𓂅 genre: childe, diluc, zhongli, xiao x gn! reader
𓂅 warnings: none
𓂅 summary: how they react when you go shopping and tell then you forgot your wallet
𓂅 note: eyyy it’s rich boys ft. zhongli n xiao 😎 anyways as you can see below,,, there’s going to be other version of this fic featuring different fandoms/characters i’ve been thinking about writing for for a while now!! i hope it won’t be weird seeing me post something other than genshin content 💀 if you think i should make separate blogs for separate fandoms just lmk hehe. ALSO!! got inspo from those couple vids of “telling my bf i forgot my wallet” trend on tiktok :“D. OKAY ENOUGH OF MY RAMBLING PLS ENJOY THIS FIC N HAVE A GREAT DAY MWAH 🫶
[VALORANT VER.] [HAIKYUU!! VER.]
CHILDE
literally offended™️ like what? what do you mean you expected him to let you pay for shit?
the moment you enter a clothing store, he’s looking at you with a completely lovesick gaze, watching as you scan through the various clothing items.
willingly holds the shopping basket for you as you pick out an item or two, turning them to check their prices.
he sees you reach in your bag, eventually frowning and putting the items back. he’s confused at first, catching your wrist before you can hang the clothes back on the rack.
"why’re you putting them back? they’d look so good on you,” he comments, a puzzled frown making its way to his face.
“i forgot my wallet,” you admit sheepishly, giving him a bashful smile. “it’s fine though. i’ll come back and–”
“you expected me to let you pay?” he asks in disbelief, jaw comically dropping to the floor. you don’t even get the chance to get a word in before he’s snatching those clothes for you and stuffing them in the basket.
“you’re unbelievable.” he scoffs in an exaggerated and lighthearted manner before gesturing to the rest of the store with a nod of his head. “just get whatever you want, babe. don’t worry about anything.”
“are you sure?” you ask doubtfully, looking around the rest of the store with a barely concealed look of desire.
“mhm. go wild.” childe chuckles, pecking your forehead and nodding in response. the blinding smile and little fashion show you gave him afterwards was all he would have ever asked for in return.
thinking about how bakugou katsuki has never had someone tell him “i love you” before.
not by his parents, that’s for sure.
certainly not by teachers and mentors, given that it’s too unprofessional.
not by his friends, either, because casually saying you love a friend does not exactly go over well when you are a personified explosion with teeth like katsuki.
not even by izuku fucking midoriya, who has given him more grace than he ever deserved.
he knows he loves you, knows it in his very bones, in the way he could recognize you by the sound of your heartbeat. he knows he loves you because he would incinerate every object he ever owned to ensure your happiness. he knows he loves you because you do not flinch when he touches you, like he will burn you if you breathe wrong in his presence. he knows he loves you when you call him by his given name and, for once, he does not shy away from that affection.
“katsuki,” you say gently, threading your fingers through his hair. “i love you. you do know that, right?”
his heart cracks open. you sound so casual, as if this is normal to love him. part of him believes you. part of him never could.
when you are standing right in front of him, the words break apart on his tongue. he wants to say it back — needs to, even, because he owes you the truth — but it is like the words refuse to compute in his brain. they are too foreign, too intimate, too much. he is a bit heartsick and a lot emotionally repressed, so maybe he is too much as well.
“i do,” he says. “i do know that.”
you smile a little, eyes crinkling, like you know something he does not. “good.”
it is not enough for now, his reply. he hopes someday he can earn the right to be loved, and maybe then, he can say those three little words in return.
bakugou’s therapist tells him he should adopt a cat.
well, she doesn’t really tell him so much as highly suggests it, because whenever he asks her for advice, she says she cannot tell him what to do. that is not her job. her job is to "support him through his life decisions" or some equally therapeutic bullshit.
he thinks that is fucking ridiculous. what even is the point of therapy if someone’s not going to tell him how to fix his shit so he can stop wasting precious time sitting on an uncomfortable couch listening to ocean noises and talking about feelings he'd rather keep buried?
also, he's a dog person, so this is a problem.
but the therapist insists that he needs a reason to get out of bed every day other than work, especially with the limited amounts he can handle with three broken ribs and a fractured radius, and social isolation might be the death of him in the meantime, so. a cat it is.
the shelter is deserted on thursday afternoons in the dead of winter and bakugou is grateful for it. grateful he can be undisturbed by anyone but staff, unrecognized in this weak state he finds himself in. heroes should not have to be seen like this, with their arm tucked in a sling and undereyes bruised without sleep.
bakugou keeps most of himself hidden these days.
“uh, dynamight, sir? are you looking to meet one of the animals in particular?” someone pipes up from where they lug in a hefty bag of cat food through the door.
his lungs stagger in his ribcage. you are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, so pretty and bright that words momentarily freeze over on his tongue. you're cuter than the orange tabby he was staring at seconds ago.
“um,” he says, stupidly.
“oh, you’re looking at boba!” you say cheerily, dropping the bag at your feet and moving toward him for a closer look. “he’s so sweet, kinda old and grumpy, but he loves pets.”
“he’s got three legs,” bakugou points out stupidly again.
he cannot deal with the proximity of some adorable volunteer getting into his space, crowding it with their citrus scent and sunshiney disposition.
“mhm. he got into a street fight with a dog before he got here, and uh, the vet couldn’t do anything to help him at that point.”
bakugou winces. he turns to look at the little cat through the bars of the crate. the thing is covered in bright orange stripes and manages to hobble around with a missing front leg. it looks as if a chunk was bitten off of his left ear, too, but he almost swears the cat is smiling at him, pawing incessantly at the bars.
you take the cat – boba? – into your arms and hold him, snuggling your face into his fur. the cat lets out a soft meow and pats your cheek with a tiny striped paw.
“you can play with him if you want,” you suggest. “we have designated play rooms so you can just sort of feel it out.”
“i’m, uh, not really a cat person, so i don’t think that’s—“
“follow me, hero,” you declare anyway, and bakugou cannot bring himself to not answer to your command already.
you lead him into a little room with a plastic chair, a carpeted cat tree, and an array of jingling toys neatly placed inside a wicker basket. bakugou is not sure what to do when you place the cat on the linoleum in front of him.
you offer him what looks like a stick with a feather attached to the ends. "here, take this."
"the hell am i supposed to do with that?" he asks, hoping it does not come out as gruff as it probably sounds through his raspy voice.
"you kinda drag it along the floor, and he'll take it from there."
he dutifully does just that, and boba's warm brown eyes diligently follow the feather. the cat sort of wiggles before he jumps out to try to catch it. bakugou whips the feather around in the opposite direction; boba is clever enough to follow, but never quite quick enough to catch it.
"see!" you praise him. "for not being a cat person, you're a natural at this."
bakugou's chest swells.
he spends the next few minutes sending boba flying in circles across the room. the cat has some damn resolve, never letting up the fight. he even manages to snatch the feather between two paws at one point, but bakugou smoothly wriggles it out of his grasp only to send him wheeling around again.
"you know," you say, eyeing bakugou intently. "you kind of remind me of a cat. no wonder he likes you."
