’re near him. he’s normally so confident and talkative, can’t seem to stfu most days but as soon as you come around he’s gone quiet - eyes too busy following the hemline of your cute skirt to entertain the conversation happening around him, wondering what colour panties you’re wearing or even if you’re wearing any at all - and just the thought of your bare pussy being inches away from him has his cock swollen and twitching in need to find out. hyunjin is so nervous around you and it shows - hands sweaty and adams apple bobbing in his throat when you make brief eye contact - wondering if you can read his mind and find out all the disgusting dirty things he wants to do to you, if you can sense just how badly he wants to ruin your cunt for every other man to come until it’s just him you think about. him. him. him. he’s almost embarrassed about the effect you have on him, but he can’t find it in himself to care when you finally let him fuck you. he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands, trembling and hovering over your hips like he’s afraid to touch, as if his cock wasn’t making a mess out of your pussy in the meantime. he gets a tad pathetic the closer he is to cumming, thick cock stretching you open like no one has ever done before and small pleas falling from his pretty lips in rushed nonsense and gasped whimpers - “please just cum, m’so close. tell me you’re close too please” little sighs of “can’t believe you’re actually letting me fuck you, thankyouthankyouthankyou” he just wants to be good for you!!

한. HAN JISUNG

virgin!jisung who’s so easy to manipulate. he’ll let you do anything to him as long as he ends up in your pretty pussy by the end of it. slap him around a little, call him names, mock him for being a virgin, tell him where to kiss, go slower, go deeper or harder - and he’ll be in near tears before he’s even inside you. eats you out like a man starved, drool and spit and arousal dripping down his chin as he locks his jaw around your clit, sucking and nipping at your folds until you’re bucking like a wild animal against his face. makes you cum from his greediness alone, he’s a tad sloppy and makes a completely mess out of your cunt, not the most skilled but eager enough to make up for it. constantly thanks you over and over for finally letting him fuck you, all sloppy and teary eyed and getting so fucking pussy drunk that he can’t even register your whimpers of, “s’too much jisung, slow down,” cause this man fucks like a rabbit, no matter if he’s a virgin or not. literally can only focus solely on the sight of your pussy stretching out around his cock and no wet dream or filthy image his mind ever managed to conjure up about you could compare. he also defiantly nuts real quick and gets embarrassed about it, spilling into your cunt before he even realises it and he’s apologising over and over with cute tears lining his eyes - swearing he’ll fuck you better next time if you would only give him the chance.

필릭스. LEE FELIX

virgin!felix who’s super awkward. he can’t really look you in the eyes without being ashamed of himself and his nasty thoughts, his hands tremble when you makeout, he can’t help but whimper a little when you poke fun at him for still being a virgin. he never really tells you what he wants, just tugging at the hemline of your skirt and looking up at you with a greedy glint in his pretty eyes - wanting nothing more than to dip his fingers under and play with your pussy a little - he’s just too shy to ask. and all he really asks you to do is grind on it, torturing himself everytime you work his swollen cock between your folds - cause in his mind the longer he can go without actually fucking you the lower the chance of disappointing you is. but he doesn’t last for long, basically gets on his hands and knees and begs you for a taste of your pussy that you’re more than willing to give. he completely loses all sense the second he dips into you - focused on nothing but the sensation of you, the snug fit of your pussy, the fucked out look on your face, the gasps of pleasures filling his ears and he’s kicking himself for going this long in life without it. as soon as he gets one taste he’s addicted, fucking you any chance you allow him and he’s always so thankful too.

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN

virgin!seungmin who gets a little carried away. he’s sometimes too messy and greedy, completely pussy drunk the first time you let him bury his head between your legs. thumbing your folds apart and practically making out with your cunt like he’s done it a million times before, tongue nudging and playing with your sensitive bud until your dripping and clenching around nothing. he’s a little too rough, all those pent up years of not having a cute pussy to play with being let out on you, forcing his cock into you just to see how deep you can take it, watching every little twitch and spasm of your pretty face, until you’re clawing at his arms and begging him to slow down. but he just can’t. he’s went all this time devoid of your cunt that he just can’t help the stuttering of his hips grinding into your at an animalistic pace, fucking you so well you wouldn’t have guessed he’s never done it before. he defiantly watches amateur porn, picking up a few of the less exaggerated tips and tricks he could use to make your little pussy twitch in excitement if you ever allow him the chance, making you eat your words of how a virgin like him couldn’t possibly know how to fuck. and he proves you wrong, tiring out your cunt for hours on end, bending your knees until they’re pressed tightly against your chest so he can fuck you even deeper and harder, coaxing more of those cute tears out of you while talking about how a virgin like him can fuck you better than all those other assholes you let between your legs. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

virgin!jeongin who gets overwhelmed way too quick. he can hardly makeout with you without making a mess of his boxers. his mind runs a mile a minute and he just can’t handle it when you’re sat pretty on his lap, subtly grinding down onto his cock through layers of clothes - still he’s able to feel the heat of your cunt through the fabric, the hard press of his cock bumping and jutting painfully between your folds. paired with the way your mouth is busy working his own open, nails scratching through his hair and down the nape of his neck, pressing yourself against him until he was painfully aware of your tits pushed into his chest and he’s silently begging you for mercy, hands scrambling to still your hips until its too late. he can only look away bashfully when a gasped whine dangles from his lips, red creeping up his neck and ears when the warmth of his cum leaks uncomfortably through his jeans. and he hates the slight mocking tone of your words when you try to comfort him after, wishing the ground would swallow him up whole and he’s certain he’ll die a virgin. he jerks himself off to you at night, muffling little whimpers of your name behind his palm as he fists his cock - thinking about that one time you stroked on his biceps, commenting how much bigger he’s gotten with a flirty smile, the way your skirts seem to get shorter and shorter eveytime you link up, how you like to make him hard in public then turn around and make him deal with it alone. it makes it all the more sweeter when you finally let him fuck you, nudging into your tight cunt with a sigh of relief, praying that this time he won’t cum so soon cause he just wants to savour it.

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated. 

[grenadehearts]

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki nearing his 40s, his muscles aching more than they did when he was freshly 20, the years of hard labor carved into every tendon and joint. his sandy blonde hair, once bright and wild, starting to show a few stubborn greys. he even grew stubble — coarse and scratchy — that leaves your skin burning when he kisses you.

and you'll complain about it, listing off reasons on your pretty, young, manicured fingers why he needs to shave, tapping each one against his chest. he'll just tilt his head, give you that lazy, lopsided smirk, and grunt a simple, "nah."

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki and the way he met you — this bright, pretty thing tucked away behind rows of blooms — when he ducked into a floral shop for a last-minute birthday gift for the old hag. how he saw you there, sleeves rolled up, soil caked on your delicate hands, loose strands of hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, and how you just blew them away without a second thought — left him absolutely weak in the knees.

your laugh was brighter than any flower in that whole damn shop, and your eyes?

god, your eyes put every petal to shame.

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki who lingered way longer than he should have, asking the dumbest questions known to man about orchids, tulips, lilies, and roses, just so he could hear you talk. how you lit up at every answer, spilling all these little facts with that animated sparkle in your voice.

he didn't even like flowers.

but he liked you.

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki who kept coming back to that little shop for months after. at first, it was excuses — shitty ones, too. "forgot what kinda flowers she liked," he'd mutter. "need somethin' for a friend."

but pretty soon, there weren't any excuses left. he was just there, like clockwork, hanging on your every word, wrapped around your finger like some lovesick, pathetic mutt.

