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Im In Love With Him - Blog Posts
Another day, another part of me falling in love with someone I can never have. 👍(Ngl I'm kind of obsessed with this guy-)
His birthday is on the same day I start my first day of High School. I suddenly feel better about going to a makeshift prison!
oh god this has me going absolutely feral, ugh what i would give to have sam fuck me like this-
Training Day
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Characters: Sam Wilson x woc!reader
Summary: The one where training with Sam leads to other things
Word Count: 2k+
Warnings: look….it’s smut. choking, semi public sex, female receiving oral, spanking (once really) unprotected sex (wrap it before they tap it), creampie, daddy kink (just the name used once), size kink because sam was so gd beefy in tfatws and it makes me feral
A/N: SAM WILSON PIN ME TO THE WALL CHALLENGE. This one goes out to my main Samhoes @ritesofreverie & @certainaesthetic This is obviously set after TFATWS so Sam is Captain America (AS HE SHOULD BE). The divider is by @firefly-graphics
DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. Reblogs are always welcome, and let me know that you enjoy my fics.
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one of my favoritest things about mammon that i dont see get talked about a enough is that the devildom is dark 100% of the time yet mammon wears sunglasses with his casual outfit and up in the human world he complains about how bright the sun is yet his sunglasses are nowhere to be seen
hes so gongeous gongeous
The distortion of Michael Shelly
(Please click for better quality tumblr has made it so ass)
oh so you’re the perfect man for me?? oh okay, yeah
MY BABY IDIA THAT YOU??? IT IS
Sanrio x Twisted wonderland 🎉
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! death, a ton of angst. reader mourns stu's death, writes him a letter to help the grieving process, cussing.
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒! on mobile, format might be weird. lowercase intended, unedited, double periods intended. I love writing angst and this was a great fic idea
stu x gn!reader
When you first found out about stu's death, you didnt believe it. you couldn't believe it. it just wasnt possible.
until the next day at school, when you didnt see stu, billy, or tatum, and sidney and randy both refused to talk to you.
they thought you were a monster because you were dating stu
even though you didnt even know stu was behind the mask
it hurt, it really fucking hurt.
you had nobody to talk to, and the entire town was against you.
weren't they supposed to be helping you? comforting you about the death of your boyfriend even if he was a killer? I mean, you didnt even know about it.
shouldn't they have been consoling you? even if they were lying through their teeth, shouldnt they have been telling you how sorry they were that your boyfriend turned out to be a murderer?
you had always hated woodsboro and the people in it, but now it was worse.
now you wanted to strike a match and set the whole fucking town ablaze.
they didnt even know it was billy's fault. you knew him well, he would have never even done that shit if it weren't for that cocksucking bitch billy.
you were angry, so fucking angry.
you got a therapist after a couple weeks of crying every day and not doing anything unless your mother dragged you out of bed.
your therapist told you that the best way to deal with your situation, that being having your boyfriend, the love of your life, ripped from your grasp way, way, way too soon, was to write him a letter
you were confused, how could you write him a letter if he was dead?
you had already recieved his ashes, you and his parents being the only people that showed up to his funeral
even though they were late, you still found it nice that they showed up.
back to the letter thing, your therapist told you to write a letter to him, assuming that he could read it in the afterlife, and then keep it or dump it in the sea with his ashes.
you chose to keep the letter. you chose to also keep his ashes, his parents didnt want them.
but the letter went something like this,
shit, I dont even know if this is going to work.. whatever, let's hope it does.
stu macher, the love of my life. i dont even know where to begin... from the moment I first met you, I knew you would be mine someday. ever since we met on that playset when we were seven, i knew that i would fall in love with you. and when I first realized that I had fallen in love with you, it was because of a feeling I got, not a thought about how cute you were, or how nice your shirt was, or how kind you were to me, it was the feeling that I was finally safe with someone. you made me feel safe after so many years of hating everything. it sounds stupid but I dont think it is.
when you kissed me for the first time on those swings at the same park we met at, 7 years later, I felt like nothing could ever tear us apart, like we'd be together forever. but now you're gone, and suddenly i cant find peace anymore. I cant sleep without dreaming of you, I cant eat without thinking about us cooking in my kitchen, and i cant drink anything without thinking of the stupid drinking games we would play at your stupid parties.
why did you make my life so wonderful? did you know you would kill every bit of my happiness eventually? did you know that you would leave so soon?
why did you do it? why'd you kill those people? now everyone hates you for what you did. I hate you for what you did. I know it wasnt your fault, but I cant help it.
I dont go outside anymore. every time I step off my porch, I can't help but remember our dates where we sat in the field near your house and looked up at the sky for hours.
sidney and randy hate me now, but I cant blame them. they say i was dating a monster. I dont think you're a monster..
I dont know how I'm going to recover from this, but I know I'll have to.
eventually.
I dont want to forget you.
but what if I do?
what if I forget what we had? what if I forget how your stupid cologne smells? how you feel in my arms, how your lips felt on mine.. I dont want to forget.
I dont want to move on. my mother says I have to, that I need to find someone else to take my mind off of you. I screamed at her, told her to fuck herself and that I hoped her husband died so she felt how much it hurt. I dont feel bad. I dont regret saying it.
I hate you, stu macher.
I'll never fucking forgive you for what you did to me.
and most of all, I hate that I still love you.
yours forever, y/n.
after you wrote it, you felt better. you felt like he was reading it over your shoulder the whole time.
you were still upset though.
a few months later, you accepted the fact that stu would never come back. he was gone for good.
it hurt, but you got accepted it.
and you may have accepted it, but you never truly got over it.
stu was truly the love of your life.
It's Not the Weed | Jesse Pinkman x gn!reader
Anonymous asked: Sure okay
Can I request a friends to lovers type of thing for Jesse Pinkman x gn!reader? They’re both idiots in love with each other and maybe out on a night drive idk and one thing leads to another etc.
summary: you and Jesse have had crushes on each other since your years back in secondary school, but in a parked car smoking joints, it seems like the perfect time to confess.
tws: drug use, smoking, swearing
The love of your life was sat beside you in the car, music making everything around you shake and thud as you kicked your feet up onto the dashboard and leaned back, closing your eyes as you did your best not to look at him; Jesse was rolling the next joint already, hardly able to keep his eyes off of you. The music and the weed couldn't keep his attention away from you, the starry night outside couldn't either; a rural spot in the middle of nowhere, a long drive out of the suburbs where he lived, nothing but the desert to gaze out at. It was beautiful, really. Still couldn't stop him from looking at you, though.
Tilting his head to the side, Jesse handed you the joint and watched as you lit it up, the orange flame illuminating your features so well that for a second he knew that you looked absolutely divine, holy; it made him rub his eyes as he wondered whether or not he was dreaming. Such sweet and holy dreams weren't yet to come, though, but he hoped that they would. Jesse really hoped that they would. He had had his eye on you for a while, ever since you were in secondary school together; ever since you decided to sit next to him in Mister White's class, sat at the back together doodling and listening to music with earphones that didn't quite work right. He thought you were cool, but he didn't dare to approach you when you were eating lunch with your friends.