"you insulting me?" he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"no! oh my god, no," you laugh. "most cats take a while to warm up to you, but they're actually really gentle when they start to trust you. you seem like you might be the same way."
bakugou does not know what to say to that, but he kind of wants to kiss the observation right off of your lips regardless.
at the same moment, boba loses interest in the feather and begins sniffing at bakugou's calves. for a moment, worry flickers through him; maybe the cat will be scared of him, like it might be able to smell the old blood on his hands from every fight–
then the cat jumps onto him and starts kneading his thighs, claws pin-pricking through his jeans. there will definitely be scratch marks there in the morning, but he is too busy staring, in awe, at the fuzzy creature making biscuits on his muscles to care.
boba circles once, twice, then curls up on his lap like a little demon of warmth and fur.
and oh, no, bakugou thinks. he is going to fall in love with the damn thing.
"what the fuck," he says softly.
when you look up at him, you give him a smile so big and sparkling it sends his heart careening through the floor.
needless to say, bakugou leaves the shelter with a three-legged cat and your number in his phone contacts, saved with a heart next to your name.
reader has breasts, drinking, suggestive flirtation but nothing outright nsfw. ex-husband natsuo, reader and natsuo are both in their mid 30’s. thank u dusa for fueling my insanity. love u, mean it.
“I swear I haven’t seen a pair of tits since you were breastfeeding.”
You snort, tipsy haze blurring the edges of the stalwart boundaries you have upheld with Natsuo since the divorce. Many times, many lonely and stressful nights, you contemplated it.
Sipping from an amber colored beer bottle, you roll your eyes at your ex-husband and his still-boyish-at-34 smile, lightly pushing his shoulder and watching it bounce off the back of your sofa. He chuckles in response, setting his own beer bottle down on the side table as he grabs your feet and drapes them across his lap. Just like old times.
“I’ve had two kids, Natsu,” you say through breathy giggles and a slight groan as he presses his thumb to the center of your foot. “My ego is so dead you’d have to revive it to protect it. I’m sure you’ve seen better tits than mine.”
Looking up at you through his long, white lashes you can recall how easy it was to fall in love with him when you were 21. All blustering confidence and ill thought out chivalry, he made you laugh so hard you sent tea through your nose on more than one occasion. Marrying him seemed like the only thing that made sense with your overwhelming feelings.
Then came the kids. Then came life. Then came the rubble from the crumbling foundation.
Your children were 3 and 5 when the mutual decision to amicably end your marriage was made. Devastation still, nearly a decade later, feels like too light of a word to describe how it felt. Your heart wrenched so hard the last time you signed something with your married name, you swear a part of you died. Another piece died the day he dropped your children off without his ring on, finger vacant of the matching silver band you continued to wear. Another the first time you imagined him on a date with someone else, big thumb smoothing over her knuckles the same way they always did yours.
The love never died, though. You credit it often for being the reason you two have managed to stay friendly and involved and oddly normal for all of these years. Most of your suspicions about his personal life are just that, no solid evidence he has ever dated since moving out into a smaller house a few blocks away when you separated has been revealed.
Tonight, curiosity gets the best of you.
Natsuo continues to rub small circles into your heel and you tip your head back, chest poking up slightly. You can feel him looking at you, a man with a gaze so intense it’s like a spotlight, and you tip your head back toward him and smile.
“What?”
A playful brusqueness enters your voice and he shakes his head, raising his brows as he switches between your feet.
“I haven’t slept with anybody since you.”
Another eye roll is tossed in his direction and you fold your arms over your chest.
“I told you not to li-,” he cuts you off by clearing his throat and you realize at that moment he’s telling the truth. “I would never lie about something as serious as tits.”
Still taken aback by his assertion, you awkwardly lift the beer bottle back to your lips and take a small swig. His thumb runs across a particularly tender part of your foot and you hiss, clutching the bottle tightly between your fingers.
“Sorry,” he offers, moving to begin rubbing another spot as you remain a bit too silent for comfort.
“I, uh….fuck. I made it awkward, didn’t I?”
You shake your head and tuck your beer in the crook of your elbow, reaching out for his hand which he takes. His free thumb brushes your knuckles. He will never do that for anyone else.
“No, no,” you insist, brows furrowing slightly as your eyes dart away from his face. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that, that’s all.”
Natsuo laughs. The sound is familiar, akin to a soft pattering rain on the roof. You giggle back and shake your head, confident he’s about to tell you that he’s joking.
“I tried,” he starts, gulping in small breaths as his laughing subsides. “Couldn’t get hard.”
Your cheeks puff with air as you laugh. Natsuo takes in your features and thinks of how they’ve only made you more beautiful with the time that has passed. He listens as you sigh sweetly and squeeze his hand.
“That has never been a problem for you before.”
Natsuo drops your foot gently and reaches for his beer, taking a drink and considering the right thing to say next. He is telling you nothing but the truth. He spent four years after the divorce trying to date and it was miserable. Every second was torture because all he could think about is how none of it felt like you. Not your soft hips or your perfume or your favorite dish at your favorite restaurant. He hated it.
“Not with you but then again, not everyone is you.”
Feeling heat creep up your neck and into your face, you look down and try to bite back a smile. Feeling his palm pressed tightly against yours, you’re content to hold his hand for a moment.
It reminds you of those first precious dates, those first few months as newlyweds and new parents. It’s the closest you’ll ever be to a true home.
“There was never anyone else for me, either.”
He knows but still nods, appreciating your honesty. Your children lamented often about how annoying you are because you don’t date. He wouldn’t tell you that, though.
“Let me guess, too many men to pick from?”
Squeezing his hand, you unconsciously scoot closer until you’re nearly touching his torso and his hand quickly untangles from yours and drapes around your shoulder, pulling you in to kiss your temple. Chaste and appropriate.
You squirm with the heat that simmers between your thighs.
“Didn’t want to have to let them down gently because they weren’t you.”
A smug half smile creeps across Natsuo’s face but you don’t mention it, looking away to give yourself a moment to keep from admitting everything you’ve wanted to tell him over the years.
“Yeah, me too,” he finally says and you feel his hand squeeze your shoulder, your own hand reaching up to cover his.
honestly i dont think shigaraki is a degrader. like he tries it a few times mostly bc of what hes seen in p*rn but it doesnt come naturally to him. when hes fucking you he goes a little mindless and can only say like the first thing that comes to mind and its praise because he just. loves you and the only thing he can think to say is that really. that he loves you that you feel so so good that he doesn’t ever want you to leave. he’s shameless of course but not degrading
rintarou suna who carefully planned out your entire wedding and how he would propose to you after dating you for three months
rintarou suna who lets you help babysit his younger sister and looks at you as if his eyes are hearts bulging out of his head at how good you are with kids and thinks to himself how badly he wants to have a family with you someday
rintarou suna who rubs your back and hums your favorite songs and strokes your hair when hes trying to help you sleep
rintarou suna who swears he loves you more than anything measurable- more than the entire universe x10 and back- because he says you saved him
rintarou suna who offers to let you wear his clothes when you’re sad, hoping that it’ll cheer you up to be engulfed in his clothes, seeing as he’s more than twice your size
rintarou suna who knows you’re indecisive and will pick things for you if you truly can’t decide, but will base his choices on what he knows you secretly want more
rintarou suna who carries random offbrand fruity candy assortments in his pocket like a grandma to share with you and his friends
rintarou suna who vowed to protect you from the metaphorical monsters in your head from the day you met all the way to adding it in to his wedding vows as he slides the ring on your finger- the ring he picked out the second he knew you were the one, which in his case was after about 5 months into the relationship
rintarou suna who paints portraits of you but always gets upset that they “never truly captivate your complete and total beauty”
rintarou suna who daydreams about running off to the south of france with you to open a small flower shop where your shared apartment rests on the upstairs of your shop, with a good view so he can sit at his canvas and paint the scenery and know he’s only there because of you
rintarou suna who said “i love you i love you i love you” in the very first letter he ever wrote for you, resulting in saying the pretty words three times in a row becoming a regular inside thing for the two of you that nobody gets but you two
rintarou suna who started by only wanting one kid, having to be heavily convinced to have a second (because you don’t want the first to be lonely), but after you crack him and get him to agree to a second kid he wants a third and a fourth and a fifth and three cats and a dog and a snake because he wants to raise everything with you because life is short and he wants to live it with you and only you
rintarou suna who builds you beautiful minecraft builds, complete with chests filled to the brim of books he’s thoroughly typed out with all of his love and thoughts spilled on every page
rintarou suna who runs up to you in minecraft just to deliver you a pretty flower he picked because he thinks it’ll match your eyes
rintarou suna who was emotionally numb when he met you because of everything he’d been going through at home, but knew you were the one he wanted for the rest of his life the second he laid eyes on you and realized that you made him feel something- which was an occurrence that hadn’t happened in years
“you made me feel again, love. i never thought i would be able to do that.”
