This is routine, or it became routine when you and Kento moved in together. You’re still considered newlyweds, married a little over a year.
This Saturday in particular is the day Kento works from your home office. There’s not much work for him to do, mostly responding to important emails and preparing for the upcoming work week. He’s normally closed inside the room to ensure that there’s no background noise during his phone calls, yet today the door’s ajar, the smell of lemon-scented Lysol wafting into the open space. 90’s R&B is playing throughout the living room, a genre Kento has recently become accustomed to. You’ve opened him up to genres he’d never imagined listening to. Kento recognizes the beat of the next song, a small smile appearing on his face. R&B, Blues, and Zydeco just to name a few. There’s a sound of the mop falling before slippered feet run to raise the volume, then he waits, knowing that you’re waiting for the chorus.
“…Tell me if you want me to give you all my time. I wanna make it good for you ‘cause you blow my mind. I promise boy, that I’ll be true. You’re the perfect find. So tell me if you want me to….”
Kento may be biased when he says he loves your voice. He hasn’t really told you, but when you sing it soothes him. He loves to hear you talk and laugh, but your singing…gives him a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. It takes him back to his teenage years when his family would go to the coast. He’d always loved the beach; the feel of wet sand between his toes, the sound of crashing waves, the wind blowing in his hair. Your voice is a warm blanket on a cold winter day, like the deep sigh you release when your body is finally warming up and you’re doing that happy little wiggle.
Kento rises from his desk; the emails can wait until Monday morning. He allows your voice to lead him into your bedroom where he leans against the door frame, admiring your movements as you stop to roll your hips then continue to make the bed with fresh sheets, oblivious to your husband’s adoring eyes.
Kento is now reminded of the first time he’d heard Ascension, you’d recently started dating and were leaving town for the weekend. Kento had planned a weekend out of town away in an upscale suite with a 5-star rooftop restaurant overlooking the ocean. He’d insisted you choose the music for the drive there. The crooning from the car speakers causes the man to raise an eyebrow, deciding to listen to the song in its entirety before he judges you for your taste in music. He’d listened to half of the song before his eyes went to the radio, making a mental note of the title and artist to download later.
“Ken…baby?” He feels your hands touch his face and he places a kiss to your wrist. “I’m okay…just remembering the first time I heard this song…”
He twirls you around, pulling you into his chest, rocking side to side, humming the lyrics into your ear. A shiver runs through you when his voice lowers.
“…Shouldn’t I realize, You’re the highest of the high, if you don’t know, then I’ll say it, so don’t ever wonder…don’t ever wonder…”
Your eyes widen, surprised to hear Kento sing. You’ve heard the smooth baritone in your ear plenty, and it never failed to arouse you, a familiar heat in your lower stomach. Your phone must be privy to your internal battle, the next song, Freak Me causes your husband to chuckle behind you. He immediately turns you to face him, serenading you as he leads you backwards toward your bed, already tugging at your shirt. Needless to say, Kento fulfills the song’s requests and once you’re sated and have finally caught your breath, you share a good laugh about the influence your taste in music has on him.
Your 90’s playlist plays well into the evening, after dinner and a shared bubble bath. The music is eventually turned off, but not before you dance together to the song Kento has played at least once a day since the day you shared your first dance at your wedding.
“…These buildings could drift out to sea...some natural catastrophe. Still there’s no place I’d rather be, ‘cause nothing even matters to me…”
...I couldn't just let this post go without expanding. I couldn't get the idea of Nanamin getting turned into a 90s R&B listener...I love, love, LOVE this man! Oh, I finally learned how to add links (don't judge me 🙃) so each lyric has a link to the song on YT...Until Next Time 🫶🏽
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Suguru wasn’t accustomed to being treated this way. He’d never been cared for so dearly; treated as if he were fragile. His mind would tell him that he doesn’t deserve you or your love, but you had shown him otherwise. When he walks thru the door, you help him remove his coat, grabbing his hand as you lead him into the kitchen. On days like today, when his mind is busy working against him, conjuring up lies of him being useless and unloved, Suguru can’t stomach food.
So you had him drink water and eat at least four saltine crackers, and when he does you tell him how proud you are, before guiding him by hand toward your shared bathroom. First, you disrobe the man, yourself, then turn on the shower. While the water is heating up, you pull Suguru toward you, bare chests touching as you look into his eyes.
“You are enough...,” you begin with a reassuring grip to Suguru’s neck.
“You are a beautiful man inside and out…you are allowed to live, and I love you more than I can explain in words.”