You ran with a crowd different to him back then, yet every day after school, you always went over his house; you helped him with homework, you sat around and played video games and watched shitty horror films about masked serial killers that were more silly than a group of clowns. Even on weekends, you would go out together and sit on a damp fields and smoke weed and drink beer, hidden away from everybody else; your head would end up on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around one of his, his baggy and oversized hoodie draped over you like a blanket.
Pulled from his thoughts, Jesse dared to look at you again; his gaze softening as be swallowed thickly, tilting his head to the side and trying not to giggle when your fingers graced his as you passed him the joint. You grabbed the bottle of Lucozade from between your ankles, cracking it open and taking a long swig as you hummed softly and relaxed a little more.
"Y'know," you mused softly. "I always did think you were kinda hot."
It felt like the sky had come crashing down, shakily reaching for the Lucozade bottle so that he could take a swig but immediately choking on it as his eyes welled up with tears; it didn't feel real. Jesse was sure that he misheard you, but when you tapped him on the shoulder, he swallowed thickly.
"Did you hear what I said?" You spoke so slowly, like every word had a golden meaning. "Jess?"
"Uh, no," he breathed out, shaking his head and shivering a little. He turned on the car's heaters.
"I said, I always thought you were kinda hot," you fucking grinned as the words left your mouth, and suddenly the weed didn't matter and the fact that it was only you and him meant everthing in the world.
Jesse took another few drags, then handed the joint back to you. His mouth felt dry and his heart was pounding. He thought his hands were shaking but that could have just been the weed, a fuzzy feeling surrounding him as he grinned and shook his head. "Nah, that's just the weed talking, yo."
"It's really not," you scoffed, shaking your head and licking your lips. Your mouth was starting to feel dry, and your stomach was starting to feel empty as a giggle left you; one that forced you to close your eyes as the giddiness ripped through you for a moment.
It really wasn't. The weed had nothing to do with it, in truth; you always thought he was kind of hot. Ever since you sat down with him in Mister White's class all those years ago; how he smiled always made you feel like you couldn't breathe for a second, how he laughed always made you feel sort of giddy and made your face feel hot to the touch. You missed the times when you would play video games together and fight dirty, pushing and shoving one another until you were sitting on his lap and trying to block the screen just so you could win. You missed the nights when you would smoke together on the fields, and when he would freak out when you took him to supposedly haunted places, promising to protect him. As you grew together, your attraction to him only grew, and as you looked at him now, you knew it wasn't just the weed. Maybe the weed made you a little braver, maybe it made you a little more confident, but it didn't change how you felt.
The joint was finished, smoked down to the roach and thrown out of the window when Jesse moved his seat back, the metal nearly grinding as he swallowed thickly and ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, frowning at how fucking dry it felt. "It's just the weed."
"It's not," you insisted, daring to awkwardly climb over so that you could straddle his waist, hoping that the gear stick wouldn't dig into your knee as you put your hands on the seat either side of his head, glaring down at him. "Jesse Bruce Pinkman... this isn't just the fucking weed speaking."
'Sex is Muss' by Feuerschwanz was playing and you couldn't help but to wriggle around a little, almost trying to dance to it as you grinned and bit at the inside of your lip; but Jesse was too stunned to speak, those bright blue eyes focused entirely on you as he reached out and put his hands on your thighs, swallowing thickly as he didn't dare to take his eyes from you. Not this time. He did his best to focus on the lyrics, focus on the song as best as he could, but it wasn't exactly helping as it made the entire car vibrate.
Das ist kein normales Liebeslied, (denn Sex is Muss!) sondern ein Triebeslied, (denn Sex is Muss!) ein ganz besonders liebes Lied, (denn Sex is Muss!) eine Ode an den Liebestrieb, die Katz und der Kater, die Kuh und der Stier. Ente und Erpel, welch lüstern Getier. Maja und Willi, Struppi und Tim, Heidi und Peter, ergibt doch voll Sinn? Der Topf und der Deckel, der Arsch und der Eimer, die Faust und das Auge, alleine bleibt keiner. Alle Welt tut es, so war's immer schon. Selbst Vögel vögeln, frag mich nicht warum.
"I wanna kiss you."
"Then do it," you nodded, and when he leaned up a little, capturing your lips with the most soft and quick of kisses, you couldn't help but to laugh. "Is that all you got?"
"I wanna take things slow," he told you. "If... if this isn't just the weed talking, I wanna... y'know, do things right."
"I can do that," you licked your lips, your gaze going down to his lips for a moment. "Do you, uh, do you remember when you caught me snogging Nia at Theo's house party?"
Jesse nodded. "Yeah."
"Would it be too forward to say I wanna do that with you now?" You asked, and when Jesse agreed, you leaned down, capturing his lips so gently.
One hand went to his jaw, as you tried not to laugh when he put one hand at the back of your neck, the other gripping your shirt so tightly that his knuckles went pale as he kept you so close; the feeling of your lips on his made him more dizzy than any drug could, and when you slipped your tongue into his mouth, his breath felt like it had been drawn from him and given to you. He thought he had been blessed more than he could say, more than he wanted to admit, and when you pulled away, all that left him was a soft whimper.
"Was that okay?"
"Yeah," Jesse nodded again, licking his lips and savouring the way yours tasted. The mix of weed and Lucozade. But then you made a move to get off of his lap, and Jesse gently tugged at your shirt. "Can you stay like this?"
You grinned. "Sure - if you give me a cigarette."
He fumbled around until he found the packet, and pressed it into your hands. "You're somethin' else, (y/n)."
But the smile on his face, the giddiness in those eyes that wasn't just from how high he was, it was all too much to ignore, and you dared to laugh softly as you lit up two cigarettes and gave him one. It really wasn't just the weed.
if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG
I LOVE HIS FACE, HE HAS A REALLY CUTE FACE, I WAS ALREADY DOWN BAD FOR HIM BUT- please @mothiepixie 😳😳😳
I want him to look at me with that smile hhhhhh
greetings, beloved. i have just returned from my visit to the office of the psychiatrist you picked out. don’t look at me like that, daniel, it went fine. everything is fine. we’re all fine. why is your eye twitching, beloved? regardless, after she attempted to diagnose me with several disturbances of the mind, i promptly made her aware of the fact that her husband intends to leave her for the clinic’s receptionist. it was with very little effort that i was able to induce weeping. before long, i, i was the one behind the desk. are you not proud of me, my darling? for, i was maître once more. maître of mental health. beloved you cannot be upset. stop pinching the bridge of your nose. no. no remove your head from your hands. look, my love, i made her pay me a sum of one hundred and fifty dollars for the hour. i can buy more robux now, daniel. isn’t this delightful
literally no offense but taehyung growling yes is a big fat mood
in the vampire lestat book, lestat cries 67 times, weeps 31 times, tears up 27 times and is hysterical 3 times.
hi :)) i LOOOOOOVE your writing, you do all the boys so much justice. i was reading the intimacy one and saw you wanted requests for gotak 👀👀
this ideas been festering in my head so walk with me (or don't, that's also fine.)
new student!reader who comes to class and has a small run in with juntae (similar to how he bumped into sieun) and thinks he's adorable so they kinda just naturally becomes really close friends with him. gotak heard news about the new student and also started to hear juntae talk about them so he lowkey tries to swindle juntae into introducing all of them. juntae being the cutie (but also not naive!) he is decided to introduce them and gotak is taken back by how close they are and gets mildly jealous (for what reason 🤔😏).
sorry for the ramble and also that went no where but it's been in my head for sooooo long 😭😭😭
pairing — go hyuntak (gotak) x gn!reader (ft. bff!juntae) genre — fluff, comedy, f2l warnings — mild language, injury (minor sprain), sieun being an instigator, baku being a headass word count — ~2.1k
note: omg this took soooo long to post because of my break !! i finished this actually a week ago lol i just had lots of prior requests to get to so i never got around to posting it. alas, let us all welcome gotak’s debut on my blog !! the people have been waitinggggg and asking for this one !! and finally... !!
masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic
to put it simply, if you hadn’t turned the corner right at that moment, you don’t know how the rest of this school year would've turned out.
new school, new people, new everything. you had a map in your hand and maybe two brain cells left when someone rounded the hallway a little too fast and bumped straight into you. papers went flying. both of you froze.
