FUCKING PRETTY ☠️⛏ (DEMON!JAX x dark!bunny!reader)
in the private room at the strip club with the velvet red curtain drawn, she’s dancing for him just like she's been doing for the past few weeks.
he wraps his hand around her throat, forcing her down to her knees. 'such a broken girl,' he muses, lustful onyx eyes on her soft ones - so clear - like water droplets on a rose petal.
he’s ashing his cigarette into them. skull fucking her until he knows her throat is going to be so sore she won't be able to speak properly for a week. she’s grabbing the chain that hangs from his pants, a silent plea to give her a break and let her breathe. merciful, he pulls back, cock stringing with her saliva, her mascara and dark eyeliner running down her face.
the sight makes him feral, and the breath gets caught in his throat. he’s grabbing her jaw, kissing her so passionately that she forgets the pain before it.
'tell daddy how much you love him,' he husks.
she melts into a soft star of his creation, taking his cock back into her mouth, teary eyes on his. giving him her best work even though she's tired.
'such a good girl,' he praises, jaw falling slack, his head leaning back. 'so fucking pretty.'
Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.
ㅤ୨୧ tags explicit content slight corruption and size kink, female reader, college girl reader, canon compliant, jax is all soft for her, maybe dubcon?? a little??
ㅤ୨୧ WC 0.3k
ㅤ୨୧ notes i wrote this a few weeks ago when i first started watching SOA, crazy that this is my tumblr comeback. whatever. i love charlie hunnam
࿏
This shit is unacceptable.
It’s not like this is anything new (no, this has been going on for the better part of half a year now), Jax makes it a point to see her at least once a week. For multiple reasons, but the main one being a selfish one—he needs this. Needs it like he needs oxygen, needs water. He’d love to believe it’s nothing more than carnal, that he’s just never happier than when he’s sinking himself inside of her.
But, really?
The love he’s starting to develop for this girl is killing him; killing his commitment to the club, making him softer.
Knowing all of this should get him pissed at her. That’s usually how it ends. He’s never been good with his temper, but for some reason, she makes him want to fix that shit. First time he ever tried to take some bullshit out on her, she slapped the hell out of him. Yeah, she’s the farthest thing from those crow eaters he’s used to. Or used to be used to. Hasn’t been with one of them since he got her. And they’re not even official. Pathetic, right?
But like he said before, he needs her.
“Mm-mm,” he murmurs into the soft skin of her neck, mouthing over the pretty mole there. His breath is hot, biting. He’s got her bent over her desk (God, he’s such a dick—corrupting a sweet, innocent college girl—got so much ahead of her, so much going on in that gorgeous head of hers), homework long forgotten. And he’s so big, he can tell she’s still not used to it by the way she clenches and shudders and presses herself down into the desk, trying to run from the punishment of his hips. “Oh, baby, you can take it,” he coos, the cold, silver metal of his rings prominent as his fingers curl over the expanse of her slim waist.
She whines, and he groans, lifting his weight off of her slightly, only to push deeper. “Don’t cry,” he thinks he’d be so good at acting, because his voice sounds like he’s just so sorry for her. He’s not. “You got it, sweetheart. You were made for me, huh?”
📽️⏱️📠📞. { GET STUCK ON DESK DUTY WITH SIMON RILEY 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖: ✓} “we wouldn’t even have to be here if it weren’t for— ” was what finally did it— snapping simon’s last straw with you. so pissed off, you had been verbally digging at his sides for hours and yet, you had the gall to try and find blame for anyone but yourself— he’d had it. he was fed up with your bratty behavior, always chomping at the bit to mouth off something he had to answer for in one way or another. a legacy and lifetime’s worth of work— in pristine condition with never a mark in his record held against him. all of that now down the drain thanks to your doing, and even worse— he was on desk duty. simon loathed desk duty. you had taken him from the field and he had a lot pent up, you could say. stopping him from being with his source of relief left him much easier to anger and much meaner to deal with.
simon sat legs spread wide, edged on his rolling and wheeled seat.. suggestively. his thighs were outlined against his uniform pants and the chair’s cushion helped open out how big and thick they truly were. his arms crossed in his skin-tight polyester, stretched shirt and sat on his chest, his balaclava never moving when he finally spoke.
“unless you’re going to suck me off with that fucking trap of yours, i suggest you shut your fucking mouth.” emphasizing the same swear word both times, he was so..
“rotten— that’s what we would call you back home.” you snaked back at him, words dripping with poison and disdain at him, matching his posture with your own arms— just as he stood up to not allow it.
“we’re a long way from home aren’ we, love .ᐣ ” he placed his gloved hand on your shoulder and dropped to snark in your ear before taking a deep breath, “now you’re in my gaff, dovie. don’t forget tha’.”
scoffing was the worst mistake you could have made, and you chose to anyway. you shrugged his hold from your collarbone in a laugh.
“wha’s” he breathed, for he was a glutton for punishment and pain was his pleasure— already knowing your response was going to further piss him off. “funny .ᐣ ” he asked, daring you to say something dumb.
“how pathetic you are.” giggling even, going on and being allowed to do so. “poor simon,” you started to mock him in a form of false pity. ‘no one wants to fuck me.’ you said, looking up from the chair he’d have to remove you from before you backed down now. there was no retreating at this point. you pulled your balled up fists to the corners of each eye, twisting them in a crying manner before looking at him with pouted lips— something that didn’t go unnoticed.
“i have to be a fucking dickhead to everyone i meet.” you carelessly continued before he grabbed your wrist in a snap. you didn’t falter, you didn’t even move.
“careful.” he warned in his lower-than usual, gravely tone. his cock twitching at the teasing tension— his blood betraying him as it rushed his core. it wasn’t every day his female inferior-ranking friend spoke to him about such matters, and even worse, his subordinate disrespecting his position so publicly. he lifted the bottom of his mask, giving you no excuses as to you saying that you could not hear him clearly.
“plen’y wan’ to, not many get the pleasure.’ he said, coyly. “which one are you .ᐣ ” he seduced in rhetoric, cutting you off before you could even consider an answer. “i’d rip your throat apart.” he wasn’t playing around anymore, his voice hugged your skin. “don’t tell me you’ve not though’ abou’ it .ᐣ ” he was almost done, fucking leaking at the tip of his dick at the chance to play such a game. one that you couldn’t beat him at, unfortunately. being a smug, snarky asshole was one of the many things simon excelled at.
“i bet ya soakin’ wet, righ’ now.’ he was right. ‘mmm.’ he hummed more than exhaled, insinuating he was daydreaming something devious. “i bet my voice does it for ya,” simon spoke. “tha’s wha’ they all say.” he was inflating his own ego at your expense. “tell me. what does li’le dove think about when she’s all alone, huh .ᐣ am i always this close .ᐣ ” one more. ‘does that make you a li’le jealous— hmm .ᐣ that i fucked them .ᐣ ” kill shot.
not like anything you thought could hurt his feelings, it wasn’t like him to cross such boundaries but at this point he might as well had made it count. he wanted the truth— the price was more than fair for you to pay for his career of perfection that had now been dampened.
“fuck you.” you muttered, knowing he’d been aware of the crush you sometimes struggled containing.
“’s all i wan’.” simon teased, and he was sick to smirk. “if ya abou’ it, dove.” he began to offer, knowing his scale of sanctioning was beginning to weigh more on one side than the other. “room three o’ two— you’ll love the view.” he smiled before dismissing himself from his duty.
that’s how you’ll remember it, this evening and all of the things that lead to this moment.
“si—” you tried to shout, muffled from the thick, swollen skin strangling your airway— attempting to come up off of him only for some air. gasping heaves of breath turned him on more, stretching his skin as tight as possible. he was throbbing, swaying rhythmically every few seconds.
“tha’s my dovie, fuckin’ ‘ell.” simon praised, pulling loose strands of hair from your face to not get caught in the pools of sticky saliva. “can’ tell you ‘ow much i’ve cum to the though’ of this, love.” he was gentle. ripped your throat apart like he said he was going to, yeah— but he was known to not be a liar.
“you think you can take it all,” simon started to question, the shakiness of his heaving breath signaled that he wasn’t too far from it . “or was tha’ jus’ more bullshit you were spewin’ .ᐣ ” like a switch, his demented desires started to seep out from his soul again, he wanted to be gentle, truly. the burning swell of your throat could use some relief, and his hot, white coat would coax it to help.
in nodding your head your tongue hummed against his shaft in a vibration, sending simon over the edge— cream coming out of your cunt as you clenched on to his knuckle-deep fingers. his free hand guided the back of your head further down until it felt as if you were drowning. a warm gush spilling out of your nose and choking your esophagus. you couldn’t pull off until he pulled you off— you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. still sucking, you knew that he was sensitive but it was the least the british bastard deserved. tears formed at the corners of your eyes— ironic of who was really crying by the end of the evening.
“fuck me,” simon huffed in defeat, loosening the grip he had on your neck— you’d thought he was trying to feel himself inside of you at one point. “neva done tha’ before.” he sighed a final deep breath before regulating himself again, wiping up the remains with his discarded shirt. he was more than satisfied with you— successfully sucking him dry from just stuffing himself down your throat. if that was what happens when it’s in your mouth, simon couldn’t wait to see how it felt when you piss him off enough to fuck that tight little cunt of yours next.
“stand down.” you were ordered, simon’s hands resting in the armpits and collarbones of his tactile vest— alluding that he wasn’t bothered in the slightest bit at what you were saying to him. his voice was calm and steady, and never raised.
“stand down, sergeant.” he repeated firmly, only his eyes shifting in mild annoyance— they looked down on you, he towered you in height and often was easy to find intimidating, but not now.
“you—” you tried to start by pointing your finger in his face, a lump forming in your throat to cut you off; probably for the better, maybe even saving your ass from promised punishments like scrubbing the mess hall or organizing price’s desk again.
this time didn’t come any order, just open ears after two fair warnings. his silence and lack of anything sent you into a rage, one determined to earn you every penalizing task the captain could think of. and simon stood there and took it.
“you son of a bitch.” your fingernail poked into the steel chest plates protecting him. his eyes shut only for a second, mentally rolling in disappointment with you still choosing to go this route.
“yeah .ᐣ tell me how i’m a son of a bitch.” he bantered back in a bark. his words had a hiss to them. today, he had the time. right here, right now— in front of everyone.
the words were in your brain, sentences formed and were falling over one another to rush to the front of your mouth— ready to be unloaded on him, yet didn’t. you were shaking you were so upset. his glance catching the tremble in your finger as it pressed him, the lack of assault from your lips, the fight your face was putting up from crying for the first time he would have ever seen— he noticed it all.
“my office.” still he remained cold. “now.”
“and wha’ in the royal fuck do you think you’re doing .ᐣ ” your commanding lieutenant asked, giving you one good opportunity to explain yourself.
“i heard you.” you croaked out, ashamed to even be standing before him. “what you said.”
“say lotsa things.” simon urged for more, speeding up the process of prying this out of you.
“in your earpiece, earlier.” hoping to jog his memory, too embarrassed to repeat what fell from his mouth— you knew his voice anywhere, positive he was the one who said it.
“last chance.” he threatened, moving from behind his desk piled high of ignored paperwork— and here you were, wasting his time.
“about how you were determined to get me into bed.” he chuckled, finding it amusing. “wondering when it would be your turn, since i have seemed to have slept my way to the top.”
simon rested his weight against the grain of the surface, facing you he crossed his arms. “is tha’ all .ᐣ ”
“i thought we were friends, riley.” it broke you to say, too chaotic to continue bouncing between emotions, overcome with the sense of being let down the most.
“we’re not friends.” he established a little too quickly, that silly, stupid american word. “mates don’t jump one anotha’s ass so fast.” simon said, dropping his arms to grip the edges of the wood around his legs. “an’ they certainly don’t do it in direct insubordination.”
“i—” was all that you could manage to squeak out before he hushed you with an ‘aht’.
“i gave you the chance to speak darling, you didn’t take it.” he’d never called you that before. “now you’re goin’ ta listen to me.” his gaze had glazed over slightly. he was waiting.
“yes.” you conformed sheepishly, breaking down slowly as you started to realize your plan wasn’t as thought out as you’d like it to have been.
“yes,” he paused only to thicken his next word. “wot .ᐣ ”
“yes, sir, lieutenant.” you submitted, unknowingly making him hard. simon’s growing girth outline would be more noticeable if you weren’t so afraid of breaking his stare.
“perfec’.” bastard. he was smiling under that stupid fucking mask. “now tha’ we have some order again,” he relaxed and so did you. “’m not so sure you think of us as ‘friends’, either.” that word again, he was mocking you whether he’d admit it or not. he loved the little american words you used, jerked his cock off many times to the hems of what colored panties you had on under your daily assigned, found it funny how you and your people called them that.
“see, any good mate would take it at most as a laugh.” he was onto you. a lion prowling around, ready to devour fresh meat— taking his time to stalk before the kill, for the thrill is the most savory part, after all. “or at leas’ be flattered their mates would think of doing such a thing.” simon continued to toy with you. “but no,” he pointed out. “one li’le comment’ an’ you come gunnin’ fa me.” he snickered, seeing the reality of the situation clearly.
“wha’s it matter anyway .ᐣ ” simon asked, standing straight to his feet. the bottom soles of his boots were firm flat on the ground. “if i was talking about fucking you proper .ᐣ ” closing the gap, he took a few slow strides towards you.
the shift in the air became secluded and subject to standard regulations. there were rules about avoiding your commanding officer’s rooms— never-minding them before, knowing you weren’t fraternizing with a single one of them.
“asked you a question.” he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, the haze only growing foggier. the frustrated heat in your cheeks competed with the ache in your sensitive spots like they had all too well before. it was a familiar feeling around him. the way his muscles throbbed when he flexed without even intending, the mystery behind the mask and if he liked to keep it on.. those were private thoughts, never to be said out loud. so prodding around the subject was selfish of him to do so. blush colored your features, rosy skin snitching on you to him about what wasn’t so oblivious.
“was tellin’ gaz about what sheller ‘ad said.” he admitted, dropping the act once he’s had his fun. “when you listened in.” simon further explained, turning to dismiss himself and pour a nearby bourbon. he preferred chilled, you knew that. “was sayin’ how he’s got a goal— anyone who gets in his way is dead.” he scoffed at the idea. “goin’ on about how easy it may be, seeming you had slept with soap and price to get to where you are today.” he finished, pulling the knitted threads up to indulge this one, small break of the day. it was all he’s ever let you see— his scarred lips, pale skin full of cuts and marks. a jawline that could kill.
“it’s not true.” you wept, no tears fell from your eyelashes but the pain was still present. your voice was meek, shallow and full of hurt.
“you think i don’t know tha’ .ᐣ ” they’d race each other to tell him first. his eyes were glued to you, throwing caution to the wind as he poured another. you were curious of his private thoughts, as well. downing it, his attention turned to the large window’s blinds.
“’come ‘ere.” he requested, shifting a few of them upwards with the flick of his fingers. unveiled was sheller, running laps on the mile track in the back grounds of base. everyone else had finished their required physical training for the day— not sheller, no. he was drenched in his own sweat, an outline of pooling liquid formed in the fronts and back of his shirt from being beaten down in the sun.