Your words cease long enough for the both of you to climb into the shower. You have Suguru sit on a shower bench, to shampoo his hair and to see his face while doing so. You grab the detachable shower head to wet his hair, then add your pomegranate-scented shampoo that he loves. This is all done while never taking your eyes from his face.
It is a temporary fix; grief, heartache, and self-doubt come and goes in waves for Suguru, but you want him to know that you are still here. Still ever-present. You are well aware of how often his brain decides to be an asshole, causing him to overthink everything, your relationship included. You are his glue; the stronghold that can put him back together when he shatters to pieces.
“Say it,” you command, waiting patiently for his response, fingers massaging the shampoo into his hair.
You catch the deep furrow of his brow, his eyes closing. He shakily wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his forehead into your stomach. Suguru’s sobs shake you to your core…and you hate it. Your fingers slide thru his hair, wishing you could somehow reach into his brain and remove every negative thought or bad memory. It’s impossible, but you reassure him.
“I gotchu love…I’m right here…”
You find yourself shedding tears, heart breaking at your boyfriend's pain. Today marks five years since Suguru lost his parents and sisters in a deadly car crash. You hate that you can’t bring Suguru’s family back, knowing that he suffers from survivor’s guilt. The thought makes your chest hurt, wishing that they were still alive to fill the holes of his aching heart.
Suguru is the first to pull away, red-rimmed eyes blurry. You already know what he’s going to say next, so before he could utter a word, you place a finger to his lips.
“Baby, you don’t ever have to apologize for breaking. Ever. I said that I’m here and I am.”
“You don’t have to carry this on your own.”
You reach behind Suguru to grab the shower comb, sliding it thru his hair, softly speaking sweet words of praise as you continue to take care of him. Once you’re both showered and dressed, you have him sit between your legs to blow dry his hair and oil his scalp. Afterwards, Suguru joins you on the couch, tugging you into his lap, your eyes staring directly into his, waiting for the man’s eyes to focus fully before speaking.
“Repeat after me…I am enough…” “…I am enough”
“I am deserving of love and happiness.” “…I-I am deserving of love and happiness.”
“I am proud of myself.” “…I am proud of myself.”
“I am doing my best.” “…I am doing my best.”
“I am loved.” “…I am loved.”
You place a kiss to his forehead, smiling softly.
“Yes, you are, Sugu, and don’t every forget that.”
AN: Heeey 😊 I don’t post much (writers’ block is for the birds…also I still get anxious when posting anything that I write), but I wrote this back in October and had to share. This was very much self indulgent, especially since I struggle with anxiety and depression and sometimes my brain is an asshole. I used the tag #black reader, because that’s who I write for, but anyone is more than welcome to read. Until next time, stay golden 🌻
You couldn’t even see anymore. He was usually rough with you in bed but you made it worse because you called him ‘old man’ earlier today when he was driving too slow for your liking—earning you a groan in response. And he is aware that he has a few decades on him, but he’d rather call himself wise than old. Little did you know when you got home after that little joke he’d be tossing you around like a sex toy for hours—hair sweated out, pillows on the floor, sheets half off the bed, throw blanket kicked somewhere, whole bed scooting to the opposite side—and he’d still be going just to prove a point, throwing you a flashy smile every time he drags another sound out of you. He always thought you looked so cute like this, wrists cuffed behind your thighs, legs pressed together and in the air. He’d hold your ankles with one hand, long fluffy pink socks soft against his palm— your completely exposed and helpless while your two-toned, cum filled pussy is exposed to the cold air.
“You strugglin’ a lot on an old dick, princess—keep up.” he smirked, voice cocky and deep, and that’s what finally snapped something inside you. Your eyes rolled, head thrown back, mouth falling open with a sound you didn’t even recognize like you gave up on trying to hold back.
Toji laughed—laughed—because he knew he had you right where he wanted you.
Your pretty little body was done, twitching under him, thighs trembling in his grip, toes curling in those fluffy socks he kept bringing up just to tease you.
“Y’hear that?” he asked, hips snapping forward with a rough, wet clap that echoed off the walls. “That’s you. That’s your lil’ joke gettin’ fucked outta you.”
You whimpered, trying to twist your wrists, but you weren’t going anywhere. He had you folded like a pretzel, ankles pinned together in his fist, hole getting forced open enough for his cock to grind even deeper. You’re making noises like it’s your first time with him, not saying words but he somehow knows completely what you’re feeling.