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki whose hands are rough, calloused from decades of labor — decades that stretch back to before you were even born. big, scarred palms that make your soft skin feel like silk in comparison.

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki who takes a little longer to get out of bed in the mornings, always grumbling about his bad back, how he needs time to "get movin’."

but really, he just wants an excuse to pull you in close — press you flush against him, soak in the heat of you — and watch your pretty eyelashes flutter while you sleep.

and he has to be there when you wake up.

he needs to see those gorgeous eyes make sure they find him first thing in the morning.

thinking about gruff!older!katsuki who hadn't even thought about dating for years — too busy, too bitter, too tired — until he stumbled into you. all doe-eyed and sweet, so eager and fresh-faced you knocked the damn wind outta him.

made him awkward again, made him red-faced and desperate to impress you.

and all the boys you had before? college kids, jerks who only cared about frat parties and notches on their belts. they didn’t know the first thing about taking care of someone like you.

but katsuki did. he was older. more patient. rough around the edges, sure — but he knew how to make you feel good, how to take his time and worship you like you deserved.

getting there, though?

getting there was tricky.

you were both such messes, two bumbling, nervous idiots, fumbling around each other like awkward teenagers.

but god, it was worth it.

a/n: based on this request lmk if you guys are wanting to see more of this, masterlist link here. and tysm for 1k followers!

taglist: @xoxojisu @candiiee @luvseraphh @cvnt4him @soundtrqck @chlosology @lotusstarr @cupkiki @wokasiv @badslittlemuffin @princessshnazzy @203steph @chitteringcicadaeyes @idk1187 @notartemis777 @chosostonguepiercing @chocolatedefendorbaa @t33th--r0t @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @tuneinwlosers @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @gethexxed @moonstonejpg @pluto-9456 @wonubby @kye1aaazene @izukusfangirl @van9lla @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @bluemailhiot @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @d011yyxx @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @blue-birdie-bixch @aj1j @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Virgin! Jason Todd

Virgin! Jason Todd who is absolutely whipped as soon as he meets you. Im talking stuttering, fumbling over himself, even a slight blush, dare I say. He just doesn't know what to do with himself in the presence of somebody so blessed with a goddess' beauty.

Virgin! Jason Todd who tries to act tough anyway (because, in all honesty, he is literally a murderer and not just some soft guy anymore.) And fails horribly. Its endearing to see him try, though... With those strong arms that could either snap you in half within moments or hold you throughout the night.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's constantly needy for you, both in an intimate sense and just for affection in general. In fact, you don't think that there's ever an extended period of time where his hands aren't on you in one way or another.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's so into dry humping that it's an every other days occurance. Laying down on the couch or bed cuddling? His hard dick is pressing right up against your clit through both his and your shorts. Doing yoga because your back is sore from work or cooking dinner when he gets home late? He's lightly thrusting onto your plump ass as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Virgin! Jason Todd who initiates things himself for the first time, starting with you simply sitting on his lap while watching a movie. Then, slowly, he starts kissing down your neck with warm lips and even warmer breaths while moving you to straddle his thighs. You can already feel him getting a bit hard from this alone.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets so into the light kisses he oh so graciously presses against your lips that they end up turning into a heavy make out session. His tongue and yours are tangling together in such a sinful and addicting way that its hard to get enough.

Virgin! Jason Todd who slowly grasps at your hips to grind you at a torturous pace on his toned thigh. The slight amount of friction is divine after getting so worked up over a few kisses, but it's not long until you're humping his thigh like a bitch in heat as you normally do.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's never been afraid to eat you out, and he'll be damned if he doesn't tonight, too. You are his favorite meal, snack, and dessert, after all.

"Come on, gorgeous... You know the drill." He whispers in that deep, gravelly voice from between your legs as you close them, desperately wanting to do something for him in return. "Nuh uh... Let me eat that pretty pussy of yours before anything else, sweetness." And eat he does.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets off on your pleasure. Every time you moan or squirm yourself closer to his face as he laps at your aching hole and bundle of nerves, he grinds himself right into the mattress or side of the couch.

Virgin! Jason Todd who wants you to ride him for your first time together so he can bury his face into your chest and hold you as close as possible. And because he's scared of going at a pace that you won't like, but after how many orgasms he's pulled out of you just by giving you head, you're sure you wouldn't mind whatever makes him happy.

Virgin! Jason Todd who has to actually stop himself from blowing his load just as you put his girthy tip in. He just cant help it... Your tight, warm, and soaked walls fluttering around him is just too heavenly.

"Fuck... Stay right there, sweetheart. Right there. Please." His voice is strained with his effort and slightly muffled as he buries his face into your chest.

Virgin! Jason Todd who is in pure bliss as soon as you start moving, even at such a slow pace to begin with while your creamy walls get used to the stretch of his beautiful, leaking cock.

Virgin! Jason Todd who never realized how much of a moaner he was until he got to have his first time with you. Sure, he's gotten himself off humping your ass or the mattress while he ate you out, but this was on a whole other level.

"Fuckkk..." His head is thrown back against the pillows or headrest of the couch as his hands grasp your ever moving hips. "Can't take much more of this, pretty girl." Jason is almost whining at this point, the sound of his skin slapping against yours joining the obscene sounds in the air of his apartment. "Gonna.. Im gonna-"

Virgin! Jason Todd who cuts himself off with such a gorgeous moan and whine as he cums that it has you going right alongside him. The large, calloused hands on your hips only tighten as you feel his cock fill you up with thick, warm, pearly ropes of cum.

Virgin! Jason Todd who can only whisper praises and words of love for the first couple of minutes coming down from his intense high.

"Fuck... Fucking love you, y'know that?" His chest is still heaving with every panting breath he takes. "Milking me dry with that pretty pussy..."

Virgin! Jason Todd who makes aftercare a top priority very early on, even though he's just barely gaining his own bearings.

"I love you, pretty girl... So much." He presses kisses along your sore and achy thighs as the cool, damp washcloth brushes over your most sensitive and overstimulated parts.

Masterlist

[wintersongstress]

18+, Simon Ghost Riley x Female Reader - in which Simon can't help losing his head a little whenever you make out in the early stages of your relationship.

❈❧

Simon loves kissing you, but kissing you while standing doesn’t allow him the angle he prefers. You’re much shorter than him and he has to crane his neck and scoop you close to embrace you properly. While your first kiss was perfect, and he wanted to take things slow in the physical realm of your relationship, Simon knew that he wanted to kiss you for long, longer moments at a time, and would like to have you laying down beneath him to indulge in the act. That would only lead things further from there, but he could not help how quickly his mind lost its command over his restraint—not when your lips were soft and pressing, catching and lingering, parting and seeking his again. He’d groan deep in his chest and you’d feel it against your roving hands, and the resonance of it made your obliging legs tremble.

Simon felt them as your knees brushed against his sides, against his ribs, dangerously close to enfolding around him. He’d watch your eyes flutter open, blinking away some haze to find him.

“Pretty girl,” he’d murmur, entranced by your softened, gentle mouth and thumbing the plump edge of it, and fuck, if he didn’t get hard right then and there at your contented smile and the fond caress of your hand as you hooked your palm over the back of his neck, nails seeking his hair. Your upper lip enveloped Simon’s aimless thumb and took him into the sweet warmth of your mouth, tasting the salt of his skin, and the bulge in his jeans made itself at home right against your pelvis.