“been at it all morning.” ghost smiled, he took pleasure in seeing other’s pain. looking at his wrist watch, he spoke again. “still got a ways to go.” two shots of extra courage started to warm his blood— not that he needed it. he was courageous enough, plenty. so it wasn’t so surprising in how he talked to you. ironically enough the mask made him bolder, knowing no one could get to him— he could always say whatever he wanted, if he really thought about it. and his eyes couldn’t leave your body.
“‘ve answered you.” simon said. “told you exactly what that situation was abou’.” he returned to the edge of his desk. the room’s mood emitted from him. he was the source. “now, are you goin’ to answer me .ᐣ ” he wanted to know. “why’s it ma’’er .ᐣ ” ghost was not fucking around, he demanded a reason this time in the trade off.
“it doesn’t.” was all you could squeak out. you were lying. he fucking hated liars.
“oh, but it does, love.” simon cooed, setting his crystal glass to the table, he’d moved his interests onto better things. “enough for you to call me a ‘son of a bitch’.” your own words rang in your ears. “front of everyone.” he added, standing to close the gap once more. “so, if that’s a man paying for his words,” he pointed at the window behind him. “wha’ am i supposed to do with you .ᐣ ” his voice was dipped in luring honey, thick enough to prick you if he got any closer.
“is it not something you wan’ .ᐣ ” he spoke into your ear— gambling on making his lower inappropriately uncomfortable, but was sure he knew that it would pay off in his favor. “are you not curious .ᐣ ” he continued to ask, you silence answer enough in itself. funny how you just had so much to say, yet nothing now.
“please tell me you’re not thinking of fucking sheller.” it sounded like a joke, but he wasn’t laughing. the mental image of it made you part your lips in a light laugh, shaking your head side to side in a declining manner.
“ahh, see.” he was relieved than he’d let you know. “li’le dove does ‘ear me.” this wasn’t his first interrogation, and he’d dealt with much worse than you. you were light work, he’d snap you like a pencil in an instant— dusting the wooden remaining shavings from his hands and beating them off of his rags once he’s done. if he just had the chance, we would ruin you. “it matters to me.” simon admitted, lowly. his bulge pulsing through his pants now, he grabbed and guided your hand to his cock’s print. a gasp slipped out, surprised at how bold he was being and big he was. before you could speak, simon snuck out of the position— pushing a hard shoving hand to your spine, laying you flat on your stomach bent over where his ass was just seated. a grunting, heavy breath fell from your lips. wasn’t a no, or a stop.
your chin kissed the treated oak, his knee split your gathered thighs. “si—!” you cried out, shocked at what was to come. it would be so easy for him, if he wanted to. so, so easy. it was tempting, but he recognized his name.
“i love it when you say my name.” he allows you to know, pressing all of his weight on your back, sandwiching you between his desk and body— his dick seated perfectly in between your clothed and wet folds, prodding at your covered holes.
“i love it tha’ you want me to fuck you.” he said, evident from the heat emitting from your core, warming his groin more than before. his hips thrusted forward in a single hump, groaning at the simulated scene— grinding his girthy cock from his tip up and through your separated cheeks.
“i love tha’ you ‘ave a problem with authority.” simon kept going. thrust. he reached for your hair, pulling your head up so your back would straighten out. a moan came from your throat. “fuckin’ turns me on.” it was as hot as you’d imagined it to be, and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening.
“i’d love to see sheller try an’ come an’ kill me.” he laughed, loudly. there wasn’t much he found so comical, but taking you from him was. his hands travelled to both sides of your hips, locking you in place. his grip was desperate, grabbing at the skin fat that swelled around there, he couldn’t get enough. “shall we open them, hmm .ᐣ ” thrust. it was straining thicker with each push. “let ‘em ‘ave a look .ᐣ ” thrust.
“simon, please.” you whined in a beg, turning your face to set your cheek to the cool top— the very thing he’ll beat off to tonight.
“mmmm.” it was a long sighing hum, one of contemplating. secure enough in himself, he knew that if he let you go now he’d still be safe in his job. he’d tortured you enough for today. his palms found themselves pressing over top of yours, pushing himself back upright. patting your ass, he filled your mind with confusion. what was he doing .ᐣ
“‘s not your day, darling.” simon wanted to do it properly. he nodded at the office door when your eyes searched for his. taking the hint, you tried to squeeze passed him— left to walk the halls seeping clear and creamed cum into your pretty little panties all the way back to your dorm. “speak to me like tha’ again,” simon’s voice was stern once more, he was back to being your lieutenant. “and you’re goin’ ta ‘ave a real problem.” he threatened, promised even.
Synopsis. Your duties as a nanny are simple: pick Itadori Yuji up from elementary school, bathe him, feed him his veggies, and take care of him until his hot blond dad gets home. It doesn’t include something like…spending Valentine’s Day with the overworked, overstressed, absolute DlLF Nanami Kento. Does it?
Does it?
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, older!Nanami, age gap, DlLF!Nanami, reader is in early 20’s, Nanami is in 30’s, he’s overworked and STRESSED, down bad!Nanami, desperation, Valentine’s Day, pùssydrùnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, punishments, dégrading but also soft Nanami, spítting, bíting, fíngering, yearning, teaching you, fírst times (yours), Iessons, talking you through it, he’s stern, he’s BIG, BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG, matíng presses, manhandIing, cervíx smoochin, overstím, vírginíty loss (yours), corruption, he’s feraI, DÚMBIFlCATION, calling you ‘momma’, mentions of kids, implied marathon, HEADLÓCKS, creampíes, cúmpIay, Yuji cameos, Papamin, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 15.7k
A/N. BOO! SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY POST?! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABYGIRLS <33
Nanami can’t help but sigh—“One more meeting and I’m quitting.”
Even though he knows he wouldn’t.
Those boxed-in, white-collar jobs felt just as lukewarm to quit as they were to work. One learns to numb oneself to the constant drone and sputter of the office, the ceaseless fury of a microwave that wouldn’t heat, and the wail of a printer printing listlessly furlong - too far behind its service date. So was there even a point?
That stupid screech followed him even out of the office: one could ignore the cracks and jolts of joints, but that doesn’t actually stop the noise.
He feels a headache coming on.
But Nanami can’t lie- the pay wasn’t all too bad. Besides, the extra hours helped him pay for the nanny he’d recently hired for Yuji—speaking of, he could hear you shuffling about inside.
His key’s just reaching for the door before it swings wide open.
“Welcome home—!”
And Nanami Kento can’t understand that strange, sweet flutter in his heart.
One of his hands jerks upwards- right to the pounding space above his heart. He knows he must look a bit of a sight right now - a grown man pawing at his chest - and part of him wonders whether this was all the all-nighters taking a toll on him. About time.
But another part of him wonders whether he should consult a cardiologist.
Also about time.
Because it’s been like this ever since he hired you - the vetting process for finding a nanny had been a long and tedious one. And Nanami had rejected (he’s sure) at least fifty different candidates, had been blocked by five different agencies, before he finally landed on you. Either they’d been too strict, or too lenient, or too new, or simply not cut out to handle the benevolent whirlwind that was his adopted son.
The poor man had been on the verge of giving up.
In fact, he was two paragraphs into an email to HR whilst stress-eating a homemade Danish pastry and wondering whether buying his boss flowers would be overkill- when it happened. God, could this day get any worse? First his manager gives him a ton of work just before he clocked off, certainly not in his list of responsibilities, then he’d burned those damn Danish pastries, then one of the nannies he’d interviewed had nearly passed out at the sheer energy Yuji had.
He’d been working more and more these days. And Nanami needed just a few more months - a few more nights putting in overtime before he could-
It was then that the doorbell had rang.
Ba-dump!
He opened the door tentatively, hoping that it wasn’t yet another ambush by a salesperson - each with their bright plastic garbage, and their even brighter smiles. But what he’d been met with instead wasn’t one of those visitors he dreaded…not in the very least. It was you—
And your explanation that you were here because of Shoko.
“Erm- she told me that you were looking for a nanny?” You flashed your conversation with Nanami’s clinical friend as proof. He flickered his gaze over to the screen but his eyes remained unreading—he remembers turning them back over to you.
Blinking at the vision of you.
And you’d slightly jolted at the intensity in them.
Digging through your pin-covered bag, “I also have my CV in here…somewhere.” He watched as you only grew more and more frustrated as that CV evaded you- “It really should be somewhere- give me one second-”
“That’s alri-”
But instead of your CV, your bag had poured out notes and pens in return. So much of it that Nanami marvelled at just how much fit inside that humble satchel. They dropped to the floor and you dived to pick them up, wincing. “I’m so- sorry-”
“Let me.” Crouching down in front of you, Nanami’s much-larger hands had had no trouble scooping all those papers up. In an instant he had them aligned neatly and handed to you. Prim. Proper.
By the tie still ‘round his neck, you guessed he’d just come home from work - and little did you know he’d also just finished four failed interviews for the position of nanny - yet he didn’t have a single blond hair out of line. They were slicked-back and handsome in a way you’d seen only in old movie stars. You thought you saw a few strands of silver.
Lines at the edges of his eyes. That tired strength about him.
It was hard to not ogle him.
Your fingertips brushed his rougher ones as you took the papers from him. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” The older man peered down at you—so intense that you could almost feel yourself sinking into the mediocre polyester carpet lining the apartment hallway. Neither of you made a move to get up. “I want to ask you about your availability.”
You’d jumped slightly. “You…you actually want to hire me after that- I mean!”
“Should I not?” And what was this? Nanami Kento had to stifle a chuckle at that? How curious…it must’ve been the work day getting to him at that point- yes. He was feeling a little delirious.
“I mean- please do…”
He’d looked away with a slight smile once you reached into the depths of your bag once more. This time, you didn’t make it erupt in scribbled notes- instead you were pulling out a printed table that looked to be a time table. “Sorry I just- printing makes it easier for me to remember…sometimes.” You explained, “I don’t have any lectures on Wednesday and Friday- and the ones I have on the rest of the weekdays are rather flexible so—”
A college student!
Nanami’s jaw had dropped then.
He knew you looked young but-
A college student?!
“Wait a minute…” One of his hands twitched, almost as if to beckon that time table to himself and make sure.
But then you nodded, “I first met Shoko-san during a medical conference she gave at the university, and she told me you worked late on weekdays. I should be free in the evenings then, but will you be working late on the weekends as well? Because I do have this one professor that really-”
Nanami didn’t know how on Earth the topic of him would’ve even cropped up in your conversations- but he needed to end this.
Now.
Listen. It wasn’t that you seemed like a bad kid- you seemed great, even! But Nanami himself was well into his thirties with absolutely zero idea on balancing Yuji and his work life. So he really didn’t want to burden someone over a decade younger than him with-
“Papa?”
The sweetest, sleepiest voice echoed from inside.
He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that Itadori was swaying, all decked-out in his Spiderman pajamas, at the end of the hallway. Likely having gotten out for water or because of the ruckus caused outside. He blinked his sluggish eyes open and ogled the two of you.
Nanami doesn’t know why- but he shoots up to a stand. Almost as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
You followed.
Which one of you three was the responsible parent here, by the way?
His parched mouth opened to—what? There was nothing to explain.
It was true that Nanami hadn’t had the time to even stop and think about dating or relationships in the time since he’d adopted Yuji. Not even if he wanted to. And, admittedly, he did have dreams of getting married one day - he watched all those sappy TV shows, alright? He knew how it felt.
He wanted to walk beside someone to that shrine. He wanted to have a few more kids, to give Yuji a bigger family than this. He wanted to quit his dead-end job and move out with his family to a bigger house in the countryside.
But none of that was as important as his son right now.
However, he knew that Yuji saw all those happy couples during pick-up at the elementary school- and his boy was sweet. The sweetest, actually. Nanami knew that Yuji wouldn’t say a single thing about him being the only exhausted father to arrive all alone. Day after day.
The two of them in their lonesome.
His sweet boy would beam the biggest smile nevertheless.
But kids were smarter than adults gave them credit for. Doesn’t he feel that loneliness, too?
Perhaps that was why Yuji ran up to you in an instant.
Right past his haggard father and only towards you - all previous sleepiness now gone - he reached up towards the pretty stranger with the pretty pin-covered bag.
Stubby finger pointing up at a particularly red one—“Do you like Spwiderman, too?”
“Of course.” Leaning down, you smiled warmly at the boy. His hair was a rose-colored mess that stuck up at all odd angles. “And my spidey senses are telling me that a certain someone does, too?”
He gasped, “That’s me!”
Before Nanami knows it, you were held hostage and dragged inside by a particularly overactive pink-haired boy. Shown all around the apartment as part of your tour to be shown-off Yuji’s prized Spiderman-themed bedroom.
And unbeknownst to him - against that lock-and-key and jaded guard - you’d walked into Nanami Kento’s cozy Tokyo apartment (and the strange cavity in his chest that softened whenever you were around).
He sighed.
A college student!
Still, Nanami can’t deny that it’s been a delight having you around.
Despite your packed schedule and your note-filled bag, you were always there to greet him when he came home. Without fail. Either tapping away at some assignment due before midnight, or humming to yourself as you wiped down the kitchen counters—last minute fluffy pancake emergency, he thinks of those nights.
Even though it’d been about eight months since your initial meeting, it’s almost fearsome how easily he’d gotten used to the routine of it all.
Something that should be so mundane - he flips each moment through his mind over and over again until it felt like they made up the grooves of his brain itself. The gyri and the sulci. Or so he’d heard you muttering to yourself as you studied one night.
He’s studied, too. He’s memorized how you’d open the door for him, with a smile across your face and a finger to your lips- telling the older man to be quiet as he shook off his shoes. He’s memorized how you’d never fail to tell him about the leftovers in the fridge as you reached for your satchel. He’s memorized how you’d hesitate to meet his gaze- but smile the brightest once you do, and how you’d linger at the doorstep telling him about Yuji’s day.
Nanami has memorized how it made some dust-covered part of his heart stir. Blinking away the exhaustion of the day.
Nanami Kento has never felt more invigorated than he is during those sparse few minutes that he caught up with you at the end of the night. Voices low, like neither of you wanted to interrupt a sleeping thing—Yuji, yes. But something else, too.
He gets the feeling that it’d feel like this even if you weren’t around as a job. If perhaps the two of you had met- the same age, at the same university.
Maybe in-between the sluggish hours of study sessions where you help him with some particularly hard question. Maybe in the library where he helps you reach some dusty ol’ book from the topmost shelf.
Times like this, he allows himself to dream.
You’d make the best wife.
You were the best nanny he could’ve ever chosen.
But one always has to wake up to one’s alarm. He sets his alarms himself.
“Come in.” Nanami tells you as he shrugs off his coat at the entrance. He watches as you stop in your tracks at the doorway, fiddling with your familiar pin-draped bag. “I’m just about to fire up some brownies for tomorrow.”
You pause.
“I-if it’s not too late and you don’t have any classes early tomorrow or-”
“I’d skip all my classes for some of your brownies.”
He lets out a breath of relief as you start walking back from the doorway. “Please don’t.”