rintarou suna who lets you play games on his phone and trusts you with his life, who would never ever let go of you in a million years because he wants you for himself until the end of time because he simply can’t risk losing you
rintarou suna who buys you rings and diamond necklaces and clothes and the most absurdly expensive gifts just for the purpose of wanting to spoil you rotten
rintarou suna who loves you too much to ever leave without telling you how much he loves you. he won’t shower or go to practice or go to the bathroom or leave to go to the kitchen or hang up the facetime without telling you what to mean to him
rintarou suna who loves you no matter what, and will keep it that way until the end of time…
omi is jealous of your past relationship experience
fluff, comfort, bratty omi but only because he's insecure. reader is g/n but wears makeup.
"what are you looking at?" you're both laying down in bed but still awake. you're on your phone, completely oblivious to the way your boyfriend has been tracing your side profile with his eyes for the last ten minutes.
"my friend is trying to decide which counter top to get in her new apartment. she sent me a few pics to help decide." your eyes were starting to get dry and that should have been an indicator that you should be heading to bed soon, but you forced yourself to stare at your phone screen instead.
"fascinating," omi said flatly. you didn't even snort that time, letting him know that you really weren't paying him any mind. thinking it through, he shuffled closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. his head was almost chest level with you now but it didn't stop him from tugging you down for a needy kiss.
omi loved casual affection like this, but only in the privacy of your own space. he wasn't showy or grand like some of his teammates, but little brushes of fingers and stolen kisses in hallways got his heart pounding more than he'd like to admit.
he could feel you sigh into the kiss even though your eyes were still on your phone. absentmindedly, you ran your tongue along his lips, sucking the soft skin in and allowing him to taste the fruity lip balm you put on before bed. your teeth gently caught his upper lip and you placed a soothing suck to the skin after nipping it. glancing up, omi could see it was just muscle memory by now. his knees were jelly and you weren't even trying. he pulled away with a huff.
"aren't you a little too good at that?" you raised a brow down at his question but he quickly backtracked. "it was a compliment. just take it and stay quiet."
you chuckled and finally, finally put your phone down. blasted thing.
"well thank you very much. i quite like your kisses too, kiyo," you giggled and pressed one to his cheek.
"hah, i'm sure you do," he replied, lukewarm.
"kiyo?"
"let's just...sleep," he forced his lips up into a smile but it looked more like a grimace.
"kiyo, if there's something bothering you then-"
"m'just tired. goodnight," he muffled, hugging your waist and pressing his face into your chest before he added as an after thought, "sweet dreams."
you weren't comfortable with it but you knew that if you pushed him when he didn't want to talk, the results would be worse, so you let it go.
"play with my hair so i can sleep," he demanded and you rolled your eyes with a smile. your fingers got to work and you could feel him relax into it, his spine not as stiff and he finally let the full weight of his head rest on your bicep.
the room was quiet, dark, and cold, just how omi liked it and from sharing a bed with him for so long, you found yourself quickly drifting off from such peaceful conditions as well. your boyfriend was as warm as a cat, breathing softly onto the skin of your chest. you chuckled thinking about how sometimes you'd wake up to find him sucking the material of your tank top, the edge of it wet with spit. it embarrassed kiyoomi to no end but you found it endearing.
you drifted into sleep with such peaceful thoughts and just as you were about to fall completely into serenity, you heard a quiet voice break the stillness of the room.
"who taught you how to kiss like that?"
...
"hmm?" by the time you completely processed the question, omi was red with embarrassment and regretting speaking up already.
"nothing. you were sleeping? go back to sleep," he huffed and dug his face into your chest, praying that you would think the whole thing was just a dream.
"i'm not sleeping. you asked who taught me how to kiss?" you peeked one eye open to look down in the dark but were only met with a head of swirly-wurly hair.
"well it sounds dumb when you say it like that."
"you're the one who asked," you defended.
"yes, and now i'm saying that i don't care which of your loser ex-boyfriends taught you how to suck lips like that. doesn't matter to me and doesn't matter to you, right? good. talk to you tomorrow, sweet dreams," he said in one breath.
"....did you just say 'suck lips?'"
"oh my god, would you just go to bed already! i said i don't care!" he huffed and turned around with his back facing you. he stayed like that for a few milliseconds before reaching behind to grab one of your hands. with his back still facing you, he tugged your hand to rest against his chest between both of his own hands. "goodnight. i'm serious this time."
maybe if you didn't know kiyoomi as well as you did, you would have spoke up, would have comforted all the silly little thoughts running through his head right then and there. but this was your kiyo and you knew better. you could practically feel him working through everything he wanted to say in his head and sure enough, no sooner than when the words finally came to mind did he sit up and put the bedside lamp on. something dim but expensive he brought you from abroad.
"good morning," you smiled cheekily, but he wasn't having any of it.
"answer me, i know you weren't sleeping and i know you heard me," he said with his buff arms crossed over his firm chest, your little princess.
"i was not sleeping and i did hear you," you confirmed playfully with a chuckle and laid on your back, putting one hand behind your head.
"i knew it," he accused. he opened his mouth and closed it, starting to play with the thin strap of your undershirt against your shoulder. "so....are you gonna give me a name?"
"pfft!" you slapped a hand over your mouth, not believing pouty omi would ask for your ex's name. omi rolled his eyes, hooking the strap with one crooked finger and letting it gently snap against your skin.
"i'd really appreciate an answer once you're finished laughing at me."
"heh, i'm- m'not laughing, haha, at you-"
"finish laughing and then talk to me," he turned his head the other way but you could see an adorable fight of his lips being forced down. he really did love your laugh and anyone could see that he couldn't control his smile whenever he heard it.
"i'm not laughing at you, kiyo. would never laugh at you," you sat up and turned his face to yours.
before he could protest anything, you leaned in to kiss him.
it was slow. hesitance that he had during your first few months of dating was nowhere to be found as he rubbed his tongue against yours. you let him explore your cheeks and the silky skin behind your top lip in front of your teeth. he sucked your tongue and then greedily opened his mouth wider to suck your bottom lip in too. he let his teeth drag over both when he pulled back and you could hear him swallow as he caught his breath.
"damn, kiyo, who taught you to kiss like that?"
"i hate you, i'm going to sleep-" before he could turn off the light, you giggled and held his hand.
"i don't think i ever taught you to kiss like that before, did i?" you asked slowly while threading your fingers through his calloused ones, bringing it up for a quick smooch while omi chose his words carefully.