You’d give a surprised and pleased moan at the feel of him before he could feel ashamed (Christ, what happened to taking things slow?), and it would be so easy to fumble with each other’s clothes, kissing all the while he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down your thighs, pinning your knees to your front because he’s too impatient for his access. Freeing himself, tugging your panties to the side so you were exposed, and then the perfect, seamless slotting together ascending to firm, yet gentle thrusts. God yes, Simon thinks, rutting against you now, it’d only take a few, and he could circle and press your clit so you’d come as quickly as he would lost in the grip, the warmth, the sounds of your moans and slick sex and the delirious motion and rhythm of moving within you until he peaks and you leak with his spend. 

At the sudden, soft inquiry of his name and your waist curving into him to meet his fervor, he snaps out of his reverie. He pulls away and sits up, breath ragged, with the last of his restraint.

“’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”  

❈❧

[syoddeye]

you scurry into the bookshop from the cold, the door slamming shut behind you with the breeze.

the warmth inside feels like a slap after the bitter chill, and your glasses immediately fog over, clouding your vision in a steamy blur. you pause, fumbling with your mittens, distracted by your own breath bouncing back at you behind your scarf, making it worse. you step forward without thinking.

and immediately regret it. your shoulder slams into something hard and solid, like a wall. except the wall shifts, and a deep voice hisses down at you.

“fuckin’—we in a rush? watch where you’re—”

“sorry!” you blurt out, flinching back.

the voice halts. just stops, snipped mid-sentence. you’re scrabbling to pull your mittens off now, fingers clumsy and frantic. the fog persists, blinding, smothering, your breath quickening and making the condensation worse.

“shit, shit, sorry—”

then a hand settles on your shoulder.

a low, rasping hehehe rattles from above. “can’t see a thing, can ya? ‘old still.”

you freeze, mittens half-off, mouth hanging open in protest as something dark moves toward your face.

“uh, what are you—oh, you don’t have to…”

a thumb drags black fabric gently over one of the lenses. the fog clears in a small oval, revealing part of the stranger’s face, his deep brown eyes. you try to crane your neck for a better look, but the hand on your shoulder shifts to your chin, steadying it.

“keep still.”

your mouth shuts and your pulse stutters. his thumb and forefinger pinch just firmly enough to hold your head in place. he clears the second lens, and when he withdraws the fabric, you finally see him.

he wears a thick, cloth mask, the loops disappearing beneath the edges of a matching hat. though most of his face is hidden, you notice the faint scar cutting across the end of one blond eyebrow, a few faded freckles dusting his forehead. the scarf around his neck hangs loose, one end caught in his hand, which he drops once he seems satisfied with his work.

“there,” he says, leaning back a fraction to examine you. his eyes crinkle at the edges, amused. he must be smiling. “look at those eyes.”

you blink up at him, and you’re hyper-aware of your own breathing. careful not to exhale too hard, in case you fog everything up again.

“thanks.”

his thumb, still resting lightly on your chin, moves in a small, absent circle. he hums, low in his throat, and then lets go.

“of course, sweet’eart.”

for a second, you just stand there. five seconds, maybe. you’re the one who breaks the silence by awkwardly stepping away.

“okay, yep, thanks again.” you say, words knocking into each other like you knocked into him.

you retreat further into the shop, yanking at your mittens until they’re off and stuffed into your pockets. your scarf is next, practically ripped from your neck, the heat of your own embarrassment prickling at your skin all over.

what just happened? should you have said something? made a point of how weird that was? because it was weird. right?

you circle the horror section three times before your heart rate evens out, but even then, you’re not really seeing the shelves. the titles run together, and your mind drifts back to him—his hand on your chin, the soft way he said sweetheart.

your glasses are clear, but you’re stuck in a haze.

simon was just supposed to kill time, having arrived arrived early to meet price. except now he’s going to be late, for the first time in ages, to a meeting with his captain.

it’s difficult to hide in a shop where he’s taller than most of the shelves, but he’s careful. doesn’t take much of an effort anyway, she’s preoccupied by the shelves of the horror section. not his preference, but he likes the twist. likes the view, too. the profile of her face, her hair, the way her jeans fit snugly over her arse.

smitten. that’s the word, he thinks. charmed, maybe. pretty, sweet four-eyes all dressed up in knitwear. she probably made them herself. seems the type. he wonders, absurdly, if she’d make him something. a sweater, maybe. something that actually fits his shoulders.

then she suddenly moved, pulling out her phone, and he buries his face in the cookbook he’s been pretending to read. thai recipes, apparently. he flips a page, wondering if she likes thai food. he could try making it.

his phone buzzes and for a second, one irrational second, he thinks it’s her. like she’s sent a message telepathically from across the shop. but no. it’s price, blunt as ever, asking where the fuck he is.

he looks up again, and she’s gone. just like that. his stomach drops, and he straightens instinctively, scanning the aisles. he can’t help it, he turns—

“so…you like thai food?”

he looks down and finds her at the next shelf over, smiling shyly. something about it. it slips through his ribs and gets comfortable.

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold you in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗

[cameronsbabydoll]

tagging along to sexist!rafe and your sons boys trip ♡

warnings: misogyny, emotional neglect, subtle sexism, dismissiveness toward female-coded labor, maternal isolation, gender role conflict

wc: 1,000 — a/n: this is pretty sad guys :(((

the car hums along the mountain road, tires crunching gravel, and you’re tucked in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in your lap. rafe’s gripping the wheel, jaw tight, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. your two boys, jake and noah, are in the back, giggling over some game on their tablets. you’d packed their bags with care—snacks, extra socks, bug spray, the works. you’d even slipped in a few of your own things, hopeful, when rafe grudgingly agreed you could come on their “daddy-son trip.”

“didn’t think you’d actually wanna come,” rafe muttered that morning, tossing the cooler in the trunk. “this is a guy thing, y’know.” his tone wasn’t mean, just dismissive, like you were a kid begging for a seat at the grown-up table. but you’d smiled, bright and sweet, and said, “i just wanna be with my boys!” he’d rolled his eyes but didn’t say no, so here you are, trying to fit into their world.

you glance at rafe, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “the lake looks so pretty,” you say, voice soft, pointing out the window at the sparkling water. “maybe we could all swim later?”

he grunts. “boys don’t wanna splash around with their mom. they’re here to fish, maybe hike. man stuff.” his words sting, but you keep your smile, nodding like you get it. you don’t want to push too hard. you’re here, that’s what matters.

at the campsite, rafe’s all business, barking orders. “jake, grab the rods. noah, help with the tent.” you hop out of the car, smoothing your sundress, and start unloading the cooler. “i can help with the tent, too,” you offer, voice bubbly, grabbing a pole.

rafe snorts, not looking up. “nah, we got it. why don’t you… i dunno, set up the food or something?” his tone says stay in your lane, and your cheeks flush. you nod, retreating to the picnic table, arranging sandwiches and fruit with shaky hands. jake runs over, all freckles and energy. “mom, can i have a juice?”