It takes a little less than half an hour for the brownies to bake until they are crisp on the top and perfectly gooey in the middle. Layers of chocolate that are only sweetened by the conversation that you brought into Nanami Kento’s humble kitchen.
He listens as you talk about your day, about that professor that’d been out to get you, about that exam you were sure you’d fail (he knows you won’t in the end). Only adding brief hums of affirmation and nods as the older man sweeps through his counters, broad back turned to you, muscles flexing against his office shirt as he whipped up a hot fudge as well as a strawberry sauce for you to add to your brownies.
“—and you’d never guess what Yuji told me today.” Tonight you seem a little more breathless than usual. Stuttering out your thank-yous as he brings out the tray from the oven and cuts out the first piece for you.
“Blow on it. It’s hot.” Nanami leans over the other side of the kitchen island. He watches as your pretty lips fall into a soft circle, “What were you saying, my dear?”
“Well-” You dart your gaze around the rest of the empty apartment. “You know how it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, Nanami-san?”
Nanami runs a hand through his silver-streaked hair. Smoothing it down. He knows how his son can be, and he has to bite back the grin that threatens to spread across his face. “Mhm?”
“Yuji here seems to think that- well…” Bringing a hand up to your lips, fingertips slightly shaking. The brownie was just amazing. “He seems to think that Valentine’s Day is a bit like Christmas, you see. And so the entire day he wouldn’t stop making a list for Cupid.”
Now that piques his interest particularly- Nanami was never a man to skimp out whenever his loved one wanted something. “Oh, is that so? And what does he ask from this ah- Cupid?”
“That is- I don’t even know if this is appropriate for me to say but…” Looking around one last time. “But it seems Yuji is under the impression that we are together.”
“Oh.”
“Together together.”
“Oh.” He can’t help but inch just a little closer- a strange weight in his stomach. Not entirely unpleasant. “I see.”
You’re mustering up a little more courage, “And it seems that what Yuji wants the most this Valentine’s is…for us to get married. Spiderman-themed wedding, he says.” Watching as Nanami’s eyes slightly widen. “B-but of course, I told him that that might not exactly be in erm- Cupid’s range of power! He kept insisting however-”
He looks at you silently as you rub your temples.
“Because then he said a little brother or sister would be fine, too…” Was it time for the conversation about the birds and the bees already? Instead of storks, Yuji relies on Cupid?!
Nanami follows suit, running a hand through the silver streaks in his hair. “Is that so?” He sighs. “I shall have a little talk with him about asking…immoderate requests of Cupid.”
“He’s a sweet boy. Just a little confused.” You smile sheepishly. “Though I can’t really blame him- my friends think we’re together, too.”
Just an inch closer. “I see.”
And Nanami feels your breathing go heavy- enveloped in the hint of his cologne, the sweetness of the brownies, the musk of something that was entirely him. “I-it’s silly, isn’t it…”
He stares at you intently, reading your every reaction. “Quite.” Pupils flickering down your face. Just another inch closer—you wonder how much more space was left, and what you wanted to do with it. “I’m far too old for you, my dear.”
Your lips part-
The clock strikes eleven.
Both of you startle as if shocked with electricity- “I-I really should-”
“Yes, I understand-”
“The brownies were amazing-”
“Please, take this.” He pushes a bag topped with that delicacy and more of whatever topping you liked into your hands.
“Thank you so much.” You rush out breathlessly, other hand snatching your bag from the counter. “Night, Nanami-san—!”
“Goodnight, my dear.”
“And thank you for the brownies!”
The door shuts—with a lingering creak and ebb of your smile behind it. And soon enough Nanami finds himself lumbering in the direction of Yuji’s bedroom.
It’s not long before he stands before the parade of red and blue and masked superheroes: personnel stationed all to take care of the boy with a tuft of pink hair. His precious treasure. Nestled in the middle of his car-shaped bed.
A small bedside light traces a glow across his chubby cheeks.
As he does every night, Nanami walks up to the little boy and crouches down beside the bed. Forearms rested upon the soft mattress, face rested upon his forearms- it was always around this time that Yuji would stir and look up at his father.
“Papa…” He sleepily mumbles. Rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes, “Gone?”
“Mhm.” Nanami nods. “Left just now, sunshine.”
“Awww, man—” Yuji seems to deflate- but that only pushes him deeper into the puffy pillows. Making him yawn so wide that it makes the older man chuckle. “I really like her, papa.”
His father pauses before he answers. “I like her, too, Yuji.”
“No, but- I really like her. You know, she’s my best friend along with Kugisaki and Fushiguro and you-”
Nanami starts tickling the boy on his sides until he bursts into peels of laughter. “Really, huh?”
Through giggles, he nods. Before stretching his arms above his head and falling back onto the comfy bed- perhaps he was still dreaming. “Why can’t we keep her, papa?”
“We can’t just keep people, Yuji.” Nanami has to hide his own smile. He knows he should mention the thing about Cupid right now, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe tomorrow…
“Yes, but…”
“I know, I know.” Nanami pushes his face deeper into his strong forearms. Sometimes, he still felt much like a kid himself. “I get it.”
.
.
.
The next morning, Yuji still wasn’t giving up.
“Papa, it’s Valentine’s Day!”
Papa was about to burst a blood vessel.
He’d chattered on and on about Valentine’s Day as Nanami shuffled him out of bed, he’d announced what chocolates were the best according to his very distinguished five-year-old palate as Nanami helped him brush his teeth—he’d even turned his nose up at the heart-shaped scones that Nanami had made for breakfast.
“Papa, you’re gonna hafta make better hearts than this if you want to marry-”
“Yuji, sunshine, we’re going to be late.”
Nanami Kento was barely a match for his son. And it’s with something akin to relief - like the exhausted sigh of a stranded man, finally coming across the silhouette of a rescue boat in the bleak horizon - that he manages to hurry the boy into finishing his breakfast. Tuggin’ on his Spiderman backpack, Nanami held Yuji’s hand as they exited the apartment.
Today wasn’t even a school day.
It wasn’t even a school day! And yet the teacher wanted all students in for a short assembly and some chocolate party in class. Nanami would be damned if he didn’t let his son enjoy these small pleasures.
The elementary school that Yuji attended was only a short distance away from the apartment- usually they’d just make the trip by foot. During those ten minutes it’d become routine for the little boy to jabber away about whatever came to his mind.
How unfortunate for Nanami Kento today that, today, all Yuji could think about was you—
Not because Nanami wasn’t doing much the same- but because he didn’t like thinking of himself as doing much the same. Even though he knew. Query: if both father and son couldn’t get you off their minds, then which one of the two was going to use it?
The older man shakes his head just a little as Yuji suggests a Spiderman wedding cake again—he disagrees with both the cake and…the wedding. Right?
But the boy catches the movement and pouts-
“Why don’t you want to tell her, papa?”
They’re stopping at a red light. Nanami didn’t want to think about how those miniscule bulbs had been programmed to flicker in the shape of a heart today, instead of the usual pedestrian walking. What an apt metaphor for his life, no? Nanami Kento wanted to find something wrong in the traffic light - in the visibility, the practicality, the color - but he couldn’t.
In fact, it was rather pretty.
The crossing threatened to bubble over with salarymen and salarywomen and groups of families each hoping to be the first, the fastest, to jump the road. He tugs both himself and Yuji more towards the back where they were well out of the way of whizzing cars. Is it just him or were there more wedding cars than usual today?
“Tell her what? To marry me?” He absent-mindedly answers, “What did I say about no forced marriages, Yuji?”
“No.” He lightly stomps his feet. Making the blond man look down- “I mean why don’t you tell her that you like her, papa?”
And Nanami can’t help but look around like a caught teenager. “You- you can’t just say those things, sunshine! What if she’s heading to class and nearby…”
“But you told me you did last night?” Yuji answers.
Which, fair. And it leaves Nanami slightly at a loss for words. “I…”
“But why can’t you tell her?” The child nods sagely to himself, “S’like when I broke Fushiguro’s red crayon- and I told him. Don’t you always tell me not to lie, papa?”
“That’s…true.” His father hesitates. “But that’s different from-”
“But anyway- that’s why I asked Cupid.” Yuji hums. Content. “You’re a scwaredy-cat, papa, but I asked Cupid for you. Like Santa. And Santa always gives me what I ask for.”
One day, Nanami will consider telling him that Santa had to work a month overtime to get him that car bed—happily however. But that day’s not today. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He looks up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. “And I also asked Cupid for a bwother- maybe this year I should ask Santa, too.”
“Oh.”
“Do you think Cupid will make my wishes come true, papa?”
“I’m…afraid I can’t be sure, sunshine.”
The light turns green.
And Nanami’s the first to step out onto the road.
From here, even the crosswalk seemed to twist and turn into the shapes of hearts.
Along the rest of the way to his elementary school, Yuji tugs on Nanami’s coat and asks him for his phone—“Alright, but no games before school, Yuji.”
“Not playing games!”
And he didn’t think much of it.
Not until Nanami was on the subway heading to work, about to shoot a phone call to one of the contractors he’d be working with today- and he finds Shoko’s name in his call log.
Outgoing call → Shoko [8:01AM]
Lasted three minutes.
How strange. Nanami doesn’t remember calling his friend at any point today - it must’ve been Yuji during his walk to school.
A mistake?
How strange, indeed…
But to be quite honest, Nanami doesn’t get the time to ponder upon this happening too deeply. The very second he’d considered clicking on that name himself and asking Shoko- the train had slid to a halt at his station.
Then came the chaos of the office: it seems that one of the interns had forgotten to fax a file yesterday. And Nanami had five angry clients on the phone before 9:00AM, one presentation to lead before 10:00AM, a few more angry clients just after the meeting, and a few more contracts to type up and edit before 12:00AM. Those utterly gaudy pink decorations hung about the room didn’t do anything to help with his oncoming headache.
Everyone in the office knew not to wish him today.
By the time that the overworked man was free for lunch, it was close to 2:00PM. His joints pop as he stretches his arms above his head, flickering a look at the clock above.
It was almost time for Yuji to be let out. Nanami knew you’d be humming to yourself as you walked to his school - and if his son was there, he’d join in, too.
At risk of sounding like a creep, he admits that he’s often listened to the low drift of your voice as you walked out of his apartment. It would start up once he shut that door. And he often stood there - on the other end - until it disappeared. Along with the sound of your footsteps.
His house always seemed smaller then.
Shaking his head free of such thoughts, Nanami stands and walks out of his department, wondering what he’ll have for lunch today. This usually wasn’t a problem with him, but this morning he’d been rather a bit…frazzled. So to say.
All those questions and ‘requests’ that Yuji had left him with just barely enough rationality to scrounge up something for the boy. As for himself, he was meandering through the busy streets of Tokyo - tarmac carpets flying by at a pace faster than he ever seemed to be able to. How was it possible for something inanimate to soar, to race, to live more than he did? Was it always built this way or was he one of the unlucky few?
He wonders which category you’d fall into.
That cheap ramen shop down the street wasn’t too bad - their broth was so good that Nanami was almost able to ignore the sappy love songs crooned from their battered radio. They had a special deal going: 80% off for all couples on Valentine’s Day! All ribbons and glitter. All special pink desserts and lovers holding hands. All love…love and a happy elderly couple behind the counter - the owners, it seems.
It was quaint- cute. The type of place he thinks you might like.
As he was walking back to the office, it seemed as though the city was fit to brim with similar sentiments.
Flower shops bursting with bouquets like carnivorous sunsets, bleeding hearts and ruby-red roses. Candy shops with something sweet for every color of the rainbow—and more covert advertisements for more…adult indulgences. Sex shops that Nanami had to speed-walk past because of how full and flush they were. Ripe with Valentine’s Day.
Nanami Kento might try to ignore what today is, but the world sure as hell wouldn’t let him forget.
Once he finally runs back to his cubicle- he ducks his head and focuses his eyes solely on the computer screen. He hopes no one comments on the numerous glitzy bags beside him.
.
.
.
“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
“Y’know- most people would say—‘Wow, it’s so nice to see you. Now I should totally stop brushing off your invites for drinks. Thank you for being such a kind and respectful and understanding friend, Ieri Shoko.’” The woman in question stretches languorously on top of the couch, her test tube-patterned socks dangling from the other side. “And you’re welcome, by the way!”
Nanami raises one hand in front of him- almost as if to pause the scene entirely. He closes his eyes—when he opens them, he hopes that this had all been a bad dream and he’ll wake up to his glaring computer screen.
He opens them.
Nope- still real.
“Let me rephrase- what the hell have you done to my apartment?”
Shoko gets off the couch and gestures at the apartment like a magician showing off a trick. “Ta-da!” At all the yellow candles that cast miniature sunrises where they wept, at the music that crept sensually from some mysterious corner of the room, at the humble dining table that now looked like it came out of a Times’ 10 Best Spots To Take Your Lover for Valentine’s Day.
Nanami’s stern lips part as he takes in the silver-covered dishes on top, on top of some white cloth—was that his goddamn blanket?!
“Oh c’mon-” Shoko rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, I see the bouquet in your hands. You obviously planned something of the sort.”
He forgot about that damn thing. Nearly dropping those flowers in his haste to hide it behind his broad back, though there was really no use - he simply couldn’t stand Shoko’s laughing eyes any longer. “Th-this was for Yuji.”
“I see the smaller bouquet in the bag.” She points out. Almost empathetically, Shoko sighs. “You really aren’t slick, Kento.”
“This isn’t- this is just—” But the longer she smirks at him, the less he seems to have an answer. Soon enough, he’s bringing out that massive bouquet from behind him and letting his friend fawn over the thing.
“Wow, she’s really going to love this-”
“It’s called being nice, by the way!” Nanami answers, belatedly.
The look Shoko gives him is enough to make him click his mouth shut.
“I hope you know that I bought one to give you tomorrow…I’m throwing it out now.” Because no matter how much Nanami denied it, today was about love. Parental. Platonic. Even the love that he could never have. As Shoko rummages through the bag with an excited squeak, he drawls on. “Where even is she, by the way? What have you done to her?”
“Hm? Oh, Yuji called me this morning. Thank you for these, by the way.” Shoko stands with a beautiful yellow rose and purple zinnia bouquet in her arms. She sniffs at the sweet fragrance- “Yuji called me asking whether he should leave out cookies for Cupid just like he does with Santa. It seems he wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding, and guess what? I wanted Cupid to bring us a wedding.” Her face breaks out into a smug smile - the one he’s only seen when she used to cheat through biochemistry exams without anyone ever knowing. “So we called up your darling nanny and let her know that her schedule’s changed for today- then Yuji and I did a little sprucing up in here.”
“Sprucing up…”
She turns around to admire her work, “Honestly, Kento, if I knew that you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body then I’d have dissected you-‘
“Papa!”
Spared from hearing whatever gory plans that Shoko had for him by the excited yelp of his son—Nanami hears his footsteps before he sees him. He feels the impact before he sees him.
Yuji’s running down the hallway and launching himself at his father at full speed- “Papa, you’re home!”
“That I am, sunshine.” Nanami smiles down at the boy. “How was your day? I have something for you.”