"you didn't...instruct me through it, but i learned eventually," he was so unsure, so unsteady with the topic and his own emotions. you were honored to be the only person that he opened up to like this.
"so, why do you think that someone else taught me to kiss like that? i was just going with the flow and mood of things," you tilted your head, studying his face to see if your words were reaching him.
"but you dated before. obviously you would have-"
"yeah, i did, and it didn't work out. every person before you is just a part of a past that i can't erase, but it's still me. i dated and fooled around and it didn't work out and now i'm here with you and happier than i've ever been," you cupped his cheek softly. "don't believe those books and romance movies. not everyone is caught up on their ex or still thinks of them after a break up. it's just something you go through, well, i, went through in life."
you could see him drinking in your words but there was still a stubbornness on his countenance that wouldn't let him fully digest what you were saying. "you know you're my only, right kiyo? doesn't matter who i was with, they don't mean a thing to me anymore. you're my future. i wanna be with you for a long time if you let me-"
"f'course i'll let you," he said immediately and turned his face in your hand to kiss your palm. he took a few seconds and finally spoke up. "i just...you know i haven't really dated before and i'm not the best at this romance thing. i don't want you to go off and find someone better than me somewhere."
"better how?" you asked, wanting to know the root of his fear.
"i don't know. someone who gets you flowers, and is home all the time and isn't too...shy- ahem, someone who would kiss you in public. don't you want that?"
"no, kiyo," you chuckled and pulled him down so you two could lay against the mattress together. "i want waking up at three o'clock in the morning so i can kiss you before your flight and surprise sandwiches in the fridge with a note and you always taking my makeup off for me when i fall asleep. i want things like that."
"...we share a pillow, obviously i'd take your makeup off," he said quickly and slightly snappy but it let you know that you were on the right track to getting your kiyoomi back. "but i guess i understand what you're saying. just...promise me something."
"mhm?" you encouraged, slowly raking your fingernails against his scalp again.
"if you ever stop liking me or i do something you don't like...don't break up with me, okay? work it out with me instead...please. i promise, it's not on purpose."
"i promise," you agreed and leaned in to seal it with a kiss, or three. "promise, promise, promise. i won't leave you high and dry, kiyo. you know that. i'm in this for the long run." you sighed gently and omi matched it, in sync even in your tiredness. "let's get some rest now, yeah? come here, babyboy," you cooed.
he allowed himself to be pulled into your chest and you pulled the lip of your tank top out to press it against his lips. he easily took it into his mouth and his eyes closed down. you cooed at him,
"my tired baby, you must be so sleepy."
he hummed back at your soft words and you could feel his jaw moving as he got a comfortable grip of your clothes between his teeth. "get some rest, my love. i'll see you in the morning, kay? sweet dreams, kiyo."
"mmh, fhweet dw'eams," he muffled, his mind finally closing down for the day. "love you, baby."
🖤This blog features dark content in fiction for entertainment purposes. I do not condone or support such themes irl. What you chose to interact with is your own responsibility. Don’t like, don’t read. Minors, please follow the honor system and do not interact with me regarding 18+ content.
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Summary / author’s note: shameless self ship fic that i wrote about a helpless situationship with kirishima
Warnings: angst, mentions of sex(kinda? they do have sex but its not that graphic), smoking. kirishima is kinda an asshole bc hes a libra man. All characters are over the age of 20, minors do not interact
Word count: 4 k
You’ve ghosted him for a month when your doorbell rings at 2 am on a Wednesday night. It’s not like you count the days, but it’s not like you don’t either -because when the sudden sound makes you jump from your spot on your couch, almost causing you to drop your plate and all its fillings, you find yourself hoping, praying, that it’s him.
You tell yourself that it’s an atrocious thought at least, that he’s a guy you got to spend time with, got attached, never even dated and now you have to get over, but your plate lays forgotten on your sofa nonetheless, bread crumbs and some of the oregano you’ve sprinkled on your yakitori, pooling all around the plate.
It’s almost frightening to take the steps to your intercom, and a million thoughts run through your head at the speed of light -who could this be around such an hour, or even what would they want. For a second you think that maybe it’s Kyouka or perhaps another friend of yours, that it’s an emergency, but then that thought gets sucked into the back of your brain when you press the button of the intercom.
No one seems to answer and your heart is set at ease again. Maybe it’s food delivery and they’ve gotten the name on the doorbell wrong. It happens, though not very often, but it never fails to give you a rush of anxiety.
yes, you should be going to bed earlier and yes, he’s glad you’re getting rest!!
but you just DISAPPEAR!!
katsuki: so i told him to study his own notes!!!!!
katsuki: making dinner rn
katsuki: babe?
katsuki: i swear to god.
katsuki: u better b fucking lying rn
katsuki: DID U FALL ASLEEP
yes. yes you did, and he’s already made the trek (after his dinner, might as well eat at your place anyways) and he’s watching you all cozied up with soft breaths. you’re annoying, but you’re too cute.
he eats his broccoli and beef beside you quietly, and is engrossed in his science video on youtube (he likes watching shit explode!!) and then you’re mumbling …
“katsuki…” “hm?” “can i have some?”
and you’re wordlessly being fed broccoli beef and then falling back into the throes of slumber.
thinking about a royalty au where knight!tendou finds you trying to teach yourself how to dance in an empty ballroom in the middle of the night. a rumpled overskirt pulled on atop your nightdress to replicate the ballgown you'll be wearing in a fortnight's time--when the room will be filled with nobility and foreign royals who've answered your father's invitation.
he watches in silence as you try to lead yourself through the steps clumsily, humming something he's sure you think is the waltzes tune--the sweet sound echoing into the painfully still hall where you believe yourself to be without company. he doesn't mind that the tempo is off and the notes are wrong.
"you'll step on your partner's toes if you do it like that," he finally calls out into the quiet, and you nearly keel over from the fright--gripping your skirt in both hands and lifting its hem to your ankle like you're preparing to flee.
but you can't. not with the way he's leaning against the ballroom's towering double doors as he watches you, shrouded in shadow, blocking your only way out.
"what are you doing here?" you ask, breathless though you cannot blame it on the dancing.
tendou pushes himself off the wall and slowly makes his way across the room to you.
"shouldn't I be asking you that question, your highness? last i checked i'm not the one under any sort of curfew."
your nose scrunches up as he stalks closer, your mortification at being caught slowly staining around the edges with annoyance that it was him of all people.
"i'm surprised commander ushijima doesn't keep you on curfew. he's such a stickler for the rules," you mumble the words through a pout. tendou resists the urge to pinch the soft swell of your cheek as it puffs out indignantly.
"wakatoshi's only concerned with your safety, he acts in the same interest as the king."
your eyes flutter up in the wake of the young knight's words; too subtle to be an outright roll but evidence enough of your displeasure.
"my father's only interest is power," you say flatly, the words bitter even as they fall from lips so sweet.
tendou quirks a crimson brow, towering over you now as you fiddle with the creased material of your skirt. you'd obviously put it on yourself without the help of your lady's maid, a clandestine mission that no one was meant to know about, because he spots immediately how the waistline is crooked and part of your nightgown is puckering out at the small of your back like a duckling's tail.
"a legacy is power," he quips, his fingers twitching at his side near the hilt of his sword as he resists the urge to slip them under the waist of your skirt and tuck the errant puff of cotton into place at the base of your spine. "and as the only heir you are his legacy."
you huff--not as though you don't believe him, but that you're unhappy with the validity of his remark.