“course, sweetheart,” you say, handing him one, ruffling his hair. he grins, and for a second, you feel like you belong. then rafe calls, “jake, quit messing around, c’mere!” and your son scampers off.

the day drags. rafe and the boys fish at the lake’s edge, laughing, bonding. you watch from a blanket, book in hand, but you can’t focus. you want to be in there, part of their world. so you try. you walk over, barefoot, skirt swishing. “can i try fishing?” you ask, voice small but hopeful.

rafe raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “you? fish?” he chuckles, and the boys giggle, like it’s the funniest thing. “baby, you’d probably scream if you caught something. just… go make yourself useful, yeah? maybe start the campfire.”

your stomach twists, but you laugh it off, tucking hair behind your ear. “okay, sure.” you head back, fumbling with the firewood. you’ve never started a fire before—rafe always does it at home—but you try, stacking logs, stuffing newspaper underneath. it takes forever, and the matches keep going out. you’re kneeling there, smudged with soot, when rafe and the boys come back.

“jesus,” rafe mutters, seeing the sad pile of unlit wood. “gimme that.” he takes over, and the fire’s roaring in minutes. you bite your lip, feeling useless, but you try again. “i made s’mores though!” you say, holding up graham crackers and marshmallows, voice bright. noah cheers, but rafe just says, “hope you didn’t burn the chocolate, too.”

dinner’s quiet. you eat your hot dog, listening to rafe tell the boys about his fishing days, all bravado and big catches. you want to share something, anything, but when you open your mouth—“i used to camp with my dad, we’d—” rafe cuts you off. “yeah, well, this is about us now. pass the mustard.”

you do, silently. the boys are happy, though, and that keeps you going. later, under the stars, you try one last time. you grab a flashlight and the camp’s trail map. “there’s a little path to a lookout,” you say, eyes shining. “we could all go, see the stars from up high?”

rafe sighs, rubbing his neck. “sweetheart, it’s late. boys need sleep, not some midnight hike. why don’t you just… clean up the dishes or something?” his voice is softer now, like he’s trying to be patient, but it still lands like a slap. you nod, swallowing hard, and start gathering plates.

as you scrub the dishes by the campfire’s glow, you hear jake whisper to noah, “mom’s trying really hard, huh?” noah nods, and your heart lifts, just a little. you might not fit into rafe’s idea of this trip, but your boys see you. and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

[redcali]

SUMMARY: University AU where Caleb is one of MC's professors, 1.7K words

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ MDNI, rough classroom sex, fluff and smut, aftercare

A/N: This fic is pretty smutty but Caleb and MC also high-key fall in love with one another

────────.✦

Professor!Caleb who can’t help but notice you in his lectures. The way your eyebrows scrunch up when you’re having trouble understanding a concept. When you’re raising your hand and asking him questions he’s struggling to really process anything because he can’t stop staring at you, with your wide-eyed expression and soft parted lips and the torrent of dirty thoughts that fill his mind.

Before he knows it, the front of his pants are all too tight. It’s your fault that he has to rush to his private office afterwards, hips bucking furiously as he furiously fucks into his closed fist, soft moans falling from his parted lips. Chanting your name as he cums so hard he sees stars, his head thrown back in pleasure. His cock is still throbbing afterwards, a shade of angry pink from all the stimulation. His face is red and he’s still breathless from his high. Why is he so attracted to you? He has never felt this way about a student , of all things…

Professor!Caleb who is popular with the students. They wave him goodbye as they leave the class. A group of girls crowd around him, gushing and giggling nervously. Professor Caleb smiles good naturedly but is quick to dismiss them as you walk up to him. He notices you immediately and the way your lips are trembling. His expression immediately shifts to one of genuine concern.

“Hey. What’s the matter?” he asks gently, leaning down to look at you. You’re clutching your stack of papers in your arms, avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment and guilt.

“I… about the graded project…” you fumble to find the right words. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry, sir, I know it’s due next week and all, but I’ve been so busy and I… things keep on coming up and I lost track of time. I swear, I’ve been trying to get started…but I don’t understand the concepts, I really don’t.” tears are threatening to well up in your eyes and you blink them away. 

Professor Caleb just stares at you. He swallows thickly. He’s trying to not think about how he can just bend you over the desk and fuck you right now as he forces himself to focus back on the current situation. Instead, he opts to say in a polite tone, “Which part of the concept do you not understand?”

You open your file, fishing out the lecture papers and flipping to the page with the confusing topic. Professor Caleb peers over your shoulder. Fuck, you smell so good. If given the choice though, he’d fuck you until you’re branded with his own scent.

Professor!Caleb who spends the next few hours in the empty classroom with you, forcing himself to be professional with his teachings. He keeps a respectful distance, though his gaze lingers a little too long sometimes—on the curve of your shoulder, the way your brow furrows in concentration, the soft sound of your sigh when the frustration starts to build again. Still, he says nothing. Just adjusts his glasses, leans over your desk, and quietly explains the concept again. And again. And again.

He’s patient, methodical, but unrelenting. He doesn’t let you skip ahead or brush things off.

By the time the session ends, your brain feels fried and your hand aches from writing. The sun has dipped lower, casting warm gold light across the floor. You’re slumped over the teacher’s desk, cheek pressed to your arm, eyes half-lidded.

Professor Caleb stands nearby, nervously fixing his tie, watching you with an unreadable expression. After a beat, he clears his throat and gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and steady.

You turn your head and smile up at him, tired but soft. In the golden light, he looks unreal—hair glowing like firelight, violet eyes catching flecks of amber, mouth slightly parted like he might say something. But he doesn’t. 

But it lingers in the air between you like the sunbeams painting the room.

“Thank you so much, Sir, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you say softly. Caleb stills for a beat, almost imperceptibly.

“Anytime,” he replies, adjusting his tie again and pushing his glasses higher up on his nose bridge. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself. The other professors speak highly of you.”

You laugh, and he smiles faintly before excusing himself to grab coffee.

When he returns, the classroom is dark with the faint moonlight. You’ve fallen asleep at his desk, cheek resting against your folded arms, breathing steady. Caleb stands there, coffee forgotten, eyes fixed on you. His brows pinch together. You look so peaceful, so unaware of the war brewing inside him.

The next morning── .✦

You wake slowly, bleary-eyed and disoriented. The soft creak of the old desk beneath you follows as you sit up, groaning as your back protests in pain. Your limbs ache from sleeping hunched over, and you stretch sluggishly.

Something slides off your shoulders—a heavy warmth you hadn’t noticed until it was gone. You blink down at the sleek black suit jacket now pooled around your waist. Caleb’s suit jacket.

Your brows lift in surprise. Did he…?

You hold it up, brushing your fingers over the fine dark material. It’s warm, faintly wrinkled, and still carries the subtle, clean scent of him—something woodsy and refined. It clings to your clothes, your skin. Your face heats up before you can stop it. Gentlemanly. Of course he is. But you still can’t stop the flutter in your chest as you fold the jacket neatly, holding it close for just a second longer than necessary.

Professor!Caleb, despite his usual composure, finds himself growing a quiet soft spot for you. He watches you during lectures—making sure you're following along, subtly adjusting his pace if your brows knit in confusion. Sometimes you stay back, happily chattering about some event you were at and how much you enjoyed the art fair that you had gone to that week. Caleb listens and makes the occasional snarky comment that has you giggling and blushing.

Professor!Caleb who cannot believe that he’s currently making out with you in yet another empty classroom, after weeks and weeks of holding himself back. He’s famished and he ravishes you now. You’re whining into his ear, tugging at his tie.

He looks at you with desperation, and something…raw and primal. His hand finds the side of your face as he reattaches his lips with yours, and his other grip the plush of your ass, dragging you closer to him on his lap.