“For me?” Tufts of pink curls bobbing as he cocks his head, following his father’s movements as Nanami crouches down and reaches into one of the bags. Before breaking out into the most brilliant smile at the sight of the flowers. “Woah- they’re so pretty—! Thank you.”
Crushing the bouquet of pink carnations and hydrangea to his chest, he wraps his arms around Nanami’s shoulders and hugs him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, papa. I’ve got a gift for you, too-” Breaking away, Yuji’s throwing an arm out towards the room at large. “Auntie Shoko said this was how you bring Cupid! And we also tried to make those heart-shaped cupcakes you make, but it tasted like tar so…”
“That’s perfectly alright, Yuji.” He swipes at a smear of icing still on the boy’s face. “We can learn together on my next day off, right?”
“Right!” Yuji jumps in excitement. “And after your wedding today-‘
“Yuji…”
“And right on time.” Shoko’s voice permeates the room- right alongside the sharp fwip! of the window shutters closing. She turns away from the glass and pushes off from her station. “C’mon Yuji, now the plan is a-go! Go! Go!”
“Aye-aye!” With a chubby hand raised in salute—Yuji wastes no time giving his father a final hug. “Bye bye, papa.”
“Wha-” Nanami looks at the harried duo in confusion. “What are you two-”
“And don’t mess this up, Kento.” Shoko gives him a stern wave.
Before she clasps Yuji’s hand and helps the boy match her longer stride- the two of them speed-walk in the direction of the door.
“Yeah- don’t mess this up, papa!”
“Uh, where are you taking my son?” Nanami stalks after them. Not letting the front door close behind them, he watches the two figures - bouquets and all - race down the hallway. How strange that they didn’t take the usual route - instead opting for the one that would let them leave through the back entrance. “Hello? Shoko-”
“Don’t mess this up!”
He has half the mind to chase after them - it’s not that he doesn’t trust Shoko with his son, but really, what on Earth could they be getting up to?! Especially so late past Yuji’s bedtime. At the very least, maybe he could run up to them and let Shoko know of his son’s Spiderman ritual before eating and the tendency he has to bite fingers when-
“Nanami-san?”
Your voice.
Was he dreaming?
And yet—Nanami snaps his head towards the source of the noise so fast that it almost causes whiplash. He breathes your name out in a whisper.
So this is what Shoko meant about-
“Am I hallucinating or is that Shoko-san and Yuji running down the fire escape?” You point at something beyond his line of vision, though Nanami doesn’t need to look to know that it is, in fact, Shoko and Yuji running down the fire escape.
“I think I’m hallucinating, to be quite honest.” He mutters. Because surely there was no conceivable world in which he would see you like this - standing outside his door on Valentine’s Day, looking all gorgeous as you always did - and dare to bring out the bouquet that he had bought for you. Also was that…was that a bit of make-up you’d dabbed on? More so than usual?
His eyes linger on the glitter beside your eyes.
The thought that it might’ve been because it’s today - that it might’ve been because you’d been as nervous about seeing him today as he was about seeing you - makes him jolt. He’d been smoothing his hair down the entire subway ride home thinking of you.
Thirty-something years and he’s acting like a teenager in puppy love.
Certainly no conceivable world…
And yet…he does. He reaches behind him to bring out that prideful bouquet: 520 flower-heads that blushed themselves silly over not being even half as beautiful as you.
“For you.” He croaks out. Awkwardly pushing up his glasses.
“Oh.” Your jaw drops, and the bouquet weighs heavy in your hands. In nothing but a whisper- “It’s beautiful, Nanami-san.”
Red, red roses.
.
.
.
Nanami explained the situation before he invited you in…somewhat.
Certainly nothing about how badly he’d been teased because of this little scheme or the ah- confession of feelings. Heavens, no! Nanami himself wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d go along with their plan…
As far as you knew, Shoko and Yuji thought it’d be a funny little prank to ‘invite Cupid’ into his apartment this Valentine’s Day. Leaving the two of you alone in an apartment draped in candles and roses like the most deviant of mistresses.
And Nanami knew you knew. You knew that Nanami knew.
The implications were there for all to see.
It was there in the way his face burned red, and Nanami couldn’t meet your eyes- “I’m aware of how it looks. And it seems that my son still holds the idea that erm…either way, ahem, I completely understand if you would much rather go home. Please do know that this will not affect your job in any way whatsoever- in fact, I will cover your fee double tonight-”
“Nanami-san.” You’d interrupted him. Cocking your head with a slight smile, “May I come in?”
From there he’d been the perfect gentleman - not that he wasn’t usually. Even in the months since you’d worked for him, you’d come to find that Nanami was the type of man that opened doors for you, that pushed your chair for you, that covered your taxi fare home, that escorted you as far as he could by foot either way.
But now…oh, right now he was putting any Prince Charming to shame.
He had his hand hoverin’ right above your waist- leading you inside to the romantic dinner table. Here, he’d pushed your chair for you—and before you could even thank him, Nanami had his hands helping you out of your coat.
He insisted on plating for you.
You couldn’t help but gawk at the way his biceps pushed against his work button-up, flexing slightly as Nanami stood beside the table and neatly cut your bread - one he’d baked just this morning, according to him. Shoko had clearly rummaged through his kitchen well…
Conversation was somewhat breathless at first- the both of you waiting for the other to go first. The both of you anticipating every single word.
Wondering what every single word meant.
But after the first two courses - Shoko certainly hadn’t burned these - the both of you were talking freely. Moving on from the more polite topics, like your day, his day, that were really a front for something more - speaking with Nanami was always so easy, he was the best listener you’ve had in a while—to dessert: strawberry shortcake cupcakes and a confession that slips from your lips.
“Y’know- this is the first Valentine’s Day I’m spending like this.” You giggle, wiping off the cream that sticks to your lips. Nanami watches with half-lidded eyes as you devour the delicacy he’d baked this morning.
He swirls his half-empty wine glass. Certainly not enough to get the man tipsy - Nanami was quite the heavy drinker when he wanted to be - but enough to make him ask. “Oh? Tell me more, my dear.”
The candlelight catches on the rim of his glasses, encasing his eyes in an intense glow. You think he looks even more handsome like this- “Sorry. It’s probably going to sound stupid to someone more experienced…”
“There is nothing you’d say that would be stupid.” He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose. Fingers crossing before him, he leans in. “Continue, my dear.”
“It’s just- I haven’t had many serious relationships, is what.” You admit. And he looks at you so intently- “With life and university, it’s hard to find the time—if I was looking anyways, that is.” You sputter, before he can ask anything about whether the nanny job was cutting into your time. “The selection in my department isn’t great at all.”
“So…” Nanami runs the tip of his finger ‘round that glass cup. The thin rim. The gaping mouth. “-no lil’ boyfriend, then?”
“No boyfriend.” You echo. And perhaps being drunk on the proximity is what makes you blurt out- “But if I did have one, I think I’d like someone older—”
He quirks a brow in interest, “Older?”
You nod. Crossing your arms in slight embarrassment, “Boys my age will ask you out and then go halfsies just because you don’t want to go home with them.”
“Mhmm.” Nanami’s lip curls in distaste.
“I just want someone to like me for me- y’know? Just to sit across from me like this and really talk to me for once.”
“Has no boy ever wined and dined you like this?” He asks.
“No.” You admit, somewhat sheepishly.
“Has no boy ever bought you flowers?”
“No.” You cast a look at the 520 roses - now housed in a large vase that Nanami had pulled out from one of his cabinets.
“No…” You breathe.
He inches forwards, forwards, forwards—and wipes at a remnant of sweet, sweet cream on your lips. That roughened edge of Nanami’s thumb grazes the edge of your mouth. “Has no boy ever been sweet to you like this?” He catches the look in your eyes. And his own lower. “Has no boy ever treated you like a man would, my dear?”
The older man doesn’t hesitate in reaching his thumb back up to his mouth- and lickin’ off the cream. “Has no boy ever eaten you out like this?”
“No-”
Your lips upon his are even sweeter than the cupcakes he’s baked- and he’s lavishin’ his tongue over your mouth gently. Opening you up so wide—
And even that isn’t enough.
Nanami’s thumb finds permanent purchase at the end of your chin, letting his own sinful tongue slip inside. In and out. In and out. In and out.
Almost as if he was fucking you with it-
You’re not sure how long Nanami’s kissing you like this.
Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.
You’ve lost track of time- and the only thing you know is that your head feels dizzy. Your knees were growing weak in your seat. A slick line of spittle glides down the side of your mouth- and Nanami reaches a thumb up to smeeear it.
“My dear…” He murmurs, his deep baritone taking on a husky tone. Hot breath fans across your face, heating you up from the inside out.
You’re raising your face to meet his molten gaze- and it almost shocked you just how handsome Nanami Kento is. Noble features chiselled in the soft candlelight. His mouth slightly kiss-swollen. Blond hair unravelling from his usual neat style n’ cascading across his forehead.
He reaches closer to you and siiinks his teeth into your lower lip, “Have you ever been kissed like that- here before?”
You squirm. Shaking your head-
But he tugs on your pretty maw. “Tell me in words, honey.”
Gulping as one of his rugged hands snakes down your middle. A carnal jolt echoes through your body once Nanami presses the edge of his palm between your skirt- your legs. “I…” You think of all the disappointing dates you’ve been on before, of all the disappointing hands in places almost forgettable. “Not like that, Nanami-san.”
“Now now—when we fuck, call me Kento.” He mutters, finally making his way ‘round the table. Before you know it, he’s looming over you- and two of his strong hands rest underneath your legs. “Upsy daisy.”
He’s lifting you uuuuuup, up, up to splay out across the dinner table.
Lifting you like you weighed nothing.
Pushing aside first and foremost those plates and flowers- you’re being rolled with your back against the tabletop, and Nanami’s honed hips pinning you down. A dimly-lit halo of light behind his golden hair. He wastes no time before throwing both legs of yours on top of his shoulders- “M’gonna teach you how a real man eats pussy.”
You nod-
“First lesson. Big girls use their words.”
And your jaw drops—
“K-Kento—”
You’re not sure whether the primal noise escapes you because of his words, his tone, or because of the utterly desperate way that Nanami Kento falls to his knees. Thud!
Loud enough that it should hurt- but you don’t think it even registers in Nanami’s frenzied brain right now.
Not when he was pushing up that damn sinful skirt of yours- extra tight tonight. Nanami wasn’t a fool - he knew what you were doing. Not when he was starin’ deeply at your pussy, all wet through your panties and throbbing so hard he could practically see it.
Count it.
One-two-three.
Not when he was worshipping you as close as a man possibly could—“Not quite the answer I was looking for.” Then the next thing you’re hearing is a sudden thwack! The next thing you’re feeling are the five pointed tips of Nanami’s thick fingers, smacking down on top of your pussy. “But I’ll let it slide since s’your first time being eaten out all properly, mhm?”
“Mhm.” You nod.
“What was that?” Those mean fingertips of his raise again.
“Yes, Kento.” You’re hurrying to answer. And just as a little reward, Nanami smears his digits atop your swollen folds.
“That’s more like it.” The glaze of your sweetened slick lets out the loudest squelch, and you squirm as he’s tuggin’ aside your panties with a single index. “Are you ready, my dear?”
“Yes-”
“Are you excited, my dear?”
“Yes-”
“Good girl.”
Let the feast begin, he’s thinking. And Nanami Kento doesn’t wait. Nanami Kento doesn’t tease n’ toy. Nanami Kento doesn’t even swivel his fingertips around your wet hole more than a few times to check how soaked you are before he’s taking what he wants—he doesn’t have the damn time for anything else.
He’d been starving for far too long.
And the closer n’ closer he gets to your pussy, the more his mouth waters.
Nanami’s left drooling at the mere sight of your wet fuckin’ hole—you swear you could hear his stomach start to growl. Fuck.
He gulps.
He takes a single sniff.
With a sudden lurch - like he couldn’t hold it back any longer - he leans up and shoves his face nose-deep between your legs.
His tongue swiping your hole, jaw hittin’ the end of your slit.
He’s curving that wet, wet muscle against your walls. Just so soft that it feels as if you’re melting around him- “Fuck.” It escapes him- harsh and cracking. A primal groan at the back of his throat - one he doesn’t seem to even realize himself. “Fuck.”
You tremble at the tone.
Because there was something dark in it. Something almost…predatory.
This was nothing like the calm, composed Nanami Kento that you were used to - absolutely nothing. This was…you didn’t even have words for it.
So fiercely needy that it shoots electricity up your spine- Nanami’s tongue was ravenous. He was holding onto both sides of your legs and- and correction…he wasn’t merely holding onto them. Nanami Kento was using all his strength to push them as faaaar apart as they would go before suffocating himself on your sopping wet cunt.
Such strong hands. Furious tongue.
No matter how much you’re bucking your hips- he just keeps fucking his muscle between your wet pussylips like the last thing on his mind was breathing.
Swooping his head even deeper and munching for more. More. More, more, more.
Nanami crushes his mouth against your pussylips - so deep that you start to wonder whether his oral area would start to bruise—
And it’s only because of that broken call of his name that Nanami flinches. He freezes. He puffs out a murky breath. As if only now registering where he was, what he was doing, and just what his name was at the moment-
He’s breaking free from your pussy with an echoing slurp!
“K-Kento…” You’re looking on in pure worry at the dazed man - his eyes were still glazed, and there was something almost…feral about his demeanour still. Though he seemed to be much calmer than before, “Kento, are you okay to contin-”
“I am.” His voice comes out strong. Firm. Like he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life.
Nanami lets out a few stilted breaths- running a hand through his now-unruly hair. The glisten of a silver streak in it. “I am. I just…it’s been a long time…forever, actually, since I’ve tasted anything so delicious.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I hope you can forgive this old man for getting a little carried away, my dear.”
Was he really that ruined from but a single taste of your cunt?
He stares down so long and deeeep at your quivering pussy. That cute hole peeking out from your panties—“She’s just so…sweet.”
And though he was speaking to you, Nanami looks down lovingly between your legs.
Now that he didn’t have his lips all plastered to your folds- he was rubbin’ his right thumb vertically down your slit.
Pressing down on the cute button of your clit-
“Awww did I scare you, honey? I sure hope I didn’t.” Honey, because you were just too sweet sizzlin’ on his tastebuds. Guiding one of your hands to grip his scalp, “Forgive me. When it gets like that, don’t be afraid to pull me- to use me, alright?”
“Kento, you don’t have to-”
“Consider it my second lesson.”
You squirm, “B-but don’t they say to…respect your elders, Kento?”
And you’re just too cute—he can’t help but flatten his palm down and spank your pussylips once more. It makes so many beads of slippery slick spray out from your cunt n’ glue against that chin of his. “You certainly can.” He hums, thoughtful. “But just remember- I won’t be respecting this pussy, honey.”
“I see.” You gape.
And while speaking to you - while speaking to you - Nanami lavishes out lil’ kitten licks between your folds. Lick. Lick. “I bet this pretty pussy’s never been eaten out like that before, huh?” He continues. Merely peeking up at you through blond lashes to confirm- and you can only nod—
Yet another spank sputtering down on your wet crevice.
