All the while, I'll await my armored fate with a smile
Still wanna try, still believe in (good days), good days, always
Always inside. Good day living in my mind. ♡
blood and sex. king! Sukuna x concubine! fem! reader
synopsis: Sukuna, the king of plagues, returns seriously injured from a battle and is being treated by his favorite concubine but he want fuck you.
warnings: NSFW (MDNI), some fluff, nipple playing, riding, cowgirl, missionary, belly tummy, breeding, multiple orgasms in a row, overstimulation, masturbation, eating pussy, cervix kissing, blood, sukuna in his true form and has two big dicks
a/n: thanks @twinklingstarinthesky for the request 🤭💕 And tysmmm for 4.8k followers!!💗
words: 6829.
The night has already fallen when the large doors of the palace open with a deafening crash. Sukuna, in his true form, advances with heavy and unsteady steps down the main corridor.
Dark blood flows abundantly from several deep wounds: a large gash crosses his right shoulder to the middle of his chest and another wound on his left flank. His four arms hang heavily, two of them weakly pressing against his wounds to contain the bleeding.
His four red eyes glow faintly, his lips are clenched, slightly parted on a silent groan of pain.
“My Lord! Let us treat you!” exclaims a healer running forward, hands trembling. “We have herbs and bandages, we can—”
A low, threatening growl escapes Sukuna’s throat. One of his upper arms sweeps the air with force, pushing everyone back.
“Don’t touch me, vermin.” His voice is hoarse, breathless, but still full of authority. “Where is she? Bring me Y/N. Right now.”
The servants bow deeply and step aside without arguing. A few moments later, you arrive running, your heart tight with anguish. As soon as he sees you, Sukuna lets out a hoarse sigh and continues toward his private chambers.
He collapses heavily onto the raised platform, his back against the thick cushions. His massive body trembles slightly from the effort. The blood continues to flow slowly along his tattoos, staining the silk sheets.
You rush to his side without waiting, already carrying clean cloths and supplies the healers gave you. Your hands tremble as you begin to clean the deep gash on his shoulder and chest.
The wound is irregular, the edges burned by enemy magic, and you see the flesh regenerating slowly, too slowly for your liking. The wound on his flank is bleeding even more, the mouth on his stomach clenched in pain every time you touch it.
“Sukuna…” you murmur, your voice tight.
He places one of his upper hands on the back of your neck, warm and heavy despite his weakness, and pulls you against him. Your face nestles against his chest. The smell of his blood envelops you.
“Stop shaking,” he growls softly, his voice tired. “It’s nothing… those insects couldn’t do anything more.”
“You’re still bleeding a lot,” you reply, throat tight. “I thought… when the servants came rushing to get me, I thought this time…”
A heavy silence settles. His four arms slowly surround you, pressing you possessively against his injured body. His four eyes stare at you with a weakened but burning intensity.
“I can’t die,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and hoarse. “Not as long as my pretty concubine is waiting for me here…”
One of his hands slides under your chin, gently lifting your face, and he kisses you. His lips are warm, pressing despite the pain, almost desperate. The kiss is slow, deep, loaded with everything he doesn’t say out loud.
You feel the mouth on his stomach part slightly against your belly, letting out a burning breath, while his arms hold you tighter against him.
You eventually place your hands on his chest and gently push him back, just enough to break the kiss. Your breath is short, your eyes shining with worry and determination.
“Let me treat you first,” you say firmly, your voice more assured than you really are. “You’re still losing a lot of blood. I can’t… I don’t want to lose you because of your pride.”
Sukuna stares at you for a long moment with his four eyes. A low growl rolls in his throat, half-amused, half-annoyed. The mouth on his stomach lets out a small hoarse chuckle. Despite the obvious pain, a carnivorous smile slowly stretches his lips.
“You dare push me away, little thing?” he murmurs, his voice deep and hoarse. Yet his arms loosen slightly around you, giving you just enough space to move.
You take advantage of this opening to pick up the clean cloths again. Your fingers are still trembling a little as you apply the care to the large gash on his shoulder, then to the one on his flank. Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you, his two lower arms remaining placed on your hips, wanting you close to him even in his weakness.
The flesh closes slowly, but the bleeding persists in places, staining your hands and the silk sheets. Sukuna remains still, his four arms placed around you, two of them absently caressing your back.
You feel his breathing become more regular, his strength returning little by little. His cursed regeneration does its work, even if the wounds remain impressive.
A few minutes pass in tense silence, broken only by the sound of the cloths and his hoarse breathing. You are focused on your task, carefully cleaning the deepest wound on his chest, when suddenly one of his upper hands slides over your waist, while another caresses your hip. His body now gives off a more vivid heat, a sign that he is recovering quickly.
“Enough,” he growls in a stronger, almost impatient voice. His four eyes shine with more intensity. “Come here. I want you now. You missed me on that battlefield, my favorite.”
You shake your head, refusing to let go of the cloth. “No. You’re still injured. Let me finish, Sukuna. It’s important.”
A low and dangerous laugh resonates in his chest. He grabs your hips with two of his arms, trying to pull you onto him despite your protests. The mouth on his stomach opens slightly, letting out a hot breath against your belly.
“Do you really think a few scratches will stop me?” he says, his voice harder this time, tinged with irritation from the persistent pain. “You’re just a concubine I tolerate by my side, nothing more. Stop playing healer and obey.”
The words hit you like a blade. Your heart clenches violently. You freeze, hands suspended above his wound. Your eyes mist over despite yourself. You know he is cruel by nature, but hearing him say it so coldly, after everything you do for him… it hurts.
Sukuna immediately notices the change on your face. His expression darkens. A heavy silence settles.
“…Wait,” he finally murmurs, his voice lower. He gently holds you back when you try to pull away. His four arms surround you with more care. “I shouldn’t have said that. The pain makes me… irritable. You’re not just a simple concubine. You are the only one I tolerate near me. The only one I can’t do without. Forgive me. Please? My pretty girl.”
You smile internally. Seeing Sukuna, the most feared king, begging you to forgive him is exceptional. You remain silent for a moment to make him believe it, then in a surge of frustration, you press the cloth firmly against his deepest wound on his flank. That’ll teach him. You press just enough to remind him of the pain but without aggravating the injury.
Sukuna startles slightly, a hoarse growl escaping his throat. Then, against all expectations, he bursts into a deep, sincere laugh that vibrates through his entire massive body. The mouth on his stomach laughs too, a strange and guttural sound.
“Ah… there’s my favorite with the strong character,” he says between two laughs, his eyes shining with amusement and a darker glint. “You dare wound the King of Curses? What audacity.”
Before you can react, his four arms move with surprising speed despite his injuries. After all, he remains the strongest. He suddenly pins you under him on the platform, his massive body completely towering over you.
His dark tattoos contrast with your skin, his four eyes staring at you with a mix of possessiveness, desire, and brutal tenderness.
You are trapped beneath him, his two upper arms holding your wrists above your head, while his lower arms slide over your hips and thighs, holding you firmly in place. His face is very close to yours, his hot breath against your lips.
“You are mine,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice. “And I am yours, whether you want it or not. Now… let me show you how much better I am thanks to you.”
Without giving you time to answer, Sukuna lowers his head and kisses you again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more voracious. His lips capture yours with obvious hunger, his tongue sliding against yours in a possessive movement that takes your breath away.
You feel the heat of his massive body weighing on you, his wounds still sensitive but ignored by his recovered strength. The mouth on his stomach parts against your abdomen, letting out a burning breath that passes through the thin fabric of your nightgown.
One of his upper hands remains on your wrists, while the other slowly descends along your arm, brushing your skin. His two lower arms, meanwhile, explore freely.
One slides under your dress, caressing your bare thigh, moving up gradually. The other hand settles directly on your chest, enveloping one of your breasts. His fingers gently pinch your nipple through the fabric, making it harden instantly.
You can’t hold back a muffled moan against his mouth. “Sukuna…”
That sound seems to encourage him. His kiss becomes more intense, leaving you little air, while his hand on your breast slowly kneads it, massaging with controlled strength.
Your body arches instinctively beneath him, seeking more contact despite the voice in your head still reminding you of his injuries.
“You’re already moaning so well for me,” he growls against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. “My little favorite… is so sensitive because of me.”
His two lower arms continue their exploration. One of them moves up to your other breast, caressing it with the same avid attention. He presses, kneads, his thumbs circling your now hardened nipples, sending waves of pleasure directly between your legs.
You moan louder, head slightly thrown back, eyes half-closed. Your breathing becomes irregular, interrupted by soft little cries each time he pinches a little harder.
Sukuna pulls slightly away from your mouth, just enough to observe your face flushed with pleasure. His four eyes shine with a satisfied and hungry glint. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your skin through the fabric, wanting to taste every part of you.
In one fluid and impatient movement, he releases your wrists and easily tears the top of your dress, exposing your bare chest to the cool air of the room. An appreciative growl vibrates in his throat.
“Much better like this,” he murmurs.
His hands immediately return to your bare breasts. The feeling of his warm, rough skin against your sensitive flesh makes you moan louder.
He kneads them greedily, pressing them together, his thumbs and index fingers playing with your hardened nipples. Each caress sends jolts of pleasure through your entire body. Your hips move unconsciously against him, seeking relief.
“Sukuna… ugh more please.” Your moan is longer this time, almost pleading.
He lowers his head, capturing one of your breasts between his lips. His warm tongue circles the nipple, sucking it slowly before nibbling just enough to make you jump with pleasure.
Meanwhile, his hands continue to explore: one stays on your free breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, pulling on the rest of your dress to slide it down your hips. He throws the dress aside.
You are now almost completely naked beneath him, wearing only your panties. Sukuna raises his head, observing your exposed body with satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he breathes against your skin, before kissing you again, more slowly this time, while continuing to slide his hands over your bare curves.
His lips leave yours to descend along your neck, gently nibbling your sensitive skin. One of his upper hands remains on your breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, between your thighs. His fingers brush your intimacy through the thin fabric of your panties, already feeling the heat and wetness accumulating there.
“Just for me, isn’t it?” he murmurs in a hoarse and possessive voice against your ear, his four eyes shining with desire. You shiver beneath him, breathing short. “Yes…” you reply in a trembling sigh. “Just for you.”
A satisfied growl vibrates in his chest. His fingers finally push the fabric aside and slide directly over your hot and wet flesh. He slowly caresses your intimacy, tracing circles around your clit before plunging a thick finger into you. You moan louder, back arched, hips moving instinctively against his hand.
“So wet already…” he growls with a carnivorous smile. His two lower arms hold your thighs spread while his upper hands continue to knead your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your belly, descending progressively lower, leaving a trail of wet heat on your skin.
You pant, lost in the sensations. Your hands slide over his massive chest, following the black tattoos, carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. Sukuna intensifies his caresses: he pushes a second finger into you, curling them to touch that precise spot that makes you see stars.
“Sukuna… ah… yes ugh… it feels so good! There!”
Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers from your intimacy, leaving you empty and frustrated. You moan in protest, hips desperately seeking his contact.
Sukuna laughs softly, a deep and amused laugh that resonates in his chest. His four eyes contemplate you with a mischievous and dominant glint.
“Not so fast,” he murmurs. “You dared push me away earlier to treat me… now I’m going to make you wait a little.”
He pins your wrists above your head again with one hand, completely immobilizing your upper body. His other two hands explore your body with deliberate and torturous slowness:
He caresses the inside of your thighs, brushes your swollen clit without ever really pressing, pinches your nipples just enough to make you moan, but never enough to fully satisfy you.
The mouth on his stomach descends lower, licking the inside of your thigh, very close to your intimacy, its hot breath making you shiver, but never touching you directly where you need it most.
Every time you try to move for more, he pulls back slightly, keeping you on the edge of pleasure without letting you fall.
“Sukuna… please…” you beg in a frustrated moan, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire.
“No, no,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice deep and amused. He slides two fingers along your slit, barely entering you before pulling out, repeating this slow and superficial movement again and again. “I want to hear you beg louder. I want you to yearn until you can’t think of anything but me.”
His hands on your breasts gradually slow down. He almost completely releases them, leaving only his thumbs brushing your swollen nipples from time to time, just enough to keep you in a state of burning frustration.
His two lower arms remain focused between your thighs: his fingers slowly caress your wet lips, spread your folds, brush your swollen clit with unbearable lightness. Each pass is too soft, too brief. Your body trembles, your hips lifting desperately to seek more pressure, but he pulls back each time with a low chuckle.
The mouth on his stomach lazily licks the inside of your thighs, leaving wet and warm traces very close to your intimacy, but never touching it. His burning breath makes you shiver violently.
“Sukuna… I beg you…” you moan, voice broken, body covered in a thin layer of sweat. “I need… I need more… please…”
He doesn’t answer you, too busy with his torment for long minutes, alternating between his fingers barely penetrating you and the tongue on his stomach brushing you without ever relieving you. Your moans turn into small sobs of frustration, your numb wrists still held above your head by his powerful arms.
Sukuna finally brings his face close to yours, his four eyes shining with cruel and amused desire. “If you really want to come, little favorite…” he murmurs in a hoarse and authoritative voice, “then you’re going to have to ride my tongue. The one on my stomach. Sit on it and rub yourself like the desperate little thing you are.”
Your cheeks burn with shame and excitement. You hesitate for a moment, but the need is too strong. When he slightly releases your wrists, you sit up. Sukuna lies completely on his back, his injuries almost forgotten, his massive body exposed. You settle above him, knees on either side of his torso. As you slowly descend, you immediately feel the heat of the mouth on his stomach against your soaked intimacy.
As you position yourself, your ass and pussy brush against something hard, hot, and thick. You clearly feel his two thick and long cocks, erect against your back. A shiver runs through you as you realize how aroused he is.
Sukuna smiles widely, a carnivorous and satisfied smile that reveals his sharp teeth. His four eyes contemplate you with a possessive and amused glint.
“You feel them, don’t you?” he growls, voice thick with desire. “My two cocks waiting only for you. But first you’re going to use my tongue. Go on. Rub yourself. Show me how much you need me.”
The mouth on his stomach opens wider, its thick warm tongue immediately sliding against your slit, licking slowly from bottom to top with diabolical precision. You can’t hold back a long hoarse moan as you begin to slowly move your hips against it.
You settle more comfortably above him, your hands resting on his chest while carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. You begin to rub against the hot and wet tongue, rolling your hips back and forth in a hesitant rhythm at first, then more and more pronounced.
Each stroke of the tongue makes you shiver. It is thick, rough in places, and slides perfectly between your soaked lips, caressing your clit with every movement. Your breasts move with the rhythm of your hips, and your moans become louder, more uncontrollable.
Sukuna watches you from below, his four eyes shining with satisfaction and raw desire. His two lower arms come to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly to guide you.
“You really are a desperate little thing to cum,” he growls in a hoarse and mocking voice, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “Look at you… rubbing yourself like a slut on your king’s tongue.”
His hands guide your movements, making you press down harder against his mouth. He makes you roll your hips in circles, forcing you to press your swollen clit against his tongue which now moves faster, licking and sucking your intimacy with voracity. The sensation is intense, wet, burning. You pant, nails lightly digging into his chest.
Encouraged by the pleasure consuming you, you slide one of your hands behind you. Your hands still find one of his two cocks through the stretched fabric. You clearly feel his first dick, enormous and hard, throbbing under the thick fabric. You begin to caress it through the clothing, pressing your palm and sliding your hand up and down its impressive length.
Sukuna lets out a hoarse growl, almost a guttural moan. His massive body twitches beneath you, and his four eyes narrow in pleasure. “Haaa ugh- you’re too insolent today…” he growls, his voice rougher.
To get revenge, he lifts you above his tongue and penetrates you with it in one thrust, sinking deep into your intimacy. You cry out in pleasure, back arched, as it begins to move inside you, turning, pulling out, plunging back in with force. The rhythm is merciless, as if he wants to punish you for daring to touch him even through the fabric.
“Mhh! Sukuna…! Please..-” you moan, voice broken. Your hips move faster on their own, riding his tongue desperately. Your hand behind you continues to caress his first cock through the hakama, squeezing harder, moving up and down its entire length.
Sukuna growls with pleasure, his hips lifting slightly. His tongue fucks you relentlessly, entering and exiting, licking your inner walls, finding that sensitive spot that makes you tremble violently. His hands on your hips continue to guide you, making you press down harder, faster, forcing you to take everything he gives you.
“That’s it…” he breathes between two growls, voice thick with desire. “I fill you so well with my tongue. You’re so wet it’s dripping onto my stomach. You needed this so badly?”
You moan in response. Your thighs tremble, you lean a little forward. You remove your hand from his cock and place both hands on his chest to keep your balance. The tongue continues its deep and rhythmic assault, taking you higher and higher. The wet and obscene sound of his tongue entering and exiting your soaked pussy fills the room, making you moan even louder.
“Sukuna… ugh- I… I’m gonna…” Your hips move frantically now, riding his tongue without restraint. Each deep penetration makes the liquid of your arousal slap against his stomach. The thick tongue turns inside you, presses hard against that sensitive spot, licks your inner walls with almost brutal greed.
Sukuna growls with satisfaction as he feels your contractions around his tongue. His two lower arms squeeze your hips tighter, holding you pressed against him so you can’t escape.
“That’s it, my little slut…” he growls in a hoarse and dirty voice. “Cum on my tongue. Flood me like the desperate little concubine you are. Show your king how much you get wet for him.”
You cry out, the pleasure becoming too intense. Your nails dig into his tattooed chest, your thighs clenching around him.
The orgasm hits you violently, like a burning wave. Your body arches brutally, your pussy contracting spasmodically around his tongue which continues to fuck you mercilessly throughout your pleasure.
“Sukuna!” you scream, voice broken.
At the same time, Sukuna sits up slightly, one of his upper arms sliding behind your neck to pull you toward him. He captures your mouth in a voracious kiss, devouring your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth at the same rhythm that the one on his stomach continues to penetrate you, as if he wants to fill you from both sides at once.
The kiss is dirty, wet, and possessive. He swallows each of your moans while you tremble and cum for a long time, your body shaken by spasms. His kiss muffles your complaints, his tongue turning against yours, nibbling your lower lip.
“There… good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses, his voice low and hoarse. “Cum hard for me. Your little pussy squeezes my tongue like it never wants to let it go. You’re so greedy… even when I’m injured, you can’t help but get fucked by your king.”
You continue to tremble, the orgasm seeming to last forever. Your hands remain pressed on his massive chest, feeling the powerful beats of his heart under your palms.
The tongue on his stomach gradually slows down, gently licking your sensitive walls to prolong your pleasure, collecting every drop of your arousal.
Sukuna doesn’t break the kiss right away. He continues to kiss you deeply, almost tenderly this time, while holding you against him. When your trembling finally subsides, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his four red eyes shining with satisfaction and a desire still far from satiated.
“You came so hard…” he breathes against your lips, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “But we’re far from finished, my beautiful.”
Sukuna kisses you again with intensity, swallowing every little cry and every ragged breath. When he finally pulls away slightly, a string of saliva still connects your lips. His four eyes stare at you with dark and burning satisfaction.
“Look at you…” he murmurs in a hoarse and dirty voice, while slowly licking your lower lip. “You just came like never before on your king’s tongue. You flooded my entire stomach. What a dirty little concubine you are.”
You don’t answer, body still sensitive, cheeks burning. Sukuna gives you no rest. His two lower arms firmly grip your hips and lift you just enough to withdraw his tongue from your intimacy. A wet and obscene sound echoes as it slides out of you, leaving you empty and throbbing.
He lays you back on his chest, but this time he sits up a little more, leaning against the cushions despite his injuries. His massive body still dominates you. In one fluid movement, he uses his upper arms to turn you slightly, placing you lower on his abdomen, right above his hakama stretched to the extreme by his two erections.
“Sukuna…” you breathe, still breathless.
“Shh,” he growls, nibbling your neck. “You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”
His hands explore your naked body with greed. One kneads your breast, pinching your still sensitive nipple, while the other slides between your thighs to slowly caress your swollen and soaked lips. He spreads your arousal all over your slit, making you shiver.
“You’re soaked… ready to take my dick.” His voice is low, dangerous. “But first, I want you to feel how hard I am for you.”
He presses you more firmly against him. Through the stretched fabric of his hakama, you clearly feel his two thick and burning cocks. They throb against your ass and intimacy, enormous, hard as stone.
You can’t help but moan as you rub lightly against them. Sukuna laughs lowly, amused and excited. He grabs your hips and makes you move slowly against him, sliding you back and forth over his two erections still trapped under the fabric.
“You feel them?” he murmurs against your ear, nibbling the lobe. “Two big cocks waiting only to fill you. You are the only one who has the right to take them. The only one I want to fuck until you cry with pleasure.”
Your hands remain placed on his chest, seeking support as he guides you faster. The friction of the fabric against your sensitive clit makes you pant. Sukuna continues to speak, his voice becoming rougher and rougher:
“You are mine. My favorite. My personal little slut. Even when I come back from the battlefield covered in blood, it’s you I want to destroy and rebuild with my fucking dicks. Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”
“I… I want you to fuck me, Sukuna… please my king.” you moan, voice trembling.
Satisfied, he growls and, with an impatient gesture, uses two of his arms to lower his hakama enough. His two thick cocks finally spring out, heavy, veined and glistening with precum.
The one underneath, slightly smaller than the first, rubs directly against your slit, while the first presses against your clit and belly.
He doesn’t penetrate you right away. He makes you wait a little longer, slowly rubbing his two members against you, sliding them between your soaked lips without entering.
“Look how wet you are for this,” he breathes while looking into your eyes. “You were made for me. To take everything I give you.”
Finally, he aligns his first cock against your entrance. With a slow but firm thrust of his hips, he begins to sink into you. The thickness is impressive. You moan at length, nails digging into his shoulders, as he stretches you progressively, inch by inch, until he is deeply buried inside you.
“Fuck so tight…” he growls, teeth clenched in pleasure. He remains still for a moment, savoring the sensation, then begins to move. Slow and deep thrusts at first, then more and more powerful. His second cock rubs perfectly against your clit with every movement, adding intense stimulation.
His four arms completely surround you: two on your hips to guide you, one on your neck to kiss you, and the last caressing your breast. He kisses you again, devouring your moans while he fucks you with an increasingly sustained rhythm.
“Take it all,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Take your king’s cock like the good little concubine you are for me. I’m going to fill you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
You pant against his lips, body completely overwhelmed. Each deep thrust drives his massive first cock to the very bottom of you. You feel it so thick, so long, that it directly touches the cervix of your uterus with every push.
The pressure is intense, almost too much, a mix of burning pleasure and a delicious slight pain that makes you tremble. Your belly swells slightly every time he sinks completely, as if your body is struggling to accept him entirely.
Every movement creates a perfect friction that sends electric shocks through your entire body.
“Sukuna… ahh… it’s too deep…” you moan, voice broken. He laughs lowly, a hoarse and satisfied sound, while accelerating the rhythm.
His hips slap against yours with more force. Your intimacy contracts violently around him, squeezing his veined length as if it refuses to let him go.
“You feel that?” he growls against your ear, nibbling your skin. “My big cock hitting the bottom of your belly. I’m touching your little uterus.”
His crude words make you moan louder. Your hands tremble on his chest, nails digging into his tattooed skin. The heat of his massive body, the smell of blood, sweat and sex, everything overwhelms you.
Sukuna slightly changes the angle of his hips, and suddenly every thrust hits that sensitive spot inside you even better. You cry out, body shaking. Your thighs tremble around him, your arousal flowing abundantly along his cock.
He fucks you harder, faster, using his four arms to hold you exactly how he wants. One of his upper arms slides between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers, rubbing it at the same time as his second cock stimulates it.
The pleasure rises quickly, almost unbearable. You feel your second orgasm approaching like a gigantic wave. “Sukuna… I… I’m going to cum…!” you sob, tears beginning to pearl at the corners of your eyes.
“Cum,” he orders in a hoarse and authoritative voice. “Cum on my cock like the good little favorite you are. Let me feel your pussy squeezing me.”
You cum.
The orgasm hits you with incredible violence. Your body arches violently, head thrown back. Your inner walls contract spasmodically around his thick cock, squeezing and pulsing as if you want to milk him.
Tears flow down your cheeks, a mix of overwhelming pleasure and raw emotion. Your hands desperately cling to his chest while you scream his name.
“Sukuna…! I love you…!” you sob between two spasms, voice broken by pleasure and tears. “I love you… mhh- I love you so much…”
These words seem to strike him. Sukuna groans deeply, his massive body twitching beneath you. His four eyes widen slightly, then darken with an intense emotion he almost never shows.
He holds you tighter against him, his arms enveloping you while he continues to penetrate you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted and limp against his chest.
“…Idiot,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice hoarse but strangely soft. He kisses your forehead, your temples, wiping your tears with one of his thumbs. “You cry while telling me that… You really are my only weakness.”
You remain nestled against his massive chest, body still shaken by light spasms, when Sukuna decides he is not done with you. In one fluid and powerful movement, he rolls you onto your back without fully pulling out of you.
He positions himself above you, placing you in missionary. His imposing body completely dominates you, his four arms resting on either side of your head and on your hips.
You are already hypersensitive after your intense orgasm. Your intimacy is still pulsing around his cock, swollen and ultra-sensitive. As soon as he moves slightly, a high-pitched moan escapes you.
“Sukuna… wait… I’m too sensitive…” you breathe in a trembling voice.
But he doesn’t listen. On the contrary, a carnivorous smile stretches his lips as he adjusts his position. He passes your legs over his hips, opening you completely to him, and sinks in with one deep thrust to the bottom.
“You’re going to take more,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you cum around me one more time. I want to get you pregnant.”
He begins to fuck you with passion, long, powerful and measured thrusts. Each push makes his hips slap against yours. His massive cock touches your cervix again, even more intense in this position. The sensation is overwhelming — you are overstimulated, every friction makes you jolt, tremble, and cry with pleasure.
“Ahh! Sukuna… it’s too much… too deep!” you sob, hands gripping his shoulders.
Your inner walls, hypersensitive, contract violently around him with every movement. Every time he sinks completely, an electric shock runs through your belly. Your clit rubs against the base of his second cock with every thrust, adding unbearable stimulation.