Professor!Caleb who’s rough and relentless when he is no longer restraining himself. “This what you wanted?” he whispers hoarsely as his fingers skim dangerously close to your aching cunt. You shiver. He’s standing up now, pulling you up and bending you over the desk, pressing your body down hard into the desk, your tits squishing up against the surface. 

“Let’s be honest… boys your age don’t know what to do with a woman like you. You need someone who knows how to touch, how to listen — how to make you fall apart and put you back together again. An older man. Someone who won’t waste a second guessing what you need.”

You moan uncontrollably. 

Professor!Caleb who takes his time with you. He wants you to fall apart for him before he takes you. He’ll make you cockdrunk and beg for his cock.

“P-professor!” you squeal as he drives his slender fingers relentlessly into your pussy. It’s almost vulgar how wet and obscene the squelching noises coming out from your pussy are. Your eyes are rolling into the back of his head as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside of you. 

“Aw, look at you. How pathetic.” he drawls. His chest is pressed up against your back. Caleb leans forward, capturing your lips in a sloppy make-out.

“P-please,” you sob, your fingers leaving marks on the wooden surface that is below you from how hard you are gripping it. “Need…”

“Need what? Baby, use your words.” he nips affectionately at the sensitive skin of your neck. You whine again, pressing your bare ass up into his clothed crotch. His breath hitches but he remains firm, pushing you back down on the desk.

“Bad girl.” A hand comes down, hard, on your ass. It stings and you moan brokenly.

“Ungh…fine! Please, I want you inside of me.”

You can feel him smirking into your neck. There’s the soft clinking of belt and zipper before you feel his thick hard length pressing up against your entrance. Caleb groans, low and strained. Flipping you over onto your back, he rubs you using your own slick, with his big cock. Your eyes widen as you stare down at it. Caleb grins, tapping your puffy clit with his cock. Pleasure shoots up your spine. That is the tipping point.

Professor!Caleb who makes you cum without even entering you. You claw at his back, crying and sobbing as he works you through the orgasm. “Cum for me, baby, I know you can. You like it when I hump you like this? You like it when my cock rubs up against your sensitive little clit?” 

He kisses you gently on the tip of your nose. “You’re doing so well for me, pips.”

Professor!Caleb who makes you go dumb on his cock. He’s thrusting into you, gripping onto your waist to keep you in place. You’re incredibly overstimulated and sensitive, having already cummed multiple times on his dick. He doesn’t seem like he’s stopping anytime soon, though. 

Aftercare ── .✦

Professor!Caleb who’s a gentleman and insists that he takes care of you at his place afterwards. You two take a bath together and he helps to clean you, massaging sweet smelling shampoo into your hair and checking for bruises. He wraps you up in a thick soft blanket when he’s done, kissing your forehead softly. He cooks up a storm, and you find out how good soup can taste. You two chatter away over dinner, talking and laughing until you have tears in your eyes. 

You insist on showing Caleb one of your favorite movies as you drag him over to his couch. However, it doesn’t take long before fatigue takes over you. You fall asleep, your head resting on his chest, your body curled awkwardly against him. He winces slightly at the discomfort of the position, but he doesn’t dare move, terrified of waking you up. 

For now, he’s content just holding you, feeling your steady breaths against him.

── .✦

A/N: Thinking about doing a Professor! xavier fic next, what do yalls think ^^

[kerokeeces]

ENHYPEN SFW hyung line fanfic recs!

who am I? im just silent reader who enjoys fics and want to help others find some of my favorites! srry im hee + hoon biased so most are about them

short fic - 1-5k words long fic - 5k+

HYUNG LINE

the look of love by @won4kiss - (how they look at you when they’re blinded by their love) - short fic

low power mode by @sungbeams - (when you get overwhelmed while you're out together) - text msgs

just a bet by @all4yoi - (after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.) - short fic

HEESEUNG

sing me a song by @senascoop - (when you can't fall asleep and heeseung tries to help by singing you a song) - short fic

race to your heart by @coqhee - (lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.) - long fic

uh oh im falling in love by @won4kiss - (you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?) long fic

a stoner's guide to starbucks by @jayflrt - (in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.) - smau series

she knows her sour patch kids by @allforhee - (living under the protective eyes of your older brother, park sunghoon, he thinks he knows you the best. but litte does he know that heeseung knows you love your sour patch kids more than you love his usual swedish fish.) - short fic

win one win me by @jaylver - (who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.) - long fic

from screens to scenes by @enreveriee - (you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists.) - long fic

taste of life by @mygnolia - (heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.) - short fic

bring the heat by @kairoot - (y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.) - short fic

bjoux by @okikeu - (The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.) - smau series

cliches are okay by @chogiwow - short fic

JAY

how you get the girl by @jaylver - (Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.) - long fic

white corvette and lipstick by @okwonyo - (waiting for the cab with your boyfriend in the night.) - short fic

pictures enhypen send you of bf!jay by @ddksoo - fake texts

fast forward by @asahicore - (After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy… and future husband, or so it seems.) - long fic

JAKE

bed chem by @cupidhoons - (your friend sets you up with a cute aussie boy at her party) - short fic

texts with bestfriend!jake by @silquids - text msgs

found you by @whjluv - (jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?) - long fic

SUNGHOON

deep honey by @paarksunghoon - (the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.) - short fic

cafeteria confessions by @reinahwanggg - (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.) - short fic

sunghoon with a crush on you by @woniecore - smau

get well soon by @senascoop - (You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.) - long fic

love on air by @pshbites - (two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.) - smau series

the 24-hour dating challenge by @jaeyunverse - (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.) - long fic

[virginreprise]

. ・. ゜. -: ✧ :- INDEBTED TO ✧ YOU

jackson!joel miller x reader ・゜゜・．

° : ⋆ₓ ₒ slight ddlg dynamics, smut, age gap, dirty talk, daddy kink, joel's perverted inner monologue, just pure filth whilst i try and get junky pride pt3 finished lmao

2.7k words ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

˚ · • . ° . AO3 ˚ ·. • . ° .

Brief murmurs of Tommy’s chastising fumbled in the back of his mind, the harsh way he’d shook his head—told him you were far too young; that a man like Joel had no business talking to someone like you. Someone hardened and vulnerable, despairing and mutilated by life and every tribulation that had befallen you. 

“She was a child when all this happened,” he’d informed, almost caring as they shared a beer in the empty bar: the usual intensity and hubbub of Jackson’s population had dwindled to the few who dared venture into the snow when the moon hung high and the lanterns flickered off. Footsteps covered by the ever-falling white—lost to the prairie. “You had a child-“ 

Joel had cut him off with a stare, heat forming in his stomach that bubbled and raged—hard to keep down as he gripped the bottle, hand wet with condensation, and grabbed his jacket. Ready to take his leave. Tommy had known he’d gone too far and they’d never spoken of you again, Just Joel’s quiet, mumbled monologue and his little brother’s lingering disproval that seemed so irrational when you’d sunk on his lap and called him daddy. 

Surely it was natural: when denied something, there’d be an overwhelming intensity to have it. That when he was told “No,” he’d ignore every obstacle that conjured in his space. 

Maybe Joel was just stubborn. Or maybe you were just so sweet he couldn’t take his brother's advice and leave you alone. 

But you’d ended up in his bed, writhing underneath him whilst he held your wrists above your head and stretched you wide open—cooing at your pretty little whimpers as he nestled between your thighs. 