“Words.” Nanami reminds.
Hiccuping, “Yes, please. All those boys usually just like- graze my clit and that’s all.”
He nods. He continues, voice nothing but deep murmurs that sets your entire body aflame - and it’s as though the more syllables he’s uttering, the harder n’ harder he rubs on your clit. “Awww poor girl. I just can’t help but think of how long this pussy has been wasted on- haaah, boys who didn’t know how to handle her.”
“Too- too long.”
Lovingly—almost drunkenly, he’s pressing a direct peck against your hole. The tip of his tongue just lightly slipping out and teasing your entrance- Nanami’s free hand grips onto your thigh as if holding himself back. “Mmmm, that’s what I thought.” He murmurs. “And how long has she waited to be eaten out by a man who isn’t afraid to get a little…sloppy?”
“Too long-”
At this, he chuckles. “And as for my last question-” Not even smooching anymore- he’s just smeeeeaering his puffy lips along your slit. More rapid. More hungry. “Actually- take this as my third lesson.”
You’re scrambling up onto your elbows. “Yes?”
“Can you settle down like a good girl?”
Whatever that means…you aren’t given the time to figure out. Because before you know it, Nanami purses his lips and plants a wad of spittle that hits your cunt with a wet splat!
Only making you even wetter for him to gape his jaw open- “Fuck.” For him to swirl his ridged tip around and around your snug entrance until it left your mind all dizzy, it makes your cunt streeeeetch incredibly once he digs the tip of his tongue inside. Thoroughly.
It’s almost as if he was splitting you apart on the thickness of his tongue.
Expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting.
The stretch is so incredible that it leaves your mind searing
“Settle down. Settle doooown-” He’s humming in a low tone. Whenever Nanami feels you squirmin’ or clenching just a tad too hard, he’s making note of that particular spot and bashing it all in again. Thick muscle reaching in and out for your deepest depths until your tight hole can’t take it anymore- until you’re screaming for mercy.
“Oh fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re arching straight off the table, the fabric clinging onto your skin briefly. Only for a few split-seconds before one of Nanami’s hands fastens onto your hips, pushing you right back down where you came from.
“What did I say?” He wasn’t even using much of his strength- you were just so easy for him to move ‘round. Especially when he has his mouth attached to you in a way that was so ravenous—
Ruined.
“Settle. Fucking. Down, girl.”
Pinning you to the flat surface and letting his gaped maw run wiiiiiiild. It’s making you realize that he wasn’t going feral in the beginning- he was merely holding back.
Both in strength and in pure carnal hunger.
No matter how badly you were craving to grind down restlessly on his face for hours- Nanami keeps you on a tight leash. He keeps you restrained on the table n’ getting only what’s given. Pushing down. Maneuvering his greedy mouth. No matter how much you wanted to plant your feet down and take control - Nanami Kento really does know what’s best.
“Failing the third lesson already, huh?”
Tears stream down your cheeks without you even realizing. “S-sorry, I didn’t-”
“Shhhhh shh shh. No need for an apology, honey.” He opens his swollen lips up wider n’ latches them around your clit for a few seconds. “My poor girl’s just overstimulated because she’s getting her pussy eaten out, huh? This pretty pussy’s just excited?”
“Yes-”
“That’s why your Kento’s here.” Nanami hums, his cold glasses frames hit the front of your cunt and you flinch. Making the man push them up his nosebridge with a chuckle—“And m’gonna take care of this pussy, baby.”
The way that Nanami looks dead-set into your widened peripherals as he says this makes your heart race.
Spitting a few more times down your dribbling slit. He was teeeeasing you before reaching his right hand down n’ smearing your pussylips open with two fingers- the rugged tips of his index n’ middle streeetching your damp hole apart. Just so goddamn thick. “Fourth lesson: sometimes…fingers feel even better.”
“O-ohhh—” Your voice breaks out in carnal trills. Trying to bend your spine but then holding yourself back-
He was thrashing inside a few more sloppy strokes - swiping, slurping, scrapin’ every inch of your velvety walls. Anywhere you could think of, his thickened digits were pumping in.
At one point, he flicks his glistening tongue outside for you to take in his sheer size. “Size does matter when it comes to pleasing this needy pussy, alright? Don’t let any fuckin’ boy convince you otherwise.”
You mewl, “I-I wouldn’t need another boy if I just had you, Kento…”
And there’s something in his tone that sounds ecstatic- “Mmm, good girl.” Showing you a demonstration of his previous statement by mazin’ away straight towards your g-spot. And you could feel yourself shaking- all those times you had to worry about whether a guy could manage to make you cum?
Nanami was eatin’ you out like his one and only purpose in life was to make you cum.
“Always teasing me.” He scoffs out in a scalding breath. Raggedly running his mouth- his tongue. “Always riling me up with those pretty looks and that- damn-” Pushing and pushing onto your g-spot so hard that it makes you sob out of pleasure. “-mouth.”
Your jaw drops. “I l-love it—fuck.”
Practically on instinct, you’re gliding a hand down your tummy- where you could feel butterflies. They only seemed to grow even harder n’ rougher with his textured tongue…“I think I can feel you right- ngh, here.”
“S’that so? You love it, huh? I can feel this pussy growin’ so wet—She’s so fucking tight, bet she’s never been fingered properly before.” As if anticipating your next moves, he’s digging his fingers deeper against your flesh. Leaving little crescent marks.
Whatever rational part of you is left begins to wonder just why he might have to pin you down even harder.
“And for my fifth lesson, honey.”
You’re waiting with baited breath as he presses a few more heated-open-mouthed kisses. Nanami’s luscious tongue reaching spots inside you that you weren’t even sure you had - ones undiscovered—
And it’s the only warning you get before the puckered, pretty flaps of his mouth opens up your pussylips. Just past where your folds were all swollen n’ tight- it was quite a squeeze even when it was just his tongue. Just his fingers.
So to have both Nanami’s fingers and his tongue inside?
It was sheer madness.
It was driving you stupid with his touch in but a single stroke- the jostling feeling of his wet muscle and his digits pressing against your walls and each other. Your walls. Each other. Your walls. Each other. Your channel was so snug that even the slightest movements made it feel as though you were bulging from the inside.
Pressing in. Fucking in.
In and in, and in—
“A real man is- haaah, always hungry.” Alternating between slipping his tastebuds into your hole, and then fishing himself back out—not to breathe. No, not even close. He was merely roverin’ his mouth over to spank down on your clit. “A real man would never get tired of his lover, my dear.”
“Kento—ngh.” You’re echoing out.
Your moans bang against the four corners of the room and straight into his ears- the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “See how good you feel? S’only my duty to you, my dear.”
“But Kento-”
Mouth makin’ out with your cunt as if he’d gone mad, too.
“Kento, don’t you need to breathe-”
“Fifth lesson. Who cares about breathing?”
He gasps out in interruption. Tongue swiping at a constant rhythm - it was difficult to get a single syllable out when all Nanami wanted to do was stick himself to your cunt and lick and lick and lick—
Both of you are realizing at the same time that he’d miscounted.
“For my fifth…” And he sounded maddened, too. Octaves higher. Tone breathy. There was a feral sort of hunger in his eyes that shook you to your core- “Sixth…?” As if he was just so pussydrunk that it was causing his brain to melt, acting on pure carnal instinct. “For my sixth lesson, honey. This old man’s mind is a little foggy, you see…”
You don’t get the chance to answer.
Because with that, Nanami only accelerates. First those fingertips of his were shoved all the way in and making your walls twitch with every hard prod—thud-thud-thudding way. Then he was smoochin’ over that same bruised spot with his slithering tongue, just swipin’ up where you were most sensitive.
Before draaaaagging all the way out and about to suck on your clit. Throbbing so hard that he managed to time his lil’ bites to each pulse.
It was a dual sensation that left you driven mad. Absolutely mad.
Rubbin’ his fingers absolutely raw on those knotted bundles of nerves-
You buck.
You get hit with a sudden spank.
“Mmmm—do you think you deserved that, my dear?” He asks. Too cute- the more he eats you out, the more he’s twitching in his pants.
You sob, but you’re nodding. “Y-yes…”
Another spank.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Kento.”
“Good girl.” And honestly you could feeeel that sultry stretch of his grin—gently dabbing his tongue over your clit. Nanami Kento might’ve been a stern man, but he certainly wasn’t merciless. “But forget one more time and I’ll make you call me ‘sir’.”
You couldn’t deny the way that made your cunt twitch…
“Seventh and final lesson.” Nanami pronounces, his mouth slicked with so many layers of your sap that it gleamed—he wore those dangles of goopy syrup like a medallion. “When I make you cum- hah, you better reward me by cumming aaaaaall inside my mouth, honey. Or my cock.”
Your throat was utterly parched by now. And the only thing you could do was rasp out- “U-understood, Kento…”
Soon enough, he was babbling out hot breaths of something you could barely even understand- though each promise only sounded more ravenous than the last.
Mouth glued to your cunt. Nails digging into your skin. Rougher than you ever thought was possible before, he’s sucklin’ at your clit and pounding his fingers into you so hard that it looked like nothing but a blur—
Nanami counts one, two, three rapid clenches of your pussy walls-
Before you’re throwing your head back and absolutely shattering into your high because of him.
Your toes curling. Your throat ragged raw.
His textured tastebuds are swipin’ across every bead of slick you were dripping out. Dripping. Every bead of slick. All over your puffy pussylips. All between them till he meets your hole- even all the way up your inner thighs.
He wasn’t letting a single bit go to waste.
Not even as that translucent sap dribbles down the sides of his mouth and ends up splashin’ right up to his handsome cheekbones-
The pleasure washes over you twofold - both with your orgasm and the way that Nanami was eloooongating your orgasm. Both his fingers and his mouth were working overtime to press into each peak of your high. “O-oh—” Thighs trembling on top of his shoulders- you don’t know when, but they end up locked so tight around his head. “It feels s-so good.”
Each tiny curve of his fingers made your body twitch in the aftershocks. “Extra lesson- fuck back into me.”
“Wh-what?”
It takes you a significant amount of effort to even open your eyes - let alone start to swerve your body uuup n’ down. And yet you’re doing it anyway—moaning as you ride all of Nanami’s handsome features in looooong, sloppy drags. “Fuh-fuck, like this?”
And he was just loving it.
“Mhmmm.” He gurgles out. Cracking one eye open, “Exactly. I know this is the best fuckin’ orgasm you’ve ever experienced, my dear.”
He wasn’t even being cocky - and you usually would’ve called him out on it - this was just plain true. “I-it is-”
“I know this pretty pussy wants it again, my dear.”
You can only nod.
“I know I surely want to eat her again, my dear.”
And nod and and nod as he’s fucking you through even the tiniest peaks and spasms—the surplus of bliss making your veins bubble. Burst. Bulldoze your senses as you’re practically vibrating with the sheer amount of pleasure that runs through them.
There seems to be a hazy aura covering your vision as you finally ride through your entire high.
Struggling up onto your elbows once more-
“Stay down—”
“Yes…?” Your eyes widen at Nanami’s strict order. He leaves a final slurping kiss at your clit before he stands onto his feet. Slightly swaying—
There was a glaze over his eyes. There was your slick coating all the way from his lower face, and puddling dooown to form a dark patch on his button-up. There were the short, panted breaths he was emanating - like a predator honed in on his prey - the longer he looked at you splayed out on the messy table.
Nanami Kento almost looked drunk - and not on the dinner, not even on the sparse wine.
He was completely n’ utterly ruined on nothing other than your pussy.
He lunges towards you-
“Fuck, Kento—” You’re squealing at the rugged hands that tear through your clothes as easily as if they were butter. Shirt and bra easily landing on the carpeted floor- and your skirt was to follow before you even realized.
You’re just about to help Nanami shuffle you out of your panties - hips raising to facilitate it - before he takes another look at you. One long, hard look. And his hands leave your body as though that was enough-
He wanted your panties on.
Nothing but a sopping wet mess twisted ‘round your hips. Evidence of his depravity.
“I want these off then.” You’re reaching up to tug on one of Nanami’s sleeves. He was still partly in his office clothes: button-up, formal pants, tie. And those sleeves of his had been pushed up to his elbows during your dinner, leaving you struggling not to gawk at the older man’s forearms. Strong. Slightly veined. Slightly tanned.
He was just so attractive that it made you squirm.
Nanami looks down at himself and lets out a hoarse—“Oh…right.” Like he’d been so caught up in you that he hadn’t even realized he was still clothed.
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
Those neat white buttons end up flinging to the ground- useless against his sheer desperation. Nanami wastes no time before tearing through his layers, ripping them off. Fabric pools onto the carpet below. His belt buckle clangs as it hits the ground.
Gentlemen couldn’t deny such a thing when their lover’s asking so nicely, could they? At least Nanami couldn’t-
And fuck…
Now, you always assumed that Nanami Kento was the kind of guy to be well-built. It was naturally in the way he moved, the way he stood, in the broadness of his shoulders.
But you’d never in your wildest dreams could have imagined that he’d be this chiselled. This toned.
You have to stop yourself from ogling him—you have to. But you can’t help it.
Not when Nanami’s body was ridged and curved in muscle- almost Herculean in nature. He had pecs that looked lush enough for you to bite - and you could already feel your mouth start to water - with a faint coating of golden and silver hair scattered across his skin. Wide shoulders. Trim waist.
His biceps flexin’ as he moves onto the buttons of his pants.
Lined through the middle with similar golden hair that drove down, down, down…
But you think your favorite part of him wasn’t the muscles or the hardness- no. Though they were certainly a nice addition, what made your pussy throb the most was just how…thick Nanami Kento was.
It was evident that Nanami was the type of person who liked hitting the gym often- but then again, it was evident that Nanami was the type of person who didn’t have the time to be hitting the gym often.
As often as he used to, at least.
And you? You were loving it.
Because all those muscles of his were naturally-formed. But with all the years of responsibilities as a father which meant his body was comforted by a layer of slight chub, big. Strong. Suddenly, you understood why ‘dad-bods’ were all the craze on social media—because you - for one - couldn’t help but linger your eyes at the sight of the softness to his shape. The slight roundness to his belly, abs barely peaking through.
“My dear…”
“Kento.”
He presses a thumb against the hemline of his trousers-
And then he’s letting you see him—all of him.
From his V-shaped waist to his meaty thighs.
So thick. So strong.
You just wanted to be crushed between them.
And right down to the furious cock that stood upright and erect between them. Such a bulbous red tip, streaming with never-ending ribbons of pre. Such a thickened shaft that made you swallow—he had so many veins zipping down either side of him. You think he was about nine or so inches- perhaps on the lower end.
Before you’d realized it, you’d been reaching your hand between his legs- only for Nanami to stop you in your tracks.
“K-Kento…”
His thick fingers intertwine with yours and press your hand down on the tabletop. “Honey, you don’t have to reciprocate.” The older man stares deeply into your eyes- “You don’t owe me anything. I ate your pretty pussy out because I’ve been starving for her.”
“But I still want to.” You insist.