Sukuna looks you straight in the eyes, his four red eyes burning with a rare emotion. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans and your cries while continuing to pound you with passion.
His hips roll with force, but there is something different this time: it is no longer just raw desire, it is possessive, almost desperate.
“Look how you squeeze me…” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Even after cumming, your little pussy wants more. You were made for me.”
Your tears flow nonstop down your cheeks. The pleasure is so intense it almost becomes painful, but you don’t want him to stop. Your legs tremble around his hips, your nails scratch his tattooed back.
Sukuna gradually accelerates, his thrusts becoming deeper, faster. The room is filled with the wet sound of your bodies slapping, your high-pitched moans and his hoarse growls.
He slides one of his hands on your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb while continuing to fuck you passionately.
“Listen to me,” he breathes against your lips, voice low and hoarse. “I love you.”
These words, spoken by the King of Curses, make you open your eyes wide despite the tears.
“I love you, little idiot,” he repeats louder, burying his cock to the bottom with every word. “You are the only one I love. The only one who can make me feel this. The only one I will never destroy.”
His words make you tip over. Your third orgasm hits you brutally, even more violent than the previous ones. You scream his name, body arched beneath him, your pussy contracting so hard around his cock that Sukuna groans at length, teeth clenched.
He holds you against him, his four arms completely enveloping you while he continues to pound you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted, sobbing and trembling beneath him.
“I love you my king…” you murmur weakly between two sobs, completely overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.
He kisses you tenderly on the forehead, then on the lips, finally slowing his movements to let you breathe. His massive body remains pressed against yours, his cock still deeply buried inside you, throbbing.
“I know,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer than it has ever been. “And I will never let you go. You are mine. Forever.”
His movements become more erratic, deeper. You feel his dick swell even more inside you, throbbing violently against the hypersensitive walls of your intimacy. Every thrust makes your whole body tremble.
Sukuna buries his face in your neck, his teeth brushing your skin while his hips slap harder against yours. His growls become rougher, more animal.
“I’m going to cum…” he growls against your ear, voice broken with pleasure. “I’m going to fill you to the bottom, my darling…”
You can only moan weakly, completely overwhelmed. Your hands slide over his back, clinging to him as if your life depends on it. You feel the pressure rising in him, his muscles tensing under your fingers.
With one final powerful and deep thrust, Sukuna sinks all the way in, the head of his cock pressed directly against your cervix. He cums in a long and guttural groan that vibrates through his entire chest.
You feel the hot and abundant jets of his cum pouring into you, thick, burning, filling your belly with powerful pulses. There is so much that you feel completely flooded.
His second member also throbs against your clit, spreading its hot seed over your belly and chest in long jets.
Sukuna continues to move slowly while he cums, as if to push his seed as deep as possible inside you. His four arms hold you firmly against him, keeping you prisoner under his massive body while he empties himself completely.
When he finally finishes, he remains buried inside you, his cock still throbbing, refusing to pull out. He collapses slightly on you, careful not to crush you completely with his weight. The mouth on his stomach gently licks your skin, tasting the sweat and traces of seed on your belly.
You stay like this for a long moment, only the sound of your panting breaths filling the room. Sukuna finally raises his head and looks at you. His four red eyes are softer, almost vulnerable.
He wipes your remaining tears with his thumb, then kisses you slowly, tenderly, a kiss very different from the previous ones: deep, languorous, filled with an emotion he only shows to you.
“You are mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “Not just my concubine. Not just my favorite. You are the one I love. The only one who can make me say such ridiculous things.”
You smile weakly, still trembling, exhausted but happy. Your hands gently caress his chest, avoiding his wounds which have almost finished closing.
Sukuna rolls onto his side without pulling out of you, pulling you with him so you end up lying on his chest. His four arms envelop you like a warm and protective cage. The mouth on his stomach lets out a hot and satisfied breath against your belly.
He slowly caresses your hair with one of his upper hands, his other arms holding you against him. The silence is peaceful, disturbed only by your breathing which gradually slows down.
After a long moment, he murmurs in a deep and serious voice:
“Marry me.”
You raise your head slightly, surprised. His four red eyes stare at you with a rare, almost solemn intensity.
“I want you to become my queen, not just my favorite. I will kill the other concubines. They serve no purpose. They are just useless objects. Only you matter. I will have them executed tomorrow morning.”
Your heart clenches. Despite the fatigue and the warmth of the moment, you gently shake your head. “No, Sukuna… please. Don’t kill them. They have done nothing wrong. They are just… there. I don’t want their blood to be shed because of me. Let them live. Send them far away if you want, but don’t kill them.”
He frowns, visibly displeased. The mouth on his stomach growls slightly.
“You are too soft,” he growls. “That’s why I love you.” He sighs, then finally nods reluctantly. “Very well. I will banish them from the palace tomorrow. But only you will remain by my side. Forever.”
You smile weakly and snuggle tighter against him, placing a kiss on his chest.
“Thank you… my king.”
Nine months later.
Spring bathed the palace in golden light. The cherry trees in the private garden that Sukuna had enlarged for you were in full bloom.
In the royal chamber, you were lying on the platform, exhausted but radiant, holding a small sleeping treasure against you.
Your daughter.
She was tiny, with a tuft of silky black hair, and two small red eyes that sometimes opened to observe the world with curiosity. Two tiny black marks, similar to very small tattoos, adorned her little arms. She had inherited her father’s strength, but also your gentleness.
Sukuna was sitting by your side, in his true form. Two of his arms held you against him, while another delicately supported your daughter’s head. For the first time in his long existence, the King of Curses seemed almost… peaceful.
“She is perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and awed. He brushed the little hand that had closed around one of his fingers. “She will probably be stronger than me. And as beautiful as you.”
You laugh softly, tired but happy.
“She will have your character… and I hope a little of my patience.” Sukuna leaned down and kissed your forehead with infinite tenderness, then placed a very soft kiss on your daughter’s forehead.
“I never thought this would happen to me one day,” he confessed. “Loving someone. Having a family. But you… you changed everything.”
You snuggle against him, your daughter nestled between the two of you. “We are a family now, Sukuna. You, me, and her.”
He tightened his arms around you, protective, possessive, but above all loving.
Outside, the world continued to fear the King of Curses. But here, in this room filled with light and cherry blossom petals entering through the window, he was no longer just a man. A husband. A father. He had finally found something more precious than power.
“I love you,” he murmured against your hair. “I love you too,” you replied smiling, eyes shining with happiness.
Your daughter let out a small sleepy sigh, as if she approved. And for the first time in centuries, the King finally felt complete.
music and feelings. crush! nanami kento x fem! reader
synopsis: the romance between Nanami, the quiet blond boy in your class, and you.
content: The story takes place in the 2000s, Reader and Nanami are shy, Nanami has an emo aesthetic, and is way too cute
a/n: I’ve never written so much without smut. I hope you enjoy it! Nanami and the reader are so cute! I love innocent romances like this.
words: 9.3k
You have a stupid crush on Nanami.
The quiet blond, the one who always wears headphones around his neck even in class, who dresses in black and grey as if the world were too bright for him.
Nanami, the one who listens to Tokio Hotel on repeat, his head resting against the bus window, his gaze lost somewhere outside.
You don't even know why you like him so much. You've barely ever spoken to him, just a few polite words when you cross paths in the hallway or at the library.
And yet… it's there. That stupid thing that makes your heart beat faster the moment you catch a glimpse of him.
Was it love at first sight? You're not sure. Love at first sight is supposed to be violent, immediate, like an explosion. This is softer. Slower. As if you'd been struck by something silent and deep.
You saw him one morning, sitting alone at the back of the room, the grey light from the window falling on his slightly-too-long blond hair, and something simply clicked.
Since then, you notice him everywhere. The way he walks slowly, hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. The way he lightly bites his lower lip when he's concentrating on his notes. That small crease between his brows when he takes out an earbud to answer a teacher.
You don't understand what draws you to him so much. He's handsome, yes, but not in a flashy way. It's a quiet beauty, almost melancholic. As if he carried an invisible weight on his shoulders, and it made him even more magnetic.
You picture him in the evenings, in his room, dim light, listening to Tokio Hotel or Deftones on repeat, eyes closed, completely elsewhere. And you catch yourself wanting to be in that elsewhere with him.
You don't dare talk to him properly. Every time you tell yourself today I'm going to say something to him, you lose your nerve at the last second. You settle for smiling at him shyly when your eyes meet, and he returns your smile.
Just a small movement of the lips, quiet, almost timid, as if he wasn't used to being noticed. And that simple gesture is enough to make you melt for the rest of the day.
Sometimes you wonder what he's thinking. Has he noticed you too? Does he listen to his music to escape because the world is too loud, or because he feels lonely?
You want to ask him all these questions, but you stay there, watching him from afar, with this stupid crush that grows a little more each day.
And the worst part? You don't even know if you want it to stop. Because even silent, even distant, Nanami makes your days a little less ordinary.
One day, you decide it can't go on like this. This stupid crush has been eating away at your mind for too long. So you take the plunge. No established plan, just a small, timid attempt to get closer.
It's at the end of class, in the hallway leading to the exit. Nanami is there, leaning against the wall near the lockers, one earbud in his ear, the other hanging over his shoulder.
He's looking at his iPod, his thumb sliding slowly over the silver click wheel, probably choosing the next Tokio Hotel song. His blond hair falls slightly in front of his eyes, and he pushes it back with a distracted gesture.
Your heart pounds in your chest. You take a deep breath, grip your bag strap a little too tightly, and approach.
"Hey… Nanami?" Your voice comes out smaller than expected, almost swallowed by the noise of the other students.
He slowly raises his head. His eyes, a light brown almost golden in the fluorescent light, settle on you. No exaggerated surprise, just that calm, slightly neutral expression, with the small crease between his brows that appears when he's focused.
He removes his earbud in a fluid motion and waits for you to continue. You feel your cheeks heat up. Damn, why is this so hard? You carry on anyway, trying to smile: "I… I've seen you a lot with your headphones. What are you listening to right now? Tokio Hotel, right?"
He blinks once, as if he wasn't expecting that question. A second that feels endless. Then he slowly nods.
"Yeah…" he replies simply, his voice low, slightly husky.
Silence falls again. Not awkward for him, evidently. For you, though, it's torture. You shift slightly in place, searching for what to add.
"I like… Monsoon. It's the one I heard once when you'd left your earbud a bit too loud, in philosophy class."
You immediately regret it. Too specific. It says I've been watching him for weeks. But Nanami doesn't seem to find it strange. On the contrary, a very slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
"Ah… sorry about the volume. I often put it too loud." He glances down at his iPod for a second, then looks back up at you. His gaze is a little softer this time. "What do you listen to?"
The question catches you off guard. You stammer: "Uh… a bit of everything. But not really this style… I've never really tried Tokio Hotel properly. Maybe I should."
Nanami looks at you for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then he slowly reaches for his second earbud, detaches it, and holds it out to you, palm open.
"Here. Listen to this one."
You freeze for a second, your heart doing a somersault. His fingers barely graze yours as you take the earbud. The contact is so brief, yet it passes right through you.
He presses play. The intro guitar of Durch den Monsun begins softly, then Bill Kaulitz's voice fills your ear. Nanami watches you while you listen, saying nothing, just present.
When the chorus arrives, you dare to look up at him. His expression is more open than before. Less closed off.
"It's… beautiful," you say softly, handing his earbud back. "A little sad, but beautiful."
"Yeah," he replies simply. "It often is."
He takes the earbud back, puts it around his neck. For a second, you both stand there in the emptying hallway. You feel this is the moment to say something more, or to leave before you ruin everything.
So you go for it, voice a little shaky: "If someday… you want to make me listen to more songs, I'm up for it."
Nanami looks at you for a long time. He seems to think it over, or maybe he's just savoring the moment. Then he nods, very slowly. "Okay."
That's all. A simple okay. But in his mouth, it sounds like a quiet promise. Not much, but to you, it's huge.
He puts his earbud back in his ear, gives you a small nod of his head, and starts to walk away down the hallway. Before turning the corner, he looks back one last time.
And this time, his smile is a little more visible.
Two days later.
You're sitting on the small wooden bench near the school exit, the one half-hidden by the big oak tree. It's a little cold, the sky is pale grey, typical of those autumn days when everything seems to slow down. In your bag, you've slipped your old pink iPod after spending hours in front of your slow computer adding songs.
You don't even know if Nanami will come this way today. You only exchanged a glance yesterday in maths class, and a small smile from him that had made you miss an entire line of equations.
But today, you've mustered up your courage. On your iPod, you've created a small playlist transferred from your slow PC with Tokio Hotel songs and softer music.
You see him coming from far away.
Nanami walks slowly, as always, hands in the pockets of his black oversized hoodie. One white earbud is already in his right ear, the cable hanging down to the iPod clipped to the waistband of his baggy jeans. He looks at the ground, lost in his thoughts, until his eyes land on you.
He stops for a second. Then he slightly changes direction and comes toward you.
"Hey," he says as he reaches you.
"Hey…" You shift over a little on the bench. "Do you… want to sit down?"
He hesitates half a second, then sits down beside you, leaving a small space between you. Not too close. Not too far.
You break the ice before you lose all your courage: "I listened to the song you made me discover the other day again. I liked it. Really. So I made a little playlist… if you want to listen."
You take out your pink iPod and your earbuds. Nanami turns his head toward you, his gaze curious for the first time.
"Let me hear it," he murmurs. You hold out one earbud. He takes it, a warm and brief contact that makes you shiver, then puts it in his ear. You put in an earbud too and start the playlist.
Monsoon begins. The soft guitars, then the voice. Nanami closes his eyes for a second. You watch him from the corner of your eye: his jaw slightly relaxed, his blond lashes contrasting with his pale skin, the way he tilts his head slightly to one side.
When the chorus arrives, he opens his eyes and looks at you. "You put that one first." You smile shyly. "Yeah… it's the one that left the biggest impression on me."
He nods slowly. Silence falls again, filled only by the music. Then, against all odds, he speaks a little more: "I often listen to this song when it rains. It makes everything… more bearable."
His voice is calm, almost confidential. You feel your heart tighten. You want to ask him why things need to be more bearable, but you hold back. Not now.
The playlist continues. You added lighter tracks afterward: a few Linkin Park songs you had on a CD, a Simple Plan track, and even an acoustic version of Durch den Monsun found on a forum and transferred the night before.
With each new song, Nanami reacts in his own way: a small nod, an eyebrow that rises slightly, or a glance toward you when a passage catches his ear.
At one point, he takes out the earbud and holds it out to you. "That one… it's good. The acoustic version. Less loud, but more… intimate." You take the earbud back, cheeks a little warm. "I thought you might like it."
He stays silent for a moment. Something softer in his expression, as if the quiet barrier he usually keeps had slightly cracked.
"Thank you," he finally says. "It's rare for someone to make me listen to things. Most of the time… I'm alone with my music."
A small warmth spreads through your chest. You dare a little more: "If you want… we can do it again. Another day. Or even after school, if you have time."
Nanami looks at you for a long time. He runs a hand through his hair, pushes it back. Then he nods, very slowly. "Yeah. That works for me."
He stands up, puts his bag back on his shoulder. Before leaving, he turns around one last time. "Tomorrow then? Same time, same bench?"
You nod, unable to hold back the smile rising to your lips. "Tomorrow."
He gives you that small nod of his head, almost shy, and walks off down the path. You watch him leave, heart light, your iPod still warm in your hand.
The next day, you arrive at the bench a little early. Each minute feels long. You wonder if he'll really come, if he hasn't changed his mind, if your crush hasn't made you imagine the whole conversation.
Then you see him.
Nanami walks down the path, always at the same slow pace, black oversized hoodie, blond hair falling slightly in front of his eyes. This time, he only has one earbud in his ear. When he sees you, he doesn't change direction. He comes straight toward you.
He stops in front of the bench, looks at you for a second, then sits down in the same spot as the day before.
"Hey," he murmurs.
"Hey," you reply with a smile. You decide not to wait: "I brought more tracks… if you want. I added some things I like."
He nods without a word, takes out his earbud and holds out his hand. Your fingers brush, and that small contact is enough to make you blush. You start the playlist.
This time, you began with something calmer, copied from a CD the night before. Nanami closes his eyes, his head slightly tilted. You watch him: his regular breathing, the way his fingers tap very lightly on his knee to the beat of the music.
After two songs, he opens his eyes. "That's not bad," he says. "Calmer than what I usually listen to."
You smile, relieved. Then, for the first time, he speaks at greater length: "When I listen to music… it's as if everything else moves further away. Classes, people who talk too loudly, teachers who ask questions… all of it disappears."
His voice is low, almost intimate. He looks straight ahead, toward the trees lining the path. Then he turns his head toward you. "What about you? Why do you listen?"
You think for a second. "To… feel less alone, I think. Or sometimes just to dream of something else."
Nanami slowly nods. His gaze stays on you a little longer than usual. The silence returns, filled only by the music.
When a Tokio Hotel song comes on, the one he'd made you listen to the very first time, a very slight smile stretches his lips.
"You know this one by heart, don't you?" you ask softly.
"Yeah… I've listened to it hundreds of times." He takes out the earbud for a second, spins it between his fingers, then puts it back in.
"Thanks for putting it in."
Your heart leaps. You dare a little more: "If you want… I can burn you a CD with all of this. So you can listen to it at home."
Nanami looks at you for a long time. He runs a hand through his hair. "I'd like that," he replies simply.
Time passes too quickly. When the playlist reaches the end, he stands up slowly, puts his bag back on his shoulder.
Before leaving, he turns toward you.
"Tomorrow? Same time?"
You nod, smile impossible to hold back.
"Tomorrow."
You've now fallen into a habit, without ever really saying it out loud, of seeing each other every end of afternoon after school. You meet at the same bench near the big oak tree.
Sometimes he arrives first, sometimes it's you. You don't talk much at the beginning: just a murmured "hey," then a shared earbud. The music does the rest.
But little by little, the silences fill up.
Today, the sky is clearer, almost pale blue. You arrive and Nanami is already there, sitting, legs slightly apart, his bag at his feet. He has both earbuds in, but when he sees you approaching, he immediately takes one out.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
You sit down beside him, a little closer than the first time. The space between the two of you has shrunk over the days, without either of you really noticing. You take out your earbuds. He holds out his hand without a word.
You start a new playlist: more Tokio Hotel, mixed with other artists like The Used, My Chemical Romance, and some songs found on a second-hand CD.
After two tracks, Nanami speaks without looking at you right away: "You put in darker stuff this time."
"Yeah… I figured you might like it." He nods slowly.
"I do. Thanks."
It's simple, but coming from him, it sounds like a real compliment. Later in the playlist, a slow song arrives. The guitar is soft, the voice almost broken. Nanami tilts his head to the side, as if letting the music wash over him completely.
At the chorus, he murmurs, almost to himself: "I love when it's like that… when the song says what I can't manage to say."
You dare to answer softly: "Me too. Sometimes I feel like the lyrics understand better than the people around me."
He turns his head toward you. His eyes look at you properly, without looking away. "Yeah… People talk too much. You, you talk just the right amount."
Your cheeks heat up. You don't know what to say, so you smile, a little embarrassed but happy. Toward the end of the playlist, Nanami takes out his earbud and stays sitting, his hands resting on his knees. He says, after a moment: "It feels good. Coming here. With you."
It's the first time he's admitted it clearly. You feel a wave of warmth in your chest. "For me too. I was a little worried at first that you'd find it weird."
He lets out a very slight laugh, almost silent, just a breath. "At first, a little. But now… no."
He runs a hand through his hair. The light breeze moves a few strands. He looks at you again, longer this time. "Do you want to go somewhere different one day? Not always here. Maybe… after school, we could walk a bit. Or go to the old basketball court behind the school. There are fewer people."
Your heart does a somersault. It's the first time he's suggested something that feels like a real moment together, outside of the bench. "Yes," you say without hesitating. "I'd really like that."
He nods, satisfied, and stands up. Before leaving, he looks at you one last time. "Tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow!" You watch him walk away, a smile glued to your lips.
The next day, you're now walking side by side along the path that borders the old basketball court. The place is quiet, almost deserted.
Only a few birds and the distant sound of cars disturb the silence. Nanami has his hands in the pockets of his black jeans, his bag softly bumping against his hip with each step.
At first, you say nothing. It's become your rhythm: silence first, then music, then sometimes words. But today, something is different. The air feels heavier, as if all those small shared moments had built up a sweet and invisible tension.
"Do you come here often?" you ask to break the ice.
"Yeah. When I want some peace. The others go to the shopping centre or McDonald's. Me… I prefer it here. Less noise." He continues, after a small pause: "Before, I used to come alone. I'd shoot hoops by myself, it cleared my head."
You picture the scene: Nanami, blond hair in the wind, under the rusty hoop, his playlist blasting in his ears.
"And now?" you dare to ask.
He glances at you from the corner of his eye. A smile passes over his lips, almost shy.
"Now… I come with you. It's better."
You look down at your shoes to hide your smile. The path turns, and you arrive near the court. Nanami pulls an old slightly deflated basketball from behind a stone bench. He bounces it, the dull sound echoing in the cool air.
"Do you know how to play?" asks Nanami, looking at you.
"Not really. I even miss the simplest shots." you say, laughing, your face slightly flushed with embarrassment.
"I'll help you."
He stands behind you, not too close, just enough to guide you. His hands barely graze your shoulders to show you the right position.
"Knees bent… look at the hoop… and release." You throw the ball, it hits the backboard and bounces far away. Nanami runs to get it without a word, throws it back to you.
His patience is endless, he never mocks you, just gives small calm pointers: a little higher, breathe before.
After about ten shots, the ball passes through the net with a small perfect swish. You jump up and down with a big smile, looking at Nanami. "I did it! Did you see!?"
Nanami looks at you, and this time his smile is more visible, more real. He claps slowly. "Yes I saw. Not bad."
You play a little longer, then sit down on the stone bench, side by side, closer than ever. Nanami takes his earbuds out of his pocket. This time, he doesn't wait for you to suggest it. He holds one out to you directly.
The CD you'd burned for him has been playing in his head for several days, he told you with a smile. Durch den Monsun begins, then a slower song by The Used. He closes his eyes, his head leaned back against the bench. You do the same, letting the music wrap around you both.
After a few tracks, he speaks, his voice almost covered by the music: "I told you I listened to this so everything would feel further away… But since we've been doing this together… it's different. It's as if the world is still far away, but you are closer."
You open your eyes and turn your head toward him. He still has his eyes closed, as if he were afraid to look at you while saying that.
"Nanami…" you murmur. He finally opens his eyes. His light brown irises are soft, almost vulnerable in the grey afternoon light.
"I don't really know how to say things… I don't talk much, you've seen that. But… I like it when you're here. I like your voice when you talk to me about songs. I like that you don't try to make me talk more than I want to."
He pauses, runs a hand through his windswept hair.
"Before, I was fine alone with my music. Now… I'm better with you. I feel better."
The words hang suspended between you. You gently rest your hand on the bench, right next to his. Your fingers slowly, shyly intertwine. His hand is warm, a little rough from the basketball.
"Me too," you finally say. "I love these moments when we listen together, without pressure."
Nanami squeezes your hand a little tighter. Not hard, just enough to say 'I'm here'. The wind sends a few leaves swirling around you. The music continues in your ears.
You stay like that for a long time, hand in hand. Nanami's silence is no longer empty: it is filled with everything he can't quite yet say, but that you're beginning to understand.
When the sun begins to set, he stands up slowly, without letting go of your hand right away. "Tomorrow… do we come back here? Or go somewhere else? Whatever you want."
You smile, your heart full. "Yes! It's nice here."
The days that followed slipped by in a sweet and silent routine. Every end of afternoon, you would meet either on the bench or on the old court. Sometimes you walked, sometimes you played basketball. You were slowly improving, thanks to his patience.
The silences grew longer but words came more easily. Your hands found each other more often, without it ever feeling forced.
Then came Halloween week.
The school was buzzing: orange and black decorations in the hallways, paper pumpkins on the windows, everyone was talking about parties and costumes.
You'd been thinking about it for several days. The idea of spending Halloween with Nanami, even simply, made you smile to yourself.
That day, you're sitting on the stone bench at the court. The wind is cold, leaves crunch under your feet. You've just finished listening to a playlist he'd prepared. You take a deep breath. "In two days it's Halloween. Are you doing anything?"
He turns his head toward you, an eyebrow slightly raised, and takes out his earbud. "Not really. I usually stay home. Why?"
You smile, a little nervous, playing with your hoodie sleeve. "I was thinking… what if we dressed up? Nothing big, right. Just something simple. We could meet here or at mine, listen to music, maybe watch a horror film… That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"
Nanami stays silent. He looks at the rusty basketball hoop, then at the ground. "I don't know… Costumes… they're not really my thing. I feel a bit stupid in them. And I'm not very comfortable with parties either."
Your smile fades slightly. You try to keep your tone light: "Oh… okay. It was just an idea. We can do the usual, no problem."
But inside, you feel silly. You're angry at yourself for suggesting it, for maybe having been too enthusiastic. The rest of the evening passes in a slightly heavier silence. When he walks you to the exit, you give him a small forced smile.
"See you tomorrow," you say simply.
"Yeah… see you tomorrow."
That evening, at home, you feel a little disappointed. Nanami is like that: quiet, he doesn't like things like Halloween. You should have known.
The next day, you arrive at the court with a little apprehension. But Nanami is already there, sitting on the bench. He watches you approach and, for once, he speaks first.
"Hey."
"Hey…"
You sit down beside him. The silence lasts a few seconds. Then he takes out his earbuds, but doesn't put them in. He spins them between his fingers.
"About yesterday…" he begins softly. "I thought more about your suggestion." Your heart gives a small jump.
"Oh?"
He runs a hand through his hair, looking a little awkward, which is rare for him. "I'm not super into costumes… They make me uncomfortable. But… I don't want you to be disappointed. If it's important to you, we can do something simple. Not a full costume, just… a small detail. A mask or a hoodie with a skull on it, something like that. And we stay here or at yours, just the two of us." He looks up at you, his gaze softer than usual. "If you still want to… I'm in."