"so," tendou drags out the word, peering around the empty ballroom--lit by two small oil lamps you've set on either side of the floor a few paces apart. "what are you doing out of your chambers so late?"
he's fully aware of what you had been doing, you know it as well as he does, but he goads you into admitting it aloud.
"going to bed," you say stiffly, moving to step past him towards the doors.
he catches you by the crook of your elbow, and your eyes snap up to his. you meet his gaze with wide eyes, and then your look softens, lashes fluttering as your line of sight drops to where his fingers are lightly holding your sleeve.
"you never learned how to dance," tendou says gently, not asks, because he already knows the answer. his tone is no longer teasing.
your eyes flicker up to him shyly, and you shake your head no.
"evidently raising me with the skills befitting of a proper lady was not one of my father's interests," you admit quietly in reply.
the king had raised you--though the word seems unjustified given his indifference--alone, following the untimely death of your mother in your infancy. but your childhood memories are of governesses and the royal household's various other staff. of stablehands and scullery maids. of young knights training to one day join the royal guard.
"well," satori says, lifting his hand in offering.
you blink at him.
"are you looking to learn or not?" he asks, his hand still poised midair for you to accept.
"you don't know how to dance," you murmur, your brow pinching in the middle as you eye his outstretched hand skeptically.
"i can assure you i do," he laughs, and the sound bounces around the empty ballroom--getting lost in the far corners where the lamplight does not reach.
you cross your arms over your chest, turning up your nose.
"when did you learn something like that?"
he leans down towards you, bending at the waist to bring himself closer to your height. "i am the son of a nobleman, though you seem so intent to forget it."
you blink at him, flustered by his sudden nearness.
"well, if you're sure you don't need a lesson--" tendou withdraws, returning to his normal height and letting his hand drop.
you catch it before it can fall.
both of your eyes are fixed to the way you clutch his hand in yours--the warmth of your fingertips seeping through the thin material of his uniform gloves.
"please."
tendou's unfocused eyes flicker up to your face, where he sees you looking at him with an unexpected earnestness.
"please teach me."
and he does.
he starts off slow, teaching you the simplest of steps to the (proper) tempo. he hums a pared down tune to keep your movements in time, and you fall into step with him quickly and gracefully--though in truth, he expected no less.
he gets quickly swept up in the pleasure of leading you. of clasping your hand in his own. of resting his other hand upon your waist and feeling where your body dips and curves beneath his palm.
he's spinning you around the room before he can stop himself.
the two of you twirl until you're dizzy, and you're laughing at the top of your lungs as you try to hiccup out a slurred admonishment. you couldn't tell him to stop even if you wanted to through the laughter slipping from your lips.
but you don't want to. not even a little bit.
when finally you've lost any sense of up or down, of your lefts and rights, tendou stops the momentum of your turn with a tug--bringing your swaying body flush to his chest.
your head swims, your lungs ache. you fight to regain your bearings with your fingers twisted into the front of his jacket. the deep plum colour of his uniform looks more violet in the low light of the midnight ballroom. the starched material more yielding under your fingertips than you expect.
his cheeks are flushed. your touch is burning.
you look up at him with a softness in your eyes so devastating it almost brings him to his knees.
"satori," you whisper his name.
a plea.
your grip on his jacket tightens.
he smiles, but it's nothing like the carefree one that had stretched across his face while he'd been leading you in your dance. there's something melancholy even in the upward quirk of his lips.
he steps away.
"you're a natural, your highness," tendou says softly, and the words ache--pricking like thorns under his ribcage that accompany the bloom of his heart.
"tori," you murmur again, more desperately this time, reaching for him blindly.
he takes another step back, just beyond your grasp.
"i don't think i ever properly congratulated you, you know." he swallows over the taste of bile creeping up his throat.
your eyes beg him not to say any more. your hands are still half-outstretched, reaching for him.
"so congratulations,"--tendou's eyes are burning, an unpleasant heat along his waterline that threatens to rob him of his sight entirely--"i'm sure your betrothed will be pleased once the two of you are introduced at the engagement ball."
it's well after midnight when denji slumps into your car.
"oh my god," he exhales, reclining the passenger seat so far back that it slams with a worrying thud. "you would not believe the shit that power got us into today."
it's been a week since you've seen him and he still — doesn't care, instead devolving into some vague story about his coworker and an axe and something about destruction of public property. you can't really calm down enough to pay attention to the few details he gives you, minute as they are.
"hey," he yawns, daring to put a foot up on your dash as the car rolls to a stop at a red light. "can we get food? i'm starving."
"denji," finally you turn to look at him, knuckles tight around the wheel. "you can't keep doing this."
"huh?" his eyebrows raise, taking in the scowl on your face. and then he waves his hand, like that's all it'll take to fix everything. like it's that easy. "i'll pay this time, swear—"
"no," you grit your teeth, "i mean this. i can't keep giving you rides everywhere."
"why not?"
"because we're not together anymore."
much as others might claim, you know he's not stupid, and he's too open with his feelings to hide the upset that flashes through his eyes. dark, nearly black, under the traffic light. he rolls them up to stare at the ceiling of your car, quiet as reality catches up to him.
"why not?"
the light flashes green, but you don't move. there's no one behind you, anyway, and despite knowing all too well the way to aki's apartment — you suddenly don't know where to turn. there's no road that takes you away from this same conversation that you've had time and time again.
"we love each other, right?"
you sigh, feeling your anger melt into the truth, souring the inside of your stomach as you rest your forehead against the wheel. "denji, it's not..."
that easy, you want to tell him. have told him. his face is an open book: eyes hopeful, just like the little smile on his face because he knows he's right. but there are things he's not telling you, no matter how hard you try.
power is the reason the truth of the devil hunting came out and it spawned a huge discussion that he'd simply shrugged off, adjusting the locks on the door he keeps you behind. it's dangerous, and you think that's maybe why he kept it from you for so long, but — there's more. he's teeming with secrets that you can't uncover.
you've never felt so far and yet so close to someone, as you do to him in the passenger seat right now.
"you didn't even give me a say in the whole thing."
despite the burning in your eyes, you snort and finally cross the intersection. "because you would have said no."
"yeah," he grins, striped in the light of a stray streetlamp. "exactly."
you don't know how else to explain it to him — but you know he's not stupid. it's why he carries such an air of nonchalance, like maybe you'll forget if neither of you mention it — and there are a lot of times that you wish that were true. that you could go back to the days before, when all that mattered was how close he kept to you in his sleep, how happy his simple kindnesses made you.
but how can you love him if you don't really know him?
what if one day he just doesn't come back? you would be left with — nothing. not an answer or a comfort, discovering him in pieces in the newspaper.
he's quiet until you pull into the parking lot of the complex, and his eyes are closed when you look at him. you think he's asleep until he sighs, angling his head towards you, offering you that same casual smile. even in the dim shadow, you can see the pinkness to his cheeks.
"sorry it's so late," he murmurs, "you should probably just stay the night."
"no denji," you rest your chin against the wheel, closing your eyes as he sits the seat back in its place. it brings him closer to you, but only physically. only in the same way as always. "i shouldn't. you have to stop calling me. you have to let me go."
the car floods with the cab light and you scrunch your face up before squinting at him, watching him look out into the night as the door chimes in the background. he laughs once and then hums, letting his head hang. grip tightening on the door handle. he never turns back.