“There you go, baby.” He stroked the hair away from your forehead, eyes flickering down to gaze at the space between your legs—the way he disappeared inside of you as his balls pressed against your ass, slick dribbling down onto his bedsheets that he’d changed just hours before you’d come to him. He didn’t care, though. God, he’d be able to smell you all day, have the sweetness of you permeating throughout the room until the scent carried its way into his everyday life. 

Patrolling the surrounding area, you’d be there—dancing along his nose. In his workshop, as he sanded away the rough wood, making something for you as a Christmas present, he’d be able to feel you around him, taste you on his lips and hear the remnants of those staccato moans as you came around his fingers. 

“Daddy’s got you,” he mumbled as he breathed out a soft moan, the tightness of you around him causing him to pause—to contemplate his words that came so sinfully from his already tainted lips. 

Jackson should’ve been a new start, a new beginning where he could leave the horrors and the terror behind. But you: pretty little thing that barely spoke, who responded to every question with a quiet nod or a shake of your head and hoped that someone else would verbalise every feeling for you, had ruined those hopes for him—had shattered the image he’d created whilst hammering a nail into the wall, ready to hang his paintings on. 

You were sweet. So damn sweet. 

With a harshness in your eyes that hinted at similar pasts, at losses that neither of you could overcome. Why Tommy didn’t think you were fucking perfect for each other, Joel would never know. 

“Daddy’s here, darlin’, all for you.”

They were incoherent blabbers, things that Joel would never say if he wasn’t so drunk off pussy and the look on your pretty little face as he began slowly moving his hips. 

“D-daddy?” 

God, you sounded so fucking pretty. All glassy-eyes and fucked out with a little bit of drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. He lapped it up with a solid kiss, an arm wrapped around your waist as he tugged you close to him—wanting to feel every part of you, every soft piece of flesh, pressed against him. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Another kiss to your forehead, grinding his pubic bone into your clit—wanting to stay wrapped up like this forever; hoping that you’d stay with and warm his bed after all was said and done. Keep moaning that name of his, that filthy little name that would give Tommy an aneurysm if he heard it, until you came and cried all over his cock. 

“Hurts,” you managed to get out. “S’too big.” 

The pride that seized him was unlike any other, the light chuckle he let out unable to be prevented as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, one to both cheeks, your nose and then lips. 

“I know, honey.” His fingers found their way between your thighs, stroking circles into your clit—attempting to appease the ache as he rolled his hips into you. “Deep breaths.” 

Kisses fell from your lips to your jaw, trailing to your neck where he sucked, smiling as you keened and bucked your hips. 

You took it so well. Took everything he gave with no complaints, writhing around in his bed, messing his covers and calling his name. 

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. 

It fell from your lips so perversely, but so pretty that he didn’t have it in him to tell you no. 

He’d be your daddy if that’s what you wanted. He was the right fucking age, silver in his hair—in his goddamn pubes too. His bones ached, knees cracking as he stood from the couch, back completely giving up on him after that one time a year ago when he’d held too much firewood in his arms and he’d gone tumbling down with the logs, crashing to the floor and having to crawl back inside his house. He hadn’t gone on patrol for a good few weeks after and he’d been careful with the damn fragile thing ever since. 

He was fragile. Fragile and old with a pudge to his tummy that never seemed to go away no matter how much he tried, wrinkles spidering near the corners of his eyes, and a pretty young thing in his bed that clenched around his dick whilst the adrenaline pumped around his body in seismic waves and made him forget all about the backache as he hovered over you. 

“You feel good?’ he asked softly, fingers still rubbing at your clit as you wrapped your legs around his hips. 

You nodded, nonverbal, unable to bring your thoughts to fruition as you mumbled incoherent things into the space between your lips. 

“C’mon baby, tell daddy how you feel.”

You whined, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails into the taut muscle. 

“S-s-s-so good, daddy.

God, he felt so fucking filthy, so depraved, so perverted. But, amongst all of that, he felt good. He felt undeniably euphoric with you wrapped around him, name echoing in the darkest corners of his mind and slipping from his throat so naturally it was like he was born to do this for you. To take care of you. Your sole vocation was to be his pretty baby for the rest of his life—not lift a goddamn finger as he did everything you asked him to. 

Get home after a long day patrolling to you in the kitchen, waiting for him eagerly and throwing yourself into his arms to give him a kiss. Tell him how much you missed him. That you’d been needing him all day. 

Joel just wanted someone to look after. And if that meant being labelled as a pervert by his brother and possibly by the entirety of Jackson, so what? 

“Yeah, I’ll make you feel good,” he murmured to himself, the words soft and delicate as he closed his eyes for a brief second, savouring the feeling of your heat around him and pulling you as tight to him as he possibly could. Breasts pressed against his chest, the softness of them against the wiry hairs: a contrast so delightful and thrilling. 

He brought his lips down to yours, tongue pressing into you—wanting to consume. To taste every single part of you. 

Hips began their movement, your mouth hanging open as he continued to lick at you; he pressed down on your stomach with intention, hand moving from your clit to the soft space above it and felt himself inside you, moving softly, scraping against every spot that had you shaking and twitching.

You gripped him tighter, whimpers and moans gracing the air, nuzzling into his touch when he stroked a hand down your cheek to admire the unmistakable and overwhelming beauty of you: all drunk off his cock and losing yourself to the feeling of him sinking deep inside you. 

“You like Daddy’s cock in you, huh?” His voice was strained with lust, dick jerking inside you when you clamped down on him—his words the biggest effect. He loved it: the way you’d start squirming and gaze at your shoes every time he spoke out of turn, every time something filthy fell from his lips. You loved hearing him talk, whisper dirty words that he daredn’t bring outside the four walls of his room. 

The left side of the bed that had been empty for so long, just waiting for you to warm it, to have your scent sink into the mattress and stay there for eternity. 

Understandably, you struggled to answer his question, just nodding slightly, almost imperceptible: the tiny little head jerk. 

“C’mon, baby, use your words.” 

You whined, digging your heels into his back, gripping tighter onto his shoulders; he was sure you’d leave marks, big long scratches down the expanse of already scarred skin. Decorating him with an ardent display of passion and desire—marking him as yours. 

He would be yours. 

Every breath, every cry, every laugh: yours alone.

In turn, he would get to keep you, locked away in his house, safe from every danger that crept outside the walls. 

“Love Daddy’s cock,” you mumbled, face heating in embarrassment at the crudeness, pressing your face as best you could into the pillows. Joel refused. He would not deny himself the pleasure of staring down at you as you took him, lips parted, eyes screwed up in pleasure with tears dripping to your temple. 

Fingers found your jaw, turning you to face him, enamoured by the way you clung and bucked—wishing for all of him. 

“Daddy,” you moaned, lips turned into a pout, a cry escaping you as his hips sped up—thrusts coming quicker. The arm around your waist tightened, tugging you upwards so he could reach deeper. Balls fucking deep. 

“There you go,” he encouraged, kissing softly at your collarbone, nipping slightly as he moved to your shoulder. “That feels good, don’t it, sweetheart?” 

This time, he didn’t mind when you didn’t reply, too focused on you gushing around him. Practically drooling from that tight little pussy as he snapped his hips upward and felt his head go funny—mind clouded by the heat of you. He was fucking burning up, everything on his mind spewing from his lips as he leant over you; ignoring the ache in his hips that served as a gentle reminder that he was old. That this was still wrong and that if anyone ever found out about what he did to you and what he let you call him, they’d exile him from Jackson and look back on the days of the pervert next door: Joel Miller. 