The disappointment from the day before vanishes in an instant. You smile, sincerely this time, and place your hand on his. "Really? Are you sure? I don't want to force you…"
"You're not forcing me," he replies calmly. "I just thought about it. I'd rather be with you, even if it's a little strange for me, than see you disappointed. And besides… Halloween with music and a horror film could be cool. As long as we stay chilled."
You gently squeeze his hand. "Okay. So we keep it simple: one small detail each. I can wear horns or light makeup, and you… whatever you want. We meet here after school and then go to mine. My parents won't be home."
A very slight smile at the corner of his lips.
"Works for me."
He holds out an earbud. You listen to a calm song, shoulder to shoulder, while the wind sends leaves swirling around the court. For the first time since yesterday, you feel really good.
Halloween was approaching, and even if Nanami wasn't the type to dress up with enthusiasm, he had made an effort. Just for you. And that made this moment even more precious.
Halloween evening finally arrives.
You meet at the court after school. The wind is cold, dead leaves whirl around. You've both kept your word: nothing over the top.
You're wearing a simple headband with small black horns and a smudge of makeup under your eyes. Nanami is wearing a dark grey hoodie with white skulls he drew on the front himself with a marker the night before, clumsily, and that makes you smile.
He's also ruffled his hair a bit so it looks more "tired ghost." It's minimalist, almost timid, but he did it. For you.
"You're… cute like that," you say as you come up to him.
He shrugs, a little embarrassed, but the corner of his lips lifts slightly. "You too. The horns suit you."
You walk to your place. The streets are full of kids in costumes, but you stick to the quieter pavements, away from the noise. From time to time, your hands brush.
Once at yours, the house is empty. You turn on a small lamp in the living room and a few orange candles. The atmosphere is cosy, a little spooky without being oppressive. You settle onto the sofa.
"What do you want to watch?" you ask, pulling out a few DVDs. Nanami looks at the cases, then shrugs slightly. "Whichever one you want."
You choose The Ring. You turn off the main light, only the candles and the screen light the room. You sit side by side, a blanket over your legs.
The film starts. At the beginning, you comment a little, mostly you. Nanami listens in silence, with that calm concentration.
But as the film goes on, the scenes become more and more oppressive. When the famous TV scene arrives, you jump violently and instinctively move closer to Nanami.
"God… I'd forgotten how terrifying this was."
Nanami doesn't say anything right away. He feels your movement and, without a word, gently puts his arm around your shoulders slowly, carefully, as if giving you time to pull back. But you don't pull back. You snuggle a little closer against him. His hoodie smells faintly of laundry detergent and that warm scent that is just… him.
"You okay?" he asks in a low voice, close to your ear. You nod, your face half-hidden against his shoulder.
"Yeah… I'm a little scared. It's silly, isn't it? It's just a film."
He tightens his arm slightly, his fingers gently stroking your shoulder in a slow, reassuring movement. "It's not silly. It's Halloween. You're allowed to be scared."
With every tense scene, he draws you imperceptibly closer. He doesn't mock you, he doesn't laugh. He just stays there, calm and protective. At one point, you bury your face against his chest. You feel his heart beat, steady, a little faster than usual.
"Kento…" you murmur.
"I'm here," he replies simply.
The film continues, but you pay less and less attention to the screen. Your awareness is entirely turned toward him: the warmth of his body, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers keep tracing small soothing circles on your shoulder.
When the credits begin, neither of you moves. The room is bathed in semi-darkness, lit only by the flickering candles. His arm is still there. You remain nestled against him, the blanket wrapped around you both.
Silence settles in, soft and charged.
You slowly raise your head toward him. Your faces are very close. His light brown eyes look at you, more intense than ever. His blond hair falls slightly over his forehead. There is a new tension in the air, something that makes your heart beat faster than during the film.
Nanami swallows slightly. His free hand rises slowly to your face. His fingers brush your cheek, push back a strand of hair with an endearing clumsiness. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second.
Your breath catches. Your noses almost touch. You half-close your eyes, your heart hammering.
But at the last moment, Nanami stops. He stays there, a few centimetres away, breathing softly against your skin. His voice comes out in a husky murmur, almost inaudible: "I… I don't want to go too fast."
He presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You stay like that, foreheads together, breaths mingled, in the trembling glow of the candles. It's almost a kiss. Not quite, but so close that you already feel the echo of what might soon come.
"It's okay," you murmur, your voice trembling but happy. "I like it like this… slowly. With you."
He imperceptibly nods, his forehead still against yours. His hand stays on your cheek, warm and reassuring. You stay like that for a long time, nestled under the blanket, the candles going out one by one.
Halloween continues outside, distant laughter, doorbells, but here, in the dark living room, there is only the two of you, this almost-kiss suspended in the air, and this connection that grows gently, day by day.
The evening drifts on slowly, the candles almost all extinguished. Only one small flame still flickers on the coffee table. The credits of The Ring have been finished for a long time, but neither you nor Nanami has moved. You're still nestled together under the blanket, his forehead against yours, your breathing calm and intertwined.
You glance discreetly at the wall clock. Already past midnight. The streets have gone quiet again, the last costumed kids have been home for a while. Nanami lives on the other side of town, a twenty-minute walk away, and the last bus left long ago.
You sit up slightly, without leaving his arms. "Nanami… it's really late. It's dark outside, and I'm a little worried."
He slowly opens his eyes, his irises still a little hazy from the closeness. He looks at you without saying anything, as if weighing your words.
You continue, your voice soft: "My parents aren't back until tomorrow morning. You can… sleep here? On the sofa, or in the guest room. Whatever you want."
A very slight smile stretches the corner of his lips, with that rare small dimple of his. He nods, almost shy. "Yeah… okay. If it doesn't bother you."
"Of course not. I'm happy, even." You give him an old oversized black t-shirt of your father's and a pair of joggers. When he comes back from the bathroom, his hair slightly ruffled and the large t-shirt hanging from his shoulders, he looks even softer, almost vulnerable.
You settle back onto the sofa, side by side, the blanket over your legs. The small flame of the last candle dances between you. Neither of you feels like sleeping. It's as if the night had given you a special permission.
"You know… I've always found it a little mysterious that you listen to Tokio Hotel all the time. What do you like so much about them?"
Nanami looks at the candle for a moment, then speaks, his voice low. "Because… it sounds like what I feel sometimes. Bill sings as if he's screaming things nobody else dares to say. Loneliness, feeling different… even when you're surrounded by people. At home, it's often noisy. My parents talk all the time, they want me to be more sociable, to go out more. But me… I just like being in my room, with my headphones. It calms me down."
He pauses.
"Before I knew you… I thought I was just weird. That nobody understood why I kept to myself. But with you… it's different. You don't ask a thousand questions. You share music without forcing it."
You rest your head against his shoulder, and he slides his arm around you. The conversation drifts to everything and nothing. You talk about classes, he hates maths but loves philosophy because it makes you think without all the noise. He talks about his vague dreams, his loneliness even when surrounded by people.
Around three in the morning, his voice becomes even lower: "Sometimes… I feel a little alone. Even with my friends. And yes I have friends but they always want to do loud things, parties, mess around. Me, I prefer to stay in my bubble. I've never really had someone to… just be with. Without pressure. You're the first person who makes me want to step out of that bubble a little. Not all the time. Just… sometimes. Like tonight."
You look up at him. His eyes are fixed on the nearly extinguished candle, but there is a new softness on his face. You place your hand on his.
"I'm glad you're telling me that. I'm not super comfortable with big parties either. I love these quiet moments. With you."
He turns his head toward you. Your faces are close again, the tension returning, softer still. He slowly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. "Thank you for suggesting I stay. I wouldn't have wanted to go home. Not tonight."
You keep talking, about everything and nothing. At one point, you both laugh softly when you clumsily act out a scene from the film to make him smile. He really laughs, a rare, low sound that makes you melt.
Around five in the morning, tiredness sets in. You lie down on the sofa, still nestled together, the blanket pulled up to your shoulders. His arm around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head.
"Good night… or good morning," he breathes, with that small quiet smile.
You close your eyes, your heart full.
"Good night, Kento."
The last candle goes out. The house is silent. Halloween was over, but this white night had sealed something deeper between you.
The grey morning light filtered through the living room curtains, soft and a little cold. You open your eyes first. Nanami is still there, his arm around your waist, his face buried in your hair.
His breathing is slow, steady, and you feel the warmth of his body through the old oversized t-shirt he's wearing. For a long minute, you don't move.
You just enjoy this moment: his scent, the light weight of his arm, the way his blond hair falls over his forehead.
He stirs slightly. His lashes flutter, then his light brown eyes open. He looks at you for a moment, as if wondering whether this is a dream.
"…Morning," he murmurs in a husky, sleepy voice.
"Hey," you reply with a gentle smile.
Neither of you moves right away. You stay there, faces close, watching each other in the morning light. He finally slowly withdraws his arm. "I slept well," he admits simply. "Better than usual."
You sit up a little, your hair in a mess, still wrapped in the blanket.
"Me too. Even if the sofa is a little hard."
A very slight smile stretches his lips. He runs a hand through his hair to put it back in order, without success. He looks cute like that, still half asleep, without his usual shell.
You finally get up. The house is quiet, troubled only by the ticking of the clock. It's almost 9:30.
"Are you hungry?" you ask. He nods. "A little."
You go to the kitchen. You take out bread, Nutella, jam, and put the kettle on for tea (you know he doesn't like coffee much). Nanami stays leaning against the worktop for a moment, arms crossed, watching you while you prepare everything. He ends up coming closer to help: he takes out two mugs, finds the sugar without you telling him where it was.
You sit down at the small kitchen table, facing each other. The sun comes in timidly through the window. You spread your toast in silence at first, but it's no longer an awkward silence. It's comfortable.
"Thank you again for last night," he suddenly says, biting into his toast. "For everything. The film… staying over. I didn't want to go home." You smile, cheeks a little warm. "I didn't want you to leave either. It was… good. Really good."
He looks at you for a long time over his cup of tea. His eyes are softer than usual. "Yeah. It was good."
You talk a little more. Nothing too serious: the playlist he wants to make you listen to soon, a teacher who annoys him in biology class, that old basketball that probably needs pumping up again. From time to time, your knees brush under the table and neither of you pulls away.
You're laughing softly at one of his dry remarks about a noisy student when the front door suddenly opens.
"Y/N? We're back!" Your mother's voice echoes in the hallway. You freeze, eyes wide. Nanami immediately straightens up, back upright, expression neutral but ears slightly red.
Your parents appear in the kitchen doorway, travel bags in hand. They stop dead at the sight of Nanami sitting at the table, in joggers and an oversized t-shirt, a cup of tea in his hand.
A three-second silence. Very long.
"Oh…" says your father, raising an eyebrow. Your mother looks at you, then at Nanami, then at you again. An amused smile begins to appear on her face.
"Good morning," says Nanami politely, half-rising from his seat. His voice is calm, but you see his hand grip the edge of the table a little too tightly. "I'm Nanami Kento. Sorry for the… impromptu visit."
You stand up too, red to your ears. "Uh… Nanami slept on the sofa. It was really late after the Halloween film and… there were no more buses."
Your mother sets down her bag and crosses her arms, clearly not angry, more curious. "Ah, so this is the famous Nanami you've been mentioning for a few weeks without ever giving any details?"
"Mom!" you groan, mortified. Your father observes Nanami for a moment. Nanami holds his gaze without looking away, even if he's clearly embarrassed. Finally, your father nods.
"Well then… nice to meet you, Nanami. Would you like another cup of tea? We brought croissants from the station."
Nanami blinks, surprised by the relaxed reaction. He slowly sits back down. "Uh… yes. With pleasure. Thank you."
Your mother throws you a small conspiratorial look as she passes behind you to put the croissants on the table. You sit back down too, your heart pounding. Under the table, you feel Nanami's fingers brush yours for a second, as if to say "it'll be okay."
The conversation resumes, a little awkward at first. Your parents ask light questions: what he wants to do with his life, whether he listens to music, whether he likes basketball. He answers calmly, without overdoing it.
At one point, your mother asks you to go and get something from the living room. When you come back, you see Nanami quietly helping your father put the bags away in the hallway. They exchange a few words in low voices. You can't hear them, but Nanami looks a little less tense when he comes back.
Once alone in the kitchen while your parents go upstairs to unpack, Nanami leans slightly toward you. "They're… nice," he murmurs. "I was scared they'd kick me out straight away."
You laugh softly. "Me too, a little. But I think they like you."
He looks at you, a real small smile on his lips this time. "Good. Because I don't want to stop coming here… or seeing you."
You place your hand on his, just for a second, before your mother comes back downstairs.
Breakfast ends in a strangely warm atmosphere. Nanami eventually says he should head home. You walk him to the door.
In the hallway, out of sight, he stops for a second. He looks at you, hesitates, then leans in and places a very light, almost shy kiss on your cheek. Just at the corner of your lips.
"Tomorrow, at the field?" he breathes.
You nod, your face burning after his almost-kiss. "Tomorrow."
He gives you his usual small nod of the head, the one that makes you melt, and sets off down the still-wet street. You close the door, a dopey smile plastered on your face.
The days following Halloween slipped by in an almost unreal sweetness.
You fell back into your usual rhythm: the old basketball court after school, the bench near the oak tree when it rained too hard, sometimes a short silent walk to the bus stop.
The looks lasted longer, the smiles came more easily, and your hands found each other naturally, as if they had always been meant to be there.
Yet nothing went further. Nanami remained true to himself: slow, cautious, almost fearful of going too fast.
A kiss on the cheek from time to time, his forehead against yours when the music was particularly beautiful, an arm around your shoulders when the wind grew cold. Nothing more.
And strangely, this suited you. Each small gesture took on an enormous importance. You loved this slowness. It made every moment precious, like a song you listen to on repeat and never skip.
The weeks passed. The dead leaves gave way to the dry cold of November, then to the first frosts of December. You shared longer and longer playlists, confidences murmured between two songs, silences that no longer weighed anything.
Sometimes, after a particularly tiring day, Nanami would simply rest his head on your shoulder for a few minutes, eyes closed, as if recharging his batteries near you.
Christmas is approaching.
The school decorates itself with slightly tacky fairy lights, the air smells of cinnamon and warm crepes full of Nutella near the exit. Everyone is talking about the holidays, family gatherings, gifts.
You try not to think about it too much, for fear of being disappointed. Nanami isn't the type to do things in a big way, you know that.
One evening in mid-December, the sky is already dark at 5 pm. You're sitting on the stone bench at the court, wrapped up in your hoodies and a thick scarf you lent him the week before.
The day's playlist plays softly in your ears: calmer tracks, almost wintry, with acoustic guitars and hushed voices.
Nanami has been quieter than usual for a while. He's spinning the earbud between his fingers, his gaze lost toward the frost-covered rusty basketball hoop.
You finally ask gently: "Are you okay? You seem… elsewhere."
He turns his head toward you. The distant light of a street lamp makes his light brown eyes shine with an almost golden hue. He hesitates, runs a hand through his blond hair peeking out from his black beanie.
"Yeah… I'm fine." A pause. "Actually… no. Not really. Well yes, but…" He sighs, a small breath visible in the cold air. Then he goes for it, his voice lower than ever: "My parents want us to do a family thing on the 24th in the evening. Like every year. But on the 25th… they're going to my aunt's until the evening. Me I… I didn't want to go."
He looks at you properly, this time. His fingers find yours under the sleeve of your coat. "I was thinking that… maybe… you'd want to come to mine? Just the two of us. No big party. No costume or anything. Just… a tree, some music, and maybe a film. If your parents are okay with it, obviously."
His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. You can see how nervous he is: the small crease between his brows is there, more pronounced than usual.
"I know it's not much," he goes on. "But I want to spend Christmas with you. Without anyone else around. Just… like we usually do, but at mine. In my room. With my slightly naff posters and my playlists."
He looks down for a second, almost embarrassed at having said so much. "If you don't want to, it's fine. I'd understand."
You squeeze his hand tighter, your heart swelling with a warmth that contrasts with the December cold. A tender smile stretches your lips. "Yes, I'd love to. I want to spend Christmas with you."
On the evening of December 25th, the doorbell rings at your place right on time. You open the door and your heart gives a jolt. Nanami stands on the doorstep, hands in the pockets of his black coat, a grey scarf around his neck and his hair slightly ruffled by the cold wind.
His cheeks are pink from the cold, and he looks at you with that small quiet smile that always makes you melt. "Hey… I came to pick you up," he murmurs simply. His voice is low, a little husky from the cold. "Ready?"
You nod, beaming. Your parents quickly say hello from the living room, and he replies politely, a little shy. A few minutes later, you're walking side by side down the street lit up by the neighbours' fairy lights.
Your hands brush, then naturally intertwine. The silence between you is soft, comfortable.
When you arrive in front of his house, it's even more impressive than you'd imagined: large, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a perfectly manicured garden. Nanami shrugs, almost embarrassed.
"It's… a lot. My parents like luxurious things… they work in finance and architecture but anyway. My room is more normal, you'll see. Come in."
Inside, warmth wraps around you at once. A large understated Christmas tree glows in the living room with warm white lights. Nanami guides you straight to the kitchen.
"My parents left loads of things, but… I want us to cook something together. If you'd like."
You happily agree. You take off your coats and get to work. Nanami takes out simple ingredients: fresh pasta, cream, smoked salmon, spinach and cheese.
You cook side by side, shoulder to shoulder. He shows you how to make the sauce, you give him little hip bumps when he cuts the vegetables too slowly. You laugh softly when he overcooks the pasta the first time.
At one point, he passes behind you to reach something and places his hands on your hips for a second, just long enough to make your heart race.
"Sorry," he says softly near your ear.
"It's nothing, it's nothing!" you reply quickly and try not to blush.
The meal is ready about twenty minutes later. You carry your warm plates upstairs, to his room. It's exactly as you'd imagined: dark grey walls almost black, Tokio Hotel posters, a shelf full of CDs, a guitar in the corner, and a small lamp casting soft golden light.
You settle on the floor on a big cushion, leaning against the bed, plates on your laps. Music plays in the background, a calm playlist he prepared for this evening.
The meal is simple, but delicious. You eat while talking quietly, about everything and nothing. From time to time, your gazes linger on each other longer than usual.
After meal, Nanami gets up and goes to fetch a small bag hidden behind his desk.
"Do we exchange gifts now?" he asks, suddenly more nervous.
"Yes, wait, I'll get my bag." you say, your heart beating with anxiety. Imagine if he doesn't like the gifts you made, you'd be devastated.
He opens the CD you spent hours putting together first. His eyes widen as he discovers the tracklist: rare and old Tokio Hotel versions, demos, forgotten live recordings, B-sides, and little-known solo tracks from Bill, mixed in with other artists he loves. He slowly runs his fingers over the sleeve you decorated by hand.
"…You really did this for me?" he murmurs, his voice moved. "It's the most beautiful gift anyone's ever given me."
Then he discovers the black jumper you personalised. His fingers stroke the embroidery: "Even in silence" on the sleeve and the small drawing of the basketball court and the bench under the oak tree on the chest. He stays silent for a long moment, then immediately pulls it on over his t-shirt. The jumper fits him perfectly.
"It's us…" he breathes, looking at you, his eyes glistening. "It represents us."
His turn, he holds out his gifts to you. You open the fine silver bracelet first. The small music note charm shines softly. Inside, you discover the engraving: "Durch den Monsun". Your eyes begin to sting with emotion.
"So you remember our first real conversation every time you wear it," he says softly.
There's also a soft ultra-cosy grey oversized hoodie with a tiny musical score embroidered near the heart, and a small pink iPod shuffle already loaded with a playlist titled simply "For you."
"Thank you, Kento… thank you." You throw yourself into his arms, moved. He holds you against him, his chin resting on your head.
When you pull apart, the atmosphere has changed. The music still plays softly. The golden light of the lamp caresses his face. Nanami is sitting very close to you, his knees against yours.
He looks at you as if seeing you properly for the first time. His light brown eyes are softer than ever, almost vulnerable. He runs a trembling hand through your hair, brushes a strand behind your ear with infinite tenderness.
Your heart beats so fast you're sure he can hear it. "Can I… kiss you?" he murmurs, his voice husky and hesitant. "Really. Not just on the cheek. I've wanted to for a long time."
You answer in a breath: "Yes… of course!"
Nanami moves closer slowly. His forehead touches yours, as it has so many times before. You stay like that for a moment, breaths mingled, the world reduced to that small space between you two.
Then he gently tilts his head. His lips brush yours with infinite gentleness, almost shyly. The kiss is slow, warm, filled with everything he doesn't always manage to say.
His hand caresses your cheek, his thumb tracing small tender circles on your skin. He kisses you as if you were something fragile and precious, with an emotion that makes you melt completely.
He pulls back just barely, just enough to press his forehead against yours, eyes closed, a small happy smile on his lips. His hand stays on your cheek, as if he never wants to let you go.
"I… I really appreciate you, Y/N. Truly and… I wanted to tell you. I think I'm in love with you. I know it's probably too soon by most people's standards but I mean it sincerely. Will you be my girlfriend?" he says quickly, his cheeks red with shyness, but he looks you straight in the eyes.
"Yes, yes! I want to be your girlfriend!" You throw yourself against him and kiss him again, harder this time, full of a happiness that overflows. He lets out a small sigh of relief against your lips before returning your kiss with the same tender wonder.
"I've been in love with you for a while… that's why I approached you that day in the hallway. I started developing feelings for you even though we didn't know each other well. You made my days more beautiful just by being yourself."
Nanami closes his eyes for a moment, as if engraving your words inside himself. When he opens them, they shine with a new joy. He holds you tighter in his arms, his face buried in your neck.
"I still can't believe it…" he breathes against your skin. "I thought I was the only one with this stupid crush."
You stay in each other's arms for a long time, sitting on the floor against the bed, exchanging soft kisses, shy smiles, and hesitant caresses. The playlist still turns softly, the small Christmas tree fairy lights blink gently in the room.
Later, you slip under the duvet. Nanami holds you against him, your back against his chest, his arm around your waist as if he wants to keep you there forever. He places a last tender kiss in your hair and murmurs close to your ear:
"Good night, Y/N. Merry Christmas."
You smile in the darkness, the bracelet he gave you around your wrist and the warmth of his body against yours.
"Good night, Kento. Merry Christmas and… I love you."
Gojo’s favorite moments are those when, after you’ve finished making love, you lie on his chest, exhausted, your breath still coming in short gasps. Your lips meet for a slow, languid kiss, while his hands can’t help but slide down to your lovely ass, kneading and squeezing them.
One of the things Katsuki hates most is pointless, stupid arguments.
The moment you start getting a little too worked up for his liking, he doesn’t hesitate for a second. He grips the back of your neck firmly, pulls you against him in a possessive move, and presses his lips close to your ear. In a voice that is low, husky and dangerously calm, he whispers exactly the kind of obscene things he plans to do to you.
It works every time. You fall silent instantly, your cheeks burning and your legs turning to jelly. You end up dragging him toward the bedroom provided you still have enough self-control not to pounce on him before you even reach the bed.
music and feelings. crush! nanami kento x fem! reader
synopsis: the romance between Nanami, the quiet blond boy in your class, and you.
content: The story takes place in the 2000s, Reader and Nanami are shy, Nanami has an emo aesthetic, and is way too cute
a/n: I’ve never written so much without smut. I hope you enjoy it! Nanami and the reader are so cute! I love innocent romances like this.
words: 9.3k
You have a stupid crush on Nanami.
The quiet blond, the one who always wears headphones around his neck even in class, who dresses in black and grey as if the world were too bright for him.
Nanami, the one who listens to Tokio Hotel on repeat, his head resting against the bus window, his gaze lost somewhere outside.
You don't even know why you like him so much. You've barely ever spoken to him, just a few polite words when you cross paths in the hallway or at the library.
And yet… it's there. That stupid thing that makes your heart beat faster the moment you catch a glimpse of him.
Was it love at first sight? You're not sure. Love at first sight is supposed to be violent, immediate, like an explosion. This is softer. Slower. As if you'd been struck by something silent and deep.
You saw him one morning, sitting alone at the back of the room, the grey light from the window falling on his slightly-too-long blond hair, and something simply clicked.
Since then, you notice him everywhere. The way he walks slowly, hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. The way he lightly bites his lower lip when he's concentrating on his notes. That small crease between his brows when he takes out an earbud to answer a teacher.
You don't understand what draws you to him so much. He's handsome, yes, but not in a flashy way. It's a quiet beauty, almost melancholic. As if he carried an invisible weight on his shoulders, and it made him even more magnetic.
You picture him in the evenings, in his room, dim light, listening to Tokio Hotel or Deftones on repeat, eyes closed, completely elsewhere. And you catch yourself wanting to be in that elsewhere with him.
You don't dare talk to him properly. Every time you tell yourself today I'm going to say something to him, you lose your nerve at the last second. You settle for smiling at him shyly when your eyes meet, and he returns your smile.
Just a small movement of the lips, quiet, almost timid, as if he wasn't used to being noticed. And that simple gesture is enough to make you melt for the rest of the day.
Sometimes you wonder what he's thinking. Has he noticed you too? Does he listen to his music to escape because the world is too loud, or because he feels lonely?
You want to ask him all these questions, but you stay there, watching him from afar, with this stupid crush that grows a little more each day.
And the worst part? You don't even know if you want it to stop. Because even silent, even distant, Nanami makes your days a little less ordinary.
One day, you decide it can't go on like this. This stupid crush has been eating away at your mind for too long. So you take the plunge. No established plan, just a small, timid attempt to get closer.
It's at the end of class, in the hallway leading to the exit. Nanami is there, leaning against the wall near the lockers, one earbud in his ear, the other hanging over his shoulder.
He's looking at his iPod, his thumb sliding slowly over the silver click wheel, probably choosing the next Tokio Hotel song. His blond hair falls slightly in front of his eyes, and he pushes it back with a distracted gesture.
Your heart pounds in your chest. You take a deep breath, grip your bag strap a little too tightly, and approach.
"Hey… Nanami?" Your voice comes out smaller than expected, almost swallowed by the noise of the other students.
He slowly raises his head. His eyes, a light brown almost golden in the fluorescent light, settle on you. No exaggerated surprise, just that calm, slightly neutral expression, with the small crease between his brows that appears when he's focused.