“oh no—wait, i’m sorry, that was me,” he said, already crouched down to gather the mess like it was his life that had been scattered across the floor.
you blinked, surprised. he had soft eyes and glasses sliding halfway down his nose and this slightly panicked look like he thought you might cry.
“it’s okay,” you told him. “honestly, you might’ve saved my life. i was about to walk straight into a locked door.”
he smiled, awkward and kind. “my name is juntae. seo juntae. you’re new, right?”
you nodded. and just like that, he offered to walk you to class—it was the easiest decision you’d made all day.
juntae was the type of person who made space for you without ever making you feel like a burden. he brought you snacks during lunch and showed you where to hide out when the hallways got too loud. he also talked a lot about his friends, and one afternoon—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he said, “oh, you should meet sieun. you’d like him.”
you did. he was quiet and careful with his words, but funny in a dry way that caught you off guard. he’d glance at juntae like you really brought them here? but still offered you a spot at the table. he even let you steal a fry. so you counted that as a win.
after that came baku—loud, sunny, fast-talking. he practically tackled you into a high five and said, “juntae’s new bestie? you’re in good hands,” before dragging you into some debate about what counts as a sandwich.
somehow, you ended up kind of... just around. like a ghost that turned real. people knew your name before you introduced yourself. baku waved whenever he saw you. sieun always made room for you on the bench. and juntae, sweet as he was, forgot to formally introduce you to one person.
“yo,” gotak called, wiping sweat from his neck as he tossed the basketball to baku. “who’s that?”
baku looked up from tying his shoelace. “huh?”
“over there,” gotak nodded toward the sidelines, where you were doubled over laughing next to sieun and juntae. “they’ve been hanging around a lot.”
baku blinked, “that’s y/n.” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
gotak simply stared, as baku tilted his head. “you know them. don’t you?”
gotak looked back at you. you were teasing juntae about something, eyes crinkled, whole face lit up. juntae said something back that made you shove his arm, half-laughing, half-gasping.
gotak frowned, “i’ve never met them.”
baku paused. “wait. what? i thought juntae introduced you already—he told everyone else. dude. even sieun knows her.”
gotak narrowed his eyes. “so why didn’t he tell me?”
“damn,” baku grinned. “someone’s feeling left out.” as he threw the ball to his chest, a little too roughly to snap his friend out of it.
“shitty pass,” gotak muttered under his breath, passing the ball back to him.
baku snorted. “you sure you’re mad about the ball and not the fact that your bestie got a new bestie?”
gotak didn’t answer. but later that day, when he caught you waiting for juntae outside the gym, he slowed down.
you waved, and he waved back. maybe a little delayed, a little thoughtful.
maybe a little curious.
he hesitated like he was deciding something, then crossed the space between you with that awkward confidence some people carry when they’re not used to starting conversations but do it anyway.
he scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking down before landing on yours. “hey. uh... y/n,”
you smiled. “hi.”
he nodded, like that helped him keep going. “i’m also juntae’s friend, in the basketball team. with baku.” you tilted your head. “oh yeah—go hyuntak, right?”
he blinked.
you shrugged. “baku mentioned you once. and you were on the court earlier.”
gotak looked a little caught off guard, like he hadn’t expected you to know his name. then his mouth twitched, the smallest upward curve. “...right. that’s me. call me gotak.”
you stood there for a beat, quiet.
“it’s nice to meet you,” you said.
he glanced up, then back down, like he was working through a million thoughts at once. “yeah. you too.”
just then, the gym doors creaked open behind you.
“y/n!” jun-tae called, jogging out with his bag slung over one shoulder. “sorry—got caught up helping the coach—oh, hey gotak!”
gotak stepped back half a pace, nodding. “hey.”
juntae looked between you, confused for half a second. “wait—did i never introduce you guys?”
you and gotak both said, “no.”
juntae blinked. “...oops.”
you laughed. gotak didn’t, but his shoulders relaxed a little as he looked over at you again.
after that, he finally had an excuse.
or maybe it was just that now you were officially introduced—he started showing up more. like how he always just happened to walk by your classroom when it let out. or how he’d offer to carry your stuff from your locker even if it wasn’t heavy. he’d still act casual about it—mumbling something about "heading that way anyway"—but the look in his eyes always lingered a little longer than it used to.
you started showing up to practices more too. usually with a water bottle in hand. eventually, two.
then four.
baku started calling you their "hydration manager" and gotak rolled his eyes every time, but he’d take the bottle from your hands like it meant something, every time you handed him his bottle, your fingers would brush. lightly. deliberately. like a habit you weren’t in a rush to break.
he wasn’t loud about it, but as the days passed, he found himself looking for you more often than he meant to—your voice across the court, your laugh when juntae said something stupid, and the way you stuck around even when no one asked you to.
he didn’t say it out loud, but your presence became something he... liked. something that made the world feel a little softer when you were around.
and sometimes, when you laughed a little too hard at juntae’s jokes, gotak would glance over without meaning to. once, he got so distracted that baku shot the ball clean over his head and it smacked him right in the back.
“yo!” baku shouted, rushing over. “you good?!”
gotak muttered, rubbing the side of his head, “i wasn’t looking.”
“clearly,” baku huffed. “what were you looking at?”
gotak didn’t answer. just glanced back toward the sidelines, where you were sitting, completely unaware.
you weren’t exactly subtle either.
at first, it was just a glance. maybe two. maybe three, if you were feeling brave and he was too focused on the court to notice. there was something about the way he moved—steady, grounded, all quiet strength and furrowed brows. you’d never really watched basketball before, but suddenly it was your favorite part of the afternoon.
whenever he scored, you clapped a little louder. a little quicker. maybe even stood up once, under the excuse of stretching.
juntae caught you once. leaned over and whispered, “you cheer louder for him than for baku.”
you blinked. “no i don’t.”
he grinned. “yes you do.”
you smacked his arm. “shut up.”
but the next time gotak glanced toward the benches after a point, your hands were already mid-clap, eyes already on him.
he met your gaze.
just for a second.
you looked away first.
the more you saw of gotak, the more you saw him. it started with the little things—running into him by the vending machine after class, both of you reaching for the same pack of chips at the same time. you laughed, unsure of who should take it first.
“you can have it,” gotak said, smiling, though you could swear there was a flicker of something in his eyes. something that felt... not exactly like embarrassment, but not entirely casual either.