His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers spreading your lips so he could watch the way his cock dragged through your mess. That stupid, crooked smile that only came out when he was ruining you.
“T-Toji—” you choked, but your voice broke on the consonant, tearing into a breathy moan when he slammed into you again, harder this time as you dug your fingers into your unnecessarily expensive comforter.
“Uh-huh,” he teased, “say it right, princess.” A sharp smack hits your ass—firm, deliberate causing your back to arch painfully off the mattress.
“Toji—Daddy, please—!”
He groaned like the sound fed him.“Better,” he rasped, “knew you’d get polite eventually.”
Your vision blurred again, tears slipping out the corners of your eyes. You could barely breathe, barely think—every thrust felt like he was knocking thoughts out of your head on purpose.
“Look at me,” he demanded. His fingers caught your jaw, forcing your dazed eyes up to meet his. He held your ankles even tighter, it almost hurt but that was the least of our worries.
“This old man,” he said with a slow, deep roll of his hips that made your entire body seize, “is still fuckin’ you stupid.”
You sobbed a little—too overwhelmed to care. And god, he ate it up.
“I knowww, Toji the worst, huh baby?” he cooed, pure mockery dripping from every syllable. His mouth brushed the wet spot on your cheek—part tears, part sweat—right before he slammed his hips forward again. The bedframe groaned along with you, your toes curled so hard your socks had slipped halfway off, dangling uselessly by your heels.
“Tell me how many times you came for me,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot, tone way too sweet for how hard he was fucking you, “and I’ll let you rest.”
You hated him. You loved him. You hated that you loved how mean he got.
And you almost broke—your throat tightening, chest shaking, because he was asking for something you physically couldn’t give. You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. Everything blurred together in one long, pulsing rush of heat and overstimulation.
A hiccup stuttered out of you, your vision cloudy, your legs trembling uncontrollably. “You’re bein’—hicc!—m-mean t’me!”
He grinned against your cheek, teeth flashing, eyes dark with satisfaction because he doesn’t even know the answer, just wanted to give you a sense of false hope.
“Daddy… mmhh! I—ahh! I can’t—!” you gasped as uou felt your umpteenth, body trembling, slick pooling down your thighs.
He slowed just enough to drag his mouth over your jawline, teasing, kissing, but still fucking you deep like be always did when you started cumming around him.
𐙚⋆. synopsis: your husband has gotten to the age where he can barely keep up with you in foreplay. no worries though, you never let your husband do all the work by himself, even if he tries to let his pride get in the way!
𐙚⋆. character: toji fushiguro
𐙚⋆. cw: explicit sexual content, old man!toji, explicit language (praising, dirty talk), couch foreplay, dom/sub dynamics (slight! switch toji), age gap, fingering, oral (male receiving), dry humping
your husband's age had started to show in small and quiet ways like the stiffness in his shoulders when he got up too fast or the way he'd roll his neck and mutter something under his breath about "getting old." toji still carried himself like he was indestructible with that same calm and unbothered confidence that drew you to him in the first place but you could see it in the tiny betrayals of time catching up.
you never minded it. you'd known from the start that his forties would come with slower mornings and tired sighs but you'd already decided that you'd love every version of him, even the ones marked by grey at his temples. when he catches sight of those stray grey strands in the mirror and he'll huff while pretending not to care until you're standing behind him and asking if he’s ready for another dye job. with your gloves on, you gently run the black dye through his hair as his eyes drift close and the tension in his jaw fades as you run your fingers through. sometimes he'll murmur something soft, almost like an apology for aging at all but you hush him before he can finish.
because to you— the silver hairs, the baby wrinkles, and the rough edges of him— they're proof of everything he's lived through and if you get to be the one who eases it for him, even a little, then you wouldn't trade it for anything. just like now, as toji shifts his weight on the worn sofa and the leather sighs under him. "you're relentless tonight," he muttered with his voice thick and his fingers tangled in your hair. it’s more reflex than guidance as you moved with a slow and deliberate rhythm.
his breath hitched as you took him deeper and your lips sealing tight around him. toji's hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck with his calloused palm rough against your skin. he wasn’t pushing you down nor demanding, just anchoring himself. you felt the tremor in his thighs and the coiled tension in his abdomen as he fought to stay still and to not thrust upward into the warmth of your mouth. he bit his lower lip as a low and frustrated sound escaped him when you pulled back just enough to let cool air brush the wetness you'd left behind on his cock. "tease," he growled, but there was no heat in it, only surrender wrapped in tiredness. you met his lidded eyes while holding his gaze as your tongue traced a slow and deliberate path to his tip that made his fingers dig into the sofa leather.