𖥨 feat. suna rintaro , in which you and your boyfriend suna fight over who will pay for this week's groceries
content. friendly relationship banter, swearing, suns wants to take care of you with his pro volleyball money but you're not having it, cashier is entertained, slight suggestive talk and comments, mention of impregnation
a/n. — as a cashier, i love when this happens, it's so cute and makes me laugh so i figured i'd write about it. don't forget to show some love, enjoy!! also this is NOT proofread so don't get on my ass for mistakes. requests are open <3
"are you gonna stand there and look pretty or help me unload this cart?" the look on your boyfriend's face says he's not impressed at your lack of contribution to this trip but you did tell him that if you did the shopping, he'd be doing the rest and you meant it.
"i think i'll stand here and look pretty. besides, you're almost finished anyways. it's almost like i did all of the shopping while you followed me around and whined about them not having your favorite protein bowls." the next box of pancake mix is slammed a little too hard onto the belt, your boyfriend mumbling something about how he should've stayed home, but you knew better than to be deceived by the whole 'i hate it here' act.
suna loved to grocery shop with you. he loved pushing the cart while you neatly put stuff inside of it and marked said item off of your cute little list with your cute little pen. he loved sneaking stuff into the cart just for you to act like you didn't see it and pay for it anyways. he loved when you asked him which flavor of cream cheese looked better or which new cereal you should try this time around. he loved the domesticity of it all.
he would mention every time how it weirdly turned him on to which you'd laugh and call him a freak, but if only you knew that he was not joking. it made him feel some type of way seeing you shop for groceries for y'all to eat at y'all's house under the roof you both owned. god he was gonna get hard thinking about it.
maybe he should put a baby inside of you to really add touch to the domestic feel of your relationship. he could see it now, you pushing his baby around in a stroller, picking out baby food and cute decorated bottles-
"suna rintaro." your boyfriend's far off gaze meets your own concerned eyes, "you good there?"
"yeah. sorry, baby." he puts the last few things on the belt before pushing the cart your way so that the bagger would have somewhere to put the many paper bags packed with things you two probably didn't need. "do you want a drink?"
suna opens the end cap fridge to retrieve a peach flavored celsius, grabbing another watermelon one for later knowing you'll be asking for a sip of his like you always do after denying his offer to get you your own drink.
"no thanks."
and like every other time, the cashier announces the overpriced total for all of the things sitting in the paper bags in your cart, but instead of suna pressing his apple watch to the corner of the terminal to pay, he nearly scoffs when you turn yours on to do the same.
"put that away, you know i pay for the groceries." his larger hand swats yours away when you get a little too close to the square reader for contactless payments.
"you paid last time meaning it's my turn. you paid for lunch so it's only fair."
"i paid for lunch because i like paying for you. you're my lover, it's my job."
"yeah well, you're my lover as well so therefore the job is also mine so move."
a small beep signaling the completion of a transaction is heard between your bickering and shoving making you pause, not too sure who just paid for the 214 dollar bill.
suna flips his watch to see the card information for apple pay still displayed, the words hold near reader mocking him from the tiny screen of his watch , but a small check mark and the words approved glowing on yours.
the cashier laughs as she hands you the unnecessarily long receipt as your bothered boyfriend stands scarily still next to you, imaginary holes being burned through your skull from his hard stare.
you can only roll your eyes at his dramatics and land a few pats to the firm muscles of his back with a reassuring smile, aware that he just truly loves taking care of the finances and anything that involves needing money since he's more than able to.
you wouldn't even have a job if it wasn't for his understanding that you want to be able to work for the things you want and experience having a successful career and hard earned money. another reason why you are also more than capable of paying for this week's groceries.
"push the cart for me big boy, we gotta put all this in the car." the six foot man before you visibly slumps at the thought, a small defeated sigh leaving his lips when you wrap an arm around his waist and pull him along with you to the full basket on wheels.
"i'm buying us dinner tonight." his voice is firm when he lays the not offer down.
"i know you will, baby."
"and i'm getting us smoothies before we go home." now you're smiling at his pettiness.
"yeah?"
"mhm."
"okay, pretty boy. buy us smoothies with all of your hard earned money from being such an amazing player. my sweet, generous, loving, rich boyfriend." now he's smiling that gorgeous smile that you love a little too much. the way he bites the inside of his cheek to hide just how much your words affect him makes you wanna kiss the lights out of him.
"shut up." he wants to trip you when you go walking past him with a little too much pep in your step. but you don't notice the hundred dollar bill he slips into the open zipper of your purse as you go by, setting a mental reminder to sneak in another one later when you're not paying attention because suna always pays for his lover.
aali help i wanna piss off kiri so bad :( be just arch nemesis :( his fated enemy :( the villain in his story :( i wanna constantly be at his throat to the point where he can’t stand me n has no choice but to try n put me in my place or die trying every time he sees me. send help this is an illness atp
eijirou kirishima gets a long with everyone— absolutely everyone.
kids love him, he ruffles their hair and only gives them candy if they’re good to their mum’s who oogle his arms when they think he’s not looking. the old ladies adore him whenever he passes them by in the cafe he gets his smoothie at every morning ( the baristas have a thing for him too ), the old sweethearts will give him a hard candy and a pinch to the cheek just for saying hello.
he’s kind, and warm, always serves with a smile and stops by to help.
everybody loves eijirou kirishima.
everybody except for you.
for some reason, you insist on hating him. refusing his help when he holds the door open tor you or offers to carry your bags, you look at eijirou like he’s stupid in patrol meetings and reject his rides home from work. you’re mean— and it annoys him. there’s only so much a man can take before he snaps and has to do something about the problem.
“not so tough, are ya now?” eijirou can be mean too, he can grip you by the cheeks and force your body into the wall, keeping you up against it by the brute strength of his his hips as they canter into yours— heavy, girthy cock carving its shape into your slippery malleable insides. all you can do is hiccup, keening into the red head’s every move even if you attempt to move your head away from his grip. “d’aw, don’t be like that sweetheart…you don’t like it when i’m mean? when i fuck you up like this; treat this nasty cunt like she deserves?”
please, you can’t tell if the way kirishima folds you up, knees into your shoulders as a bulky arm wraps around your soft middle makes you love him or hate him more— either way you’re cock drunky, hungry for the way his veiny shaft bullies it’s way into you accompanied by the wet slap, slap, slap that trickles into your symphony of hiccups and gasps and high pitched whines. “y-you’re such an…awful person,” you stutter out as kirishima licks the salt sweat from his Cupid’s bow— pulling all the way out of your creamy cunt, white with your own juices, fluttering at the suction sound when there’s not an inch of kiri left inside you.
eijirou smirks, resting his glistening cock on your pelvis, tip leaking a ways way above your belly button, entire shaft throbbing against your soft tummy. “takes one to know one, eh?” he grins sweet at you; ruby eyes though coloured with hatred shining with lust. “you’re just the awful person who likes gettin’ fucked like a filthy bitch.” then he’s grinding that seedy, achingly red tip of his into your swollen clit; hissing through his sharp teeth as he pushes back into your blistering heat with ease, chuckling at how you welcome him home, pussy pulsing with desire. “such a nasty, fuckin’ girl, huh sweetheart?” he adds, punctuating each of his words with a hard thrust into your guts.