He removes his earbud in a fluid motion and waits for you to continue. You feel your cheeks heat up. Damn, why is this so hard? You carry on anyway, trying to smile: "I… I've seen you a lot with your headphones. What are you listening to right now? Tokio Hotel, right?"
He blinks once, as if he wasn't expecting that question. A second that feels endless. Then he slowly nods.
"Yeah…" he replies simply, his voice low, slightly husky.
Silence falls again. Not awkward for him, evidently. For you, though, it's torture. You shift slightly in place, searching for what to add.
"I like… Monsoon. It's the one I heard once when you'd left your earbud a bit too loud, in philosophy class."
You immediately regret it. Too specific. It says I've been watching him for weeks. But Nanami doesn't seem to find it strange. On the contrary, a very slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
"Ah… sorry about the volume. I often put it too loud." He glances down at his iPod for a second, then looks back up at you. His gaze is a little softer this time. "What do you listen to?"
The question catches you off guard. You stammer: "Uh… a bit of everything. But not really this style… I've never really tried Tokio Hotel properly. Maybe I should."
Nanami looks at you for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then he slowly reaches for his second earbud, detaches it, and holds it out to you, palm open.
"Here. Listen to this one."
You freeze for a second, your heart doing a somersault. His fingers barely graze yours as you take the earbud. The contact is so brief, yet it passes right through you.
He presses play. The intro guitar of Durch den Monsun begins softly, then Bill Kaulitz's voice fills your ear. Nanami watches you while you listen, saying nothing, just present.
When the chorus arrives, you dare to look up at him. His expression is more open than before. Less closed off.
"It's… beautiful," you say softly, handing his earbud back. "A little sad, but beautiful."
"Yeah," he replies simply. "It often is."
He takes the earbud back, puts it around his neck. For a second, you both stand there in the emptying hallway. You feel this is the moment to say something more, or to leave before you ruin everything.
So you go for it, voice a little shaky: "If someday… you want to make me listen to more songs, I'm up for it."
Nanami looks at you for a long time. He seems to think it over, or maybe he's just savoring the moment. Then he nods, very slowly. "Okay."
That's all. A simple okay. But in his mouth, it sounds like a quiet promise. Not much, but to you, it's huge.
He puts his earbud back in his ear, gives you a small nod of his head, and starts to walk away down the hallway. Before turning the corner, he looks back one last time.
And this time, his smile is a little more visible.
Two days later.
You're sitting on the small wooden bench near the school exit, the one half-hidden by the big oak tree. It's a little cold, the sky is pale grey, typical of those autumn days when everything seems to slow down. In your bag, you've slipped your old pink iPod after spending hours in front of your slow computer adding songs.
You don't even know if Nanami will come this way today. You only exchanged a glance yesterday in maths class, and a small smile from him that had made you miss an entire line of equations.
But today, you've mustered up your courage. On your iPod, you've created a small playlist transferred from your slow PC with Tokio Hotel songs and softer music.
You see him coming from far away.
Nanami walks slowly, as always, hands in the pockets of his black oversized hoodie. One white earbud is already in his right ear, the cable hanging down to the iPod clipped to the waistband of his baggy jeans. He looks at the ground, lost in his thoughts, until his eyes land on you.
He stops for a second. Then he slightly changes direction and comes toward you.
"Hey," he says as he reaches you.
"Hey…" You shift over a little on the bench. "Do you… want to sit down?"
He hesitates half a second, then sits down beside you, leaving a small space between you. Not too close. Not too far.
You break the ice before you lose all your courage: "I listened to the song you made me discover the other day again. I liked it. Really. So I made a little playlist… if you want to listen."
You take out your pink iPod and your earbuds. Nanami turns his head toward you, his gaze curious for the first time.
"Let me hear it," he murmurs. You hold out one earbud. He takes it, a warm and brief contact that makes you shiver, then puts it in his ear. You put in an earbud too and start the playlist.
Monsoon begins. The soft guitars, then the voice. Nanami closes his eyes for a second. You watch him from the corner of your eye: his jaw slightly relaxed, his blond lashes contrasting with his pale skin, the way he tilts his head slightly to one side.
When the chorus arrives, he opens his eyes and looks at you. "You put that one first." You smile shyly. "Yeah… it's the one that left the biggest impression on me."
He nods slowly. Silence falls again, filled only by the music. Then, against all odds, he speaks a little more: "I often listen to this song when it rains. It makes everything… more bearable."
His voice is calm, almost confidential. You feel your heart tighten. You want to ask him why things need to be more bearable, but you hold back. Not now.
The playlist continues. You added lighter tracks afterward: a few Linkin Park songs you had on a CD, a Simple Plan track, and even an acoustic version of Durch den Monsun found on a forum and transferred the night before.
With each new song, Nanami reacts in his own way: a small nod, an eyebrow that rises slightly, or a glance toward you when a passage catches his ear.
At one point, he takes out the earbud and holds it out to you. "That one… it's good. The acoustic version. Less loud, but more… intimate." You take the earbud back, cheeks a little warm. "I thought you might like it."
He stays silent for a moment. Something softer in his expression, as if the quiet barrier he usually keeps had slightly cracked.
"Thank you," he finally says. "It's rare for someone to make me listen to things. Most of the time… I'm alone with my music."
A small warmth spreads through your chest. You dare a little more: "If you want… we can do it again. Another day. Or even after school, if you have time."
Nanami looks at you for a long time. He runs a hand through his hair, pushes it back. Then he nods, very slowly. "Yeah. That works for me."
He stands up, puts his bag back on his shoulder. Before leaving, he turns around one last time. "Tomorrow then? Same time, same bench?"
You nod, unable to hold back the smile rising to your lips. "Tomorrow."
He gives you that small nod of his head, almost shy, and walks off down the path. You watch him leave, heart light, your iPod still warm in your hand.
The next day, you arrive at the bench a little early. Each minute feels long. You wonder if he'll really come, if he hasn't changed his mind, if your crush hasn't made you imagine the whole conversation.
Then you see him.
Nanami walks down the path, always at the same slow pace, black oversized hoodie, blond hair falling slightly in front of his eyes. This time, he only has one earbud in his ear. When he sees you, he doesn't change direction. He comes straight toward you.
He stops in front of the bench, looks at you for a second, then sits down in the same spot as the day before.
"Hey," he murmurs.
"Hey," you reply with a smile. You decide not to wait: "I brought more tracks… if you want. I added some things I like."
He nods without a word, takes out his earbud and holds out his hand. Your fingers brush, and that small contact is enough to make you blush. You start the playlist.
This time, you began with something calmer, copied from a CD the night before. Nanami closes his eyes, his head slightly tilted. You watch him: his regular breathing, the way his fingers tap very lightly on his knee to the beat of the music.
After two songs, he opens his eyes. "That's not bad," he says. "Calmer than what I usually listen to."
You smile, relieved. Then, for the first time, he speaks at greater length: "When I listen to music… it's as if everything else moves further away. Classes, people who talk too loudly, teachers who ask questions… all of it disappears."
His voice is low, almost intimate. He looks straight ahead, toward the trees lining the path. Then he turns his head toward you. "What about you? Why do you listen?"
You think for a second. "To… feel less alone, I think. Or sometimes just to dream of something else."
Nanami slowly nods. His gaze stays on you a little longer than usual. The silence returns, filled only by the music.
When a Tokio Hotel song comes on, the one he'd made you listen to the very first time, a very slight smile stretches his lips.
"You know this one by heart, don't you?" you ask softly.
"Yeah… I've listened to it hundreds of times." He takes out the earbud for a second, spins it between his fingers, then puts it back in.
"Thanks for putting it in."
Your heart leaps. You dare a little more: "If you want… I can burn you a CD with all of this. So you can listen to it at home."
Nanami looks at you for a long time. He runs a hand through his hair. "I'd like that," he replies simply.
Time passes too quickly. When the playlist reaches the end, he stands up slowly, puts his bag back on his shoulder.
Before leaving, he turns toward you.
"Tomorrow? Same time?"
You nod, smile impossible to hold back.
"Tomorrow."
You've now fallen into a habit, without ever really saying it out loud, of seeing each other every end of afternoon after school. You meet at the same bench near the big oak tree.
Sometimes he arrives first, sometimes it's you. You don't talk much at the beginning: just a murmured "hey," then a shared earbud. The music does the rest.
But little by little, the silences fill up.
Today, the sky is clearer, almost pale blue. You arrive and Nanami is already there, sitting, legs slightly apart, his bag at his feet. He has both earbuds in, but when he sees you approaching, he immediately takes one out.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
You sit down beside him, a little closer than the first time. The space between the two of you has shrunk over the days, without either of you really noticing. You take out your earbuds. He holds out his hand without a word.
You start a new playlist: more Tokio Hotel, mixed with other artists like The Used, My Chemical Romance, and some songs found on a second-hand CD.
After two tracks, Nanami speaks without looking at you right away: "You put in darker stuff this time."
"Yeah… I figured you might like it." He nods slowly.
"I do. Thanks."
It's simple, but coming from him, it sounds like a real compliment. Later in the playlist, a slow song arrives. The guitar is soft, the voice almost broken. Nanami tilts his head to the side, as if letting the music wash over him completely.
At the chorus, he murmurs, almost to himself: "I love when it's like that… when the song says what I can't manage to say."
You dare to answer softly: "Me too. Sometimes I feel like the lyrics understand better than the people around me."
He turns his head toward you. His eyes look at you properly, without looking away. "Yeah… People talk too much. You, you talk just the right amount."
Your cheeks heat up. You don't know what to say, so you smile, a little embarrassed but happy. Toward the end of the playlist, Nanami takes out his earbud and stays sitting, his hands resting on his knees. He says, after a moment: "It feels good. Coming here. With you."
It's the first time he's admitted it clearly. You feel a wave of warmth in your chest. "For me too. I was a little worried at first that you'd find it weird."
He lets out a very slight laugh, almost silent, just a breath. "At first, a little. But now… no."
He runs a hand through his hair. The light breeze moves a few strands. He looks at you again, longer this time. "Do you want to go somewhere different one day? Not always here. Maybe… after school, we could walk a bit. Or go to the old basketball court behind the school. There are fewer people."
Your heart does a somersault. It's the first time he's suggested something that feels like a real moment together, outside of the bench. "Yes," you say without hesitating. "I'd really like that."
He nods, satisfied, and stands up. Before leaving, he looks at you one last time. "Tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow!" You watch him walk away, a smile glued to your lips.
The next day, you're now walking side by side along the path that borders the old basketball court. The place is quiet, almost deserted.
Only a few birds and the distant sound of cars disturb the silence. Nanami has his hands in the pockets of his black jeans, his bag softly bumping against his hip with each step.
At first, you say nothing. It's become your rhythm: silence first, then music, then sometimes words. But today, something is different. The air feels heavier, as if all those small shared moments had built up a sweet and invisible tension.
"Do you come here often?" you ask to break the ice.
"Yeah. When I want some peace. The others go to the shopping centre or McDonald's. Me… I prefer it here. Less noise." He continues, after a small pause: "Before, I used to come alone. I'd shoot hoops by myself, it cleared my head."
You picture the scene: Nanami, blond hair in the wind, under the rusty hoop, his playlist blasting in his ears.
"And now?" you dare to ask.
He glances at you from the corner of his eye. A smile passes over his lips, almost shy.
"Now… I come with you. It's better."
You look down at your shoes to hide your smile. The path turns, and you arrive near the court. Nanami pulls an old slightly deflated basketball from behind a stone bench. He bounces it, the dull sound echoing in the cool air.
"Do you know how to play?" asks Nanami, looking at you.
"Not really. I even miss the simplest shots." you say, laughing, your face slightly flushed with embarrassment.
"I'll help you."
He stands behind you, not too close, just enough to guide you. His hands barely graze your shoulders to show you the right position.
"Knees bent… look at the hoop… and release." You throw the ball, it hits the backboard and bounces far away. Nanami runs to get it without a word, throws it back to you.
His patience is endless, he never mocks you, just gives small calm pointers: a little higher, breathe before.
After about ten shots, the ball passes through the net with a small perfect swish. You jump up and down with a big smile, looking at Nanami. "I did it! Did you see!?"
Nanami looks at you, and this time his smile is more visible, more real. He claps slowly. "Yes I saw. Not bad."
You play a little longer, then sit down on the stone bench, side by side, closer than ever. Nanami takes his earbuds out of his pocket. This time, he doesn't wait for you to suggest it. He holds one out to you directly.
The CD you'd burned for him has been playing in his head for several days, he told you with a smile. Durch den Monsun begins, then a slower song by The Used. He closes his eyes, his head leaned back against the bench. You do the same, letting the music wrap around you both.
After a few tracks, he speaks, his voice almost covered by the music: "I told you I listened to this so everything would feel further away… But since we've been doing this together… it's different. It's as if the world is still far away, but you are closer."
You open your eyes and turn your head toward him. He still has his eyes closed, as if he were afraid to look at you while saying that.
"Nanami…" you murmur. He finally opens his eyes. His light brown irises are soft, almost vulnerable in the grey afternoon light.
"I don't really know how to say things… I don't talk much, you've seen that. But… I like it when you're here. I like your voice when you talk to me about songs. I like that you don't try to make me talk more than I want to."
He pauses, runs a hand through his windswept hair.
"Before, I was fine alone with my music. Now… I'm better with you. I feel better."
The words hang suspended between you. You gently rest your hand on the bench, right next to his. Your fingers slowly, shyly intertwine. His hand is warm, a little rough from the basketball.
"Me too," you finally say. "I love these moments when we listen together, without pressure."
Nanami squeezes your hand a little tighter. Not hard, just enough to say 'I'm here'. The wind sends a few leaves swirling around you. The music continues in your ears.
You stay like that for a long time, hand in hand. Nanami's silence is no longer empty: it is filled with everything he can't quite yet say, but that you're beginning to understand.
When the sun begins to set, he stands up slowly, without letting go of your hand right away. "Tomorrow… do we come back here? Or go somewhere else? Whatever you want."
You smile, your heart full. "Yes! It's nice here."
The days that followed slipped by in a sweet and silent routine. Every end of afternoon, you would meet either on the bench or on the old court. Sometimes you walked, sometimes you played basketball. You were slowly improving, thanks to his patience.
The silences grew longer but words came more easily. Your hands found each other more often, without it ever feeling forced.
Then came Halloween week.
The school was buzzing: orange and black decorations in the hallways, paper pumpkins on the windows, everyone was talking about parties and costumes.
You'd been thinking about it for several days. The idea of spending Halloween with Nanami, even simply, made you smile to yourself.
That day, you're sitting on the stone bench at the court. The wind is cold, leaves crunch under your feet. You've just finished listening to a playlist he'd prepared. You take a deep breath. "In two days it's Halloween. Are you doing anything?"
He turns his head toward you, an eyebrow slightly raised, and takes out his earbud. "Not really. I usually stay home. Why?"
You smile, a little nervous, playing with your hoodie sleeve. "I was thinking… what if we dressed up? Nothing big, right. Just something simple. We could meet here or at mine, listen to music, maybe watch a horror film… That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"
Nanami stays silent. He looks at the rusty basketball hoop, then at the ground. "I don't know… Costumes… they're not really my thing. I feel a bit stupid in them. And I'm not very comfortable with parties either."
Your smile fades slightly. You try to keep your tone light: "Oh… okay. It was just an idea. We can do the usual, no problem."
But inside, you feel silly. You're angry at yourself for suggesting it, for maybe having been too enthusiastic. The rest of the evening passes in a slightly heavier silence. When he walks you to the exit, you give him a small forced smile.
"See you tomorrow," you say simply.
"Yeah… see you tomorrow."
That evening, at home, you feel a little disappointed. Nanami is like that: quiet, he doesn't like things like Halloween. You should have known.
The next day, you arrive at the court with a little apprehension. But Nanami is already there, sitting on the bench. He watches you approach and, for once, he speaks first.
"Hey."
"Hey…"
You sit down beside him. The silence lasts a few seconds. Then he takes out his earbuds, but doesn't put them in. He spins them between his fingers.
"About yesterday…" he begins softly. "I thought more about your suggestion." Your heart gives a small jump.
"Oh?"
He runs a hand through his hair, looking a little awkward, which is rare for him. "I'm not super into costumes… They make me uncomfortable. But… I don't want you to be disappointed. If it's important to you, we can do something simple. Not a full costume, just… a small detail. A mask or a hoodie with a skull on it, something like that. And we stay here or at yours, just the two of us." He looks up at you, his gaze softer than usual. "If you still want to… I'm in."
The disappointment from the day before vanishes in an instant. You smile, sincerely this time, and place your hand on his. "Really? Are you sure? I don't want to force you…"
"You're not forcing me," he replies calmly. "I just thought about it. I'd rather be with you, even if it's a little strange for me, than see you disappointed. And besides… Halloween with music and a horror film could be cool. As long as we stay chilled."
You gently squeeze his hand. "Okay. So we keep it simple: one small detail each. I can wear horns or light makeup, and you… whatever you want. We meet here after school and then go to mine. My parents won't be home."
A very slight smile at the corner of his lips.
"Works for me."
He holds out an earbud. You listen to a calm song, shoulder to shoulder, while the wind sends leaves swirling around the court. For the first time since yesterday, you feel really good.
Halloween was approaching, and even if Nanami wasn't the type to dress up with enthusiasm, he had made an effort. Just for you. And that made this moment even more precious.
Halloween evening finally arrives.
You meet at the court after school. The wind is cold, dead leaves whirl around. You've both kept your word: nothing over the top.
You're wearing a simple headband with small black horns and a smudge of makeup under your eyes. Nanami is wearing a dark grey hoodie with white skulls he drew on the front himself with a marker the night before, clumsily, and that makes you smile.
He's also ruffled his hair a bit so it looks more "tired ghost." It's minimalist, almost timid, but he did it. For you.
"You're… cute like that," you say as you come up to him.
He shrugs, a little embarrassed, but the corner of his lips lifts slightly. "You too. The horns suit you."
You walk to your place. The streets are full of kids in costumes, but you stick to the quieter pavements, away from the noise. From time to time, your hands brush.
Once at yours, the house is empty. You turn on a small lamp in the living room and a few orange candles. The atmosphere is cosy, a little spooky without being oppressive. You settle onto the sofa.
"What do you want to watch?" you ask, pulling out a few DVDs. Nanami looks at the cases, then shrugs slightly. "Whichever one you want."
You choose The Ring. You turn off the main light, only the candles and the screen light the room. You sit side by side, a blanket over your legs.
The film starts. At the beginning, you comment a little, mostly you. Nanami listens in silence, with that calm concentration.
But as the film goes on, the scenes become more and more oppressive. When the famous TV scene arrives, you jump violently and instinctively move closer to Nanami.
"God… I'd forgotten how terrifying this was."
Nanami doesn't say anything right away. He feels your movement and, without a word, gently puts his arm around your shoulders slowly, carefully, as if giving you time to pull back. But you don't pull back. You snuggle a little closer against him. His hoodie smells faintly of laundry detergent and that warm scent that is just… him.
"You okay?" he asks in a low voice, close to your ear. You nod, your face half-hidden against his shoulder.
"Yeah… I'm a little scared. It's silly, isn't it? It's just a film."
He tightens his arm slightly, his fingers gently stroking your shoulder in a slow, reassuring movement. "It's not silly. It's Halloween. You're allowed to be scared."
With every tense scene, he draws you imperceptibly closer. He doesn't mock you, he doesn't laugh. He just stays there, calm and protective. At one point, you bury your face against his chest. You feel his heart beat, steady, a little faster than usual.
"Kento…" you murmur.
"I'm here," he replies simply.
The film continues, but you pay less and less attention to the screen. Your awareness is entirely turned toward him: the warmth of his body, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers keep tracing small soothing circles on your shoulder.
When the credits begin, neither of you moves. The room is bathed in semi-darkness, lit only by the flickering candles. His arm is still there. You remain nestled against him, the blanket wrapped around you both.
Silence settles in, soft and charged.
You slowly raise your head toward him. Your faces are very close. His light brown eyes look at you, more intense than ever. His blond hair falls slightly over his forehead. There is a new tension in the air, something that makes your heart beat faster than during the film.
Nanami swallows slightly. His free hand rises slowly to your face. His fingers brush your cheek, push back a strand of hair with an endearing clumsiness. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second.
Your breath catches. Your noses almost touch. You half-close your eyes, your heart hammering.
But at the last moment, Nanami stops. He stays there, a few centimetres away, breathing softly against your skin. His voice comes out in a husky murmur, almost inaudible: "I… I don't want to go too fast."
He presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You stay like that, foreheads together, breaths mingled, in the trembling glow of the candles. It's almost a kiss. Not quite, but so close that you already feel the echo of what might soon come.
"It's okay," you murmur, your voice trembling but happy. "I like it like this… slowly. With you."
He imperceptibly nods, his forehead still against yours. His hand stays on your cheek, warm and reassuring. You stay like that for a long time, nestled under the blanket, the candles going out one by one.
Halloween continues outside, distant laughter, doorbells, but here, in the dark living room, there is only the two of you, this almost-kiss suspended in the air, and this connection that grows gently, day by day.
The evening drifts on slowly, the candles almost all extinguished. Only one small flame still flickers on the coffee table. The credits of The Ring have been finished for a long time, but neither you nor Nanami has moved. You're still nestled together under the blanket, his forehead against yours, your breathing calm and intertwined.
You glance discreetly at the wall clock. Already past midnight. The streets have gone quiet again, the last costumed kids have been home for a while. Nanami lives on the other side of town, a twenty-minute walk away, and the last bus left long ago.
You sit up slightly, without leaving his arms. "Nanami… it's really late. It's dark outside, and I'm a little worried."
He slowly opens his eyes, his irises still a little hazy from the closeness. He looks at you without saying anything, as if weighing your words.
You continue, your voice soft: "My parents aren't back until tomorrow morning. You can… sleep here? On the sofa, or in the guest room. Whatever you want."
A very slight smile stretches the corner of his lips, with that rare small dimple of his. He nods, almost shy. "Yeah… okay. If it doesn't bother you."
"Of course not. I'm happy, even." You give him an old oversized black t-shirt of your father's and a pair of joggers. When he comes back from the bathroom, his hair slightly ruffled and the large t-shirt hanging from his shoulders, he looks even softer, almost vulnerable.
You settle back onto the sofa, side by side, the blanket over your legs. The small flame of the last candle dances between you. Neither of you feels like sleeping. It's as if the night had given you a special permission.
"You know… I've always found it a little mysterious that you listen to Tokio Hotel all the time. What do you like so much about them?"
Nanami looks at the candle for a moment, then speaks, his voice low. "Because… it sounds like what I feel sometimes. Bill sings as if he's screaming things nobody else dares to say. Loneliness, feeling different… even when you're surrounded by people. At home, it's often noisy. My parents talk all the time, they want me to be more sociable, to go out more. But me… I just like being in my room, with my headphones. It calms me down."
He pauses.
"Before I knew you… I thought I was just weird. That nobody understood why I kept to myself. But with you… it's different. You don't ask a thousand questions. You share music without forcing it."
You rest your head against his shoulder, and he slides his arm around you. The conversation drifts to everything and nothing. You talk about classes, he hates maths but loves philosophy because it makes you think without all the noise. He talks about his vague dreams, his loneliness even when surrounded by people.
Around three in the morning, his voice becomes even lower: "Sometimes… I feel a little alone. Even with my friends. And yes I have friends but they always want to do loud things, parties, mess around. Me, I prefer to stay in my bubble. I've never really had someone to… just be with. Without pressure. You're the first person who makes me want to step out of that bubble a little. Not all the time. Just… sometimes. Like tonight."
You look up at him. His eyes are fixed on the nearly extinguished candle, but there is a new softness on his face. You place your hand on his.
"I'm glad you're telling me that. I'm not super comfortable with big parties either. I love these quiet moments. With you."
He turns his head toward you. Your faces are close again, the tension returning, softer still. He slowly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. "Thank you for suggesting I stay. I wouldn't have wanted to go home. Not tonight."
You keep talking, about everything and nothing. At one point, you both laugh softly when you clumsily act out a scene from the film to make him smile. He really laughs, a rare, low sound that makes you melt.
Around five in the morning, tiredness sets in. You lie down on the sofa, still nestled together, the blanket pulled up to your shoulders. His arm around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head.
"Good night… or good morning," he breathes, with that small quiet smile.
You close your eyes, your heart full.
"Good night, Kento."
The last candle goes out. The house is silent. Halloween was over, but this white night had sealed something deeper between you.
The grey morning light filtered through the living room curtains, soft and a little cold. You open your eyes first. Nanami is still there, his arm around your waist, his face buried in your hair.
His breathing is slow, steady, and you feel the warmth of his body through the old oversized t-shirt he's wearing. For a long minute, you don't move.
You just enjoy this moment: his scent, the light weight of his arm, the way his blond hair falls over his forehead.
He stirs slightly. His lashes flutter, then his light brown eyes open. He looks at you for a moment, as if wondering whether this is a dream.
"…Morning," he murmurs in a husky, sleepy voice.
"Hey," you reply with a gentle smile.
Neither of you moves right away. You stay there, faces close, watching each other in the morning light. He finally slowly withdraws his arm. "I slept well," he admits simply. "Better than usual."
You sit up a little, your hair in a mess, still wrapped in the blanket.
"Me too. Even if the sofa is a little hard."
A very slight smile stretches his lips. He runs a hand through his hair to put it back in order, without success. He looks cute like that, still half asleep, without his usual shell.
You finally get up. The house is quiet, troubled only by the ticking of the clock. It's almost 9:30.
"Are you hungry?" you ask. He nods. "A little."
You go to the kitchen. You take out bread, Nutella, jam, and put the kettle on for tea (you know he doesn't like coffee much). Nanami stays leaning against the worktop for a moment, arms crossed, watching you while you prepare everything. He ends up coming closer to help: he takes out two mugs, finds the sugar without you telling him where it was.
You sit down at the small kitchen table, facing each other. The sun comes in timidly through the window. You spread your toast in silence at first, but it's no longer an awkward silence. It's comfortable.