"no, it’s fine, you take it," you said, holding your hand out. "you reached first."
he paused, just staring for a second, before he gave a small shrug and grabbed it. “you sure?”
“yeah.”
you both took your snacks and stepped aside, awkwardly aware of how close you’d been. as you tried to avoid eye contact, you were almost certain your heart was racing. had he been looking at you like that... or was it just your imagination?
the awkward encounters started happening more often, though. a lot more often.
you’d bump into him in the hallway. near the library. at the school gates. suddenly, you felt like you were always in his orbit—and not just you. everyone noticed.
“you two are weirdly always in the same place at the same time,” juntae pointed out one day while you were grabbing lunch. “it’s like you’re following him around.”
you choked on your drink. “what? no. no, i’m not. i—he just happens to be there. i’m—just minding my business.”
juntae fixes his glasses, shrugging it off with a playful grin, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “alright, y/n. totally.”
and of course, baku caught on too. one day, while you were standing at the sidelines during practice, watching gotak and baku scrimmage, he glanced over at you, then at gotak, then back at you. then gotak. then you. he raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious.
“hey,” baku said casually, tossing the ball to gotak. “you two are like, besties now, huh?”
gotak froze, looking at him, and then glancing over at gotak to avoid meeting baku’s gaze. “what? no. we’re not—”
“uh-huh,” baku grinned, spinning the ball on his finger. “sure, and i’m top of the class.”
during practice one afternoon, it happened.
gotak went up for a dunk, but his foot slipped awkwardly when he landed, and he crumpled to the ground with a loud thud. your heart dropped as you watched him clutch his ankle, wincing in pain.
“gotak!” you shouted, rushing to his side.
he grimaced, leaning against the floor, clearly in pain.
“dude, what happened?” baku called out, rushing over too. “you good?”
“i’m fine,” gotak muttered, trying to push himself up, but his face twisted in discomfort. “just sprained it, probably.”
sieun was quick to appear by your side, his usually calm demeanor shifting slightly as he assessed the situation. without missing a beat, he turned to you, a rare glint of something in his eyes. “maybe y/n can take him to the infirmary? we still have to clean up here.”
you blinked, unsure how to respond. “huh?”
sieun shot a pointed look toward baku, who was still oblivious to what was going on. his lips curved in the smallest, lopsided smirk. “baku doesn’t need your help right now,” he said, almost too casually, before giving a side glance at you.
you noticed baku didn’t catch the hint, just furrowing his brows at the situation. “wait, what? you seriously want y/n to drag him to the infirmary? you do realize that guy’s gonna crush ‘em under his weight, right? y’know gotak’s been having too much chicken—”
sieun’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement, though his expression stayed neutral. “go on,” sieun said, motioning to gotak, tone soft but firm. “help him out.”
you looked down at gotak, who was still struggling to stand, and it dawned on you that he was huge—much bigger than you. and the thought of dragging him all the way to the infirmary alone? absurd. awkward.
but you couldn’t exactly say no, not when everyone was watching and not when he was looking at you like he needed your help.
“you okay to walk?” you asked, kneeling down next to him.
“i think i’ll survive,” he grumbled, clearly embarrassed by the situation.
you offered him your hand. “come on, let’s get you there.”
he took your hand, and you tried not to notice how big his hand felt wrapped around yours. you both started walking, and although you tried to make it seem like a casual walk, every step felt like you were carrying the weight of his entire body.
sieun watched you both for a second, his gaze unreadable. the smallest of smirks tugged at the corners of his mouth.
the walk to the infirmary wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, though you were still struggling to act normal when you finally helped gotak sit down on the clinic bed. his ankle was already wrapped up, but he kept fiddling with his fingers, looking down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
you sat across from him, the silence stretching for a moment as you both just sat there, waiting.
“uh, thanks for this, y/n,” gotak mumbled, his voice quiet in a way that was almost unlike him. he kept glancing at you, then back at his hands.
you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “no problem, seriously. i told you, i’m happy to help. anything for you,” you said, maybe a little more casually than you intended, your heart racing just a little.
he met your gaze then, eyes wide and slightly soft, a subtle smile playing at his lips. “anything?” he asked, teasing, but there was a hint of something more in his tone.
“well, yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “you’re my friend. i’ve got your back.”
there was a beat of silence as you both just looked at each other. gotak’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers still fidgeting, though a little more nervously now.
“you’re…you’re a really good person, y/n,” he said softly, his eyes lowering to his hands again, as if he was unsure of how to put his feelings into words.
you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the sincerity in his voice. “thanks, gotak. that means a lot coming from you.”
the moment stretched longer than it probably should have, but neither of you seemed to want to break it.
finally, he cleared his throat, looking up at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “so, uh…if you’re willing to do anything for me…”
you raised an eyebrow. “yeah?”
he shifted a little, suddenly a little more serious, though his usual playful grin still tugged at the corners of his lips. “you think you could—i don’t know—not make me fall for you?”
your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you swore you didn’t breathe. his words hung in the air, the playful edge still there, but there was something different about the way he said it. something that made your heart flutter in that puppy-love way that only people in the early stages of affection could understand.
“w-what?” you stammered, unable to hide the rush of warmth that spread across your cheeks. “you’re—you’re falling for me?”
he raised both eyebrows now, the teasing gone from his voice, replaced with something more earnest. “maybe,” he said with a small, sheepish grin, his gaze never leaving you. “maybe it’s too late for that. i think i’m already halfway there.”
you blinked at him, unsure how to respond, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you was suddenly thick with something you didn’t quite know how to define.
you broke the silence with a nervous laugh, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “well, i guess it’s not so bad to meet you in the middle if you’re already halfway there.”
gotak chuckled, his lips curving into that genuine smile you’d come to look forward to. “yeah, i guess it’s not, huh?”
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roach!!! he’s alive in the reboot stop lying
Who took the bomp from the bompalompalomp? Who took the ram from the ramalamading-dong? Spider-Punk by Pétra
𝓈ℴ𝒻𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝒹 .ᐟ
꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 6.3k word count , fem reader , soff’ dom nanami , bimbo / hyperfeminine reader , sex in a tent ( semi - public ) , meanie gojo , you and nanami are engaged , reader’s twenty four ( 24 ) + nanami’s twenty six ( 26 ) , pet name usage ( ex. baby, little one ) , thigh fucking , fingering , tummy bulgin , cervix kissing , daddy kink , squirting .
maisie’s note to you .ᐟ . . . hai hai haiiii :p i wrote dis like over a year ago so ,, take it easy on lil ol mi<3 i noticed dat my writing style has changed a bit ! minors do not interact !
“do you have everything?”
the sharp clicks of your five inch, baby pink, platformed jimmy choo heels are rhythmic as they tap quickly against the curved, grey cemented footpath in front of your home that leads towards the driveway as you saunter towards your fiancé’s big bodied mercedes-benz gls class truck. you can hear the shuffles and shifts of duffel bags and the wheels of your pink, vintage, dior suitcases and carry ons rolling that nanami had been lugging behind you.
retorting through a gentle coo, you give a, “i have everything nanami,” watching him haul all of your luggage towards the trunk of the car. his muscles flex and constrict underneath the silk, cranberry red button up shirt he wore as he stacks them all atop his two duffel bags like a complex game of tetris and you tilt your head in interest when a piece of blond hair falls across his forehead within his moil and effort.
you can’t help but notice it. he’s so handsome.
releasing a weighty huff from his chest before slamming the trunk closed, nanami dusts off his hands and fixes you with a calm, albeit subtly knowing, honey-brown eyed stare that makes you nibble on the tip of your tapered square acrylic and give him a delicate, innocent smile.