“w-watch it, red.” you’re in no place to warn kirishima, feeling like his cock is in your throat, back arching up to meet his pace.
eijirou thumbs at your clit, sending your eyes back into your skull, his mouth hanging open to mock your moans. “w-w-watch it red!” he teases, stimulating you so fast; so fucking hard you don’t know what’s up or what’s down. “do me a favour, sweetheart, and come up for air. let me help you out just this once, and make this pathetic pussy cum. okay?”
his words make you drip, coating his thighs in a sticky sheen of your arousal and all you can do is look up at the sinisterly sexy eijirou kirishima and speak with just the tears of pleasure in your eyes.
summary | nanami kento can't bring himself to pull back because he was fucked from the moment you walked into the church. your little white dress was the noose around his priesthood.
pairing | priest!nanami kento x fem!reader
word count | 3,206
warnings | oh god — blasphemy, sacrilege, sex in a church, oral (f!receiving), pussyjob, masturbation, corruption kink, virgin kink, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, god kink, worship kink, praise, degradation, creampie, slight breeding kink, just the tip, squirting, dub con (ish), minorly ooc kento :(
a/n | this was not beta'd + i have church in the morning. dabbling in some kinktober!! something light for y'all to enjoy <3
[ 18 + | minors, blank, ageless blogs, do not interact! ]
—
nanami kento was a man of the cloth.
of course, the operative word being "was."
he was a man of the cloth until you waltzed into the church with your family. a fresh college graduate, staying with her parents to save money, teaching at the local elementary school.
the first sunday you came in a modest dress, your soft eyes taking in the composure of the church before they landed on him. a demure smile settled on your face and you ducked your head after meeting his eyes.
he was hooked.
it's not like he could help it. your eyes stayed trained on him throughout every service and he loved your attention. he thrived under your watchful gaze, the way you hung off of every word he spoke.
and you weren't a mystery, nanami could read you like a book. he saw the way your thighs clenched in the pew when his voice raised.
it only took a few weeks for you to show up in his office.
the perfect combination of innocent and repentant. the conversation starts sweet, a recollection of your time in college and your abandonment of church.
"i didn't go to church when i went away, i was busy and distracted," you sigh, fiddling with your fingers. "i have maintained my purity in college, but recently, i've been...tempted."
nanami can't explain the relief that floods him when he hears that you're a virgin, and the excitement that hits him when you start to open up.
"i've been having impure thoughts and they've been getting worse every week, i try to ignore them, but last night, i couldn't." your voice is a shaky whine, afraid of the consequences. "i touched myself."
your confession has nanami's eyes nearly rolling back. he bites the inside of his cheek thinking about you with your hands between your legs, rocking against your fingers. he thinks about how slick your thighs would be, how easily you would give in and come for him. he knows you're pent up, you've spent your life in restriction.
it's that moment of silence that has you filling the gap again.
"it was only that one time father, and i've never done it before then, and i haven't done it since!"
nanami refrains from smiling, only nodding at your words. he leans forward, clasping his hands on the desk.
"i'd like you to come to me the next time you're experiencing your impure thoughts, i believe i can help."
you graciously accept and nanami only bids you a good evening.
he doesn't expect to see you again so soon, or for you to be sitting in his office on a friday night, the edge of your skirt between your fingers, tears in your eyes.
"i'm so sorry father nanami, i tried not to think about it!" you're crying now and nanami is so thankful he's behind his desk because the sight of your tears is getting him so hard.
he gives you a little smile before he asks, "what did you think about?"
this is when you freeze, body tight and in panic. you stutter out a few words, but nanami cuts you off. "it's okay, all have sinned and fall short of the glory of god, confess and i can help you."
with his reassurance, you open your mouth and confess.
"i have these thoughts all the time," you bow your head and swallow harshly as you continue. "it's wrong but i think about him having sex with him."
"it's best to talk about our sins," nanami takes a slow breath before rising from his chair. "to relieve ourselves from concealment. who is this person you're having these thoughts about?"
at his words, your eyes meet his again. "i can't—"
"do you believe that you can hide from god? they are not hidden from my face, nor is their sin concealed from my eyes."
his tone is stern and it makes you nervous to see the hard line of his frown.
"it's you."
nanami clenches his teeth at your pitiful, little whisper. the shame sits hot in your face and he can't help but drink it in.
he can't bring himself to pull back because he was fucked from the moment you walked into the church. your little white dress was the noose around his priesthood.
the only thing he can do now is drag you down with him.
that night, nanami consoles your fears and worries, he tells you the real work will start after sunday morning service. he promises you that there is nothing to worry about, there is no sin that can't be washed clean by god's love.
—
so sunday evening, you tell your parents you're doing intensive study with nanami and they are overjoyed to hear it.
in fact, they encourage you to stay as long as you can.
so nanami takes his time with you. he walks you through scriptures and teachings and prayers and at the end he even gives you a technique to keep you from truly sinning.
"what people don't know is that masturbation is a sin," nanami explains, taking your hands in his. "only if you climax."
your eyebrows furrow and nanami continues, "it's not a sin if you don't finish."
he demonstrates by having you sit on top of his desk, skirt hiked up around your waist, panties hanging off your ankle.
nanami's kneeling in front of you, eyes shut. he's just breathing you in and he wasn't surprised to see that your thighs are glistening. you've just spent the last hour skirting his touches and listening to the rumble of his voice.
he pets lightly at your folds, as you lean back, propped up on your elbows. spreading you open, nanami groans to himself at your slick hole, begging for him to touch you. his fingers trace lightly over your cunt before tapping at your clit.
of course you're sensitive. his light touches have you trembling and shaking, already crying out his name.
"is this what you thought of when you touched yourself," nanami speaks, his breath right over your mound. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, hooded and desperate. "me between your legs, playing with this filthy mess?"
you nod pathetically and nanami continues. there's no rhyme or reason to the way he's touching you. he's greedily spreading your mess around your thighs and flicking at your clit while you cry above him.
"please, please nanami, it feels so good."
he responds by sealing his mouth over you, teasing his tongue against your clit.
his finger starts slipping inside your cunt, stretching you out. nanami relishes in how tight you are, knowing that your little fingers weren't enough to open you up for him. with little effort, nanami's grazing spots inside of you that you didn't even know existed.
your mess is sliding down his wrist, but he doesn't stop. he keeps going until you're whining his name again, desperate and pleading.
"oh god, please, i can't!" your fingers find purchase in his hair, keeping his mouth over your pussy. "let me cum! just this once, please, i'll be good. i need you."
tears are welling up in your eyes, but nanami knows this isn't what you need right now. he feels your cunt tightening around his fingers as your voice goes up in shrill cries.
"you want to cum?"
"yes, so bad! please let me cum!"
it only worsens when he pulls away, leaving you empty.
the tendrils of your upcoming orgasm slip away and your tears fall even faster.
your watery eyes find nanami who's sitting back, smiling teasingly at you.
"see? you did so good."
you don't believe him, not until nanami has kneeling in front of him as performs similar acts on himself.
his cock is hard and weeping against his fist. he insisted on using the slick from your denied orgasm to smooth the movements of his hand. the wet sounds of his pleasure fill the office.
"you make me feel so good, you're so damn pretty," nanami grunts. you're inches away from his dick, and he can feel the puffs of your breath against the tip. your eyes are trailing the motions of his hand, the flex of his stomach, and the tension in his thighs.
his languid pace speeds up to something rough and fast, it's taking everything in nanami not to come on your face, not to spew every disgusting thought in his mind.
all in due time.
so he settles for making you think he's just like you. when he feels the knot of pleasure about to unwind, he grabs the base of dick and squeezing until your name sounds like a curse on his lips.
"god, baby, see?" he's out breath, but it's okay when he sees the light smile on your lips. "it's okay if you don't come."