“Mmmm, how about after then?” He reaches his free hand up n’ thumbs across your bottom lip. “As much as I want to paint these beautiful lips with my cum, there’s another pair who’ve been waiting patiently for their turn…”
You shiver, “Erm- Kento, you should know that…this is my first time.”
He pauses. “Excuse me, my dear?”
“I’ve never done it before.” Looking up at him through your tear-draped lashes. “You’ll be my first.”
The thought takes a second to register in the older man’s sex-hazed mind. That animalistic part of him being overpowered by the rational.
Your first time.
Your first time.
Your first time.
He was about to take the virginity of that cute lil’ nanny he’s had his eye on for so long. “Honey, are you su-”
“Yes.”
Nanami almost moans at the sheer eagerness in your voice - your eyes were shining, and your legs locked tighter around him. “Well…” The man starts, dipping two thumbs down to your glistening pussy and spreading your folds wide open. He takes a good look at your entrance in comparison to the thickness of his cock, “Brace yourself then, my dear. S’gonna be a tight fuckin’ fit.”
In a split-second, he’s jerking his hips closer and smoochin’ your naked cunt with his cock. His rounded tip spreading your pussylips. His shaft sliding between your slit and massaging you with his veins.
Nanami was so goddamn hard that it looked painful.
And what better way to alleviate the pain than by pushing his pretty lil nanny’s legs apart and shoving his cock between them? Aching and needy for you.
Nanami was big enough to fuck you stupid with just his tip.
And he knows it, too. Having such a hard time completely fittin’ in his crowned girth, he just barely fucks the top of his shaft inside before groaning. Taking a peek at the way you were squirming below him, sobbing below him. Absolutely ruined- “Shit, honey.” Cupping his hilt with his left hand- Shit, honey, can you recite the lessons for me?”
You’re wobbling up onto your elbows, “Recite them?”
He can only nod. “Just—oh.” Cut off with the slightest sliiiiide between your sweet, swollen pussylips- he’s only managing to nudge the rounded edge of his length. “Just recite them. You have them memorized f’me like a good girl, yeah?”
“Yes-” Nodding frantically. “Yes, Kento-”
And that cute obedience of yours is enough to make him smile- tap-tap-tappin’ away the curve of his tip down there. For absolutely no other reason than wanting to. “Good.” He reels his hips back. “Then say it f’me, my dear.” And then forwards- “Say it while I fuck you.”
And the only thing you can fucking do is to babble out those words- the very same ones that’d been drilled into you. “The first lesson is that—fuck.” All the while Nanami’s probin’ tip enters your hole in a sudden thrust. “-th-that big girls use their words.”
Nanami grunts, voice shot. “Goooood good good- keep breathing now.” Hand clawing down your front—feeling for himself as he pumps inside. Tiiiight fucking fit, like he said. He almost wonders whether it would go in- “And then?”
“The second…”
But it’s almost impossible to remember- to even think with those rapidfire haaaard hammers of his cock.
That curved tip of his shaft kept pushing iiiin with the most lecherous squelches, drawing more n’ more sweetened slick out of you with every single thrust. That stretch was just incredible- it was making you see white. Just the first few inches of his pretty pink cock squeezing inside and pushing in and in and in—
Thwack!
Those rugged fingertips of his come spanking back down on your cunt - this time, however, they fit between your pussylips and latch onto your clit. And they stay there. He’s tuggin’ on that poor nub a few times just to bring you back to your senses- “Awww, you didn’t think you’d go unpunished for that—-did you, my dear?”
“I-I—no.” Because tears stream down your cheeks, and Nanami still isn’t letting go. He’s flopping out his tongue and lapping at that salty flavor-
“Then continue.” Humming at the taste of you. Fitting and fitting and—trying to stretch your elastic hole out to take him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt something like this. “You’re doing so good. Keep going for Kento.”
Thwack!
“Keep talking, honey.”
“Second lesson-” Unable to do anything but arch your back, you’re being met with Nanami’s soft chest. Those pecs. The thundering of his heartbeat. It’s enough to make your mouth already water—“t-to…use you.”
He leans in, “What was that, my dear? Old man, you know…”
“To use you-”
“To not be afraid to use me.” He corrects.
And it’s the last thing you hear before both Nanami’s hands snake down to grab your ankles- restraining them. Tightening them.
He’s bending you easily in half.
Legs on top of his shoulders. Thighs against thighs.
Pushing you all the way back into a mating press.
A fucking mating press.
Of course the hot DILF that you’re nannying for puts you in a mating press. Of fucking course!
And it’s only causing you to become wetter than you’ve ever been in your entire life- your head falls back against the table surface. Thud! An action that makes the older man on top of you reach behind n’ cushion the back of your scalp. “Easy there, my dear. Eeeeeasy.” His left palm lightly massages your sweaty head.
“K-Kento-” Through your tears.
“Easy there- third lesson, remember?”
“To s-settle down…”
“That’s my girl.” Nanami hums, head threatening to tip backwards at the sensations of your quivering cunt. It’s impossible to keep his mind when you were gushing out so much slick that it coats his shaft and leaves his ballsack all drenched.
And if he was this gone, then where did that leave you?
Well, you were just babbling away the pretty syllables of his lessons. “The f-fourth lesson is that fingers feel better.” Hips bucking upwards. “The fifth is that real men are hungry—” Eyes scrunching with tears. That large circumference of his were pushing into tender spots n’ crevices that you didn’t even know you had - it felt as though your poor pussy was being split by him. Push after push.
After probe after probe.
Just animalistically trying to fit inside—
“The sixth- the sixth-”
“Breathe, honey.” Those smoky words of his scorch your face, as if Nanami himself was burning from the inside out. And there truly was a feverish tint to his words—to his actions, fuckin’ away sloppily between your pussylips. Slurp after slurp. “Breeeeeeathe- c’mon do it with me.”
Conducting you through these relaxation exercises for a few strokes.
Listening to his own advice - that fourth lesson - his right hand lifts off of your thighs to roll over your throbbing clit. Just so neglected by now, it makes you see white to have him massaging that sweet spot all slow and sensual.
“The sixth lesson is…who cares about breathing?”
“Mhmmm.”
A guttural tone that sent vibrations straight from your drippin’ core and up to your brain. Only growing more muddled by the inch- “And oh! The extra.” As all good students do, you’re deciding to show a demonstration. How sinful that this sort of demonstration is you balancing your hips on the table n’ choosing to bounce right up to meet Nanami’s rutting hits. His pounces. “To- ngh, fuck back into you.”
“Oh, good girl- this old man almost forgot that one.” Sleazily, he’s pushing his glasses up his nosebridge.
Staring at the lewd sight below of you griiiiinding your hips up into his. It was just so messy because your lips were jittery with pleasure.
His happy trail rubs carnally on top of your clit- and it sends you into a frenzy—
“F-fuck that was-”
“Shhhh shh shh, easy.”
You waddle your ankles from their perch atop his shoulders. “Yes, I know-” Hissing out—“I’m breathing, Kento. I’m listening to what you’re saying, promise…”
“Good girl. Now inhale.” Of course, you can’t help but take a looooong gasp of the heady air thick in the dining room - the candles were scented like roses. “And-”
“And…?”
And Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t bother telling you to exhale before his fat, throbbing cock is fucking every volume of air from your lungs. In this mating press, he could hit each angle even deeper than before - and that meant you’re feeling his thick circumference bruise all the way against your womb.
Your cervix.
Bottomed all the way out and Nanami was pummeling his length away as if there was even more, more, more of him left. A hint of something metallic hits his nostrils—and he can’t hold back the victorious chuckle that leaves him. He’s done it. “Continue.”
“I—what-” Struggling to catch your breath. “Oh my fucking-”
“Continue.”
“Who cares about breathing-”
A sixth lesson that he was fully demonstrating.
He really was mean.
He really was merciless.
Because he was fucking you into the dinner table like a damn animal—and the thing is Nanami wasn’t even going at a particularly fast pace in order to leave you speechless. He wasn’t merely half-thrusting away and hoping that you liked it. He wasn’t just tracin’ his cockhead down the sweet spots at the back of your pussy.
Nanami Kento was holding you down tight in his mating press. He has one hand gripping onto the back of your scalp - such a gentle gesture turned so sinful - and another crushin’ the fatness of his palm to your pussy.
Purposefully, the older man pushes the edge of his palm down on your clit. Harder. Harder. Harder.
And he was drilling into you harder by the second, too. Harder didn’t mean faster.
Just draaaagging every inch of his vein-covered shaft down your slick channel - he’s making sure that you can feel every single curve n’ ridge down his cock. He’s making sure that he massages your insides so thoroughly that it feels as though you’re being molded to his cock. Nothing more. Nothing less.
You swear you’re seeing the pearly gates spread wide open before your very eyes. “O-oh my god-” Reaching your hands up, Nanami lowers his strong body further into yours. Pushing you down against the dinner table, the pressure from all sides is too much that you have to claaaw down his perfect back. “Kento, what—fuck. I didn’t know that it could feel like this-”
And deep inside, you can feel his thickened tip flinching. Directly at your g-spot. “Mhm?”
“Yeah-” Voice shattering in your throat as his circumference swells just a few millimeters thicker inside of you. He was growing even bigger, harder, just by the sensations of your slurping cunt. “I-it just feels so good- I’ve never been fucked like this.”
“Honey…” Nanami’s mean yet pointed tone makes you stare up at him. “You’ve never been fucked before me.‘
“Oh.”
“Your virginity is mine.”
“Oh.”
Just that gone on his cock that you’d almost forgotten - even the realization itself seems to take up too much storage inside your already-muddled brain. Now filled with only the thought of him n’ his achingly hot cock—pouring out bucketloads of precum until it sloshed around inside.
Inside and inside.
Stirring ‘round and ‘round with his probin’ cockhead. He pushes deep into spots that you hadn’t even known existed, let alone could be smooched away by his pulsating shaft. He constantly whacks your g-spot until it feels numb.
Enough to render you speechless-
“—graduated.”
And that makes your eyes blink open. “Wh-what?”
“Oh, honey…” Nanami plants a loving peck on your lips- until that peck turns into a rugged bite. “What world are you on, hm? S’my cock that good? Awww, my poor girl—here.” Nanami’s perspired forehead sticks against yours. This time, he’s staring deeply into your eyes as he pronounces the words, “You’ve graduated.”
You cock your head in confusion, “From university?”
He chuckles, fine lines popping out from the edges of his eyes. You’re noticing that his glasses have slightly fogged up by now- “No, silly girl. From my lessons.”
“Oh…” Pouting, “But I liked your lessons, Kento.”
“Mmmm, you’ll like this one even more.” Dipping down- Nanami presses his stern lips right to the shell of your left ear. Whispering as if a secret shared by no one but the two of you in this world, “Remember how Yuji mentioned he wanted a little brother…”
A jolt goes through your body- as does the realization.
“If you’d like then-”
“Yes.” You know it might be rash. But looking at him like this - looking at Nanami Kento so deep in the pangs and plunges of his carnal pleasure - how could you deny what you want? “Yes—”
The blond man’s breaths start to grow heavier, eyes slightly widened. For the first time in the longest time, he actually looks like his usually-sensible self. Those molten eyes of his search yours for an answer- “Honey, really think this throu-”
“I did.” You’re insisting. And if that wasn’t enough, he could feel your wobbly ankles surge with the strength to lock ‘round his neck. “Inside, Kento.”
Nanami’s mouth moves noiselessly with an answer, but his cock does all the swelling. So painfully hard that you were sure it was tougher than rocks-
And there’s only one thing left for you to do. “Inside…sir.”
If he was any less of a gentleman - of a man, really - then Nanami would’ve cum inside you then and there. At least in his mind—which was focused solely on digging his heels into the carpet, solely on gritting his teeth and holding his damn cock back from pouring out those wads of cum like he knew he wanted to.
Was on the verge of doing.
He was instead collapsing the entirety of his weight upon your body- feeling your limbs strain, hearing your joints pop. But not even that noise crackling in his eardrums is enough to get the man to slow down.
Now he was just fucking you sloppy—grunts filtering between his grit canines by the minute. By the thrust. “The first to fuck you.” And what a rare occasion: to hear the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento stutter. “I’ll be the first to breed you too, my dear.”
“Oh—fuck, yes.” Your entire body shivers in excitement. You could feel the pit of pleasure starting to grow in your stomach.
“I’ll be the first to give this pretty cunt a taste of cum.” And you could hardly believe that such a sinful sentence was leaving the confines of his mouth—“She’s probably so thirsty by now, no? I’ll be the first to quench that thirst, my dear, just you wait-” Pinching your clit between the fingers on his right hand once more. “-mama.”
Really, if you were calling him ‘sir’ then it was only fair for him to call you by that pretty nickname. Something primal awakens inside of you-
“I’ll be the first one to stuff this pretty pussy-” Nanami gurgles out, eyes locking in on your stomach. That was where his rounded tip occasionally made an appearance by bulging through your flesh n’ skin as he fucked inside you. “-with so much of my cum that you’ll be bloated.”
You gasp hysterically, “Yes-” So turned on that it almost hurt - you wanted him. Now. “Yes, yes, yes—”
“I’ll be the first to make you feel me in here- for weeks. Months.” Thrust after thrust. Pinch after pinch. It was incredible how much he was stimulating you to tears- “I’ll be the first where—when you walk down the street, everyone will know that I fucked you. Everyone will know that- that this pretty pussy is mine, that I’m the one fuckin’ her and stuffing her and—and giving her my cum every night.”
Rolling a sweet, sweet heart on top of your clit.
“They’ll know that I’m the one fuckin’ the cute, sweet lil’ nanny—all of them. The professors. Those parents at pick-up. Your friends. My friends.” He chuckles darkly. And he doesn’t care who’d be scandalized. “Wanna know why, my honey?”
“Wh-why—” You sob out.
And he leans in to whisper in your ear- “Because I’ll be the one making you a momma.”
Until you’re all round and glowing with his seed.
Until you’re so full of him that you can’t take anymore.
Until you’re so stuffed that you wouldn’t be able to hide it- he hopes you’re walking ‘round with his cum between your legs for weeks.
It’s taking only that and a single puuuush against your g-spot for you to topple off the edge of your high. Bliss pumping through your veins in waves, you couldn’t escape from the constant throb and ebb of it. Dimming the edges of your vision. Making the lights seem brighter.
Again and again and again—
He’s probin’ inside that swollen cockhead to push you through the bouts of your pleasure. In the time he’s had you like this, Nanami’s already mapped out where every single one of your sweetest spots where- and first he’ll thwack! his hand upon your clit. Then he’ll move onto your tender bruised spots at the rim, then his cock delves deeper until he’s hitting your g-spot—then again and again he’s knockin’ on your womb.
Filling it with so much of his cum.
“Breathe.” Your orgasm hits you so hard that you have to manually control your breathing- and Nanami’s right beside you. Walking you through every step, every exhale and inhale. “Breathe iiiiiin.”
You’re sucking in a breath. “Fuck-”
And it’s just then that he’s emptying out a particularly powerful wave of his own euphoria. Balls clenching as his ribbony white cum leaks near your cervix- with your breath sucked in, you’re only feeling the sensations even stronger. “And out.”