“do you have everything?” he repeats more slowly.
your smile lessens into puffed cheeks and a pout, “yes, i have everything. i think i’d know if i missed something, ‘m not dumb kento—“
“—the minute this car,” he points to it. “leaves this driveway,” his finger flicks downward to the cement, “i’m not turning back. so,” his steps are idle and steady once he starts to walk closer to you. he brings with him an air of effortless authority and sway that makes your knees almost buckle. he smells delicious, too — like, a tinge of burnt vanilla and woodsy tobacco. your eyes are hazy and unfocused when you have to lift them to look up to his tall, six foot height.
nanami notices this and it doesn’t take him by surprise. it’s often more than not that he has to snap his fingers or grip you by the chin with two fingers to center you back down to earth’s gravity. you’re a mess. “do . . . you . . . have . . . everything?” he asks you softly with his index’s knuckle holding your chin up to demand your full, undivided attention. your soft nod is more than enough for him. but you’re his mess.
his voice is still gentle when he mutters, “okay.”
he should probably let you go and open the door so that you two can head out on the road, nevertheless, still, nanami can’t exactly help it. with you this close, he gets a good look at your pretty, no, fucking enchanting face — from your plush lips glittering with your favorite, piña colada scented gloss and the pearls studded along your eyelids that fall into half lids into your irises. “why are you so perfect, hm?”
you grow flustered. you give a tiny squeak and giggle, throwing your arms over his strong shoulders and kick a leg up as you do. the kiss you press against his lips has a bright smack of lipgloss transferring onto them which, oddly, nanami is used to by now. he doesn’t bother to wipe it off, just opens the passenger side’s door so that you can hop up and slide inside the fine, leather interior, then shuts it so that he can round the car and slip into the driver’s.
“i’m so excited,” you’re babbling to him while fluffing your hair and gazing at your reflection through the sun visor’s mirror. “we’re gonna eat s’mores and sing songs and . . .” your words trail off.
nanami thinks it’s because you don’t know what else there is to do. this was your first time going camping — it’s to be expected. “uh,” he rotates the wheel with the heel of his palm while turning onto the freeway’s ramp entrance. “i think you’ll like catching fireflies . . we can go out on a midnight swim in the lake, stargaze—“
“—no,” you whine and fold your arms. “baby, w-wait, i forgot my phone — oh, god, and my lipgloss . . .”
nanami should’ve known. no matter how many times he asked did you have everything, and no matter how many times you answered yes, he should have gone, combed through the house and checked himself. he shakes his head, eyes steady and focused on the road. “i’m not going back,” is all he tells you.
“but nanami—“
“—what did i tell you?” he spares a quick glance at you, not shocked to see a precious, little face full of dejection staring back at him. “i asked you did you have everything, three times. no,” his head shakes again and leans back to start to steer the wheel from atop with one hand while the other arm leans on his door’s armrest. “i’m not going back.”
“. . . kentoooo.”
nanami tells himself that he needs to put his foot down with this one. he won’t give in. he won’t. he won’t.
but you’re something else.
there’s something about you that makes the man bend and succumb to your every desire and wish, no matter how far out or bizarre. he’s aware that not much of anything resides within that pretty head of yours. you weren’t the smartest, or if you could have put it, ‘the sharpest light bulb in the shed’ ( point proven ) but you were his and nanami adored you even so. it’s why he slid a twelve carat diamond ring on that little finger of yours only two years after meeting you for the very, first time.
you had came from a very affluent and well-fixed family — father was the chief financial advisor of a banking corporation and your self-acclaimed hippie of a mother owned a line of essential oils that both housewives and single men alike adored. you had grown up with a golden spoon in your mouth to put straightforwardly, and upon first encounters at a charity gala, nanami had only spoke two sentences to you before he was calling you a spoiled brat with a vacant, impassive expression steamed upon the sharp lines and ridges of his gorgeous face.
you threw a little tantrum, of course — told your daddy on him which, let’s face it, was the most ridiculous and yet, amusing, thing he’s ever seen in all of his, then, twenty four years on earth. ditzy you. you hadn’t known that nanami had met your father before, albeit a few times, and the two of them had formerly established a nice and civil relationship between one another. your face dropping into one of dumbfoundment when you had saw the two shake hands and pick up a conversation on stocks and rising taxes still replays in nanami’s head from time to time.
“you’re the best!” you’re leaning over the middle console to smack a soft kiss into the light scruff of ashen blond hair making home along his jawline when nanami’s climbing back into the car thirty minutes later with your pink iphone and three tubes of lipgloss in hand. “thank you, my love.”
he gives you a simple sigh, “this is the first and last time i’m turning back, do you hear me?”
the hour and a half drive up to the state’s forest is spent with the two of you listening to your customized, ariana grande playlist and you pointing your finger against the window and gasping with glee when you happen to pass a field of cows or horses — tiny, “nanami, nanami! look, look!”s pushing past your lips and him humming and giving you a nod with a slight, “i see, baby.”
having nanami’s big hand clutch your thigh and getting to sit pretty beside him are the only reasons why you enjoy car rides. usually, you’re insufferable. it’s hard for you to keep still sometimes. at home you’re always in the kitchen whipping up new recipes you found on pinterest, irregardless of the fact that you have to run back and forth between it and nanami’s home office to ask him what two thirds of a cup was and what was the point of following the recipe step by step. it had indicated for you to bake the cake at two hundred degrees but you wouldn’t be anything if you weren’t impatient. cranking the heat up to four hundred wouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? it’ll speed up the process.
safe to say, there’s been more than a few instances where all of the windows within your home had to stay opened all night to allow the smell of burnt batter to air out, and nanami keeps a fire extinguisher on hand underneath the sink.
you get to stare at him, too — get to sit and admire his flawless side profile and how his favorite, bronzed rolex wrapped around his wrist gleamed a bright flare into your eyes each occasion the sun’s rays hit it when he happened to turn the wheel. and within the smattery cosmic of your mind upon staring at him for too long, you’re always reminded that you hadn’t known what love had felt like until you met nanami kento.
the words he whispers to you underneath the silent comfort of your bed sheets gives sweet, candied fruit and glacé sorbet a run for their money. the way he kisses your temple when he gathers you within the opulence of his arms is incapable of comparison, nonetheless still, the feeling that blooms within the gates of your heart when he does reminds you of a steaming hot trill of jasmine tea sliding down your throat during a cold day in december. he’s simply everything to you and he makes sure you know that you’re everything to him and more.