—
nanami honestly doesn't know when he got so fucked. he thought he had control of this. he believed he had control of his actions, but you've taken root in his brain, and he had to know that edging you and himself wasn't going to be enough.
it only takes a few more sessions for nanami to convince you to do more. that it's okay, as long as you come with nanami in the room to oversee it. and it's okay as long as you come on his fingers, or in his mouth.
now, nanami has you grinding on his lap, using your cute little cunt to give him a pussyjob. your panties are stuffed in his pocket and his pants are around his ankles. his dick is harder than its ever been in his life, the tip is leaking between your pussy lips, throbbing and red.
"don't worry," nanami groans into your neck. "it's fine as long as i'm not inside you."
nanami feels like he might even believe it himself, because he knows it must be heaven inside your pussy. and to deprive himself of it right now must make him a saint.
the way you're whining in his ear and clutching his shoulder has nanami strongly considering otherwise.
"this feels so good, you're so big nanami!"
and while he doesn't need his ego stroked, he knows your words are genuine. he can tell from the way you're crying it out in disbelief. he needs to hear the way you'll sound when he's sinking his cock inside you, fucking against that sweet spot he touches his fingers.
"'nami, 's good, oh my—" you cut yourself off with a broken moan, and nanami can tell you're getting close with the way your slick pours out, covering his cock.
he's learned that you cum the hardest when he's pinching your nipples and talking you through it. so with one hand nanami guides your hips, keeping you moving in his lap, and with the other he's playing with your chest.
all the while nanami's speaking praises into your ear.
"you're such a pretty little angel, you listen so well," nanami kisses your neck, careful not to leave a mark above your collar. "always so perfect for me."
and his words have you soaring, crying out his name as you clutch his shirt.
but this is still not enough.
your pretty eyes filled with tears and the sound of his name on your lips isn't enough anymore.
it should be alarming that it's taken nanami such a short period of time to be so infatuated with you, but he can't bring himself to care.
not when you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky,
like he gave the sun it's light,
like he's god.
it's love and it's power and nanami cannot let this go. your body is singing the devil's song and he's echoing the words.
so in the same breath, he's teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, whispering reassurance as he does.
"promise it'll be just the tip, angel, just need to feel you like this."
he doesn't try to assuage you with promises of heaven and a sinless life. he knows that won't work. nanami thinks you might love him more than you love your religion.
he hopes he's right.
so you're giving in, making him promise "just the tip." and nanami nods half-heartedly, already pussydrunk imagining the way you're going to swallow him up.
"too big, 'nami, 's too big!"
but it's just the tip and it's got his eyes fluttering at the feeling of your sucking him.
he lets you settle around him before he tilts your head up to look at him again. placing kisses under your jaw, he tries to distract himself from the inviting warmth of your heat, but the feeling of his lips on your neck has you squirming in his lap.
"i can—oh god—i can take more, right? you'll give me more?" you whine in his ear, desperate and pleading, like it's nanami's fault he's not touching your cervix right now.
in truth nanami was trying to control the situation, swearing to himself that he wouldn't ruin you in one night.
but he's a weak man with simple desires and being inside you is a pleasure he can no longer deny himself.
so nanami takes your hips in his hands and keeps you right on his tip. then he takes his time sinking you down, ignoring your cries and whines of it being too much. he knows you can take it.
it takes him too long to get your hips all the way down, his balls pressed against your ass. by the time he's seated completely inside you, sweat has collected in the valley between your breasts and nanami has left marks along your neck.
"doin' so good for me, so wet and tight," nanami grunts in your ear. his praise sinks right in your stomach and he knows it.
nanami tries to take it slow because this is your first time, he barely even got to prep you, but once he starts thrusting, the sound of your voice knocks him out entirely.
"oh—oh my god!" your nails are raking down his back as you cry out, "kento!"
the sound of his first falling off your lips has nanami's rhythm stuttering. he doesn't know why it floors him, but he knows he's not going as slow as he was when he first started.
in the back of his mind, he know he should not be drilling you like this. nanami should have you laid out on his bed, softly easing his way into your cunt, probably with a condom on, after having wrung multiple orgasms from your body. he should continue praising you, reminding how good you're doing for him.
instead he's got you bouncing totally naked in his lap, his pants down around his ankles, with his hand clutching the base of your throat. tears are falling down your cheeks and nanami can't stop himself from licking them up with fervor. and all he can think of is how filthy you are for letting him fuck you in a church, and that's all that comes out of his mouth.
"so fucking slutty for me, baby," nanami groans, thrusting up harder. "letting me in this cunt so easily? have you been saving it for me?"
"yeah, all for you, just for you," you swear. "god, it's only yours!"
nanami nods, kissing your lips sloppily, "just for me? your tight, wet pussy was waiting for my fucking cock?"
"kento—"
"this body's supposed to be the temple of god, you know that? i've taken an oath, bound myself to God, spent hours of my life in prayer and solitude," nanami rambles, flicking your nipples as he speaks. "then you walk in with this sweet, virgin cunt and i've never wanted anything more."
with every thrust, nanami's rolling against your spot, fucking you into the shape of his cock. and he's in your ear telling you that he owns you now, that every inch of your body belongs to him, entirely. so you keep agreeing with him, nodding and promising that nobody else will touch you like this.
he's got his hands all over your body, playing with your chest, groping your ass, and then gripping your throat tightly.
in the silence that comes from you being choked, nanami chuckles a little.
"hear that?"
and you know what he's talking about immediately. the sounds of him fucking you, the squelching sounds of your arousal loud and echoing in his office.
"it's how bad your little pussy wanted me. how bad she wanted to fuck her priest. came to my church to fuck things up, hm?" nanami slows down, grinding you on his lap while he taunts you. "wore that white dress and wanted me to lose my religion. knew i couldn't resist this hot fucking body sitting in my pew."
you're trying to disagree but with nanami's cock pressed against cervix, but you can't even uncross your eyes.
"fucking answer me."
nodding, you mindlessly agree, "yes, you're right! kento—my god—i'm so close, please don't stop."
and the way you keep mixing his name with cries for God is making nanami's head spin. he's starting to think you're doing it on purpose.
"yeah? beg me some more," nanami smiles, nipping at your neck again. "i like hearing you."
you bite back the petulant whine rising up in your throat and choose to be obedient. "kento, please let me cum—want it so bad, please!"
this time nanami obliges you, twisting your nipples between his fingers, urging you to cum for him.
"be my nasty fucking girl and cum on my cock, sinful little slut."
your nails dig harshly into his shoulder as you toss your head back in heavenly ecstasy.
"oh my—fuck!"
the curse falling from your lips is followed by the collection of tension in your body. your cunt tightens around nanami's cock as you freeze on nanami's lap. he keeps fucking you through it, his cock pounding into your cunt while you gush and squirt around him.
"can you cum inside me, kento? please?" you're begging again, even more for his cum than for your own orgasm. "i want it so bad, want you to fill me up, okay? you'll do it right, kento? you'll give me your cum?"
and what choice does nanami have? he has to empty his balls inside you.
"gonna dump my fucking cum in your cunt," nanami growls.
that's all the warning you get before he's fulfilling his promise, giving you everything he's got. his groans and curses fill your ears while his hips stutter, painting your insides white.
nanami sighs in contentment, rubbing his hands up and down your back as his cock softens inside you. he feels you relax in his lap, tiredness overtaking your limbs.
the evidence of your sin leaks down to nanami's balls.
you lean your forehead against his, stars still in your eyes. even after the depraved acts nanami's performed on you in the last couple of weeks, you still think he's created heaven and earth.
"thank you so much kento, you're so good to me," you whisper and it sounds like a prayer.
dededos
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