"Thank you again for last night," he suddenly says, biting into his toast. "For everything. The film… staying over. I didn't want to go home." You smile, cheeks a little warm. "I didn't want you to leave either. It was… good. Really good."
He looks at you for a long time over his cup of tea. His eyes are softer than usual. "Yeah. It was good."
You talk a little more. Nothing too serious: the playlist he wants to make you listen to soon, a teacher who annoys him in biology class, that old basketball that probably needs pumping up again. From time to time, your knees brush under the table and neither of you pulls away.
You're laughing softly at one of his dry remarks about a noisy student when the front door suddenly opens.
"Y/N? We're back!" Your mother's voice echoes in the hallway. You freeze, eyes wide. Nanami immediately straightens up, back upright, expression neutral but ears slightly red.
Your parents appear in the kitchen doorway, travel bags in hand. They stop dead at the sight of Nanami sitting at the table, in joggers and an oversized t-shirt, a cup of tea in his hand.
A three-second silence. Very long.
"Oh…" says your father, raising an eyebrow. Your mother looks at you, then at Nanami, then at you again. An amused smile begins to appear on her face.
"Good morning," says Nanami politely, half-rising from his seat. His voice is calm, but you see his hand grip the edge of the table a little too tightly. "I'm Nanami Kento. Sorry for the… impromptu visit."
You stand up too, red to your ears. "Uh… Nanami slept on the sofa. It was really late after the Halloween film and… there were no more buses."
Your mother sets down her bag and crosses her arms, clearly not angry, more curious. "Ah, so this is the famous Nanami you've been mentioning for a few weeks without ever giving any details?"
"Mom!" you groan, mortified. Your father observes Nanami for a moment. Nanami holds his gaze without looking away, even if he's clearly embarrassed. Finally, your father nods.
"Well then… nice to meet you, Nanami. Would you like another cup of tea? We brought croissants from the station."
Nanami blinks, surprised by the relaxed reaction. He slowly sits back down. "Uh… yes. With pleasure. Thank you."
Your mother throws you a small conspiratorial look as she passes behind you to put the croissants on the table. You sit back down too, your heart pounding. Under the table, you feel Nanami's fingers brush yours for a second, as if to say "it'll be okay."
The conversation resumes, a little awkward at first. Your parents ask light questions: what he wants to do with his life, whether he listens to music, whether he likes basketball. He answers calmly, without overdoing it.
At one point, your mother asks you to go and get something from the living room. When you come back, you see Nanami quietly helping your father put the bags away in the hallway. They exchange a few words in low voices. You can't hear them, but Nanami looks a little less tense when he comes back.
Once alone in the kitchen while your parents go upstairs to unpack, Nanami leans slightly toward you. "They're… nice," he murmurs. "I was scared they'd kick me out straight away."
You laugh softly. "Me too, a little. But I think they like you."
He looks at you, a real small smile on his lips this time. "Good. Because I don't want to stop coming here… or seeing you."
You place your hand on his, just for a second, before your mother comes back downstairs.
Breakfast ends in a strangely warm atmosphere. Nanami eventually says he should head home. You walk him to the door.
In the hallway, out of sight, he stops for a second. He looks at you, hesitates, then leans in and places a very light, almost shy kiss on your cheek. Just at the corner of your lips.
"Tomorrow, at the field?" he breathes.
You nod, your face burning after his almost-kiss. "Tomorrow."
He gives you his usual small nod of the head, the one that makes you melt, and sets off down the still-wet street. You close the door, a dopey smile plastered on your face.
The days following Halloween slipped by in an almost unreal sweetness.
You fell back into your usual rhythm: the old basketball court after school, the bench near the oak tree when it rained too hard, sometimes a short silent walk to the bus stop.
The looks lasted longer, the smiles came more easily, and your hands found each other naturally, as if they had always been meant to be there.
Yet nothing went further. Nanami remained true to himself: slow, cautious, almost fearful of going too fast.
A kiss on the cheek from time to time, his forehead against yours when the music was particularly beautiful, an arm around your shoulders when the wind grew cold. Nothing more.
And strangely, this suited you. Each small gesture took on an enormous importance. You loved this slowness. It made every moment precious, like a song you listen to on repeat and never skip.
The weeks passed. The dead leaves gave way to the dry cold of November, then to the first frosts of December. You shared longer and longer playlists, confidences murmured between two songs, silences that no longer weighed anything.
Sometimes, after a particularly tiring day, Nanami would simply rest his head on your shoulder for a few minutes, eyes closed, as if recharging his batteries near you.
Christmas is approaching.
The school decorates itself with slightly tacky fairy lights, the air smells of cinnamon and warm crepes full of Nutella near the exit. Everyone is talking about the holidays, family gatherings, gifts.
You try not to think about it too much, for fear of being disappointed. Nanami isn't the type to do things in a big way, you know that.
One evening in mid-December, the sky is already dark at 5 pm. You're sitting on the stone bench at the court, wrapped up in your hoodies and a thick scarf you lent him the week before.
The day's playlist plays softly in your ears: calmer tracks, almost wintry, with acoustic guitars and hushed voices.
Nanami has been quieter than usual for a while. He's spinning the earbud between his fingers, his gaze lost toward the frost-covered rusty basketball hoop.
You finally ask gently: "Are you okay? You seem… elsewhere."
He turns his head toward you. The distant light of a street lamp makes his light brown eyes shine with an almost golden hue. He hesitates, runs a hand through his blond hair peeking out from his black beanie.
"Yeah… I'm fine." A pause. "Actually… no. Not really. Well yes, but…" He sighs, a small breath visible in the cold air. Then he goes for it, his voice lower than ever: "My parents want us to do a family thing on the 24th in the evening. Like every year. But on the 25th… they're going to my aunt's until the evening. Me I… I didn't want to go."
He looks at you properly, this time. His fingers find yours under the sleeve of your coat. "I was thinking that… maybe… you'd want to come to mine? Just the two of us. No big party. No costume or anything. Just… a tree, some music, and maybe a film. If your parents are okay with it, obviously."
His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. You can see how nervous he is: the small crease between his brows is there, more pronounced than usual.
"I know it's not much," he goes on. "But I want to spend Christmas with you. Without anyone else around. Just… like we usually do, but at mine. In my room. With my slightly naff posters and my playlists."
He looks down for a second, almost embarrassed at having said so much. "If you don't want to, it's fine. I'd understand."
You squeeze his hand tighter, your heart swelling with a warmth that contrasts with the December cold. A tender smile stretches your lips. "Yes, I'd love to. I want to spend Christmas with you."
On the evening of December 25th, the doorbell rings at your place right on time. You open the door and your heart gives a jolt. Nanami stands on the doorstep, hands in the pockets of his black coat, a grey scarf around his neck and his hair slightly ruffled by the cold wind.
His cheeks are pink from the cold, and he looks at you with that small quiet smile that always makes you melt. "Hey… I came to pick you up," he murmurs simply. His voice is low, a little husky from the cold. "Ready?"
You nod, beaming. Your parents quickly say hello from the living room, and he replies politely, a little shy. A few minutes later, you're walking side by side down the street lit up by the neighbours' fairy lights.
Your hands brush, then naturally intertwine. The silence between you is soft, comfortable.
When you arrive in front of his house, it's even more impressive than you'd imagined: large, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a perfectly manicured garden. Nanami shrugs, almost embarrassed.
"It's… a lot. My parents like luxurious things… they work in finance and architecture but anyway. My room is more normal, you'll see. Come in."
Inside, warmth wraps around you at once. A large understated Christmas tree glows in the living room with warm white lights. Nanami guides you straight to the kitchen.
"My parents left loads of things, but… I want us to cook something together. If you'd like."
You happily agree. You take off your coats and get to work. Nanami takes out simple ingredients: fresh pasta, cream, smoked salmon, spinach and cheese.
You cook side by side, shoulder to shoulder. He shows you how to make the sauce, you give him little hip bumps when he cuts the vegetables too slowly. You laugh softly when he overcooks the pasta the first time.
At one point, he passes behind you to reach something and places his hands on your hips for a second, just long enough to make your heart race.
"Sorry," he says softly near your ear.
"It's nothing, it's nothing!" you reply quickly and try not to blush.
The meal is ready about twenty minutes later. You carry your warm plates upstairs, to his room. It's exactly as you'd imagined: dark grey walls almost black, Tokio Hotel posters, a shelf full of CDs, a guitar in the corner, and a small lamp casting soft golden light.
You settle on the floor on a big cushion, leaning against the bed, plates on your laps. Music plays in the background, a calm playlist he prepared for this evening.
The meal is simple, but delicious. You eat while talking quietly, about everything and nothing. From time to time, your gazes linger on each other longer than usual.
After meal, Nanami gets up and goes to fetch a small bag hidden behind his desk.
"Do we exchange gifts now?" he asks, suddenly more nervous.
"Yes, wait, I'll get my bag." you say, your heart beating with anxiety. Imagine if he doesn't like the gifts you made, you'd be devastated.
He opens the CD you spent hours putting together first. His eyes widen as he discovers the tracklist: rare and old Tokio Hotel versions, demos, forgotten live recordings, B-sides, and little-known solo tracks from Bill, mixed in with other artists he loves. He slowly runs his fingers over the sleeve you decorated by hand.
"…You really did this for me?" he murmurs, his voice moved. "It's the most beautiful gift anyone's ever given me."
Then he discovers the black jumper you personalised. His fingers stroke the embroidery: "Even in silence" on the sleeve and the small drawing of the basketball court and the bench under the oak tree on the chest. He stays silent for a long moment, then immediately pulls it on over his t-shirt. The jumper fits him perfectly.
"It's us…" he breathes, looking at you, his eyes glistening. "It represents us."
His turn, he holds out his gifts to you. You open the fine silver bracelet first. The small music note charm shines softly. Inside, you discover the engraving: "Durch den Monsun". Your eyes begin to sting with emotion.
"So you remember our first real conversation every time you wear it," he says softly.
There's also a soft ultra-cosy grey oversized hoodie with a tiny musical score embroidered near the heart, and a small pink iPod shuffle already loaded with a playlist titled simply "For you."
"Thank you, Kento… thank you." You throw yourself into his arms, moved. He holds you against him, his chin resting on your head.
When you pull apart, the atmosphere has changed. The music still plays softly. The golden light of the lamp caresses his face. Nanami is sitting very close to you, his knees against yours.
He looks at you as if seeing you properly for the first time. His light brown eyes are softer than ever, almost vulnerable. He runs a trembling hand through your hair, brushes a strand behind your ear with infinite tenderness.
Your heart beats so fast you're sure he can hear it. "Can I… kiss you?" he murmurs, his voice husky and hesitant. "Really. Not just on the cheek. I've wanted to for a long time."
You answer in a breath: "Yes… of course!"
Nanami moves closer slowly. His forehead touches yours, as it has so many times before. You stay like that for a moment, breaths mingled, the world reduced to that small space between you two.
Then he gently tilts his head. His lips brush yours with infinite gentleness, almost shyly. The kiss is slow, warm, filled with everything he doesn't always manage to say.
His hand caresses your cheek, his thumb tracing small tender circles on your skin. He kisses you as if you were something fragile and precious, with an emotion that makes you melt completely.
He pulls back just barely, just enough to press his forehead against yours, eyes closed, a small happy smile on his lips. His hand stays on your cheek, as if he never wants to let you go.
"I… I really appreciate you, Y/N. Truly and… I wanted to tell you. I think I'm in love with you. I know it's probably too soon by most people's standards but I mean it sincerely. Will you be my girlfriend?" he says quickly, his cheeks red with shyness, but he looks you straight in the eyes.
"Yes, yes! I want to be your girlfriend!" You throw yourself against him and kiss him again, harder this time, full of a happiness that overflows. He lets out a small sigh of relief against your lips before returning your kiss with the same tender wonder.
"I've been in love with you for a while… that's why I approached you that day in the hallway. I started developing feelings for you even though we didn't know each other well. You made my days more beautiful just by being yourself."
Nanami closes his eyes for a moment, as if engraving your words inside himself. When he opens them, they shine with a new joy. He holds you tighter in his arms, his face buried in your neck.
"I still can't believe it…" he breathes against your skin. "I thought I was the only one with this stupid crush."
You stay in each other's arms for a long time, sitting on the floor against the bed, exchanging soft kisses, shy smiles, and hesitant caresses. The playlist still turns softly, the small Christmas tree fairy lights blink gently in the room.
Later, you slip under the duvet. Nanami holds you against him, your back against his chest, his arm around your waist as if he wants to keep you there forever. He places a last tender kiss in your hair and murmurs close to your ear:
"Good night, Y/N. Merry Christmas."
You smile in the darkness, the bracelet he gave you around your wrist and the warmth of his body against yours.
"Good night, Kento. Merry Christmas and… I love you."
Was abt to request smth but it said it was closed 💔 but the way im chill about it because I don’t even need to scroll tht far to find the characters I want cuz youre genuinely so talented because mostly half the people I read only have one fandom but you got my main two MHA and JJK like baby im SO hungry 🥹 that and I literally go through your account over snd over again rereading everything to the point I can reread everything in my headdddd. Ok im going on a tangent because I just love reading your x reader stuff omgggg matter a fact im boutta read your new one wit iida #lovemyman😛
Youre sooo sweet ilyyy 🥹🥹💗💗 to tell u the truth this kind of message motivates me to write and makes me a lil cry 😭😭
MHA and JJK mens are so hot I love them so muchhhh yumm I’ll be posting a lot soon so I hope u like it 🤭💗
synopsis: your pathetic boyfriend, Tenya, misses you after barely two hours without you.
warnings: NSFW (MDNI), masturbation, semi-public masturbation, phone sex, panty sniffing, footjob, teasing, cowgirl, missionary, sucking nipples, breeding kink, eating pussy, fingering, mating press, praise, creampie, aftercare, Tenya has a big dick, Tenya is pathetic for you
a/n: Thanks for the request! It was so much fun to write, yum 😋 I didn't even think I'd write so many words 😭 I think Tenya would be truly pathetic for his girl (so for me 🤭)
words: 9.1k.
You’re getting ready for a girls’ night out at a chic bar downtown. You love this ritual: feeling beautiful, powerful, and desirable. Even though you’re in a relationship with Tenya, you’ve never felt like you had to give up that feeling.
You’re standing in front of your large vanity, wearing only the tight black dress you just slipped on. It hugs your curves perfectly, short enough to highlight your legs.
He’s never asked you to deprive yourself. On the contrary, he loves seeing you shine, go out, laugh with your friends. It’s part of what he loves about you. Besides, what right would he have to forbid you from going out?
You adjust your earrings, then apply one last layer of gloss. Your signature combo lip that makes your mouth irresistible.
Even before he says a word, you feel his burning gaze on you. Tenya is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his imposing chest. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. His blue eyes slowly glide over your reflection in the mirror, from your ankles to your face, with palpable intensity.
“You look stunning, darling…” he murmurs in a deeper voice than usual.
You meet his gaze in the mirror and can’t hold back a satisfied smile. You know exactly what effect you have on him. You turn slightly.
“Thank you, my love. I’ll try not to come home too late.”
He approaches slowly, as if drawn by a magnet. His large hands settle on your hips, firm and warm. He leans in, his chest brushing your back, and buries his face in your neck to breathe in your perfume.
“Mh… okay, darling,” he breathes against your skin. He kisses your neck then tries for your lips but stops just before, eyes fixed on your perfectly made-up lips in the reflection. “I almost…”
You laugh softly, amused. “For once, you remembered.” Tenya smiles against your skin, that slightly sheepish smile that makes you melt every time. “Last time I kissed you after you did your lips, I got scolded by you.”
“I didn’t even hurt you, idiot,” you reply, laughing. “I have no strength compared to you.”
He gently turns you in his arms to face him. His hands slide down your back, dangerously low on the curve of your ass. His body is warm, imposing. You clearly feel against your stomach how aroused he is. His already hard cock strains against his pants.
“You wounded me with love, darling,” he murmurs in that half-serious, half-teasing tone he masters so well. “Shut up,” you say, giggling, placing your hands on his muscular chest.
But instead of pulling away, you slowly caress his pecs through his shirt. Tenya lowers his head, his gaze darkened by desire. He runs his thumb just under your lower lip, carefully avoiding touching your lips.
“I don’t know how I’m going to survive a whole evening without you,” he admits more quietly. His voice is hoarse, loaded. “You’re too beautiful. It should be illegal to go out like that.” His hands move up your ribs, brushing the underside of your breasts. He looks at you as if he wants to devour you on the spot.
“I already want to pin you on that bed, lift this dress and fuck you slowly until you can’t walk…” He swallows, jaw clenched. “But I’ll behave. For this time.”
He leans down and places a series of light kisses on your jaw, your temple, your collarbone, breathing in your scent deeply as if trying to memorize it for the next few hours.
“I’m going to miss you terribly, you know,” he murmurs right against your ear. His voice becomes more intimate, almost vulnerable. “The apartment is going to be too empty. Too quiet.”
His fingers slide over your nape, gently caressing your skin. You feel his heart beating hard against your palm resting on his chest. He’s fighting himself, torn between the pride of letting you enjoy your evening and the visceral urge to keep you here with him.
You wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself a little more against his warm, solid body. “I’ll send you messages, I promise.”
“I hope you have fun… really,” he says sincerely, even though his voice betrays how tense he already is. “But know that I’m going to count every minute.”
He kisses your forehead one last time, lingering, then reluctantly steps back a little, his hands sliding slowly down your arms as if he doesn’t want to let go.
Tenya doesn’t pull away completely. His hands stay on your hips, his thumbs slowly caressing the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze is darker now, almost hungry.
“You’re really going out like that?” he murmurs, sliding his palms over your ass and squeezing gently. “This dress… it’s way too perfect on you. All eyes are going to be on you…”
You smile, amused and flattered by his quiet possessiveness. “So what? You know very well that I only want you.”
He lets out a slight growl, a hoarse sound that vibrates in his chest. He pulls you closer again until you clearly feel his hard, hot erection against your stomach.
He’s really turned on, and it’s only been a few minutes since he started watching you get ready.
“I know,” he breathes against your temple. “But that doesn’t stop me from being frustrated. Look at what state you put me in…”
He takes your hand and slowly guides it to his pants. You feel under your fingers the thick, rigid shape of his throbbing cock. Tenya closes his eyes for a moment when you caress him over the fabric.
“See?” he says in a lower, almost pleading voice. “I’ve been like this since I saw you. And you’re going to leave like it’s nothing…”
You continue to stroke him slowly, feeling his breathing grow heavier. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes half-closed.
“Stay a little longer,” he murmurs. “Just five minutes…”
Without really waiting for your answer, he easily lifts you and sits you on the edge of your vanity. The perfume bottles and makeup products shake slightly. He positions himself between your legs, spreading your thighs with his hips.
“Tenya…” you say, laughing softly, “I’m going to be late.”
“I know. I already feel bad. Punctuality and respecting your friends’ time is important but… I don’t care right now,” he says as his lips descend to your neck, placing hot, wet kisses. His hands slide under your dress, caressing the inside of your thighs with torturous slowness.
“You’re already hot…” he growls against your skin when his fingers brush your panties. “You’re already wet for me, baby?”
You bite your lip, trying not to moan. His fingers press a little harder, gently rubbing your clit over the fabric. “Tenya… not now, I have to leave…”
“Just a little,” he almost begs. His voice has become hoarse, desperate. “I need to touch you. I need to feel you before you leave. Otherwise I’m going to go crazy all evening.”
He pushes your panties aside and slides two thick fingers between your soaked lips. You let out a small sigh of pleasure. He starts fingering you slowly, deeply, while kissing your throat and jaw.
“Fuck… you’re soaked,” he breathes, breathing ragged. “How am I supposed to let you leave when your pussy is like this?”
His movements become more insistent. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out fills the room. With his other hand, he opens his pants and pulls out his thick, hard cock. He starts stroking himself slowly in front of you, at the same rhythm as he fingers you.
“Look what you do to me,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are burning. “I’m already ready to cum just from touching you.”
You wrap your hand around his thick length and stroke him at the same time. Tenya moans louder, hips instinctively pushing into your palm.
“Baby…” he growls, “if you keep going like this, I’m really not going to let you leave. I’m going to fuck you on this vanity until your makeup is ruined.”
His fingers penetrate you faster, curled to hit that sensitive spot inside you. You feel your pleasure rising quickly, your thighs trembling around him.
He kisses you just under your ear, voice broken: “Tell me you’re coming home early… Tell me you’re going to think about me all evening. Because me, I’m only going to think about this… about you, about your tight pussy, about your moans…”
You feel he’s already close, his cock throbbing hard in your hand. He’s really turned on, almost too much. His body is tense, his muscles bulging under his shirt.
“I’ll come home early,” you breathe between two sighs. “Promise.”
Tenya gently withdraws his fingers, brings them to his mouth and licks them with an intense look, as if he wants to taste you as much as possible before you leave.
He steps back a little, breathing heavily, his cock still erect and glistening with precum.
He looks at you for a long moment, as if engraving this image of you in his memory: sitting on the vanity, dress hiked up, lips parted, visibly aroused.
“Go have fun, my love,” he finally says, voice still hoarse. “But know that I’m going to be in a pathetic state all evening.”
“You’re… incorrigible baby,” you say, laughing, still breathless. You place a hand on his chest to gently push him back. “And desperate.”
Tenya lets out a low, almost embarrassed chuckle while rubbing the back of his neck. His face is still flushed, his eyes shining with frustration and desire. He looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s really hesitating to let you leave.
“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “You drive me crazy and especially desperate, that’s all.”
He carefully adjusts your dress, running his large hands over your hips to put it back in place. He takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down. His still-hard cock continues to strain his pants, but he steps back, giving you space.
“Go on… have fun with your friends,” he finally says, voice still a little hoarse. “I won’t hold you back any longer. But know that it’s costing me a lot.”
He walks you to the front door, one hand resting on the small of your back. Before you leave, he pulls you against him one last time for a tight hug, breathing in your scent in your hair.
“Have fun, my love. And be careful.”
“Yes, don’t worry,” you say, smiling at him and placing a quick kiss on his cheek, then you leave the apartment, heart still racing from the tension he built up.
…
About twenty minutes later, you arrive at the chic bar where your friends are already waiting. The place is elegant: dim lighting, lounge music, velvet booths and colorful cocktails. Your friends greet you with excited screams and compliments on your outfit.
“Fuck, look at you! You look so hot!” one of them exclaims, pulling you into a hug.
You settle at your reserved table, and the atmosphere quickly becomes light and joyful. You order the first round of cocktails, laugh while sharing your latest work stories, couple anecdotes, and dance a little on the floor when a catchier song plays. You feel good, relaxed, powerful. You laugh loudly, clink glasses, and fully enjoy the moment.
But your phone vibrates in your bag.
My robot💕👀 (21:47)
Did you arrive safely?
You smile and reply quickly:
You: yes I just got here everything’s fine baby ❤️
My robot💕👀 (21:49)
Perfect. Have fun. I miss you already.
You put your phone away and go back to your friends, but the messages keep coming throughout the evening.
My robot💕👀 (22:12)
The house is too quiet without you. I tried to read a book but I can’t concentrate.
My robot💕👀 (22:28)
You’re still so beautiful in my head. That dress looks too good on you. I should have kept you here with me.
You laugh softly while reading his messages, a little surprised by his honesty tonight. Usually he’s more reserved, even if he’s affectionate.
You: You’re so cute. I’ll be home soon promise
My robot💕👀 (22:41)
I’m not cute. I’m desperate for you.
My robot💕👀 (22:42)
I can’t stop thinking about you on the vanity earlier… about my hand between your thighs. You were so wet.
You can’t stop the heat rising in you. Your friends are chatting and laughing next to you, but you’re staring at your screen, cheeks slightly flushed.
My robot💕👀 (23:03)
Come back soon plss. I need you.
My robot💕👀 (23:10)
I’m going crazy here all alone.
My robot💕👀 (23:14)
I can’t think about anything but you.
My robot💕👀 (23:17)
I still have your perfume on me. It’s driving me insane.
My robot💕👀 (23:22)
Come back soon my love. Please. Please?
Your friends, who are sipping their cocktails, notice you looking at your screen for the umpteenth time. You smile to yourself without realizing their looks, biting your straw while reading. The heat in your belly returns slowly.
Your friends, who aren’t blind, eventually notice your constantly vibrating phone and your attention on it.
“Well well!” your best friend says, raising an amused eyebrow. “Who’s sending you so many messages? Is your man spamming you?”
You nod, a little embarrassed. The other girls lean toward you, curious and teasing. “Yesss, show us!” one of the curious girls asks. “Is he jealous? Does he want to know who you’re dancing with?”
You laugh, a little embarrassed but mostly amused by the situation. You put your phone screen-down on the table. “He’s… a bit needy tonight. Usually he’s calmer, but tonight he won’t stop.” you admit, laughing.
“Is he sending ‘I love you’ messages or ‘I want to fuck you in every room of the apartment, come back now’ messages?” your friend says.
You blush slightly and shrug, laughing harder. “A mix of both… He saw me getting ready earlier and… let’s just say he had a hard time letting me leave. He even told me he was going crazy alone at home.”
The girls burst out laughing.
“Tenya? The Tenya we know? The super serious and proper one? I never would have thought he’d be like that! It’s too cute.”
“Cute and hot at the same time,” another adds, elbowing you. “Enjoy, girl. That man is clearly addicted to you.”
You all laugh together, and you quickly tell them about the vanity scene without going into details, which makes them laugh even harder. The atmosphere is light, complicit, and joyful.
A little later, a more rhythmic song starts. Your best friend pulls you by the hand. “Come on! Let’s dance, that’ll take your mind off your horny boyfriend!”
You laugh and follow her to the small dance floor of the bar. The lights are dim, the bass resonates in your chest. You let yourself go, moving with her, laughing when she makes exaggerated moves. You feel good and free.
That’s when your phone vibrates in your hand. This time, it’s not a message. It’s a call. It’s Tenya.
You answer while still dancing lightly in place, a smile on your lips.
“Hello?” you say, a little breathless from dancing. At first, you hear nothing but his breathing. Heavy breathing. Hoarse. Irregular. “Tenya?” you ask, frowning slightly.