Panting out with a whine. “Fuuuuck- f-feels so good.”
Too good, almost.
You never knew it could feel like this to have someone pourin’ out all their lecherous sap inside of you- the thick layers clinging onto either side of your walls. There’s so much of it - so much volume that you wondered just how he managed to keep it all stuffed inside - frothing out and forming a circle of white ‘round Nanami’s hilt. Gleaming with every thrust. Puddling out and sticking your thighs together—
Head throwing slightly back, though still peeking at you through his lashes. “Honey…”
Nanami’s gruff tone makes you jump. “Yes?” Still slightly twitching from the aftershocks of your incredible high.
He stares into your eyes with a slight smile. Something unreadable. “You forgot the seventh lesson earlier.”
The seventh…?
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
It’s with a sudden cold thrill that you’re registering what he said- and remembering the mistake you’d made during your recitations earlier. “I-it was to cum all over-”
“That’s quite alright, my dear. No need to tell me now.” Nanami smiles the sweetest smile that makes your cunt start to throb - his eyes shuttered closed, his lips pecking yours. His cock shovels a long, hard thrust inside you—“But I will have to rescind your graduation.”
You gape, “What, why-”
“Until you’re completely and fully stuffed by me.” He grumbles out the rest of his statement. His condition.
Hands rovering all over your body, Nanami makes sure that every slight tingle of your high has passed before he’s pulling out of you with a loud sluuuuurp! Immediately scooping you up into a princess carry n’ walking in the direction of his bedroom.
It isn’t long before you find yourself draped over Nanami Kento’s large mattress - on all fours so that he can slip inside you with ease. Pumping away immediately- “Until you’re fuckin’ pregnant, consider that you’re still taking lessons.”
You’re sobbing into your newly-caught pillow. “Oh—oh fuck.”
To which Nanami leans over and snatches your neck into a fucking headlock- his strong biceps pushing against the sides of your throat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear. When this is all done- fuck, m’gonna show you how much I love you.”
“I l-love you—” Feeling his rounded tip immediately pierce across your g-spot and towards your womb. Full. “-too.”
“Mmm, I love you more.” Watching as you shake and quiver. “We’ll get you something sweet after this, honey, don’t you worry.” He hums- before sneaking a look at the both of you through the mirror in his bedroom and chuckling.
Ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.
“If we make it out of Valentine’s Day alive, that is.”
Maybe Shoko could babysit Yuji a little longer?
“Papa’s gonna do his best to try for a second child, alright?”
.
.
.
Morning shed its sunlight like the clothes upon Nanami’s apartment floor.
A stream of white-gold Sun, the richness of the day, enters through his windows and splays out perfectly on the bed. It dapples light across his naked chest and leaves him stirring—
Valentine’s Day.
The dinner.
The table.
You. Being taken on the table.
Afterwards on this very bed, afterwards on the damn bedroom floor after he heard a snap coming from somewhere on the bed frame. He’d shovelled himself n’ his gooey white sap inside you until the Sun had risen—
And it’s enough to make him jerk upright in his bed.
Blankets falling around his waist, sleepy eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.
From here, he couldn’t see what’d been made of your clothes in the dining room- or your panties in his bedroom. But it was obvious that you weren’t here. If from your physical presence, then from the warmth you brought into his drafty Tokyo home.
Just to make sure, he casts several wide-eyed looks around the room - breath-still in case there was a single noise from the kitchen - and still…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to make sense of.
Of course, what was he thinking? He’d said…those words to you last night- but just because you’d said them back didn’t mean it was real. It was probably in the heat of the moment, you’d probably snuck out before dawn broke so you didn’t have to face him. You’d probably woken up disgusted.
He didn’t blame you - there were no promises between the two of you. And even if there had been, he knows he can’t find it in himself to get angry at you.
If anything - if you chose to quit after this - he supposes he’ll have to start looking for a nanny again. Something in Nanami’s chest twists, and he reaches up to rub the spot where his heart was.
He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it still led him back to you. He wouldn’t mind the long and tedious process if it meant you were there with him - not as a nanny, just yourself being you.
It was a cold morning.
And Nanami Kento was clenching his sheets, just about to throw his legs over the side of the bed and get out—he needed to put away his clothes anyways before Shoko came with Yuji. What was the time anyway? It was his off-day today, and maybe he could take Yuji out to the park to take his mind off of-
And it’s then that several things happen at once.
Nanami’s eyes catch the face of the clock on his bedside cabinet: 12:48PM.
Nanami’s jaw drops at just how late it is.
Nanami snatches his phone off of the cabinet and makes to race outside while calling Shoko-
And he makes it about two frantic steps, too, before getting stopped by a sudden squeal of laughter. Loud and bubbling. Euphoric.
Of course, it was none other than his son.
Echoing a short burst of laughter throughout the apartment- before abruptly cutting himself off with a pronounced ‘shhhhhh!’ It rings even louder than his laugh, and reaches Nanami’s ears alongside some words. “Sowwy! Yuji promises not to wake papa!”
And Nanami’s brows furrow, wondering whether Shoko had somehow managed to forge a key to his apartment and get in. Before out of nowhere—your voice is the one that answers him.
“S’alright, sunshine.” You’re using that nickname he always did. Sleepiness was still laced into your tone, and he could tell it hadn’t been long since you must’ve waddled away.
Since you must’ve put away the clothes in the dining room, since you must’ve opened the door for Yuji - Nanami would hate to imagine the smug look on Shoko’s face then, but the surplus of texts from her were already doing the job. “Papa needs to be awake for breakfast-in-bed, doesn’t he?”
The smell of pancakes drifts through the bedroom door - along with Yuji’s answering call. “True…but what if papa won’t wake up?”
“Then we eat the pancakes.”
“Yes—” Yuji echoes, “Thank you, Cupid.”
“Hm?”
“Because Cupid made you n’ papa married, right?” But of course. It leaves you stunned for a few seconds, and Yuji obliviously chattering. “I’ve always wanted to keep you- papa, too. Even though I know he won’t say—can we keep you now, Ms. Nanny?”
Your voice sounds slightly thicker than before. “You can keep me as long as you want, Yuji.”
“Thank you, Cupid!”
Two evil cackles, and the sound of footsteps.
You’re opening the door with a flood of sunlight and a tray of pancakes in your hand. Yuji rushes in after you with a call of ‘good morning’ - and by the smile on your face…yeah.
Yeah, it really is a good morning.
He still doesn’t know how to explain to Yuji that the two of you aren’t married yet, however.
It’s in an hour that you finally break the news- but rush to assure the little boy before he bursts into tears, that he could ‘keep you’ as long as he wanted. And that the two of you were together—yes, together together. Nanami puts off answering Shoko (she ambushes him for gossip the very next day).
It’s in a month that you start officially calling yourselves lovers - boyfriend and girlfriend, whatever it is. It seems like so much more than that, however. And so Nanami just settles for introducing you as his partner at those tedious work dinners.
It’s in a few more months that those work dinners become the last he’s attending. Because Nanami Kento quits that damn job, using everything he’s saved up to buy a little bakery and a house just a small ways off from the heart of the city - not quite the countryside as he once imagined, but this was good, too. It was still a manageable distance from your university and Yuji’s school, and yet so much bigger than the apartment.
It’s in a year that Nanami’s bakery is at the height of business - a figure that will only keep growing as the years pass by. Word spreads far and wide about those treats- and soon enough, he’s forced to fire extra hands and more part-timers than he ever thought would be needed. The little bakery grows into a big bakery, with time.
You couldn’t have been more happy to see those dark circles underneath his eyes cease for once, to see him pursue his dreams. Yuji couldn’t have been more happy to get all the sweet treats he could’ve ever wished for.
And now, Nanami could buy him all the car beds he could’ve ever wished for.
He also starts looking into wedding rings.
He still isn’t sure about a Spiderman-themed wedding, but he knows he’ll be baking the cake.
A/N. Hehehe that Nanami and the flowers scene was inspired by my father having a tradition to always buy me a bouquet as well today.
giving nanami head under his desk during a work video call meeting until he finally snaps and teaches you lesson you practically begged for . .
ovulation really does something to you.
you just can’t help it. not when nanami looks like that while he works.
he’s literally just sitting there in his crisp button-up that he wears to work, the sleeves rolled to his thick veiny forearms, broad shoulders stretching the fabric tight across his back, and your pussy starts throbbing like it’s trying to climb out of your body.
the way the fabric hugs his broad chest and shoulders, straining just enough to remind you how fucking beefy he is underneath… and the way he looks so composed, so unfairly hot, his jaw set while he listens to whatever boring spreadsheet nonsense is droning through his laptop speakers. you’re already dripping wet and he hasn’t even touched you yet.
you can’t help it anymore so you crawl under the desk.
he doesn’t even flinch when you nudge his knees apart, doesn’t even look down. as if he already knows that you’re gonna pull something like this. he just keeps nodding at the screen like the perfect professional he is. you yank his zipper down with your teeth, fish his fat cock out, already half-hard and so heavy in your hand it makes your mouth water instantly. the thick vein running along the underside pulses when you give it a long, slow lick from balls to tip.
“yeah… projections are tracking seven percent above forecast,” he says to the camera, voice completely even.
you open your mouth wide and swallow him down in one greedy bob of your head, letting him fill your throat until your nose brushes the neat trim of blond hair at his base.
he twitches hard inside your mouth. you feel it. you also hear the tiniest hitch in his breath before he smooths it over.
someone on the call asks him something and he answers in that low, measured baritone, explaining numbers you couldn’t care less about while you’re moaning around his cock like a needy little slut. the vibration making his thigh flex under your palm.
“keep. quiet,” he mouths down at you, barely moving his lips.
you pull off with a wet pop just to be a brat.
“mmh… but you taste so good, ken,” you whisper, voice all needy. you slap the swollen head against your tongue a few times— loud wet smacks that you know the mic might pick up if he’s not careful.
you rub the leaky tip over your cheek, smearing pre and your own spit across your face like war paint. “look how big you are… i can’t help it.”
his jaw clenches. hard. and that’s how you know you’re getting under his skin.
“everything alright, nanami-san?” someone asks from the screen.
he clears his throat once. “fine. just… had to mute for a second.”
you almost cackle right there with his cock resting hot and slick on your bottom lip.
the second the call ends he slams the laptop shut so hard the desk rattles.
“ you think it’s cute?” his voice is dangerously quiet.
before you can answer he fists your hair and shoves your head down until your nose mashes against his pubic bone and his cock breaches your throat completely, making your eyes water instantly. he holds you there, pulsing, stretching your throat around him until you’re gagging and drooling rivers down his balls. then he yanks you off. you cough, spit hanging in thick strings from your lips to his tip.
“hurts...” you slurred, looking up at him with your teary eyes.
“shut the fuck up and keep that mouth open.”
he doesn’t give you time to speak and feeds his cock right back in and starts fucking your face like it’s a pussy he’s trying to ruin. the wet gluck gluck gluck sounds filling the room along with his heavy breathing. “you know how risky that was? fucking slut. you wanted them to hear how much of a whore you are, is that it?”
he suddenly stands up, towering over you, snapping his hips forward while he uses your mouth like a toy. when he finally pulls out your face is a total wreck. spit and precum smeared all over your skin.
he slaps his heavy cock across your face again and again, fat and glistening, leaving wet streaks everywhere. “messy little thing,” he mutters, almost to himself. “can’t even live without my cock for a minute, huh?”
then he’s hauling you up by the arm, bending you over the arm of the couch so fast your knees buckle. his old tee that you were wearing now on the floor, panties ripped to the side to expose your soaking pussy that’s been aching to get fucked.
he doesn’t prep you gently, just plunges three thick fingers inside your wet cunt and curls them meanly and starts fingering you roughly your legs quiver.
you scream into the cushion. he slaps your ass hard enough to leave a handprint, then again and again until you’re shaking and dripping down his wrist.
“k-kento—!”
you squirt all over his hand before you can even warn him, gushing messily while your legs tremble. and he doesn’t stop. just pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock in one brutal thrust, your poor pussy stretching to its limits around him, making your eyes roll back. he’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in half every time, battering your cervix with every punishing stroke as he starts to fuck into you.
you can barely breathe. you feel so full. so fucked-out already. sobs rip out of your throat while he mounts you properly, chest pressed to your back, one hand fisted in your hair so he can yank your head back to see your blissed-out face.
“take it,” he growls against your ear. “you wanted my attention. now you have it.”
he pins your wrist behind your back with one massive hand and fucks you harder. you reach back weakly, trying to push his thigh due to the overstimulation, but he just gathers your other wrist too and holds them tight and pounds you harder, drilling his cock deeper into your already aching walls.
“you don’t get to tap out. not after that stunt.” he snaps. “you don’t get to run from this cock. you hear me?”
you didn’t answer. your brain too mushy to form coherent words other than to moan and scream his name.
he yanks your head back farther by the hair until you’re forced to look up at him. then wrap both of his hands around your throat— not choking, but just to hol keeping your glassy eyes locked on his while he destroys your cunt from behind. your whole body jolting with every harsh thrust he gives you. “i said did you hear me.”
“y-yes... yes— mnnnhh... ’m sorry, mmnghhh!”
you’re sobbing apologies over and over, drool slipping from the corner of your slack mouth, your eyes crossing like a dumb cock-hungry slut from how good hard he’s fucking you.
he rips out another orgasm through you without warning. you squirt again, harder this time, soaking his cock, his thighs, the couch. everything. he pulls out for half a second just long enough for you to twitch and almost collapse forward then grabs your hips and drags you back.
“where the fuck do you think you’re going? you’re not done.”
he presses you flat to the cushion and slams back in, pounding so deep and so rough you go completely dumb. nothing but high-pitched whimpers and wet slaps and the creak of the couch. you’re creaming so much his cock is frosted white, thick creamy rings of it clinging to his shaft every time he pulls out.
you’re way too loud— embarrassingly so. screaming his name like you’re being murdered (getting murdered on that dick, yes.) then he shoves two thick fingers into your mouth to shut you up. you suck on them desperately, drooling around them while he keeps railing you stupid.
he finally stills, hips flush to your ass, and pumps you full. heavy spurts of cum flood your womb until it’s leaking out around his cock, dripping down your thighs in messy white rivulets. “fuck...”
he doesn’t pull out right away— just grinds deep, circling his hips, making sure every drop stays inside while you shake and hiccup beneath him.
but he’s still hard. nanami doesn’t leave you alone when he’s still hard as a rock even after cumming. and after that stunt you pulled earlier? there’s no way he’s letting your pussy breathe for the rest of the night.
he finally pulls out with a wet squelch, your mixed cum gishing out of you instantly. before you can even catch your breath he flips you onto your back on the floor, spreads your trembling thighs wide, and notches himself at your creamy hole again.
“kento— wait— i can’t— i just came— h-haaahh!”
“you can” he says flatly. “this what you wanted it, isn’t it?” then he sinks back in, slow this time, letting you feel every thick inch stretching your sore walls. “you act like a slut, you get fucked like one.”