“oi! nanami, you’re almost two hours fuckin’ late.”
the sound of shoes scraping against loose pebbles and gravel doesn’t mix well with your whines and aggravated huffs. you’re struggling to walk up the short hill that surfaces out into an open, even plane of dirt that spreads out about five yards length and width — surrounding your campsite is nothing but tall trees of cedar and pine.
gojo had lifted open the flap of the dome tent that had been assembled near the entrance of the trail. he lets out a long, low whistle upon the view of nanami lugging up three duffel bags and two carry ones over his back and arms and places his hands on his hips. gojo gives a bright smile. “that’s what i like to see. you’re working the hell out of him — ah, nanami would you like some help?”
before nanami can cut his eyes at him in annoyance, gojo’s blatantly ignoring him and offering you a hand to help you not twist an ankle on a random stone. he’s laughing when he asks you, “any higher heels and you could’ve broke your neck.”
your eyes are full of fear when they look up into his at the simple thought of that happening, “you think so? should i . . should i have not worn these? but all i brought were heels.”
“you’re fine,” nanami lets the baggage fall to the ground with dull thuds and scowls at gojo. “i’ll carry you on my back if we happen to walk a long distance.”
utahime’s exiting the pop up tent that had been constructed a few feet away from gojo’s and she’s smiling upon the view of you two and immediately pulling you in for a warm hug, “it’s always so nice to see you,” she sighs. “oh!“ her eyes widen upon her first view of an influx of pink suitcases and bags while nanami crouches low to unzip a duffel to start constructing the tent. “you brought a lot.”
“i had to,” you bite your bottom lip over a pretty grin. “you didn’t? but . . — nanami am i the only one who brought so many things?” your eyes are cutely wide with the new revelation.
gojo nods, “yes.”
though at the same time nanami tells you, “no,” he even looks up at you from what he’s doing to assure you that. “you brought just enough, angel.”
and his word is always right. your pretty face brightens again and you clap your hands quickly, “okay, good,” you giggle. “can i help you build the tent?”
nanami’s giving you the go ahead, allowing you to walk over and grab the pamphlet of instructions. upon first opening it, you’re greeted with black and white pictures of what was supposed to be in the kit and there’s arrows pointing to where and how you’re supposed to assemble poles and hooks. your brain quickly goes haywire. “hm,” you bite your bottom lip.
gojo’s calling out, “ah, don’t stress yourself out too much, sweetheart.”
you huff a pout and nanami’s letting a small smile lift his lips as he gently pries the pamphlet from your manicured fingers. truthfully, he just wanted to see how you’d react to them, see if you’d try to stick it out and try to understand them or not. he knows that you will, you always try to, however, “i got it,” he takes one of your hands and pulls it close to stow a sweet kiss upon your knuckles. “why don’t you go rest your pretty feet in utahime’s tent while i get finished with ours, huh?”
the sugarcoated pout that takes over your lips has nanami’s heart in a vise. “but . . i want to help. i’m not dumb, kento—“
“—i know you aren’t but, still this is hard and i don’t want you fussing over this, beautiful. gotta save all that intellect for later on in our trip.”
he always knows what to say. your pout starts to lift into a smile which you try to fight but he sees right through it. as much as you know you can be a little dense headed, you try just as hard to power through it. nanami thinks it’s cute. his eyes glow akin to seas of liquid gold when he smiles and kisses your knuckles again. “go on.”
you sigh a little, “fine.”
the minute you’re inside the tent with utahime, nanami’s smile is falling upon first look at gojo. “one more slick comment and your head’s going to be floating in that fucking lake.”
there’s a big, gum-showing smile stretching his cheeks as the man leisurely walks over to nanami who starts to separate the materials into separate piles. “two years, man . . and you’re engaged to her,” he sucks his teeth and crouches down beside him. “gotta give you your props, nanami.”
“just admit it, satoru,” nanami doesn’t need the instructions. he flicks them away with a finger and starts to assemble the tent as if he had done it dozens times before. “you’re mean to my fiancé because you want to fuck her.”
the splutters that follow nanami’s words are loud however, both men know that they are true. gojo acknowledges that there’s no point in lying. once nanami kento has his mind made up about something, there’s no point in trying to change it. “so what?” is all he says while childishly flinging a pebble nanami’s way so that it hits his arm. “she’s pretty . . and she’s dumb. what more can you ask f—“
gojo prides himself on having quick reflexes . . and nanami does the same.
the second the blond reaches out to snatch his neck up and around so that his arm is wrapped around it and gojo’s in a headlock, the other man is tilting his body weight back so that nanami falls flat on his back and he has his arms wrapped around his legs to keep him from kicking.
“let me go.”
“you let go first.”
gojo digs his fingernails into nanami’s forearm but his grip is only tightening. he’s hardly able to breathe, let alone talk. “. . f-fuck, alright! sorry, sorry!”
“for what?”
gojo holds his tongue and nanami pulls his arm tighter around his neck by tugging at it with his free hand. “s-shit!” gojo hisses. “damnit, nanami! your girl—“
“—wife,—“
“—alright, your fucking wife! i won’t act like a dick anymore.”
both men release each one another simultaneously. gojo rubs his neck with a slight smirk on his face while nanami goes back to assembling the tent calmly. “what kind of pussy does she own?”
the sharp, thunderous crack of nanami’s knuckles colliding into the bridge of gojo’s nose is loud enough for a flock of birds perched a few trees away to squawk and quickly soar away with heavy wings flapping against their bodies.
you had thought that camping would be like how it was portrayed in movies and television shows; with everyone in the group circling around the fire singing songs, eating hotdogs, just having a grand time.
you hadn’t expected this.
it’s only day two of the trip and you’ve been bitten at the ankle and collarbone of all places by pesky mosquitos, your hair’s been frizzing up due to the humidity of being so high up in the forest, and you’ve barely been sleeping the past two nights because all you hear are cicadas and the constant, piercing shrill of crickets. sometimes, you think they’re going to slither underneath the protective flaps and layering of the tent and crawl inside of your mouth.
you’re sobbing to nanami come evening of day three, “baby . . baby, look at me! i’m a mess!”
nanami’s clicking his tongue fondly and pulling you by the waist so that you stand between his legs. he’s seated on the full sized cot inside of your tent that you had cutely decorated with plush throw blankets and fluffy pillows layering the flooring. you’ve never missed your california king sized bed more than you did now. “no, you don’t—“
“—these bites are itchy,” you reach up to scratch at the stupid nip focused right near the edge of your left collarbone that seemed to be growing and becoming more irritated by the hour. “and . . and as much as i like showering in the pretty waterfall, i miss bubble baths and eating steak and steamed lobster and caviar with crackers.”
nanami’s looking up at your pout and he tries to fight it, he does, but he can’t help but break out into a smile which he quickly hides by bowing his head and clearing his throat. unfortunately, you still catch it. you smack his shoulder, “can you stop laughing at me?”
“i’m not, i’m not. look at me,” he’s gathering your attention and grabs you by the waist to pull you in again and kiss your tummy softly. “i told you to stop scratching them. you’re only going to make them bleed.”
you watch him reach for the first aid kit he had placed underneath the cot to unfasten and grab a small tube of benadryl which he opens and dots a good amount on his finger. “c’mere.”
you have to take a seat on the thigh of one of his legs so that he’s able to rub the cooling gel over the bite and massage it in. it’s so comforting — the feeling of the sharp sting slowly dwindling and ebbing away into nothing, as well as nanami’s palm, slightly calloused from past years of sorcery work rubbing into your skin. unknowingly, you melt into him and nanami notices. “feels good?” he asks you delicately, watching you pout and nod and lay the side of your face against his shoulder. “i think you just had a long day, sweet girl,” he sighs.
you have a feeling that he’s right . . nanami always is.