Then you hear him clearly: a low, muffled groan, followed by a trembling sigh. His voice finally comes through, low, almost painful: “Baby… fuck…”
You stop dancing completely. Your friend continues a little further, signaling you to join her, but you stay planted there, phone pressed to your ear.
His breathing is ragged, fast. You hear the characteristic sound of skin against skin in the background, slow and wet. “Tenya… don’t tell me you’re…” you murmur, eyes wide.
A long moan escapes him, which he’s clearly trying to contain. “Yes…” he breathes. “I couldn’t take it anymore… I waited as long as possible but… your voice, your dress, earlier… uhh I’ve been jerking off thinking about you.”
You swallow, immediately feeling a wave of heat between your legs. Around you, the music plays, your friends dance, but everything suddenly seems distant.
His hand continues its movement, the sound clearer now that you’re paying attention. Small wet noises, regular, getting faster and faster.
“I tried to hold back…” he growls, voice hoarse. “But I can’t cum. I need to hear you. I need you too much…”
You hear him panting harder, almost desperate. “Talk to me… even just a little… Say something, baby. Please.”
You stay frozen on the dance floor, phone glued to your ear, while Tenya’s ragged breathing fills your head. Your friends signal you to come back, but you shake your head and make a quick hand gesture to tell them you’ll be back.
“Wait two seconds,” you murmur to Tenya. You slip between the people, heart pounding, and quickly head to the bar’s bathrooms. Luckily the bathrooms are clean and empty. You lock yourself in the last stall at the back and lean back against the door.
“I’m in the bathroom now,” you finally breathe. A relieved groan escapes him. “Good… I didn’t want your friends to hear you.”
His voice is even hoarser than before. You clearly hear the wet, rhythmic sound of his hand sliding over his cock.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you when you get home,” he asks, almost pleading. “I need to imagine…”
You close your eyes, feeling your body react violently to his voice. Your free hand slowly slides down your dress.
“When I get home…” you begin in a low, sensual voice, “I want you to pin me against the wall as soon as I walk through the door. Without saying a word. You’ll lift my dress up to my waist and take off my panties.”
Tenya lets out a louder moan. “Continue…”
“You’ll finger me, like earlier on the vanity, but deeper. I want your thick fingers filling me while you kiss my neck. And after… I want you to put me on my knees. I want your dick in my mouth. Slowly at first, then harder. I want to feel you at the back of my throat while you pull my hair.”
You hear him breathing faster, his hand speeding up on his cock. “Fuck… yes…”
“And then,” you continue, slightly lifting your dress, “I want you to fuck me. Hard. In one of the rooms of the apartment. I want you to take me from behind while holding my hips. I want to feel your balls slapping against me with every thrust.”
You slide your hand into your panties. You’re soaked. Your fingers brush your swollen clit and you let out a small sigh. Tenya notices immediately.
“Baby… what are you doing?” he asks, voice broken with excitement. “Tell me…”
You bite your lip, hesitating for a second, then confess while sliding a finger between your wet lips.
“I’m touching myself…” you murmur. “I’m all wet because of you. I’ve lifted my dress and I have my hand in my panties.”
A deep groan escapes him. “Oh shit… Are you serious?”
“Yes…” You circle your fingers on your clit, then push one inside you. “I wish it was your fingers instead of mine…”
Tenya breathes loudly, almost animalistic. The sound of his hand becomes faster, wetter.
“You know what I’m doing right now?” he suddenly says, voice ashamed but terribly excited.
“No… tell me.”
He hesitates for a moment, then confesses in a breath: “I have one of your panties… the one you wore last night. The black lace one. I took it from the laundry basket when you left. I… I’m smelling it while I jerk off.”
Your stomach contracts violently with desire at hearing that. “Tenya… you’re- fuck.” you breathe, shocked and excited at the same time. You push a second finger inside you, imagining the scene.
“It still smells like you… your pussy…” he growls, almost desperate. “I’m holding it against my face and breathing deeply while I jerk off. I’m pathetic… but I can’t stop. I need you so much, my love.”
You speed up your movements, your fingers sliding in and out faster, your swollen, sensitive clit under your thumb. You press your forehead against the stall door, legs trembling, while continuing to finger yourself faster and faster.
Tenya breathes hard into the phone, almost like he’s running. His voice becomes deeper, dirtier, while the wet sound of his hand on his cock speeds up.
“Fuck, baby… you’re fingering yourself in the bathroom of a bar? Instead of being with your friends? You’re really a little slut in heat tonight…”
“Shut up. It’s because of you.” You close your eyes, biting your lower lip hard to hold back a moan. Your fingers slide faster between your soaked lips, your swollen clit under your thumb.
“Tenya…” you breathe, voice trembling.
“I love when you say my name like that,” he growls. “Imagine if I was there… I’d pin you against that door, lift your dress and fuck you so hard the whole bar would hear you screaming. I’d fill you with my big cock and my cum. You want me to fill you up, baby? Say it.”
Your legs start trembling violently. You sit on the toilet so you don’t collapse and push your two fingers deeper, trying to replicate what he’s describing.
“Yes I want that.” you murmur, panting. “I want you to fill me Ten-…” You can no longer hold back completely. A small high-pitched moan escapes you. You clench your teeth right after, hoping the bar’s music covers the sound.
Suddenly, your phone vibrates. Tenya is requesting a FaceTime call. “Accept it,” he almost orders. “I want to see you.”
Heart pounding, you accept the video call. The image appears. Tenya is sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, pants open. His face is red, hair messy, blue eyes completely dilated with desire. He holds his phone with one hand and with the other…
He’s slowly jerking off with your black lace panties wrapped around his cock. His cock is thick, veined, red, glistening with precum. He squeezes the fabric of your panties against his skin while sliding his hand up and down.
“Look…” he breathes, bringing the camera a little closer. “Look what you do to me. I’m jerking off with your dirty panties. It still smells like you.”
You swallow, hypnotized by the image. Your hand speeds up between your thighs. “Tenya… fuck…” you murmur, voice broken.
He points the camera closer to his face while continuing to stroke himself. He inhales deeply, eyes half-closed.
“Mmmh… your smell drives me crazy. I want to eat your pussy until you beg me to stop. I want to lick you everywhere, push my tongue inside you and make you cum on my mouth. And then I’ll turn you over and fuck you the way you deserve. You want that, huh? Say it.”
You have trouble speaking. Your fingers move faster, your thumb rubbing your clit in quick circles. You try to hold back your moans, but they still come out, higher, more desperate.
“Yes… yes I want that…” you manage to articulate. “please Tenya…”
Tenya groans, his hand speeding up on his cock. The panties are now completely wrapped around his head, absorbing his precum.
“Show me,” he demands. “Lower the camera a bit. Show me your hand in your panties. I want to see how wet you are.”
You hesitate for a second, then lower the phone slightly. He can now see your dress hiked up on your hips, your panties pushed aside and your fingers plunging between your glistening lips.
“Fuck… look at that pussy… so wet…” he moans. “You’re making a mess of your hand. I wish I was there to drink your juices.”
Your legs start trembling violently. You feel the orgasm rising very fast, almost too strong. “Tenya… I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum…” you breathe, voice strangled.
“Go ahead baby, cum for me,” he growls, his hand moving faster and faster. “Cum while looking at my dick wrapped in your panties. I’m going to cum too… fuck…”
You can’t hold it anymore. Your body tenses brutally. You cum hard, biting your arm to stifle a long, trembling moan. Your walls contract violently around your fingers, an intense pleasure running through you.
At the same moment, Tenya lets out a deep, animalistic groan. His cock pulses in his hand. Long, thick, hot jets of cum shoot out, landing on your panties, his stomach and his hand. He continues stroking himself through his orgasm, face twisted in pleasure, eyes fixed on you.
For several seconds, only your ragged breaths fill the silence.
Then his voice returns, low, pleading, still breathless: “Baby… come back, please… I can’t take it anymore. I need you. I need to feel you for real, to kiss you, to fuck you properly. I’m going crazy without you. Come back now… I’m begging you.”
He looks at you with almost vulnerable eyes, his hand still on his half-hard cock, your panties completely soiled with his cum.
“I-…” you finally murmur, voice still trembling. “I’m coming back. I’m coming home now.” Visible relief passes over his face. He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs deeply.
“Thank you… fuck, thank you. Be careful on the way, okay? But hurry. I still want you.”
You hang up after a few tender words. You stay a little longer in the stall, legs weak, heart pounding. You clean yourself up and quickly touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror, adjust your dress and try to regain a normal expression, even though your cheeks are still flushed and your thighs a little shaky.
When you return to the main room, your friends are still on the dance floor or sitting at the table, cocktail in hand. One of your friends sees you coming back and immediately raises her eyebrows.
“So? Was that Tenya on the phone? You disappeared for twenty minutes!” she says with a big curious smile.
You laugh, a little embarrassed, grabbing your bag. “Yes… it was Tenya. He… uh… he’s not feeling well tonight. I’m going to head home earlier, girls. Sorry.”
One bursts out laughing and elbows you. “Not feeling well? As in ‘I want you too much, come back right now’? We saw your idiot smile when you came back from the bathroom! You’re all flushed pervert.”
The other girls gently tease you, making jokes about “urgent needs” and “horny men.” You laugh with them, face burning, while hugging them one by one.
“You guys are dumb… Alright, I love you. We’ll do this again very soon, promise.”
“Yeah, but next time tell Tenya to last more than two hours!” your friend says with a wink.
You wave one last time and leave the bar, heart pounding with anticipation. You call an Uber to go home.
During the ten-minute wait and the whole ride, you stay silent on the back seat, legs squeezed together. Your body is still sensitive, your soaked panties sticking to your skin. You feel a little pathetic… leaving your friends like this, in the middle of the evening to go fuck.
The Uber finally stops in front of your building. You quickly thank the driver and run up the stairs almost at a sprint. As soon as you slide your key into the lock, the door opens abruptly.
Tenya is there.
He doesn’t even give you time to fully enter. As soon as you cross the threshold, he pins you against the door that slams violently behind you. His large hands cup your face, and he kisses you as if his life depends on it.
It’s a hungry, desperate, almost brutal kiss. His tongue immediately forces its way in, caressing yours with urgency. He moans into your mouth, a hoarse and vulnerable sound that makes you melt.
“You came back…” he murmurs against your lips between two voracious kisses. “Thank you… fuck, thank you…” hearing him swear like that does something to you.
His hands immediately move down your body. One grips your waist, the other slides under your dress to grab your ass. He lifts you slightly, pressing you even harder against the door. You feel his massive erection, already hard, moving against your stomach through his sweatpants.
Tenya kisses your neck, nibbling your skin, breathing in your scent like an addict. Then, without another word, he drops to his knees in front of you.
It’s almost comical and terribly cute at the same time. This tall man who is usually so proper, so serious, is now on his knees on the entryway floor, looking up at you with an expression that is both pathetic and burning with desire.
“Tenya…” you breathe, voice already hoarse.
He doesn’t answer. His hands tremble slightly with impatience as he lifts your dress up to your waist, revealing your soaked panties. He groans at the sight.
“You’re soaked… because of me.”
Without waiting for your answer, he grabs the fabric on both sides and pulls hard. The panties almost tear, sliding down your legs. He throws them aside and spreads your thighs with a possessive gesture.
His mouth immediately lands on your pussy. His hot, wide tongue slides between your soaked lips in one long, slow stroke, collecting all your juices. At the same time, he pushes two thick fingers deep inside you.
You let out a high-pitched moan, head falling back against the door. Tenya moans against your flesh, the sound vibrating directly on your clit.
He fingers you deeply, curling his fingers to massage that sensitive spot inside while his tongue licks and sucks your swollen bud. He alternates between long, flat strokes of his tongue, then quick circles around your clit.
You look down at him. The sight is almost too much for your mind. Tenya, on his knees, face buried between your thighs, eyes half-closed in pleasure, breathing ragged.
He devours you like a starving man, with wet, obscene sounds that fill the entryway. His broad shoulders tremble slightly, and his hips move instinctively against nothing, as if he can’t control his arousal.
You slide one hand, then both, into his short hair. You tug gently, holding him against your pussy. He moans louder in response, doubling his efforts. His fingers pound you deeper, faster, making a wet sound with every thrust.
“Tenya… it feels so good!- ugh..” you moan, legs trembling.
He lifts his face for a moment, glistening with your arousal. His lips are swollen, his chin shines, and his eyes are almost glassy with desire and relief.
“I couldn’t wait any longer…” he breathes, voice broken. “I needed to taste you so badly. You taste so good… I could get addicted to you baby, even though I already am.”
He dives back in immediately, more voracious. His tongue flattens against your clit while his fingers fuck you relentlessly. He sucks, licks, gently nibbles your lips, completely lost between your thighs.
He is pathetic in his devotion, and it drives you crazy: the strong, perfect hero reduced to his knees, silently begging you with his mouth and fingers.
You pull harder on his hair, your hips moving instinctively against his face. Your thighs tremble around his head. The pressure rises dangerously, your belly contracting in stronger and stronger waves.
Tenya senses you’re about to break. He doesn’t slow down for a second. On the contrary, he doubles his intensity. His thick fingers pound you deeper, perfectly curled to rub your G-spot with every pass, while his tongue works furiously on your swollen clit.
Your hands clench in his hair, pulling almost hard now. Your thighs tremble violently around his head, your hips moving against his mouth.
“Tenya…! I’m gonna… mhh uh I’m gonna…!” you manage to moan, voice broken.
He groans against your pussy, as if to encourage you, and pushes a third finger inside you. The sudden stretch, combined with his tongue that never stops flattering your hypersensitive clit, makes you tip over.
The orgasm hits you like a powerful wave. Your body tenses brutally, your walls contracting violently around his fingers.
You cum hard, very hard, a long muffled cry escaping your throat as your pleasure explodes. A small hot jet escapes from you, soaking his chin and fingers even more.
Your legs almost give out. You cling to his hair and the door behind you to keep from falling, body shaking with spasms.
Tenya slowly slows his movements, continuing to lick you tenderly to accompany you as you come down. He carefully withdraws his fingers, but stays on his knees, face buried between your thighs. He kisses the inside of your left thigh, then the right, slowly, with almost religious devotion.
He lifts his head slightly toward you, chin and lips glistening with your juices and your orgasm. A proud, almost awed smile stretches his lips. His blue eyes shine with love and satisfaction.
“Good, my love…” he murmurs, kissing your trembling thigh again. “You came so well for me. Look at you… you’re so beautiful when you cum like that. So perfect.”
He continues to cover your thighs with warm, wet kisses, slowly moving up toward your stomach, while caressing your hips with his large hands.
He stays on his knees for a moment, looking up at you with that adoring and pathetic gaze that makes you melt. His hair is messy from your hands, his chest rising rapidly, and his erection strains his sweatpants.
After a few moments, he slowly stands up, towering over you again with his full height. He kisses you deeply, making you taste your own pleasure on his tongue. You return his kiss with the same intensity, your hands sliding over his bare, muscular chest.
You nibble his lower lip before pulling back slightly, a playful smile on your lips despite your still trembling legs. “Come on,” you murmur in a hoarse voice.
You take his hand and lead him to the living room. Tenya follows without resistance, his massive erection clearly straining his gray sweatpants. You sit in the middle of the couch, legs slightly spread, your dress still hiked up on your hips. With a look, you indicate the floor in front of you.
Tenya understands immediately. He kneels between your legs, eyes raised toward you with that irresistible mix of burning desire and vulnerability that makes you even wetter. He is so tall, so imposing, and yet on his knees in front of you.
“Take off your sweatpants,” you order softly, but with clear authority in your voice. “I want your cock.”
Tenya swallows, cheeks red. He slides his thumbs under the waistband and lowers his pants in one smooth motion, freeing his thick cock that springs out, heavy, thick and curved toward him. It pulses in the air, the swollen head glistening with precum already running down the main vein. His balls are tight, full.
You smile seeing him so hard, so desperate. You kick off your heels and slowly place your bare foot against his chest, sliding it down gradually until his cock. With the tip of your toes, you brush his burning length.
“Look at you…” you murmur, laughing softly, voice teasing. “On your knees in front of me. You were so pathetic tonight Tenya. I was really surprised.”
He moans weakly when your foot slides lower. You press the sole of your foot against his cock, pinning it against his stomach, and begin to stroke him slowly up and down. Your soft skin slides over his taut skin, spreading his precum over his entire length.
Tenya closes his eyes for a moment, jaw clenched, hands resting on your ankles as if afraid you’ll stop.
“Yes… I’m pathetic,” he confesses in a hoarse breath. “I’m pathetic for you… I couldn’t hold back all evening. You’re so beautiful darling.”
You smile softly, increasing the pressure of your foot. You slide your heel along his cock, then use the sole to massage it in slow, firm movements.
Your other foot joins the first. You press them together around his thick cock, forming a sort of sheath with your feet, and begin a slow footjob.
You move your feet up and down his length, squeezing just enough to torture him. With every movement, your big toe passes over his sensitive head, spreading the precum that now flows abundantly.
“Look at how much you’re leaking…” you continue, teasing him. “You’re really desperate, huh? You’re so cute.”
Tenya moans louder, hips instinctively pushing between your feet. He watches the sight with glassy eyes: your pretty pedicured feet stroking and masturbating his thick cock. His hands squeeze your ankles tighter, but he doesn’t take control. He lets you play with him.
You speed up the movement a little, alternating between firm pressure and lighter, teasing caresses. Sometimes you stop completely, leaving just your foot resting on his throbbing cock, feeling it pulse against your arch. Then you resume, more slowly, to frustrate him even more.
Tenya breathes hard, chest rising rapidly. Beads of sweat pearl on his forehead. His cock is even harder, more swollen between your feet, the head almost purple and leaking.
“You like that, huh? Being on your knees in front of me while I play with your pathetic cock with my feet…” you murmur, looking him straight in the eyes, a mischievous smile on your lips.
You continue to torture him with your feet. Your feet slide easily over his cock thanks to all the precum now flowing abundantly. You feel every vein throbbing against your soft skin, every contraction of his cock between your arches.
You squeeze your feet tighter around his thick cock. Your big toe regularly rubs his sensitive head, spreading the clear liquid that doesn’t stop flowing. You feel he’s very close.
A few moments later, Tenya suddenly tenses. A long, deep groan escapes his throat. His cock pulses violently between your feet and he cums hard. Long, thick, hot jets of cum shoot out, landing on your feet, your ankles and even a bit on your calves. He continues moaning as you maintain the pressure, making it last as long as possible.
When he finally finishes, he stays there, on his knees, panting loudly. His muscular chest rises rapidly, his face is red, his glassy eyes fixed on you with a mix of adoration and shame. His still half-hard cock rests against your foot, covered in his own cum.
You smile at him, a satisfied and slightly sadistic smile. You slowly rub your feet together, spreading his cum on your skin, then deliberately wipe them on his stomach and chest, leaving shiny traces on his abs.
“Look what you did… You got my feet all dirty.” you say, laughing softly. Tenya looks at you, still breathless, without protesting. “Come on,” you say, standing up. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
You take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Once there, you gently push him so he sits on the edge of the bed. Standing in front of him, you slowly slide the straps of your black dress off your shoulders. The fabric slides down your body and falls at your feet, leaving you completely naked in front of him.
Tenya swallows, eyes wide open, admiring every curve of your body. You climb onto the bed, straddle him and sit directly on him, your knees on either side of his hips. His cock, already hardening again, ends up trapped between your two stomachs.
You wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself against him. Tenya moans softly and immediately buries his face in your chest. His hot mouth closes on one of your breasts. He licks it slowly, at length, running his wide, flat tongue over your already hardened nipple. He then sucks it greedily, taking it deep into his mouth while caressing the other breast with his large hand.
“Mmmh…” he groans against your skin, voice muffled. He alternates between your two breasts, licking, sucking, gently nibbling them. His tongue is hot and insistent, tracing circles around your sensitive nipples before sucking them again.
You arch your back, pushing your chest harder against his face. Your hands slide into his hair, holding him against you while you begin to slowly roll your hips, rubbing your still wet pussy against his rapidly hardening cock between you.
Tenya is completely lost in your breasts. He licks, sucks, kisses every inch of skin, as if he can’t get enough. His hands squeeze your ass, guiding you in your movements against him.
“You have such perfect breasts my love…” he murmurs between two licks.
You continue moving slowly against him, rubbing your soaked pussy along his hard cock. Tenya groans against your breasts, his hands squeezing your ass with force. You lift yourself slightly, grab his thick cock with one hand and position it at the entrance of your pussy.
“Look at me,” you murmur as you slowly sink down on him. You impale yourself progressively on his thick length. A long moan escapes your throat as he stretches you completely. He is so big that you feel him everywhere, filling every inch of you.
“Fuck…” Tenya breathes, head thrown back, eyes closed in pleasure. “You’re so tight… so hot…”
You start riding him, moving up and down on his cock with smooth, deep movements. Your hands resting on his muscular chest to keep balance, you gradually speed up, making your ass slap against his thighs with every descent.
Tenya tries to hold back. His hands grip your hips, trying to slow your rhythm, jaw clenched.
“Wait… baby… if you keep going like this I’m not going to last…” he growls, voice hoarse.
But you don’t listen. You continue fucking him harder, rolling your hips, contracting your walls around him with every rise. Tenya finally cracks.
His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips and he takes control. He lifts you almost completely before impaling you brutally on him, resuming a fast and powerful rhythm.
“Ah!” you cry out, surprised by the sudden force.
He fucks you deep, his hips rising to meet you with every thrust. The sound of skin against skin echoes in the room. With one hand, he slides between your bodies and starts rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb, in fast, firm circles.
“Yes… like that…” you moan loudly, head tilted back. Your moans become louder and more uncontrollable. Every powerful thrust makes your breasts bounce and sends waves of pleasure through your whole body.
Tenya looks at you with burning eyes, sweating, the muscles in his arms and chest tense. “Moan louder,” he orders in a deep voice. “I want to hear you. I don’t care about the neighbors. I want the whole building to know how well I’m fucking you.”
He speeds up even more, pounding you deeply and quickly while continuing to mercilessly massage your clit. You completely lose control. Your moans turn into high-pitched, desperate cries. “Tenya! Oh ugh- mhh fuck… yes!”
You lean forward and sink your teeth into his muscular shoulder to muffle your cries a little. You bite hard enough to draw a hoarse groan of pleasure from him. Small tears of pleasure pearl at the corners of your eyes as you whimper against his skin.
“Tenya… it’s too much… I… ah!” you whimper, voice broken, while continuing to get fucked violently.
He doesn’t slow down. On the contrary, he holds you firmly by the hips and hammers you even harder, his thumb rubbing your clit at full speed.
“Let go, baby,” he growls against your ear, voice breathless but authoritative. “Scream. Cry. Bite me. I want it all. I want you to cum screaming on my cock. Don’t hold back… the neighbors can listen to how good you feel because of me.”
You completely let go. Your moans and gasps fill the room as he fucks you relentlessly, deep, fast, brutal. Your nails scratch his back, your teeth stay planted in his shoulder, and your tears of pleasure run down his skin.
Tenya is completely lost in pleasure, but he keeps enough control to continue stimulating your clit while pounding you like an animal. His hips slamming violently against your ass.
“Tenya…! I’m gonna…ugh I’m gonna cum!” you scream, voice broken.
“Cum, baby. Cum on my dick,” he growls, speeding up even more.
Your body tenses brutally. The orgasm crashes through you like an explosion. Your walls contract violently around him, squeezing his cock in powerful spasms. You scream loudly, almost a howl, scratching his back. Your thighs tremble, your whole body shaken by the intense pleasure.
Tenya barely slows down while you come down. He lifts you as if you weigh nothing, flips you onto your back and positions himself above you in missionary. He spreads your legs wide, placing them on either side of his hips, and sinks back into you with one powerful thrust.
“Look at me,” he orders. You look at him even if your mind is too lost in pleasure.
He kisses you messily, deeply, his tongue invading your mouth without restraint. It’s a wet, noisy, almost animalistic kiss. He fucks you at the same time, with long, powerful thrusts that make the bed shake. His tongue licks yours, sucks your lip, swallows your moans.
“You feel so good…” he murmurs between two sloppy kisses. “Your pussy squeezes me so tight…”
He speeds up, pounding you deeply. Every thrust hits your most sensitive spot. You are completely overwhelmed, exhausted, but unable to not want more. Your hands cling to his shoulders, nails planted in his skin.
Tenya groans against your mouth, his rhythm becoming more erratic. His eyes are locked on yours, intense, possessive.
“I’m going to cum…” he breathes, voice hoarse. “I’m going to fill you up, baby… You would make such a pretty mom… Imagine your belly rounding with my baby… Fuck…”
Those words make you shiver violently. At the same moment, he sinks all the way in and cums inside you with a deep groan.
You feel his hot, thick jets filling you, pulsing for a long time deep in your pussy. He stays buried inside you during his orgasm, unloading everything he has.
But he doesn’t soften. His cock remains hard, throbbing inside you.
Without giving you time to catch your breath, he grabs your legs, folds them completely and pushes them toward your shoulders, putting you in mating press.
Your body is folded in half, your knees near your ears, completely open and exposed. He presses down on you with his full weight and starts fucking you again, even deeper than before.
“Again…” he growls, his voice almost animalistic. “I can’t stop… I still need you.”
You are exhausted. Your muscles are trembling, your breathing is ragged, tears of pleasure rolling down your temples. But you completely melt into his desire. The feeling of his heavy body on top of you, of his thick cock hammering you in this incredibly deep position, is overwhelming and addictive.
“Tenya… it’s too much… I’m going to break! Ugh baby I-” you whimper, your voice weak and broken. He kisses you again, messily, swallowing your complaints while continuing to pound you mercilessly.
His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. The position makes everything more intense: every penetration hits your cervix, rubbing your G-spot relentlessly.
“I know you can take more, my love,” he murmurs against your lips between two sloppy kisses. “You’re so perfect like this… all folded for me… I want to fill you again.”
His movements are powerful, rhythmic, almost obsessive. You feel a new orgasm rising despite your exhaustion, fueled by his insatiable desire and the crushing pressure of his body on yours.
Tenya looks you straight in the eyes, forehead pressed to yours, sweating, muscles tense. “Stay with me… Let me fuck you a little more…”
He completely dominates you, his muscular weight pinning you into the mattress. His thick cock slides effortlessly into your soaked pussy already filled with his first load, making a wet, obscene sound with every powerful thrust.