“mmnghh f-fuuuck... oh my god... kennn—!”
your head thumps back against the rug. he leans down, caging your head with his beefy biceps, and starts fucking you into the floor with deep, punishing rolls of his hips that make your toes curl and your eyes cross.
you’re a drooling, babbling mess underneath him, just laying there and taking it while clawing at his shoulders, crying his name while he fills you again and again until there’s nothing left in your head but him.
just him. his cock—
and the messy little puddle you’re both making on the carpet that you’re gonna have to clean up later.
Dog with No Teeth // Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader
Like deer meat picked off by carrion birds, you are plucked up during a scavenging raid by tactical-clad men all in black. There is no possibility of returning to your old life. You’re forced to assimilate, to conform to the remaining dredges of society. With that comes a choice: select someone to marry or the government will do it for you. You make the rash choice, selecting the skull-faced stranger that snatched you in the first place.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who does whatever whenever she wants, because who's gonna say something about it? if anyone even attempt to they would get the cuss out of their life.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who whenever a man comes up to her in the bar and attempts to buy her a drink, she simply laughs in their face and carry on as if they were a fly on the wall.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who has a smart mouth with everyone whenever. Could be early in the morning and her boss comes and says 'hey how's your morning?' she usually responds with 'I don't know Steve i'm at this dumbass place so tell me how you would be doin'.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who has so much pride, and always thinks highly of herself.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who rewards herself with trips to the mall and splurges on herself buying louis vuitton, dior and her personal favorite, chanel. She usually comes home with plenty of bags and barely any closet space for her new items.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who's basically made of money, she has money, her dad has money and her mom has money. So that's something she never has to worry about.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who's been spoiled all her life by her daddy and mommy.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who suddenly meets Simon at a bar and immediately takes interest in him, quiet, keeps to himself, and that skull mask he has covering his face.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who decides to make a move and buy Simon a drink, which lead to a conversation. And Simon could tell from the moment he met her, she was a brat who was spoiled, but that made it even more fun for him.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who gets Simon to take her home from the bar. And even invited him inside. But Simon is a gentleman, he wouldn't want to take advantage of a pretty thing like you, even though you were just tipsy. Didn't matter to him.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who gives Simon her number and lets the relationship slowly blossom from there, but Simon does have to put her in her place from time to time.
𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 who usually doesn't have a smart mouth with Simon but when she does, Simon has the perfect remedy for making her straighten up.
and thats by slutting her out.
𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀── cant wait to make some nastayyyy smut w this reader!!
𖧁୧ one night stand with mean!simon x ballerina!reader
𓋭 ๋ ׅ cw: themes of manipulation, simon teaches reader how to give head = blowjob with (accidental) teeth + suffocation via deepthroating, pussy slaps, ripping a hole in pantyhose to fuck, raw sex/creampie, spitting in mouth, “mister” as nickname, simon calls reader “starlet” 1x, bad writing 😭
likes & comments appreciated! let me know your thoughts please, reblogs are SO important ♥︎
18+ only / all characters are 18+. | my previous post. | all my fics.
based on this ask.
note: ty guys sm for the love on the last mean!simon post, hope u enjoy this one. ♥︎ i have such few writings on here (sry for the sporadic posts </3) but this blog is rly growing already! also i find it cute how y'all nicknamed this 'meanie simon' even tho i never called him that lmao
mean!Simon who pretends to be ballerina!readerʼs fan just to get in your pants—even though, truthfully, heʼd merely slipped into the opera house lobby for some privacy to pick up a phone call. The latter is poor judgment on his part; the performance is almost at a close, with an ocean of patrons soon to come spilling out onto the burgundy damask runner. The receding seafoam, the diminuendo to your final grand jeté.
Privacy, tant pis.
Just beyond the foyer, a framed program board lists the evening’s performance: The Sleeping Beauty — Tchaikovsky, Ballet in Three Acts. Past the closed doors, the hall’s orchestra reaches its closing measures, more of a heartbeat than a tune as it susurrates into the lobby. Simon cares for none of it, not until he sees you and your flock meandering out onto the sidewalk with your dance bags on your shoulders. At least, that's how he makes it out to be. Half-star-struck, but tempered by his gravely tone and hands-in-his-pockets demeanor. Simon is by no means a known smooth-talker, but that's exactly why it works, doesn't it? He's no frills, no posh accent like the trust fund babies inside, straight to the point; he wants to drive you home.
Naturally, your fellow dancers in the company don’t approve, especially as one of their younger rising stars—stranger danger and whatnot. The guy barely even takes his disposable face mask off for a minute—but you’ve seen equally, if not more, questionable patrons sponsoring dancers for a favor. Now, youʼd hardly say bad boys are your type, or even goody-two-shoes boys—Simon just seems like a man who doesn't care for either of the two things.
When you're a minute away from the opera house in his Chevy Tahoe, you hear him ask ‘My place or yours?’
My place, you say, because he’s just supposed to drive you home, there’s nothing more to it—right? Except, Simon takes it as an invitation.
The seven-inches (rounded up) more to it is buried in your gullet at present, tears clumping your lashes together as Simon connects your face with his pelvis.
“No teeth,” he chides, for the second time now. You come up for air gasping. “Like a lolly. Don't wanna get your teeth froze, innit?” Simon adds, demonstrating with his fingers sliding back and forth over your tongue.
“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly when he retracts his fingers, thick ropes of spit rolling down your chin to the neck of your leotard. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you lap up at the length of his cock with the tip of your tongue, trying your own pace, but Simon isn't as patient.
You flash him an incredulous frown when he thrusts past your lips and hits the back of your mouth without warning, teeth scraping the base with a gag. Not your fault—he caught you off guard, is something you no doubt wish to communicate, your annoyance mirroring his like pup and dog before he pinches your nostrils shut. Your system all but malfunctions.
“Get learning, starlet,” the man orders brusquely, glowering while you sputter obscenely on his cock. His method of teaching is ‘swim-or-sink’, you realize, though the implication of sucking dick being as important as breathing doesn't fare well at all.
Your tongue hangs a little past your lips as you take him into the warm cavern of your mouth, your kneeling form shuddering with the effort it takes to stay in place instead of pulling up for air. A low, gravelly hum emits from his chest when the velveteen walls of your mouth envelope him, pleased this time.
“'Bout time.”
Tears prick your eyes as you peer up at him; his silhouette is reduced to blurry blots of color in your vision, his cock jerking instantly when your eyes lock. Your chest hiccups uselessly without pulling in any air and he can feel your throat spasming frantically around the heft of him in protest, milking more precum from him against all reason.
“Look at you,” he coos, almost unthinkingly, as he runs a hand through your tousled ballet bun, pins slipping out of place. “Proper mess. Yer almost getting the hang of it.”
Asshole.
The denim fibers of his jeans catch under your nails as they dig into his thighs, and at this point you've shifted off your knees and onto your haunches to writhe and kick at the tiles while he fills your airways. Every little sensation translates to his throbbing cock, his breathy groans filling the shadowy room as you gag on him.
You can feel the blood flooding your head as your lungs constrict, a throb in your temples mimicking closely the ache between your legs before, finally, all the pressure gives away when Simon lets go off your nose.
It's all spit, tears, and salty precum when you go up for air purely on reflex, strings of saliva stretching out between your lips and his fat cock. You clutch your neck while coughing, staring up at him tearily while his fingers scratch your scalp. His cock is hard and leaking in your face, bobbing with arousal.
As if knowing your language skills are out the door, or more likely not caring, Simon doesn't waste time to speak before he's tugging you up to your feet by one arm and tossing you behind him onto the bed.
“On the bed,” is as much communication as you get.
The look on your face must suggest your hurt with his abrasive treatment, because the corner of his lip turns up slightly and his eyebrows furl upwards sympathetically as he climbs over you, one knee braced on the mattress.
“Scared?” the man asks, to which you chirp wordlessly, throat raw, and screw your face up in a frown as you tuck your head away from the hand that threatens to cup your cheek.
Your skin is hot to the touch with his fingers tracing the slope of your jaw nonetheless, coated with sweat, spit, tears. An annoyed-sounding giggle spills out of you as he covers your face with his palm, your hair falling in front of your face as he musses it all up. He smiles a bit too—maybe. You can't see too well with your hair in your eyes.
“Don’t be. Iʼll bet I can make up for it. Some grown man cock is just what you need, isn't that right?”
Despite the incredulity at his choice of words, sticking your nose up like a proper lady, he doesn't hear a word of complaint from you to stop him from kissing the air out of you, with teeth.
Simon is already rutting his leaking cock against your belly when he reaches down between your bodies, pushing the crotch of your leotard to the side. “Look at you, so wet just from tasting my cock. Y'like dick that badly?”
There's a glint of amusement in his eyes as you huff 'You're a bully' and shut your legs, the corners of his eyes slightly wrinkled, though the rest of his expression remains unflinching. The sound of weaving coming apart splits the air—coupled with your embarrassed squealing—as he tears a hole in your dance tights and guides his cock between your legs.
He only manages to fuck your thighs with the way you're squishing them together, until he finds the collection of moisture pooling at the apex and pushes in.
He groans against your open mouth with the head of his cock seated snug inside your belly, thumbs digging in above your hipbones as he pulls you down the sheets to meet him. Your lips stretch into a small oval, opening and closing with a soft string of moans as he starts to pump inside you feverishly, jaw hanging slack towards your collarbones while you gaze at him through fluttery lashes.
Your ecstasy-addled gaze is all it takes to draw him into another heated kiss, latching onto your bottom lip as you whine and lock your ankles around his back. His short, dirty-blond hair becomes the victim of your restless hands, twining through the short tufts with a mirrored passion to the bruising grip of manly hands on your hips.
A perverse, self indulgent curiosity wins over when he folds your nimble body under him, your toes curling up in a mock pointe as he slams deep inside you, stars behind your eyelids. Your pussy is wringing him hard enough to make him cum if he's not careful, but the slide is simultaneously so smooth it's obscene with how wet you are.
“Si, oh my gosh, too much, I can't anymore,” you squeak, voice catching on a moan, but he just nips your earlobe deliberately, leaving shivers in his wake.
“Y'cant? I don't take kindly to liars, luv,” Simon grumbles in your ear before he pulls away slightly to peer down at you, his voice slipping into a more patronizing register, breathless all the same. “Come on then, tell me you want this. Y'want me to breed this cunt.”
His fingers dig into your cheeks while he awaits an answer, your face sandwiched into a pout between his fingers while you tearfully nod your head without further ado. It is too much and all that you need—only he's far too thick and too deep.
He bows his head over yours, dropping a warm wad of spit onto your puckered mouth, and you swallow before you can think better of it.
“Say it,” the man enunciates gruffly, his rhythm never letting up as you claw at the sheets above your head.
This time, an emphatic shake of your head, your cheeks burning up.
Simon lets your knees splay open around his lap as he sits up between them with a disapproving look, both your wrists caught in one firm grip as his muscled arm lifts above you. His offhand lands dead-center on your cunt with a loud smack, your hips jerking with a startled yelp—and inadvertently, fucking yourself on his length.
“Words.” A tendon in his jaw twitches as he regards you with simmering impatience, a brow raised pointedly. Your toes curl when his palm lifts again, your breath catching before the impact comes blooming as a throbbing heat ebbing through your clit.
“O—ow!” You keen and angle your hips away to no avail, his palm splayed out on the juncture between your leg and your hipbone to hold you open. Your walls spasm like a heartbeat around his dick, drawing a hiss past his teeth as he pumps inside you with shallow, jerky thrusts, palming your puffy cunt before repeating the previous action.
His palm lands against your flesh in quick succession, your juices splattering against your inner thighs like sin as wet slaps resound in your ears. Your abused pussy is practically weeping around his cock, stretched taut around his veiny girth.
“Please—” Your pleas for mercy starts off slurring, pathetic moans and hiccups, before becoming more urgent with each slap—and still, not what he wants. Your walls flutter and clamp around nothing as he pulls his cock out, slapping the flushed head against your oversensitive clit. Briefly, you fear the friction will make you come before it's over.
Your please-please-pleaseʼs for the man to stop very soon turns into “Please, please, I want it,” your quivering lower lip tucked between your teeth when you try to be convincing.
Not good enough? You whimper like a petulant dog, steeling yourself to try again—or rather, swallowing your dignity.
“Please, mister, want more,” you huff finally, feeling the heat burning the tips of your ears and arching up unwittingly as Simon tightens his grasp on your wrists. “Mmph, please, please breed me, mister.”
You squeal when he bottoms out again without warning, thumb and pointer spreading your folds apart to expose your clit to the cool air as he drills inside you. His tongue swipes at your ear and the other hand presses down on your inner thigh, holding you open, his voice a filthy mutter in your ears.
“Thas more like it. Think you're too good, huh? Nah, I knew you were a filthy girl.”
“Bloody hell, she's squeezing me. You love having my cock inside you, don't you? Gonna breed you full, baby.”
“Fuck, Iʼm close.” He hisses in satisfaction when he feels your nails digging into his back, almost beckoning, your little voice begging him to breed you. Simon swaps his hot spit into your waiting mouth and you gulp it down, kitten-licking his mouth adorably, saliva shimmering on your sweet face like pearlescence.
Simon can't hold off any longer when he feels you stiffen and cry out underneath him, fucking you through the tidal waves of your messy climax and groaning in unison into your mouth. The sound of flesh on flesh crowds the confines of your quaint bedroom, ornate wooden headboard brushing floral wallpaper precariously. Simon is awfully out of place here, an imposter in your world of poise and perfection, intent on ruining you like the soiled bedsheets.
“Fuck—just like that, luv. Fucking take it, take it.”
You can feel his warm seed overflowing down the cleft of your ass before he fucks it back in, plugging your hole with his thick cock and grinding his hips into you for good measure—both of you willfully forgetting that you're on the pill, just for now. It's so warm down there, you can't help but squeeze your thighs together at the tingly feeling, each wet squelch as he sinks in making you shiver.
Shortly after he pulls away from your spent, thoroughly-fucked body, you find yourself face-down on your belly before you've even caught your breath—because Simon just can't wait to put your flexible body in other positions.
Admittedly, Simon pays the price for his perverse curiosity early the next morning when he wakes with bleary eyes for the lack of sleep. He's up at 04:00 while your nude body is still tucked under the sheets, cozy despite the clothes strewn haphazardly across the place. Or perhaps merely exhausted. Curiosity killed the cat, some may say—whether in reference to Simon or your... kitty.
The man realizes he's paying for his actions a second time, later, when an envelope slips from the inner pocket of his jacket and skids to his feet, a spare ticket tucked neatly inside. Front row. The next performance. For my biggest fan! :D scrawled across the front in cheery, looping ink—and with it, he sees how his little white lie, as he tells himself, has grown legs right under his nose.
♥︎ gentle reminder that likes & reblogs are some of the best ways to support authors here ! tysm in advance, petal !
authors note — my writing skills go out the window everytime i have to write smut scenes </3 and do NOT let a man you just met treat you like this 🤦♀️
.⋆｡⋆༶⋆ simon giving you the best backshots you've ever had, cock stretching you out, pelvis grinding against your clit just right with every thrust. him tilting your head back and prying open your lips with his thumb, spitting in your mouth and telling you to swallow like a good girl.