“how about you get some rest, hm?” he kisses your temple after he rubs the medication into the bite on your ankle. you don’t bother to fight.
you slip into your pajamas on your own and climb underneath the comforter to lay your head on a pillow. it has been a long day. usually you fight your sleep however tonight, it washes over you without a blink missed. even so, you don’t overlook the soft kiss your fiancé presses against your cheek as you let the dark cloaks of slumber enfold you.
with you going to sleep so early, the end of your last rem cycle wakes you up at approximately 4.17 am, giving you a good nine hours of sleep you hadn’t even known you needed — furthermore proving that nanami knows best.
the man lays beside you, fast asleep, facing you with a bare arm thrown over your torso, keeping you close against his own chest. in the quiet of the early morning, you’re able to lay and stare at him without shying away from his eyes that always seemed to bore holes into your own.
you’re able to carefully lift your hand and trace invisible lines around the natural, soft arch of his brow, the strong, straight, downward slope of his nose, and across the plush dip of his cupidsbow with your small fingers. he’s so . . . pretty, so . . . strong. he always manages to make you feel protected, even so with just one arm wrapped around you. the joy that sprouted in your heart when he had proposed to you stays unmatched to this day.
him? he wanted you to be his wife? to love, to cherish, to hold past the end of time, to grow old with, to go on crazy, little adventures with, to have kids with? you?
the one who had always been the butt of jokes as a little girl, the one who had countless of men wanting to bed but not wed since the age of eighteen. you didn’t understand. in a way, you still don’t, albeit, you’ve learned to push those thoughts aside and focus on the now. you have him and he has you.
with a smile, you kiss his lips.
you keep kissing him until he starts to kiss you back, and though he’s making little grunts and grumbles at having his sleep disturbed, you ignore them because you just can’t help it. sometimes the happiness just hits you in your chest with a big surge and you have to let it out.
you drag your left leg up his hip to hold and tilt your body weight so that you flip him over onto his back and end up straddling him. nanami’s looking up at you through foggy eyes and you’re staring down at him with a big grin. “it’s . .” he reaches for his phone on the floor, powers it on then squints at the screen. “four in the morning, little one. what’s goin’ on?”
“nothin’,” you sing softly and slide your hands slowly up the rocky plane of his abs to his pectorals. “i just . . i missed you.”
nanami’s confusion is written all over his face. he’s not much of a morning person, you know this. “. . i’m right here.”
he is. all blond haired, brown eyed, six feet of him.
you sigh and lean down to capture his lips with yours once more, cupping the side of his face with one of your palms, feeling the scruff of his five o’clock shadow underneath it. you hope he’s able to feel the love you have for him pouring out of you with each click of your lips separating, and at the way you sigh out sweetly through your nose in content, and when your hips start to rock against his firm morning wood, hidden underneath his sweats. for what you’re unable to describe through words, you make sure he’s able to feel it.
“oh, i get it now,” he says. his voice is hushed.
surrounding your tent is nothing but silence, save for the slight rush of water from the waterfall a couple yards away. it’s deadly quiet.
nanami can see that his baby wants, though. can see it in the way your eyes go half lidded and you pull your thumb up to nibble on the nail when he grabs you by the hips, lifts his thigh up and starts to make you rub your needy, little cunt over it.
“a-awh!”
nanami covers your entire mouth with his palm. your eyes are big. “shh, shshsh,” he whispers. there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “i know it’s hard for you to understand words when you get like this. isn’t that right?”
you nod shakily.
“but you have to be quiet, you hear me?”
you nod once more. nanami trusts you. he drops his hand to have it grab your hips again to work you steadily back and forth, back and forth. his pace is unhurried . . he works you as if there’s a slow tune playing in the background that only he hears and knows. it feels good. the much needed friction of the lace of your panties and the cotton of his sweats rubbing up against your clit already has your eyes going bleary and unfocused as you look down at him.
“keep lookin’ at me — that’s right,” nanami still feels the tinctures of sleep passing through his veins. it has his own eyes growing heavy and his limbs feel like they weigh a ton, however if anything, the drowsiness makes this feel better. he’s able to slowly lower his thigh to instead shift you over his cock and you, already so dumb, simply sit on it, waiting for him to buck you back and forth again. “can you take this off for me?” he tugs at the button down you wore that belonged to him. it’s oversized — hangs off of your body like a duvet, stopping near the beginning of your knees and continuously slipping off of the hill of your shoulder.
your little fingers work hurriedly and your acrylic nails tap and click against each other as you do. with each strip of skin that’s shown, he feels his brain spiraling deeper and deeper into a portion full of nothing but you.
nanami prides himself on being an intelligent man. having gone to one of the top universities in the country, secured a job as a stockbroker, and he’s still on call for the occasional curse job here and there; he’s aware that he’s very well rounded.
but around you . . . sometimes, he’ll admit, he goes a little dumb, too.
“fuck.” it shows when he makes his hand fall down upon your ass with a loud smack that makes you yelp and he’s positive gojo and utahime must’ve heard it. “mmm.”
he groans, lifts up and plants a kiss right over your heart before he’s stamping a path to one of your nipples and collecting it inside of his mouth. you’re whimpering quietly, holding onto his shoulders and now beginning to swirl your hips over his cock to feel more. “daddy.”
nanami rolls the small bud over his tongue and lightly pulls it with his teeth until it’s hard, standing upright, and laminated with his spit. only then, does he turn to the other to give it the same attention.
you’re hiccuping now, bucking a little harder which makes the cot start to creak.
“mm — be still,” nanami’s voice comes out in a low gruff that makes you obey, even if you really, really didn’t want to. his tongue is clever and his teeth are sharp . . they nip and bite all over your tits and neck until bruises the tone of maroon and wine bloom all over the canvas of your skin. nanami can’t help but smack one, just to watch the flesh jiggle before he’s laying back down, pulling you with him, and rolling you over until you both are laying on your sides.
you don’t need him to ask, or rather, you’re too eager to do it yourself, but you push down his sweats just enough for his cock to spring up and out into the open air. it hits his lower tummy with a slap . . long, thick, and drooly; you scoot closer to nanami to grab it and carefully slide it between the small opening of your thighs, watching his eyes close at the feel.
“oh, shit,” he groans and carefully starts to thrust his hips while holding yours to keep you still. the tightness the smooth, soft skin of your thighs provide him with is heavenly. “already doin’ so good for me. just . . k-keep still, let daddy use you for a little while, huh?”
you’re letting out these little pants because with each thrust, your clit’s still getting stimulated by the roof of his cock and it’s just enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull as your mouth falls open. “feels . .” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy.”
hazy, lust filled eyes usually the tone of honey darken into a more muddy gold. they dart over your blissed out face, your bruised tits jiggling and squishing down into the bed with each movement of your arms, and the lewd image of his cock pressing in between the doughy skin of your thick thighs. nanami can cum from the sight alone.
“nanami . .” you’re gasping when he picks up a quicker rhythm, eyes lifting to look up into his.