He fucks you deeply, without mercy, his hips slamming hard against your ass. “Fuck… look at how well you take me…” he growls against your mouth, voice hoarse and breathless.
“Your little pussy was made for this… made to be filled by me. I’m going to get you pregnant tonight, baby. I’m going to fill you until my cum leaks out of you for days. You’re going to carry my baby… I want to see you with a round belly, full breasts… all because of me. You want that, don’t you?”
His crude words make your head spin. You moan loudly, almost screaming every time he bottoms out. Your hands desperately cling to his back, your nails scratching his sweaty skin.
Tenya speeds up, hammering your body with animalistic force. The bed creaks violently beneath you. He kisses you messily, his tongue invading your mouth, swallowing your moans while he continues to pound you relentlessly.
“I’m going to breed you…” he breathes between two savage thrusts. “I want you full of my cum… I want you to carry my child. Tell me you want it too…”
You can no longer form coherent sentences. Your moans are uncontrollable. “Yes… ugh yes fill me…” you manage to say.
The pressure becomes unbearable. Your entire body trembles. Your toes curl violently, clenched with pleasure, as a new orgasm rises at full speed.
Tenya senses you’re about to break. He slightly changes the angle of his hips to rub even harder against your g-spot and presses his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust.
“Cum for me, my love. Cum squirting on my cock while I breed you.”
You explode.
A raw, powerful cry escapes your throat. Your body arches as much as possible in this folded position. You squirt hard, a hot, abundant jet that splashes his stomach and thighs, soaking the bed beneath you.
Your walls contract violently around his cock, pulsing and squeezing as if they want to keep him inside you forever. Your toes remain curled, your legs tremble uncontrollably, and your moans turn into sobs of pleasure.
Tenya growls like an animal as he feels your squirt soaking him. He doesn’t slow down. On the contrary, he fucks you even harder through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you see stars.
“That’s it… good girl… squirt all over me…” he growls, voice broken.
A few seconds later, he sinks to the hilt and cums violently inside you. You feel his cock pulsing deep, unloading long, thick, hot jets of cum directly against your cervix. He continues giving small thrusts while he cums, as if to push his cum even deeper.
“Take it all… take my cum my love…” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you deeply, languorously, almost tenderly this time, while continuing to pour his seed into you.
You stay like that for a long moment, entwined, breathless, his heavy body still pressed against yours in this folded position. His cum is already starting to slowly leak around his cock still buried inside you.
You are completely exhausted. Your body is trembling, your muscles are on fire, and you know you’re going to have trouble walking tomorrow. Yet you still melt into his embrace, into his warmth, into his possessive desire.
When he finally pulls out slowly, you let out a small plaintive moan. You look at him with bright, tired eyes.
“Tenya-” you breathe in a broken voice, “I won’t be able to walk for days… You completely destroyed me…”
He smiles, both proud and tender. He showers your face, lips, and neck with soft kisses while gently caressing your trembling thighs.
He props himself up on one elbow and looks at you. His blue eyes have lost their animal intensity. All that remains is tenderness, a hint of guilt, and deep love.
“Wait… don’t move, my love,” he murmurs in a hoarse but soft voice.
He gets up carefully, disappears for a few moments into the bathroom and comes back with a warm, wet towel, a glass of fresh water, and a small bottle of massage oil.
He kneels beside the bed, gently spreads your still trembling legs and begins to clean you with infinite delicacy. The warm towel slides between your thighs, wiping away the mixture of your pleasures that leaks from you.
“I’m sorry…” he breathes while carefully passing the towel. “I was too rough. I completely lost control. You must be exhausted.”
He brings the glass of water to your lips and helps you drink slowly, one hand supporting your head. Then he pours a little oil into his palms, warms it and begins to massage your sore thighs with slow, firm strokes. His large hands glide over your trembling muscles, releasing the tension, caressing your hips, your ass, your calves.
“I’m really sorry, baby,” he continues, voice low and sincere. “I shouldn’t have taken you like that. I was… possessed. I could only think about filling you, marking you, getting you pregnant. I don’t know what came over me.”
You look at him, touched because he apologizes like a little boy after doing something naughty. You reach out and caress his cheek.
“Come here, idiot,” you murmur.
You pull him toward you and kiss him softly, tenderly. Your lips are still swollen from all your sloppy kisses, but this one is slow, full of love. Tenya responds with infinite gentleness, as if afraid of breaking you.
When you separate, you laugh weakly, still lying on your back, unable to really move.
“I loved it, Tenya. Really. Even if I can’t feel my legs anymore… or my arms… or anything else actually. I think you broke me in half.”
You laugh harder, a tired but joyful laugh that makes his eyes shine. He smiles too, relieved, and showers your forehead, cheeks, and the tip of your nose with little kisses.
“Are you sure? I didn’t hurt you?” he asks while continuing to massage your thighs.
“A bit sore, yes… but in a good way. I loved every second. It was intense, but I loved it.”
Tenya blushes slightly and buries his face in your neck, holding you carefully against him. “I love you my love.”
“I love you too.” you say smiling and kissing him passionately.
if the solution was to be on Nanami’s face. 18+, MDNI.
The argument has been going on for hours. Since 6 PM exactly. It’s almost midnight now, and the tension in the apartment is so heavy it’s suffocating.
You’ve fought about everything and nothing: his work that makes him distant, the risks you take on missions, his exasperating calm when you get angry… Everything finally exploded.
You’re standing in the middle of the bedroom, cheeks burning with anger. Nanami is leaning against the edge of the bed, legs slightly spread, one hand running through his blond hair as he pushes it back in a slow gesture. His shirt is half-open, his tie long abandoned on the armchair. The dim light makes his lightly tanned skin glow.
“Can you just shut up?!” you yell, your voice hoarse from hours of shouting. Nanami looks at you for a long moment. His brown eyes are calm, but a dark flame burns in them. A slight arrogant smile slowly stretches his lips.
“You want me to shut up?” he repeats in a low, husky, almost dangerous voice. He tilts his head slightly, staring at you with that intensity that always makes you weak. “Then come sit on my face. I’ll shut up nicely.”
Silence falls instantly. You freeze, eyes wide. Nanami doesn’t move, still leaning against the bed, one hand in his hair, the other resting on his muscular thigh.
His gaze slowly slides over your body: your breasts rising quickly under your thin tank top, your ass perfectly hugged by your shorts, your thighs he adores.
“Kento…” you murmur, torn between the anger still boiling inside you and the arousal already rising between your legs.
“Come here,” he says more softly, almost a calm, irresistible command. “You’ve spent the whole evening yelling. Let me silence with my tongue.”
You hesitate for a second, heart pounding, then step closer. Nanami grabs your hips firmly and pulls you toward him. He lies fully back on the bed and guides you until you’re positioned over his face.
“Sit,” he murmurs against the inside of your thigh, his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. “Don’t hold back.”
You lower yourself slowly. Your already soaked pussy first brushes his lips. Nanami groans in satisfaction and grips your ass with both hands, pulling you down completely onto his mouth.
From the first contact, his tongue is merciless. Wide, hot, and flat, he licks your entire slit in one long, slow stroke, then becomes sharp and insistent, swirling rapidly around your swollen, hypersensitive clit before plunging deep inside you, exploring your inner walls.
You moan loudly, hands gripping the headboard “Oh fuck… Kento…” Nanami doesn’t speak anymore.
He devours you like a starving man after hours of frustration. His tongue dives deep into you, pulls out, swirls around your swollen clit, sucks, explores every fold. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations sending electric shocks through your whole body.
You start moving instinctively, grinding your soaked pussy on his face, your hips rolling harder and harder as his nose presses deliciously against your clit.
“Yes… just like that…” he murmurs between licks, his voice muffled. “Use my mouth. Soak my face.”
You moan louder, almost ashamed of how much pleasure you’re taking after such a violent fight. But Nanami gives you no mercy. He spreads your ass with his large, powerful hands and pushes his tongue even deeper, literally fucking you with it.
“Kento… I… I’m gonna… ugh mhh—”
“Do it,” he growls against you. “Cum on my tongue. I want all of it.”
You explode violently moments later. A brutal orgasm crashes through you, your thighs clamping around his head like a vice as a long, high-pitched cry escapes your throat. A powerful clear jet bursts out of you in intense successive waves.
You squirt abundantly, soaking his face, his chin, and a large part of the sheets under your ass. The pleasure is so strong your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and your body shakes with uncontrollable spasms for long seconds, wave after wave.
When the final tremors finally subside, you collapse on your side, panting and trembling. You look down and see the mess: the sheets are completely soaked beneath you. An intense wave of embarrassment washes over you immediately.
“Oh no… I soaked the sheets…” you murmur, red with shame, hiding your face in your hands.
But when you peek through your fingers, you see Nanami. His face is glistening with your juices. He looks… satisfied. Almost proud. His eyes shine with a possessive and admiring glint. You can’t help but burst out laughing despite your embarrassment.
Nanami lifts his head and laughs softly with you, a warm, rare laugh that vibrates through his chest. He slowly crawls back over you, towering over you with his imposing, athletic body. He kisses you tenderly, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself.
“You’re so beautiful when you squirt like that,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse. “Don’t be embarrassed. I personally loved every second.”
He pulls back slightly to look at you better. In one smooth motion, he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, revealing his perfectly sculpted, muscular torso glistening with your squirt.
Your gaze drifts lower… and you immediately notice the massive bulge straining violently against his pants. His cock is visibly rock hard. A large wet patch spreads across the front of his gray pants, betraying just how much your orgasm and squirt excited him.
You bite your lip, both embarrassed and terribly turned on by the sight. Nanami follows your gaze and smiles, a little embarrassed himself, but mostly proud and full of desire.
“See what you do to me?” he says, slowly running a hand over his cock through the fabric. “I’m completely soaked because of you.”
He places a knee on the bed and leans over you again, his gaze burning. “And I’m not done with you yet, baby.”
blood and sex. king! Sukuna x concubine! fem! reader
synopsis: Sukuna, the king of plagues, returns seriously injured from a battle and is being treated by his favorite concubine but he want fuck you.
warnings: NSFW (MDNI), some fluff, nipple playing, riding, cowgirl, missionary, belly tummy, breeding, multiple orgasms in a row, overstimulation, masturbation, eating pussy, cervix kissing, blood, sukuna in his true form and has two big dicks
a/n: thanks @twinklingstarinthesky for the request 🤭💕 And tysmmm for 4.8k followers!!💗
words: 6829.
The night has already fallen when the large doors of the palace open with a deafening crash. Sukuna, in his true form, advances with heavy and unsteady steps down the main corridor.
Dark blood flows abundantly from several deep wounds: a large gash crosses his right shoulder to the middle of his chest and another wound on his left flank. His four arms hang heavily, two of them weakly pressing against his wounds to contain the bleeding.
His four red eyes glow faintly, his lips are clenched, slightly parted on a silent groan of pain.
“My Lord! Let us treat you!” exclaims a healer running forward, hands trembling. “We have herbs and bandages, we can—”
A low, threatening growl escapes Sukuna’s throat. One of his upper arms sweeps the air with force, pushing everyone back.
“Don’t touch me, vermin.” His voice is hoarse, breathless, but still full of authority. “Where is she? Bring me Y/N. Right now.”
The servants bow deeply and step aside without arguing. A few moments later, you arrive running, your heart tight with anguish. As soon as he sees you, Sukuna lets out a hoarse sigh and continues toward his private chambers.
He collapses heavily onto the raised platform, his back against the thick cushions. His massive body trembles slightly from the effort. The blood continues to flow slowly along his tattoos, staining the silk sheets.
You rush to his side without waiting, already carrying clean cloths and supplies the healers gave you. Your hands tremble as you begin to clean the deep gash on his shoulder and chest.
The wound is irregular, the edges burned by enemy magic, and you see the flesh regenerating slowly, too slowly for your liking. The wound on his flank is bleeding even more, the mouth on his stomach clenched in pain every time you touch it.
“Sukuna…” you murmur, your voice tight.
He places one of his upper hands on the back of your neck, warm and heavy despite his weakness, and pulls you against him. Your face nestles against his chest. The smell of his blood envelops you.
“Stop shaking,” he growls softly, his voice tired. “It’s nothing… those insects couldn’t do anything more.”
“You’re still bleeding a lot,” you reply, throat tight. “I thought… when the servants came rushing to get me, I thought this time…”
A heavy silence settles. His four arms slowly surround you, pressing you possessively against his injured body. His four eyes stare at you with a weakened but burning intensity.
“I can’t die,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and hoarse. “Not as long as my pretty concubine is waiting for me here…”
One of his hands slides under your chin, gently lifting your face, and he kisses you. His lips are warm, pressing despite the pain, almost desperate. The kiss is slow, deep, loaded with everything he doesn’t say out loud.
You feel the mouth on his stomach part slightly against your belly, letting out a burning breath, while his arms hold you tighter against him.
You eventually place your hands on his chest and gently push him back, just enough to break the kiss. Your breath is short, your eyes shining with worry and determination.
“Let me treat you first,” you say firmly, your voice more assured than you really are. “You’re still losing a lot of blood. I can’t… I don’t want to lose you because of your pride.”
Sukuna stares at you for a long moment with his four eyes. A low growl rolls in his throat, half-amused, half-annoyed. The mouth on his stomach lets out a small hoarse chuckle. Despite the obvious pain, a carnivorous smile slowly stretches his lips.
“You dare push me away, little thing?” he murmurs, his voice deep and hoarse. Yet his arms loosen slightly around you, giving you just enough space to move.
You take advantage of this opening to pick up the clean cloths again. Your fingers are still trembling a little as you apply the care to the large gash on his shoulder, then to the one on his flank. Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you, his two lower arms remaining placed on your hips, wanting you close to him even in his weakness.
The flesh closes slowly, but the bleeding persists in places, staining your hands and the silk sheets. Sukuna remains still, his four arms placed around you, two of them absently caressing your back.
You feel his breathing become more regular, his strength returning little by little. His cursed regeneration does its work, even if the wounds remain impressive.
A few minutes pass in tense silence, broken only by the sound of the cloths and his hoarse breathing. You are focused on your task, carefully cleaning the deepest wound on his chest, when suddenly one of his upper hands slides over your waist, while another caresses your hip. His body now gives off a more vivid heat, a sign that he is recovering quickly.
“Enough,” he growls in a stronger, almost impatient voice. His four eyes shine with more intensity. “Come here. I want you now. You missed me on that battlefield, my favorite.”
You shake your head, refusing to let go of the cloth. “No. You’re still injured. Let me finish, Sukuna. It’s important.”
A low and dangerous laugh resonates in his chest. He grabs your hips with two of his arms, trying to pull you onto him despite your protests. The mouth on his stomach opens slightly, letting out a hot breath against your belly.
“Do you really think a few scratches will stop me?” he says, his voice harder this time, tinged with irritation from the persistent pain. “You’re just a concubine I tolerate by my side, nothing more. Stop playing healer and obey.”
The words hit you like a blade. Your heart clenches violently. You freeze, hands suspended above his wound. Your eyes mist over despite yourself. You know he is cruel by nature, but hearing him say it so coldly, after everything you do for him… it hurts.
Sukuna immediately notices the change on your face. His expression darkens. A heavy silence settles.
“…Wait,” he finally murmurs, his voice lower. He gently holds you back when you try to pull away. His four arms surround you with more care. “I shouldn’t have said that. The pain makes me… irritable. You’re not just a simple concubine. You are the only one I tolerate near me. The only one I can’t do without. Forgive me. Please? My pretty girl.”
You smile internally. Seeing Sukuna, the most feared king, begging you to forgive him is exceptional. You remain silent for a moment to make him believe it, then in a surge of frustration, you press the cloth firmly against his deepest wound on his flank. That’ll teach him. You press just enough to remind him of the pain but without aggravating the injury.
Sukuna startles slightly, a hoarse growl escaping his throat. Then, against all expectations, he bursts into a deep, sincere laugh that vibrates through his entire massive body. The mouth on his stomach laughs too, a strange and guttural sound.
“Ah… there’s my favorite with the strong character,” he says between two laughs, his eyes shining with amusement and a darker glint. “You dare wound the King of Curses? What audacity.”
Before you can react, his four arms move with surprising speed despite his injuries. After all, he remains the strongest. He suddenly pins you under him on the platform, his massive body completely towering over you.
His dark tattoos contrast with your skin, his four eyes staring at you with a mix of possessiveness, desire, and brutal tenderness.
You are trapped beneath him, his two upper arms holding your wrists above your head, while his lower arms slide over your hips and thighs, holding you firmly in place. His face is very close to yours, his hot breath against your lips.
“You are mine,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice. “And I am yours, whether you want it or not. Now… let me show you how much better I am thanks to you.”
Without giving you time to answer, Sukuna lowers his head and kisses you again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more voracious. His lips capture yours with obvious hunger, his tongue sliding against yours in a possessive movement that takes your breath away.
You feel the heat of his massive body weighing on you, his wounds still sensitive but ignored by his recovered strength. The mouth on his stomach parts against your abdomen, letting out a burning breath that passes through the thin fabric of your nightgown.
One of his upper hands remains on your wrists, while the other slowly descends along your arm, brushing your skin. His two lower arms, meanwhile, explore freely.
One slides under your dress, caressing your bare thigh, moving up gradually. The other hand settles directly on your chest, enveloping one of your breasts. His fingers gently pinch your nipple through the fabric, making it harden instantly.
You can’t hold back a muffled moan against his mouth. “Sukuna…”
That sound seems to encourage him. His kiss becomes more intense, leaving you little air, while his hand on your breast slowly kneads it, massaging with controlled strength.
Your body arches instinctively beneath him, seeking more contact despite the voice in your head still reminding you of his injuries.
“You’re already moaning so well for me,” he growls against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. “My little favorite… is so sensitive because of me.”
His two lower arms continue their exploration. One of them moves up to your other breast, caressing it with the same avid attention. He presses, kneads, his thumbs circling your now hardened nipples, sending waves of pleasure directly between your legs.
You moan louder, head slightly thrown back, eyes half-closed. Your breathing becomes irregular, interrupted by soft little cries each time he pinches a little harder.
Sukuna pulls slightly away from your mouth, just enough to observe your face flushed with pleasure. His four eyes shine with a satisfied and hungry glint. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your skin through the fabric, wanting to taste every part of you.
In one fluid and impatient movement, he releases your wrists and easily tears the top of your dress, exposing your bare chest to the cool air of the room. An appreciative growl vibrates in his throat.
“Much better like this,” he murmurs.
His hands immediately return to your bare breasts. The feeling of his warm, rough skin against your sensitive flesh makes you moan louder.
He kneads them greedily, pressing them together, his thumbs and index fingers playing with your hardened nipples. Each caress sends jolts of pleasure through your entire body. Your hips move unconsciously against him, seeking relief.
“Sukuna… ugh more please.” Your moan is longer this time, almost pleading.
He lowers his head, capturing one of your breasts between his lips. His warm tongue circles the nipple, sucking it slowly before nibbling just enough to make you jump with pleasure.
Meanwhile, his hands continue to explore: one stays on your free breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, pulling on the rest of your dress to slide it down your hips. He throws the dress aside.
You are now almost completely naked beneath him, wearing only your panties. Sukuna raises his head, observing your exposed body with satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he breathes against your skin, before kissing you again, more slowly this time, while continuing to slide his hands over your bare curves.
His lips leave yours to descend along your neck, gently nibbling your sensitive skin. One of his upper hands remains on your breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, between your thighs. His fingers brush your intimacy through the thin fabric of your panties, already feeling the heat and wetness accumulating there.
“Just for me, isn’t it?” he murmurs in a hoarse and possessive voice against your ear, his four eyes shining with desire. You shiver beneath him, breathing short. “Yes…” you reply in a trembling sigh. “Just for you.”
A satisfied growl vibrates in his chest. His fingers finally push the fabric aside and slide directly over your hot and wet flesh. He slowly caresses your intimacy, tracing circles around your clit before plunging a thick finger into you. You moan louder, back arched, hips moving instinctively against his hand.
“So wet already…” he growls with a carnivorous smile. His two lower arms hold your thighs spread while his upper hands continue to knead your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your belly, descending progressively lower, leaving a trail of wet heat on your skin.
You pant, lost in the sensations. Your hands slide over his massive chest, following the black tattoos, carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. Sukuna intensifies his caresses: he pushes a second finger into you, curling them to touch that precise spot that makes you see stars.
“Sukuna… ah… yes ugh… it feels so good! There!”
Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers from your intimacy, leaving you empty and frustrated. You moan in protest, hips desperately seeking his contact.
Sukuna laughs softly, a deep and amused laugh that resonates in his chest. His four eyes contemplate you with a mischievous and dominant glint.
“Not so fast,” he murmurs. “You dared push me away earlier to treat me… now I’m going to make you wait a little.”
He pins your wrists above your head again with one hand, completely immobilizing your upper body. His other two hands explore your body with deliberate and torturous slowness:
He caresses the inside of your thighs, brushes your swollen clit without ever really pressing, pinches your nipples just enough to make you moan, but never enough to fully satisfy you.
The mouth on his stomach descends lower, licking the inside of your thigh, very close to your intimacy, its hot breath making you shiver, but never touching you directly where you need it most.
Every time you try to move for more, he pulls back slightly, keeping you on the edge of pleasure without letting you fall.
“Sukuna… please…” you beg in a frustrated moan, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire.
“No, no,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice deep and amused. He slides two fingers along your slit, barely entering you before pulling out, repeating this slow and superficial movement again and again. “I want to hear you beg louder. I want you to yearn until you can’t think of anything but me.”
His hands on your breasts gradually slow down. He almost completely releases them, leaving only his thumbs brushing your swollen nipples from time to time, just enough to keep you in a state of burning frustration.
His two lower arms remain focused between your thighs: his fingers slowly caress your wet lips, spread your folds, brush your swollen clit with unbearable lightness. Each pass is too soft, too brief. Your body trembles, your hips lifting desperately to seek more pressure, but he pulls back each time with a low chuckle.
The mouth on his stomach lazily licks the inside of your thighs, leaving wet and warm traces very close to your intimacy, but never touching it. His burning breath makes you shiver violently.
“Sukuna… I beg you…” you moan, voice broken, body covered in a thin layer of sweat. “I need… I need more… please…”
He doesn’t answer you, too busy with his torment for long minutes, alternating between his fingers barely penetrating you and the tongue on his stomach brushing you without ever relieving you. Your moans turn into small sobs of frustration, your numb wrists still held above your head by his powerful arms.
Sukuna finally brings his face close to yours, his four eyes shining with cruel and amused desire. “If you really want to come, little favorite…” he murmurs in a hoarse and authoritative voice, “then you’re going to have to ride my tongue. The one on my stomach. Sit on it and rub yourself like the desperate little thing you are.”
Your cheeks burn with shame and excitement. You hesitate for a moment, but the need is too strong. When he slightly releases your wrists, you sit up. Sukuna lies completely on his back, his injuries almost forgotten, his massive body exposed. You settle above him, knees on either side of his torso. As you slowly descend, you immediately feel the heat of the mouth on his stomach against your soaked intimacy.
As you position yourself, your ass and pussy brush against something hard, hot, and thick. You clearly feel his two thick and long cocks, erect against your back. A shiver runs through you as you realize how aroused he is.
Sukuna smiles widely, a carnivorous and satisfied smile that reveals his sharp teeth. His four eyes contemplate you with a possessive and amused glint.
“You feel them, don’t you?” he growls, voice thick with desire. “My two cocks waiting only for you. But first you’re going to use my tongue. Go on. Rub yourself. Show me how much you need me.”
The mouth on his stomach opens wider, its thick warm tongue immediately sliding against your slit, licking slowly from bottom to top with diabolical precision. You can’t hold back a long hoarse moan as you begin to slowly move your hips against it.
You settle more comfortably above him, your hands resting on his chest while carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. You begin to rub against the hot and wet tongue, rolling your hips back and forth in a hesitant rhythm at first, then more and more pronounced.
Each stroke of the tongue makes you shiver. It is thick, rough in places, and slides perfectly between your soaked lips, caressing your clit with every movement. Your breasts move with the rhythm of your hips, and your moans become louder, more uncontrollable.
Sukuna watches you from below, his four eyes shining with satisfaction and raw desire. His two lower arms come to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly to guide you.
“You really are a desperate little thing to cum,” he growls in a hoarse and mocking voice, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “Look at you… rubbing yourself like a slut on your king’s tongue.”
His hands guide your movements, making you press down harder against his mouth. He makes you roll your hips in circles, forcing you to press your swollen clit against his tongue which now moves faster, licking and sucking your intimacy with voracity. The sensation is intense, wet, burning. You pant, nails lightly digging into his chest.
Encouraged by the pleasure consuming you, you slide one of your hands behind you. Your hands still find one of his two cocks through the stretched fabric. You clearly feel his first dick, enormous and hard, throbbing under the thick fabric. You begin to caress it through the clothing, pressing your palm and sliding your hand up and down its impressive length.
Sukuna lets out a hoarse growl, almost a guttural moan. His massive body twitches beneath you, and his four eyes narrow in pleasure. “Haaa ugh- you’re too insolent today…” he growls, his voice rougher.
To get revenge, he lifts you above his tongue and penetrates you with it in one thrust, sinking deep into your intimacy. You cry out in pleasure, back arched, as it begins to move inside you, turning, pulling out, plunging back in with force. The rhythm is merciless, as if he wants to punish you for daring to touch him even through the fabric.
“Mhh! Sukuna…! Please..-” you moan, voice broken. Your hips move faster on their own, riding his tongue desperately. Your hand behind you continues to caress his first cock through the hakama, squeezing harder, moving up and down its entire length.
Sukuna growls with pleasure, his hips lifting slightly. His tongue fucks you relentlessly, entering and exiting, licking your inner walls, finding that sensitive spot that makes you tremble violently. His hands on your hips continue to guide you, making you press down harder, faster, forcing you to take everything he gives you.
“That’s it…” he breathes between two growls, voice thick with desire. “I fill you so well with my tongue. You’re so wet it’s dripping onto my stomach. You needed this so badly?”