“Tommy says I’m too old for you,” he grunted, hand grabbing at your wrists when they fell from his back—too cock-drunk to keep them on him. “Says that I’ll ruin you.” The monologuing had been unintentional, the sentences that formed something that he was desperate to keep to himself. Too late now. All restraint had been lost as soon as you’d coaxed his fingers into your panties and shown him just how much you wanted him. “You like it, though, don’t you? You’d do whatever—fuck—whatever I tell you like a good little girl. Wouldn’t you, baby?”

You nodded enthusiastically. 

“Whatever you want, daddy.” 

He chuckled, eyes full of mirth as he kissed you softly, slipping his hands into yours and pushing them down into the pillows. He couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving, some part of him still thinking that this was all just a sick joke, that you didn’t actually want an old man like him and were going to run away the first chance you got. But, you called his name again, that fateful moniker that had his dick twitching in his pants, all doubts were lost. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, darlin’,” he said, pressing his pelvis purposefully against you, grinding down on your clit and watching your mouth hang open in ecstasy—eyes squeezed shut as you mumbled a high-pitched, whiny “Daddy.” The best one yet, as far as Joel was concerned. “You almost there, baby? You gonna cum all over Daddy’s cock? Gonna let all of them hear how much you want me? Huh?” 

You nodded vigorously, sharp gasps falling from your lips, body writhing underneath his as it built itself tall inside your stomach. Growing and growing until you were clamping down on him so tight he thought his dick would fall off. 

“C’mon, babydoll, let it out,” Joel coaxed, kissing all over your face, all down your chest and took a nipple in his mouth, sucked and grazed harshly until he felt you gushing—breath held as you soaked it in, and then a sharp cry falling from your lips as it washed over you. “There you go,” he murmured against your skin, hips slowing to guide you through, throat hoarse as he felt his own impending orgasm. 

Your head fell back onto the pillows, mouth dropped open as you tried to breathe through the sharp stabs of pleasure, Joel’s licentiousness overpowering his restraint as he pummeled into you as fast as his old bones would let him. He pushed his way through your stomach, almost coming apart right there when he looked down and saw the bulge. 

A choked groan forced its way out his throat, stomach tensing as his ears began ringing, not registering your soft whimpers and small sobs—the small daddy’s that you struggled to project above the beginning of Joel’s release. 

He outright moaned when he finally spilt inside you, cock twitching, arms shaking as he tried with all his might to keep himself balanced on his palms. 

“Daddy?” you were coming back into focus now, his bleary eyes regaining their vision and his chest heaving as he managed to breathe again—now able to fully take in the sight of you. Sweat on your brow, tears streaming from your eyes and lips full: evidence of his bruising kisses. 

“I’m here, baby,” he breathed out, indulging in your soft moan as he pulled out of you and collapsed onto the mattress beside you. He brought you with him, tugging at your waist and manoeuvring you so you lay close—warm body tucked under his arm. 

A soft kiss to your forehead, a repeated slew of “I’m here,” and “Daddy’s not goin’ anywhere,” leaving his lips as he held you as close as possible. 

Fuck Tommy, fuck Maria, fuck anyone who dared share their opinions of his choice in relations. You were his now, cum seeping from your legs—marking you. Claiming you. 

All he wanted was to take care of you, feed you, clothe you, bathe you, keep you happy, safe and warm and pray to God that you would never come to your senses one day and run far away. That you’d realise what you two had was…different. Not wrong, just different. 

He wouldn’t let you go. 

No, he’d keep you. 

Tucked into his side, a mumbled “G’night, daddy,” on your pretty lips, and the feel of you against him as your body grew heavy with sleep. 

He would stay up for hours after you’d finally fallen into slumber, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest, listening to the snores that he found overwhelmingly endearing. Kiss you a couple more times and breathe in your scent. Make sure that you wouldn’t escape in the middle of the night and go tell everyone what a disgusting, sleazy old man Joel Miller really was. 

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.

That word rested heavily on his shoulders, all night lying awake and waiting to hear it again. 

God, he was in fucking deep; he wouldn’t be letting you go for as long as you were still wet and willing.

© virginreprise

thanks for reading ! i wrote this whilst thinking of that one guy who was perfect for me. i hope you can feel my longing and desire projected through joel's thoughts. if anyone's wondering about junky pride, i hope to get it out soon. i really really just love jackson joel more than anything and want him in me so bad.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt3

Dick knew that Tim was sending him looks every few seconds.

How could he not? This places food names were honestly the best, if this was some kinda murder cult Dick would be so disappointed.

Glancing up over the menu at Danny, Dick smiled at the teen who had been whipping down the same cup for five minutes like some wild west bartender while trying very hard not to stare at the two vigilantes.

"Okay, I think I have made up my mind, Red you got what you wanted?" Finally meeting Tim's eyes, Dick mentally winced, Tim's eyes were doing that twitchy thing that happened sometimes...

"Yes. I am." Dick understand slightly but like...the puns weren't that bad

Out of the corner of his eye Dick saw Danny pop up, nearly slamming the mug he had been holding as he fumbled with a note pad, coming closer to the two, he did a pretty decent customer service smile as he waited.

Since Tim was having a problem with words, Dick went first.

"So, I'll have some Boo-berry Poltergeist pancakes, with two sunny side up eggs and a side of bacon?" Dick watched as Danny paused for a moment, let out a little laugh and then started to write before looking to Tim.

"I will have...Ugh, the Wraith waffles with the hunting hashbrowns on the side...please." Dick had seen Tim look less pained over being stabbed than say the wonderful puns.

"Alrighty, anything to drink before I head back and get started on your order?" Holding up a coffee jug in one hand and an orange juice jug in the other, Danny gave a slight smirk.

Perhaps it was the coffee but Tim looked a bit less pained after that.

---

As he slapped down a few pieces of bacon, Danny totally didn't use his ghost powers to bring the bowl of pancake batter over closer as he scooped a ladle full on a freshly buttered side of the flat top, making sure it set first, Danny heard a beep from the frier, heading over he paused to see French fries in there as well.

Shaking his head, he dunked them all into the oil, and moved to set the timer only to see it already clicking down, "Oh um...thank you very much." Patting the deep frier, Danny moved back to the flat top as it let out a gurgling purr.

---

Tim took all of five seconds after Danny rounded the corner into the back of the house to start whispering

"Wing, this place is mocking me. Apple apparition pie? Haunting Hashbrowns? Ethereal fucking eggs benedict." Hissing Tim shifted in his seat, "like I would get it if this place was ghost themed but it very clearly isnt! It is mocking me because I know this place doesn't exist!" Slamming a fist down on the counter, it very much thudded.

Sharing a look with Tim, Dick placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Buddy...I agree there is something up with this place but...I very much think it exists? Since we are kinda sitting here."

Dragging his hand down his face with a groan Tim leaned back in his seat, "I know and it is infuriating me..." Grabbing the coffee mug Tim looked at it with a not insignificant amount of distrust before taking a swig, pausing, than taking another, much slower sip, holding the mug with both hands as he lowered it down, staring at the dark liquid with a small glare.

"Red? You okay? Is that the bad coffee look ot oh shittake mushrooms that was poisoned look?" Dick said worryingly, looking to the cup of orange juice that was in front of him with suspicion.