“so fucking loud.”
his next movements are quick. he pulls his cock from between your thighs, snatches down your panties which don’t even make it past one of your calves; just stays wrapped and tangled around it, then he’s flipping you over and pulling your back into his chest. you’re panting, needy body wriggling and squirming against him. you want him . . . you need him. nanami kento to you is what pollen is to a bee, flame to a moth, gravity is to everything on fucking earth. “please,” you’re sobbing. “please, daddy. p-please.”
“fuck are you whining for, huh?”
his words are mean but his voice is gentle and sweet. he licks his fingers and carefully directs them between your legs, not surprised to feel you absolutely dripping. you’re a mess. two of his fingers are sliding inside your sticky cunt with a loud squelch when they bottom out and he watches your body shiver all over as you push your ass further back to somehow feel more. “so greedy,” he whispers, fucking them in and out to hear those toe-curling, mouth-watering squelches echo inside of his ears. “so, so good for me.”
his praise makes you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his fingers as a new rush of slick gushes out of you.
you can’t describe the joy you feel when he pushes his arm underneath your head to give you some leverage, lifts your leg up with the other and starts to rub his throbbing dick between your puffy lips, giving you both some well needed friction. he’s overwhelming every single one of your senses.
you smell his cologne, feel his body all over yours, taste him underneath the musk of you when he carefully slides his fingers past your lips, hear him coo’ing underneath his breath at how pretty you look.
when he finally pushes inside of you, it’s like breaking down a dam. you’re crying at the ungodly pleasure it brings, no, he brings. your dumb, little mind can’t handle it. “thank you,” you’re babbling and hiccuping. “d-daddy . . daddy—“
“—i know, baby. i know,” nanami tilts his face closer to align his lips atop of yours to swallow each little gasp and whine once he suddenly slams in. “daddy knows.” he doesn’t want to torture you any longer. you’ve been so good for him these past couple days, so good to him. you deserve this. you deserve everything your airy little brain and big, lovable heart desires.
he fucks you slow . . . and deep. carefully pulls his hips back and alternates between driving them back forward leisurely and swirling his hips to angle up into that one, gummy bundle of nerves that has a pool of drool forming underneath your chubby cheek. “that’s my good girl,” he’s whispering, holding your shaky leg up by the back of your knee so that you both can watch his fat and heavy balls smack against your swollen clit with a sticky tap each time he bottoms out. “takin’ it so good . . does it feel good?”
your nods are slow as if they’re trying to catch up with your quivering body. you’ve gone non-vocal and now nanami knows that you feel especially good. it makes him smile atop your lips before he’s pressing one last peck against them and pulling his face back to get a good look at you once his pace and strength quickens.
your mouth drops, eyebrows furrow, and cute nose scrunches up.
“there it is.”
the smacking of skin is loud and distinct, and he knows that it’s evident what you two are doing by now and he knows that you two are a little loud but nanami can’t bring himself to care about that anymore. you just feel so good. you’re tight and you’re wet and having you so close makes him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and swell bigger than a balloon at the same while.
“oh god,” you’re hiccuping and holding onto the ledge of the creaking cot. “oh my . . god, kento.”
the diamond encrusted anklet around your ankle dangles the letters K&N. believe it or not, you had actually been the one to surprise nanami with it eight months ago when you came home from one of your day-long shopping sprees. seeing his initials dangling off a piece of jewelry so dainty and pretty on you had woken something inside of nanami that he hadn’t even known was dormant. each time he sees it, he wants to break you, and coincidentally, you never take it off.
nanami bends your leg almost all the way back until your thigh nears your shoulder just to hear the way the letters jingle as they hit each other. “fuck,” he curses, eyes cycling back into his head. “f-fuck.”
your moans are so pretty — high pitched, breathy, and broken. you have his hips stuttering prior to him starting to fuck you harder. you hadn’t even known he could but he’s proving you wrong at the way you can feel your ass clapping back off of his slim hips with each push of them against it. you’re babbling shaky ‘daddy’s’ and ‘t-too much’ while he just keeps you still.
his voice is trembly and quiet when he says, “a-almost there, sweet thing. you’re almost there.”
you’re going to make a mess — you feel it in the way your pedicured toes curl and how your clit seems to pulsate harder by the second. “hhnnng,” your brain is driven so empty that you can’t even say it.
your cum gushes out of you in fast, long spurts that manages to hit the floor past the edge of the bed. the rest dribbles out in ripples and tides, getting all over nanami’s balls and both of your thighs. he powers you through it; never stops nor decreases his pace, he keeps you right where he wants you, forcing you into overstimulation. you’re squeaking, “ ‘nami — daddy . . w-wait — oh, stars!”
nanami feels his own edge getting closer. he slips himself over you so that he’s on top yet he keeps your one leg up and stretched and soon grabs the other to do the same and folds you into a perfect mating press.
you have a love hate relationship with the position. you love it because you get the perfect view of your fiancés fat, long cock dropping into and pulling out of your sloppy pussy. you get to see his tummy fold as he bends to keep his neck from straining and you especially love how you can see the print of his cock pushing against the skin of your stomach, further showing you just how big he truly is.
but, still, you’re always so easily overwhelmed because with this position he digs in deep. his tender tip bumps against your cervix, rubbing up against it and your g-spot. it’s a weird feeling. sometimes, all you can sob is, “h-hurts so good.” thankfully, he understands.
“doin’ so good for me.” pieces of blond hair fall across his forehead and jump in time against it with his thrusts. the way he’s staring down at you makes you shake. “can you give me another one?” he licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit and dragging tiny, quick circles on it. “give daddy one more, princess. please, baby. just . . one more.”
you’re so weak. you can only nod wordlessly and let your body give into his. you let him fuck you until his name is the only thing that rings in your brain, until your pussy’s aching with the stretch of him battering it sore, until you’re squirting again for the second time . . getting nanami’s lower torso and your own dirty with your fluids.
you make him smile. “there we fuckin’ go.”
his own orgasm creeps up on him slow. it starts from his feet, makes him curl his toes once he feels the thick flames licking at the base of his gut before it surges up to his calves — they tense, along with his thighs. and his jaw’s clenching tighter come the swelling of his balls filling with cum. he’s gripping your thighs until they start to bruise. “fuck . . fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he’s grunting, making his hips slam into your ass at the pace of his words before ultimately, it’s hitting him with a grand slam.
his balls draw tight before the first shot of thick, opaque white is bursting inside of your womb. nanami goes scarily still and throws his head back with the muscles in his neck straining as he fucks his cum as deep as it can go with jerky little tilts of his hips.
you mewl.
you feel warm inside . . and exceptionally full.
he’s pumping you swollen, filling you up with his thick seed until he can no longer fill you anymore. “fuck,” he’s breathing hard, dropping his head and looking down at you.
you’re so fucking cute. you just . . lay there with a stupid, little smile of content on your face and hazy eyes as you massage his thighs with your small fingers as if you weren’t the one, one move away from being folded into a fucking pretzel. nanami chuckles. oddly enough, he’s thinking back to gojo’s question from earlier in the trip . . . what kind of pussy do you own? for him to feel on top of the moon like this, he’s convinced you’re just a figment of his imagination.
however, upon leaning down, kissing your lips, and intertwining his fingers between the spaces of yours, nanami knows that you’re one hundred percent true.
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