the taste of him was salty but familiar and it lingered on your tongue as you pulled away completely, leaving his cock flushed and glistening in the low light. you caught the frantic hitch in his chest, the way his knuckles whitened against the leather, and deliberately slowed your movements, running a single fingertip along the underside vein of his cock. "easy papa," you murmured, your voice a low hum against the heaters buzz.
a low growl tore from toji's throat as his hand shot out and his fingers locked around your wrist with bruising intensity. you barely registered the dizzying shift in perspective as he hauled you onto the leather beside him. one leg hooked over yours while pinning your hip as he rolled you onto your back beneath him. his eyes held yours like he was daring you to move. "my turn," he rasped, the words thick and ragged, leaving no room for argument. his free hand slid beneath the waistband of your pajamas as his fingers seeked for the damp heat you hadn't realized was pooling so quick. you gasped while arching from the sudden invasion as his calloused fingertips found your clit instantly. he started circling with a pressure that was knowledge learned from countless nights mapped onto your skin. a low moan escaped you while being echoed by the soft groan rumbling in his chest as he felt your slickness coating his fingers.
toji's gaze didn't waver as it locked onto yours with a predatory focus as his thumb pressed hard against your clit in strokes that sent shockwaves through your body. you writhed beneath him but his leg pinned you effortlessly and the heat of his body trapped you against the leather as his fingers worked deeper inside of you and curling just right. "fuck-" you choked out as your nails dug into his bicep. he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "that's it," he growled low as the vibration mingled with the slick sounds between your legs. "cum f’me baby." his command was edged with the same roughness that defined his hands.
tearing another fractured cry from your throat, you arched, desperate for more friction but the iron bar of his thigh held your hips pinned while forcing you to take the rhythm he dictated. heavy winds mixed with snow lashed against the windowpane, a frantic counterpoint to the slick and obscene sounds filling the small space that mingled with your choked gasps. his eyes burned into yours while absorbing every tremor and every desperate flutter of your lashes as you came on his fingers.
his grip on your waist tightened abruptly while hauling you upward in a rough and effortless motion. before you could grasp the shift, you were straddling him with your knees sinking into the worn leather cushion on either side of his hips. the thick heat of him pressed against your core that was slick and pulsing even through the thin barrier of your shorts. toji's gaze raked over your face as his hands settled low on your backside and his fingers dug possessively into the curve of your ass. "move," he commanded, the word thick and ragged, stripping away any lingering pretense of control you thought you had. you rocked forward experimentally as the friction dragged a sharp gasp from your lips and a choked groan from deep within his chest, a sound that vibrated against your skin where his forehead pressed hard against your collarbone.
the rhythm started slow but the sensation quickly proved too much for the both of you. your hips stuttered while losing their careful pace as pleasure overtook you. you bucked against him, desperate and clumsy while chasing the friction where his cock strained against the damp fabric separating you. toji's harsh breaths ghosted hotly against your neck as his fingers tightened convulsively on your hips while trying and failing to steady your frantic movements. his own thrusts grew erratic and turned into shallow jerks upward to meet you as if he couldn't decide whether to let you take control or hold you still. a low and broken curse escaped him that was muffled against your skin as your slick heat soaked through the layers and drove him wild.
the desperate clumsiness dissolved into your thighs clenching hard around his hips as the slick drag intensified. the thin barrier of fabric soaked and useless now, amplifying every ridge, and every throbbing pulse of him against your aching clit. toji's ragged curses dissolved into a low and continuous growl vibrating against your shoulder blade. he tried to lift his hips, seeking deeper contact but his movements were jerky and uncontrolled while he was overwhelmed by the sheer sensory overload. his grip on your hips faltered as his fingers slid uselessly against your sweat slicked skin as you ground down harder while trying to keep up with the messy rhythm.
"y-you're so sexy like this papa," you moaned out as your palms slid up the rigid plains of his abdomen, feeling the tremor beneath his sweaty skin as your hips rolled in a relentless rhythm now. "i l-love watching yo-ughhh... watching you come undone." his eyes flew open while meeting yours and a raw vulnerability was there, something you rarely saw. his breath hitched and not from the pleasure tearing through him but from being seen this way– being stripped of control.