"N-no...I" Tim's words cut off as he took a breath, "Just...tastes just like the kind Mom used to drink, came from this little town in Chile they passed through..." staring at the cup a little longer Tim shook his head, "They closed a few years back, the farmer that made it got killed by a drug cartel that wanted him to plant coca rather than coffee, it's just that this place should very much not have this."

There was a tension between the two vigilantes, Dick moving to speak before being cut off by Danny quickly coming out from the back.

"Order up! Got two pancakes for Mr. Nightwing, side of bacon and eggs and two waffles for Mr. Red Robin with some hasbrowns!" Setting each plate down in front of said vigilante, Danny gave them both a grin.

"And a side of Phantom fries for both of you on the house!"

After refilling the little bit missing out of Tim's cup, Danny seemed to be to there one second and back in the kitchen a moment later.

---

"Phantom fries?" Danny whispered to himself as he started to clean off the griddle, a grin on his face as he did, he might of left the hero business, but oh God was it funny, he wondered if other people got the same fun out of it.

Checking out on he customers through the small window to the front, Danny felt his core thrum at the sight of the two eating, it was a different kind of thrum that he got while protecting people, this one...this one gave him a full body shudder and cleared a fog in his mind he didn't even he had.

Shaking his head, Danny tried not to let the purr building in his chest out.

---

Screw the worries that Tim had, Dick was having the time of his life.

"We can't tell the others about this place Red...Little wing would try and place it in the Alley and B might try and buy it cus holy guacamole this shit is good..." Dick had dug in after Tim's wrist mounted computer had tested the food for any known poisons which said that there weren't any, but still went and saved a few samples for further analysis at the Cave.

Dick didn't know why but the pancakes tasted like those that Alfred made the first week he had been at the manor, he had gotten upset at Brcue and hid in the attic all day, but Alfred managed to lure him down with the promise of blueberries in his pancakes.

They were perfectly fluffy, butter soaked with that little edge around it that was crunchy, the berries were tart enough to battle the maple syrup and...it was just like how Dick remembered.

Shaking his head as he finished up his food, Dick threw a look over at Tim, who was hunched over his empty plate, holding his mug of coffee closer, at Dicks questioning look the teen spoke.

"We have to leave Wing something is just...off about this place, its...they taste like when my dad used to make breakfast after coming home from a dig...has to be brain waves or mind reading or..." Tim continued to ramble on, ideas flowing out of him like a water fall.

By the time that Danny went back to check on the two, they were gone.

[idontactuallywrite]

+18 mdni one night stand!simon riley x reader (reader and simon are avoidants lol)

you've been out of a toxic relationship for a year or two, haven't seen anyone since. not that you were stuck on your ex, you just couldn't be bothered with the whole relationship shit. a few flirts, some half-assed texting, a date or two where you ordered the cheapest drink just to get out faster. nothing stuck. serious isn’t your thing.

it wasn't his either.

he hadn't come out for anything. just a quiet pint or two to take the edge off.

then you walked in.

not loud, not flashy. a dress that skimmed your thighs but didn’t cling. laughter soft with your friends. a pretty bird that didn't belong in a pub full of older men nursing their big pints watching football.

and then your eyes met his. brief, but deliberate.

your friend leaned in, whispered something. you just shrugged, glanced back at the bar. at him. you were here on holiday, might as well indulge a little bit.

he noticed the glances. the way you lingered near the bar like you wanted him to see you, but weren’t desperate for attention.

the subtle lean closer when you ordered another drink. the way your spine arched just so his eyes could wander.

the smile you gave the bartender, held just long enough before you turned to meet his eyes across the room. how you swayed your hips walking away with the repeated rounds of drinks he knew you and your friends couldn't finish.

and some time later you sat near the bar after your friends left.

coincidentally. open—a quiet invitation for him.

in his field of work he's been there long enough to know when something wasn’t quite a coincidence. knew how to read people. situations. signals.

then here you were, back in his hotel room. your heel lay by the door, the other stubbornly half-on as you tried to peel it off between kisses, both of you fumbling just enough to feel alive. his hands slid down the dip of your waist, tracing the flare of your hips before tugging gently at the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head in one swift motion.

everything else fell away and finally what felt like forever you were sprawled under him, his strong forearm pressing hard into the back of your thigh, forcing you open as he drove deep into you.

your half-lidded eyes raked down to where his abdomen flexed, every brutal thrust sending muscles tightening and releasing. glimpse of scars, pale lines etched to his skin.

you remembered asking what he did. he muttered something about his work being military-adjacent. no rank, no details, just a shrug and a swig of his pint. you didn't press further.

"oh...fuckkk." your head fell back, lips part when he hit that sweet spot. the moan crawled up slow, rumbling in your throat before spilling out. soft and wrecked, half a sigh, half a sob.

"that's it..." he murmured, voice low and rough with that thick accent you found so hot. the filthy slap of skin against skin echoed through the room as he fucked into your sopping heat.

"good girl." his coo made you clamp down on him like a vice.

he shifted forward, pressing in deeper with a grunt. the forearm braced behind the back of your thigh now pushing up against your chest. a moan tore from your throat, breath hitching. he had you bent, and folded into a mating press. his breath, hot and sharp with whiskey, fanned against your lips.

he fucked you like he knew you, he fucked you like you weren't just some stranger from the pub he gave into entertaining tonight. he fucked you like he wanted to forget and remember all at once. like he needed it. like he needed you.

his cock had you drunk, more than you can say about the shit drinks you forced yourself to order, just for an excuse to hang around the bar and be near him.

his forearm pressed tighter into your thigh, pinning you as he fucked you hard, fierce, raw, urgent. then his calloused hand curled at your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his before he pulled you up for a bruising kiss. the kiss was raw and real. like he needed to claim you, to remember you.

the kind of intimacy that clawed at something inside you, that usually made you pull away, that leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

for him, the kiss held a quiet frustration, an ache buried beneath the surface. the sting of knowing this was only one night, impossible to be more.

everything you both always walked away from, laid bare in that moment.

and when the wave of pleasure hit, it hit hard.

your walls spasmed around his cock. eyes fluttering, lips parted. his name—no, the fake name he gave you, spilled from your pretty lips in a broken moan. and for a moment, he wished he'd told you the real one. just so he could hear it.

a guttural grunt deep in his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, a bruising grip at your waist. you arched into him, one hand clawing at the bicep flexed beside your head, the other caught awkwardly between your bodies, pinned between your ribs and the press of his shoulder blades, as if you weren't ready to let go yet. his breath burned against your neck, hot and uneven, the weight of him all around you.

when you both came down from your high, he slid beside. chest rising and falling, heavy breaths, the smell of sex thick in the room.

part of you wanted to tell him your flight wasn't actually tomorrow, but the night after. that maybe there was time—just a little for something. but the words caught in your throat, you swallowed them down.

you slipped out of the sheets, moved slowly. he watched as you got dressed. quiet. didn't ask, didn't reach. just breathed.

he called the cab for you. not in a trying to discard you kind of way, but like someone who understood you both got what you came for. but also, who knew if he let you linger even a minute longer, it might start meaning more than it was supposed to.

might open a door to something dangerous, something neither of you were ready for.

no numbers exchanged. no kiss goodbye. just left it at that.

that night stuck with you more than it should've. you caught yourself thinking about it often. mentioned it offhand to friends. at first, they listened—attentive. but their responses dulled over time, less curious, less amused. like they'd heard it one too many times, you didn't even realize.

a part of you wondered if it stuck with him too.

it did.