You moan in response. Your thighs tremble, you lean a little forward. You remove your hand from his cock and place both hands on his chest to keep your balance. The tongue continues its deep and rhythmic assault, taking you higher and higher. The wet and obscene sound of his tongue entering and exiting your soaked pussy fills the room, making you moan even louder.
“Sukuna… ugh- I… I’m gonna…” Your hips move frantically now, riding his tongue without restraint. Each deep penetration makes the liquid of your arousal slap against his stomach. The thick tongue turns inside you, presses hard against that sensitive spot, licks your inner walls with almost brutal greed.
Sukuna growls with satisfaction as he feels your contractions around his tongue. His two lower arms squeeze your hips tighter, holding you pressed against him so you can’t escape.
“That’s it, my little slut…” he growls in a hoarse and dirty voice. “Cum on my tongue. Flood me like the desperate little concubine you are. Show your king how much you get wet for him.”
You cry out, the pleasure becoming too intense. Your nails dig into his tattooed chest, your thighs clenching around him.
The orgasm hits you violently, like a burning wave. Your body arches brutally, your pussy contracting spasmodically around his tongue which continues to fuck you mercilessly throughout your pleasure.
“Sukuna!” you scream, voice broken.
At the same time, Sukuna sits up slightly, one of his upper arms sliding behind your neck to pull you toward him. He captures your mouth in a voracious kiss, devouring your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth at the same rhythm that the one on his stomach continues to penetrate you, as if he wants to fill you from both sides at once.
The kiss is dirty, wet, and possessive. He swallows each of your moans while you tremble and cum for a long time, your body shaken by spasms. His kiss muffles your complaints, his tongue turning against yours, nibbling your lower lip.
“There… good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses, his voice low and hoarse. “Cum hard for me. Your little pussy squeezes my tongue like it never wants to let it go. You’re so greedy… even when I’m injured, you can’t help but get fucked by your king.”
You continue to tremble, the orgasm seeming to last forever. Your hands remain pressed on his massive chest, feeling the powerful beats of his heart under your palms.
The tongue on his stomach gradually slows down, gently licking your sensitive walls to prolong your pleasure, collecting every drop of your arousal.
Sukuna doesn’t break the kiss right away. He continues to kiss you deeply, almost tenderly this time, while holding you against him. When your trembling finally subsides, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his four red eyes shining with satisfaction and a desire still far from satiated.
“You came so hard…” he breathes against your lips, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “But we’re far from finished, my beautiful.”
Sukuna kisses you again with intensity, swallowing every little cry and every ragged breath. When he finally pulls away slightly, a string of saliva still connects your lips. His four eyes stare at you with dark and burning satisfaction.
“Look at you…” he murmurs in a hoarse and dirty voice, while slowly licking your lower lip. “You just came like never before on your king’s tongue. You flooded my entire stomach. What a dirty little concubine you are.”
You don’t answer, body still sensitive, cheeks burning. Sukuna gives you no rest. His two lower arms firmly grip your hips and lift you just enough to withdraw his tongue from your intimacy. A wet and obscene sound echoes as it slides out of you, leaving you empty and throbbing.
He lays you back on his chest, but this time he sits up a little more, leaning against the cushions despite his injuries. His massive body still dominates you. In one fluid movement, he uses his upper arms to turn you slightly, placing you lower on his abdomen, right above his hakama stretched to the extreme by his two erections.
“Sukuna…” you breathe, still breathless.
“Shh,” he growls, nibbling your neck. “You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”
His hands explore your naked body with greed. One kneads your breast, pinching your still sensitive nipple, while the other slides between your thighs to slowly caress your swollen and soaked lips. He spreads your arousal all over your slit, making you shiver.
“You’re soaked… ready to take my dick.” His voice is low, dangerous. “But first, I want you to feel how hard I am for you.”
He presses you more firmly against him. Through the stretched fabric of his hakama, you clearly feel his two thick and burning cocks. They throb against your ass and intimacy, enormous, hard as stone.
You can’t help but moan as you rub lightly against them. Sukuna laughs lowly, amused and excited. He grabs your hips and makes you move slowly against him, sliding you back and forth over his two erections still trapped under the fabric.
“You feel them?” he murmurs against your ear, nibbling the lobe. “Two big cocks waiting only to fill you. You are the only one who has the right to take them. The only one I want to fuck until you cry with pleasure.”
Your hands remain placed on his chest, seeking support as he guides you faster. The friction of the fabric against your sensitive clit makes you pant. Sukuna continues to speak, his voice becoming rougher and rougher:
“You are mine. My favorite. My personal little slut. Even when I come back from the battlefield covered in blood, it’s you I want to destroy and rebuild with my fucking dicks. Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”
“I… I want you to fuck me, Sukuna… please my king.” you moan, voice trembling.
Satisfied, he growls and, with an impatient gesture, uses two of his arms to lower his hakama enough. His two thick cocks finally spring out, heavy, veined and glistening with precum.
The one underneath, slightly smaller than the first, rubs directly against your slit, while the first presses against your clit and belly.
He doesn’t penetrate you right away. He makes you wait a little longer, slowly rubbing his two members against you, sliding them between your soaked lips without entering.
“Look how wet you are for this,” he breathes while looking into your eyes. “You were made for me. To take everything I give you.”
Finally, he aligns his first cock against your entrance. With a slow but firm thrust of his hips, he begins to sink into you. The thickness is impressive. You moan at length, nails digging into his shoulders, as he stretches you progressively, inch by inch, until he is deeply buried inside you.
“Fuck so tight…” he growls, teeth clenched in pleasure. He remains still for a moment, savoring the sensation, then begins to move. Slow and deep thrusts at first, then more and more powerful. His second cock rubs perfectly against your clit with every movement, adding intense stimulation.
His four arms completely surround you: two on your hips to guide you, one on your neck to kiss you, and the last caressing your breast. He kisses you again, devouring your moans while he fucks you with an increasingly sustained rhythm.
“Take it all,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Take your king’s cock like the good little concubine you are for me. I’m going to fill you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
You pant against his lips, body completely overwhelmed. Each deep thrust drives his massive first cock to the very bottom of you. You feel it so thick, so long, that it directly touches the cervix of your uterus with every push.
The pressure is intense, almost too much, a mix of burning pleasure and a delicious slight pain that makes you tremble. Your belly swells slightly every time he sinks completely, as if your body is struggling to accept him entirely.
Every movement creates a perfect friction that sends electric shocks through your entire body.
“Sukuna… ahh… it’s too deep…” you moan, voice broken. He laughs lowly, a hoarse and satisfied sound, while accelerating the rhythm.
His hips slap against yours with more force. Your intimacy contracts violently around him, squeezing his veined length as if it refuses to let him go.
“You feel that?” he growls against your ear, nibbling your skin. “My big cock hitting the bottom of your belly. I’m touching your little uterus.”
His crude words make you moan louder. Your hands tremble on his chest, nails digging into his tattooed skin. The heat of his massive body, the smell of blood, sweat and sex, everything overwhelms you.
Sukuna slightly changes the angle of his hips, and suddenly every thrust hits that sensitive spot inside you even better. You cry out, body shaking. Your thighs tremble around him, your arousal flowing abundantly along his cock.
He fucks you harder, faster, using his four arms to hold you exactly how he wants. One of his upper arms slides between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers, rubbing it at the same time as his second cock stimulates it.
The pleasure rises quickly, almost unbearable. You feel your second orgasm approaching like a gigantic wave. “Sukuna… I… I’m going to cum…!” you sob, tears beginning to pearl at the corners of your eyes.
“Cum,” he orders in a hoarse and authoritative voice. “Cum on my cock like the good little favorite you are. Let me feel your pussy squeezing me.”
You cum.
The orgasm hits you with incredible violence. Your body arches violently, head thrown back. Your inner walls contract spasmodically around his thick cock, squeezing and pulsing as if you want to milk him.
Tears flow down your cheeks, a mix of overwhelming pleasure and raw emotion. Your hands desperately cling to his chest while you scream his name.
“Sukuna…! I love you…!” you sob between two spasms, voice broken by pleasure and tears. “I love you… mhh- I love you so much…”
These words seem to strike him. Sukuna groans deeply, his massive body twitching beneath you. His four eyes widen slightly, then darken with an intense emotion he almost never shows.
He holds you tighter against him, his arms enveloping you while he continues to penetrate you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted and limp against his chest.
“…Idiot,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice hoarse but strangely soft. He kisses your forehead, your temples, wiping your tears with one of his thumbs. “You cry while telling me that… You really are my only weakness.”
You remain nestled against his massive chest, body still shaken by light spasms, when Sukuna decides he is not done with you. In one fluid and powerful movement, he rolls you onto your back without fully pulling out of you.
He positions himself above you, placing you in missionary. His imposing body completely dominates you, his four arms resting on either side of your head and on your hips.
You are already hypersensitive after your intense orgasm. Your intimacy is still pulsing around his cock, swollen and ultra-sensitive. As soon as he moves slightly, a high-pitched moan escapes you.
“Sukuna… wait… I’m too sensitive…” you breathe in a trembling voice.
But he doesn’t listen. On the contrary, a carnivorous smile stretches his lips as he adjusts his position. He passes your legs over his hips, opening you completely to him, and sinks in with one deep thrust to the bottom.
“You’re going to take more,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you cum around me one more time. I want to get you pregnant.”
He begins to fuck you with passion, long, powerful and measured thrusts. Each push makes his hips slap against yours. His massive cock touches your cervix again, even more intense in this position. The sensation is overwhelming — you are overstimulated, every friction makes you jolt, tremble, and cry with pleasure.
“Ahh! Sukuna… it’s too much… too deep!” you sob, hands gripping his shoulders.
Your inner walls, hypersensitive, contract violently around him with every movement. Every time he sinks completely, an electric shock runs through your belly. Your clit rubs against the base of his second cock with every thrust, adding unbearable stimulation.
Sukuna looks you straight in the eyes, his four red eyes burning with a rare emotion. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans and your cries while continuing to pound you with passion.
His hips roll with force, but there is something different this time: it is no longer just raw desire, it is possessive, almost desperate.
“Look how you squeeze me…” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Even after cumming, your little pussy wants more. You were made for me.”
Your tears flow nonstop down your cheeks. The pleasure is so intense it almost becomes painful, but you don’t want him to stop. Your legs tremble around his hips, your nails scratch his tattooed back.
Sukuna gradually accelerates, his thrusts becoming deeper, faster. The room is filled with the wet sound of your bodies slapping, your high-pitched moans and his hoarse growls.
He slides one of his hands on your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb while continuing to fuck you passionately.
“Listen to me,” he breathes against your lips, voice low and hoarse. “I love you.”
These words, spoken by the King of Curses, make you open your eyes wide despite the tears.
“I love you, little idiot,” he repeats louder, burying his cock to the bottom with every word. “You are the only one I love. The only one who can make me feel this. The only one I will never destroy.”
His words make you tip over. Your third orgasm hits you brutally, even more violent than the previous ones. You scream his name, body arched beneath him, your pussy contracting so hard around his cock that Sukuna groans at length, teeth clenched.
He holds you against him, his four arms completely enveloping you while he continues to pound you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted, sobbing and trembling beneath him.
“I love you my king…” you murmur weakly between two sobs, completely overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.
He kisses you tenderly on the forehead, then on the lips, finally slowing his movements to let you breathe. His massive body remains pressed against yours, his cock still deeply buried inside you, throbbing.
“I know,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer than it has ever been. “And I will never let you go. You are mine. Forever.”
His movements become more erratic, deeper. You feel his dick swell even more inside you, throbbing violently against the hypersensitive walls of your intimacy. Every thrust makes your whole body tremble.
Sukuna buries his face in your neck, his teeth brushing your skin while his hips slap harder against yours. His growls become rougher, more animal.
“I’m going to cum…” he growls against your ear, voice broken with pleasure. “I’m going to fill you to the bottom, my darling…”
You can only moan weakly, completely overwhelmed. Your hands slide over his back, clinging to him as if your life depends on it. You feel the pressure rising in him, his muscles tensing under your fingers.
With one final powerful and deep thrust, Sukuna sinks all the way in, the head of his cock pressed directly against your cervix. He cums in a long and guttural groan that vibrates through his entire chest.
You feel the hot and abundant jets of his cum pouring into you, thick, burning, filling your belly with powerful pulses. There is so much that you feel completely flooded.
His second member also throbs against your clit, spreading its hot seed over your belly and chest in long jets.
Sukuna continues to move slowly while he cums, as if to push his seed as deep as possible inside you. His four arms hold you firmly against him, keeping you prisoner under his massive body while he empties himself completely.
When he finally finishes, he remains buried inside you, his cock still throbbing, refusing to pull out. He collapses slightly on you, careful not to crush you completely with his weight. The mouth on his stomach gently licks your skin, tasting the sweat and traces of seed on your belly.
You stay like this for a long moment, only the sound of your panting breaths filling the room. Sukuna finally raises his head and looks at you. His four red eyes are softer, almost vulnerable.
He wipes your remaining tears with his thumb, then kisses you slowly, tenderly, a kiss very different from the previous ones: deep, languorous, filled with an emotion he only shows to you.
“You are mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “Not just my concubine. Not just my favorite. You are the one I love. The only one who can make me say such ridiculous things.”
You smile weakly, still trembling, exhausted but happy. Your hands gently caress his chest, avoiding his wounds which have almost finished closing.
Sukuna rolls onto his side without pulling out of you, pulling you with him so you end up lying on his chest. His four arms envelop you like a warm and protective cage. The mouth on his stomach lets out a hot and satisfied breath against your belly.
He slowly caresses your hair with one of his upper hands, his other arms holding you against him. The silence is peaceful, disturbed only by your breathing which gradually slows down.
After a long moment, he murmurs in a deep and serious voice:
“Marry me.”
You raise your head slightly, surprised. His four red eyes stare at you with a rare, almost solemn intensity.
“I want you to become my queen, not just my favorite. I will kill the other concubines. They serve no purpose. They are just useless objects. Only you matter. I will have them executed tomorrow morning.”
Your heart clenches. Despite the fatigue and the warmth of the moment, you gently shake your head. “No, Sukuna… please. Don’t kill them. They have done nothing wrong. They are just… there. I don’t want their blood to be shed because of me. Let them live. Send them far away if you want, but don’t kill them.”
He frowns, visibly displeased. The mouth on his stomach growls slightly.
“You are too soft,” he growls. “That’s why I love you.” He sighs, then finally nods reluctantly. “Very well. I will banish them from the palace tomorrow. But only you will remain by my side. Forever.”
You smile weakly and snuggle tighter against him, placing a kiss on his chest.
“Thank you… my king.”
Nine months later.
Spring bathed the palace in golden light. The cherry trees in the private garden that Sukuna had enlarged for you were in full bloom.
In the royal chamber, you were lying on the platform, exhausted but radiant, holding a small sleeping treasure against you.
Your daughter.
She was tiny, with a tuft of silky black hair, and two small red eyes that sometimes opened to observe the world with curiosity. Two tiny black marks, similar to very small tattoos, adorned her little arms. She had inherited her father’s strength, but also your gentleness.
Sukuna was sitting by your side, in his true form. Two of his arms held you against him, while another delicately supported your daughter’s head. For the first time in his long existence, the King of Curses seemed almost… peaceful.
“She is perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and awed. He brushed the little hand that had closed around one of his fingers. “She will probably be stronger than me. And as beautiful as you.”
You laugh softly, tired but happy.
“She will have your character… and I hope a little of my patience.” Sukuna leaned down and kissed your forehead with infinite tenderness, then placed a very soft kiss on your daughter’s forehead.
“I never thought this would happen to me one day,” he confessed. “Loving someone. Having a family. But you… you changed everything.”
You snuggle against him, your daughter nestled between the two of you. “We are a family now, Sukuna. You, me, and her.”
He tightened his arms around you, protective, possessive, but above all loving.
Outside, the world continued to fear the King of Curses. But here, in this room filled with light and cherry blossom petals entering through the window, he was no longer just a man. A husband. A father. He had finally found something more precious than power.
“I love you,” he murmured against your hair. “I love you too,” you replied smiling, eyes shining with happiness.
Your daughter let out a small sleepy sigh, as if she approved. And for the first time in centuries, the King finally felt complete.
Tenya has you with your legs spread wide, his large hands firmly anchored on your hips to keep you in place. His fingers dig into your flesh with just enough force for you to feel his control.
His tongue explores every inch of your pussy with an almost desperate hunger. He licks your entire soaked slit with a slow, heavy stroke, then turns sharp and insistent, swirling rapidly around your swollen, hypersensitive clit before diving deep inside you, probing your inner walls.
“Tenya… I feel like I have to pee!” you suddenly blurt out in a trembling, panicked voice, your body wracked with shivers.
Tenya growls against your hot, wet flesh without stopping for even a second. The vibrations of his deep voice travel straight to your clit.
“Mhh… let it go, it’s a good sign,” he murmurs against you, his mouth full of your taste.
“Are you sure?? I really have to go, Tenya!” you moan, almost whining, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. A burning pressure building relentlessly in your lower belly.
He lifts his head slightly, chin and lips glistening with your juices, and thrusts two thick, long fingers into you in one go. He immediately curls them to massage your g-spot with perfect precision.
“I saw in a video that when that urgent need hits… it means you’re about to squirt,” he explains in his serious voice, even though his eyes are burning with pure lust behind his slightly fogged-up glasses.
You can’t help but let out a weak laugh despite your state, breathless. “You watch videos like that?”
“That’s not the point! Focus,” he replies in a firm tone, almost an order, before diving back between your legs with even more fervor.
His tongue attacks your clit with fast, circular movements while his thick fingers continue mercilessly massaging your G-spot. The pressure in your lower belly becomes enormous, burning, almost painful.
You writhe violently on the bed, grinding your soaked pussy against his face, your hips moving uncontrollably. “Ten-! Ahh ugh! It’s too much! I’m gonna… imgonna-”
Your orgasm hits you like a violent tidal wave. Your entire body tenses, your thighs clamping around Tenya’s head like a vice as a long, high-pitched cry escapes your throat. A powerful clear jet bursts out of you in several intense, successive waves.
You squirt abundantly, soaking his face, his chin, and a large part of the sheets under your ass. The pleasure is so strong that your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and your body is shaken by uncontrollable spasms for long seconds, wave after wave.
When the final tremors finally subside, you lie there completely breathless, body limp, trembling, and hypersensitive.
You look down and see the extent of the mess: the sheets are completely soaked beneath you. An intense wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you.
“Oh no… I soaked the sheets…” you murmur, red with shame, hiding your face in your hands.
But when you peek through your fingers, you see Tenya. His face is covered in your glistening juices. He looks… satisfied. Almost proud. His eyes shine with a possessive and admiring glint. You can’t help but burst out laughing despite your embarrassment.
Tenya lifts his head and laughs softly with you, a warm, rare laugh that vibrates through his chest. He slowly crawls back up your body, towering over you with his imposing, athletic frame. He kisses you tenderly, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste your own sweet-salty flavor.
“You’re so beautiful when you squirt like that,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse. “Don’t be embarrassed. I personally loved every second of it.”
He pulls back slightly to look at you better. In one smooth motion, he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off, revealing his muscular, perfectly sculpted chest glistening with your squirt from years of training.
Your gaze drifts lower… and you immediately notice the massive bulge straining violently against his pants. His dick is visibly rock hard, almost painfully so against the fabric. A large wet patch spreads across the front of his gray pants, betraying just how turned on he got from your orgasm and squirt.
You bite your lip, both embarrassed and terribly aroused by the sight. Tenya follows your gaze and smiles, a little embarrassed himself, but mostly proud and full of desire.
“See what you do to me?” he says, slowly running a hand over his cock through the fabric. “I’m completely soaked because of you.”
He places a knee on the bed and leans over you again, his gaze burning behind his glasses. “And I’m not done with you yet, baby.”
Tenya is reprimanding you for the umpteenth time this week.
You're in the agency hallway, just after the team meeting. He stands straight, arms crossed, his gaze stern behind his impeccable glasses.
"Your outfit isn't appropriate, Y/N," he says in a firm, clear voice, loud enough for the few colleagues still present to hear.
Your heart races. Three buttons of your white shirt are undone, revealing the lace of your bra. Your pencil skirt is riding up a little too high on your hips, and the thin black thong you're wearing is clearly visible against your skin.
You know perfectly well that he chose this outfit this morning, in the privacy of his apartment, whispering in your ear how much he wanted you to look "inappropriate" today.
You lift your chin, a small, provocative smile playing on your lips. "So what?" you reply in a light, almost mocking voice. “Are you going to punish me, Tenya?”
An awkward silence falls among the colleagues still lingering in the hallway. Some look away, uncomfortable. Tenya, however, remains outwardly impassive.
Only you and he know the truth: behind that rigid facade, he loves it. He loves to humiliate you publicly, to make you feel embarrassed in front of others, and he knows you love it just the same.
He takes a step closer, lowering his voice slightly so only you can hear him: “I could…”
Those two words, whispered softly, are enough to make you lose your composure. A liquid heat immediately spreads between your thighs. You can’t help but discreetly rub your legs together, seeking a little friction to soothe the rising excitement.
Tenya notices your gesture. A dark glint crosses his eyes. He leans in even closer, his voice low and dangerously calm: "Have you lost your tongue, baby?"
You swallow hard. Your face burns. In front of the others, you come across as the slightly rebellious employee who's getting reprimanded again by the strict Iida. But between you, that simple word, "baby," spoken so softly, so possessively, makes you instantly wet.
"I... um..." you stammer, your voice suddenly smaller, almost submissive.
Tenya gives a very slight smile, almost imperceptible to the others. He adjusts his glasses with a precise gesture, then continues in a louder voice: "I'll be expecting you in my office in five minutes. We'll sort this out properly."
"Yes, sir," you reply, looking at him and anticipating what will happen in his office.
Izuku becomes almost desperate the moment your lips meet.
The second your mouth touches his, something shifts inside him. His hands grab your waist with clumsy urgency, almost trembling, as if he’s terrified you might disappear between his fingers. He pulls you sharply against him, lifting you effortlessly so you’re straddling his thighs.
His lips devour yours, his tongue seeking yours with a desperate hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel his heart pounding hard against your chest, his hot, ragged breath mixing with your own.
His fingers dig into your hips, sinking into your flesh like he wants to keep you prisoner. He controls every single one of your movements, refusing to let you pull away even an inch.
The kiss grows deeper, messier: tongues tangling, teeth clashing lightly, soft muffled moans escaping between your mouths.
Your hands slide to the back of his neck, then into his messy green hair. You grip it gently, and Izuku lets out a rough sound against your lips almost a growl.
After a few seconds, as the kiss makes your head spin, you feel something hard and burning press against your ass through his pants.
The realization hits you instantly. He’s already fully hard, his cock straining and rock-solid. A small smile forms on your lips against his mouth despite yourself.
Izuku doesn’t even try to hide it. On the contrary, he tightens his grip on your hips and presses you more firmly against him, rubbing his erection against your ass with obvious urgency.
He finally breaks the kiss, just enough to catch his breath. His forehead stays pressed to yours, his glasses slightly crooked, his lips swollen and wet. His green eyes are dark, clouded with desire.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” he murmurs in a hoarse, breathless voice. “The moment I kiss you… I lose my mind. I can’t stop.”
His hands slip under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your back. He pulls you even closer, slowly grinding his hard length against you, as if he needs that contact to survive.
“Don’t stop…” he almost begs, his voice low and trembling with need. “Kiss me again. I need you baby.”
“That’s cheating!” Katsuki exploded, pointing the remote at you like a loaded gun. “Fucking marital betrayal!”
You sighed and flopped back onto the couch, legs crossed. “I just wanted to know what happened, okay? I was curious…”
“Curious?” he repeated with a bitter laugh. “You watched four episodes without me!” You winced slightly. “Maybe five… but who’s counting?”
The silence that followed was almost comical. Katsuki stared at you with an outraged expression, one hand dramatically placed over his chest like you’d just stabbed him in the back.
“You’re a monster. A real fucking monster.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Katsuki growled and dropped heavily onto the couch beside you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, pouting like a sulky child.
“We had a deal. We watch together. TO-GE-THER. What the hell does that word mean to you huh?”
“Sorry kats…” you murmured, gently scooting closer to him.
“Nope. Keep your sorrys. I’m getting revenge.” He snatched the remote with an evil smirk. “I’m gonna watch the rest of Game of Thrones without you. All the episodes. And I’ll spoil you everything.”
Your smile vanished instantly. “Oh no. Katsuki.. you can’t do that!”
“And why the hell not? You watched Breaking Bad without me!”
“It’s not the same!” you protested, clinging to his arm.
“Really? Explain the difference miss traitor.” You opened your mouth… then closed it again. There was no real difference.
Katsuki smirked, clearly proud of himself. But when you rested your head on his shoulder with a guilty little pout, he stiffened for a second before letting out a long sigh.
“You’re so annoying…” he grumbled.
Still, his arm slid around your shoulders and pulled you closer. You immediately took advantage, snuggling into him and draping one leg over his.
“I can make it up to you,” you offered softly.
“Yeah? How?”
“I’ll cook all your favorite meals for the whole week.” Katsuki grunted, but you felt his body relax a little.
“Keep going.”
“I’ll give you massages after your workouts. And… we’ll restart Breaking Bad from where we left off. Together. I swear I’ll never watch ahead without you again.”
He finally turned his head toward you. His red eyes studied you for a long moment, still a bit suspicious. “You promise? On your life?”
“On my life.”
“Your life doesn’t mean shit anymore, you already broke our pact.”
You laughed softly and buried your face in his neck. Katsuki finally gave in completely. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him, resting his chin on top of your head.
“You’re lucky I love you, damn it…” he muttered into your hair, his voice still a little pouty.
You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I know. I love you too, even when you’re sulking.”
“Shut up.” But he tightened his hold on you and grabbed the remote to start episode 8 of season 3. “And this time, if you dare watch even one scene without me, I swear I’ll blow up the damn tv.”
You laughed against his chest, happy and safely tucked against him. “Promise, Kats.”
a/n: my sis continued a series without me I felt betrayed just like Katsuki😭 ˖ (🐋) mlist _