"s-so strong," you murmured as your thumbs traced the straining tendons in his neck where his head thrashed against the leather. "even now papa. especially now." a choked sound escaped him that was half protest and half surrender. it didn’t feel like gentle praise to him, it felt like the you were slicing through his need for control. you leaned down as your lips brushed against the shell of his ear. "let go f’me papa. i want all of you." the words landed like weights anchoring him further into the storm. his hips jerked upward in sharp and uncontrolled thrusts as a raw gasp teared from his throat as your praise stripped another layer of his control. his fingers scrabbled against your back, seeking leverage but found only the slick heat of skin stretched taut over muscle again. "y-you…fuckkk... you don't let up," he choked, the accusation thick with surrender as his eyes burned into yours even as his eyelids fluttered. "not for a fuckin’ second."
you felt him tensing beneath you, the desperate clench of his thighs against yours, and the frantic pulse against your clit signaling he was tipping over the edge. "not until you cum for me pa." your hands slid up while framing his face and forcing his wild and unfocused gaze to hold yours. "cum papa. f’me please." his eyes widened as a flicker of panic battled the overwhelming pleasure before he drowned completely as another wave of pleasure seized him. a strangled cry tore from his lips that was harsh and raw as his hips arched violently off the sofa, pressing himself impossibly deeper against you.
heat bloomed and suddenly it was wet and thick, soaking through the thin fabric between your bodies in pulsing jets. his hips jerked in short and frantic spasms while driving himself against your clit with each helpless thrust as his release tore through him. you felt every tremor like the raw clench of his thighs around your hips, the frantic pulse of his cockhead grinding against your core, and the shuddering breaths that tore from his chest like punches. his fingers dug bruisingly into your hips while holding you anchored against the relentless waves as he spilled himself against you, utterly undone.
the aftershocks pulsed against your clit like fading drumbeats as warm wetness soaked your thighs with toji collapsed beneath you, breathless and trembling. you stayed pressed close, your lips grazing the damp skin beneath his jaw, tasting salt and feeling his heart hammering against your chest. his ragged breaths warmed your shoulder as they grew slower and heavier, each exhale a sigh weighted with exhaustion. pride bloomed warm and quiet in your own chest. not just at his release but at witnessing his walls come down and letting you take control.
Description: Patience: Nanami’s greatest virtue— your undoing.
Warning: smut. No plot. Short and sweet
Octoberfest Masterlist
One of the best things about Kento Nanami? He was a man of practiced patience—measured, composed, never rushed.
The worst thing about Kento Nanami? He was a man of practiced patience.
Because that same calm that made him reliable in the daylight turned merciless in the dark. He could hold back until you were trembling for it, could draw pleasure out with the same precision he used to balance his ledgers—never losing focus until you were begging him to.
You clung to his tie, wrapped around your hand like a leash, rolling your hips to meet each deliberate thrust.
As spent as you were, you couldn’t help yourself. The way he touched you, loved you, worked you—every motion was deliberate, patient, devastating. You’d lost count of how many times he’d pulled release from you; it had to be seven by now, maybe more. Nanami didn’t relent. He never did.
“Ken—”
“Hmm?” His voice was deep, teasing, his thumb tracing slow circles against the sensitive flesh he’d already worked raw. He moved with the same precise rhythm as always, hips snapping forward with surgical control.
When he drew his hand away, you whimpered at the loss—only for him to bring his fingers to his mouth and taste you, humming low in approval.
He loved how you tasted. Especially when you were already full of him.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he murmured.
“I don’t think I can come anymore, baby,” you panted.
He clicked his tongue, amused, and pressed your knees higher, angling himself deeper until you felt him everywhere. “I think you can, darling. You stayed hydrated like I told you?” His tone was maddeningly casual, even as his hips ground slow and deep, every thrust brushing that spot that made you gasp.
“Yes!” you cried, head tipping back.
He leaned forward, lips capturing a nipple, tongue circling, sucking until you were arching into him.
“Oh—oh, fuck!”
“Mmm,” he hummed, releasing you with a soft pop. “Good girl.”
At the sound of praise, you clenched tight around him. He groaned, pace faltering for half a second before recovering, driving in harder. The only sounds in the room were the sharp slap of skin, your breathless moans, and the wet rhythm of his body claiming yours.
You wanted to let go—God, you needed to—but you knew better. Not until he said.
“Kento,” you gasped, voice trembling.
“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the way your body moved beneath him.
“Kento!” you cried louder, desperation edging your tone.
“Hmm?” he grunted, pace quickening, giving you what you needed but not what you wanted.
“Please!”
That was what he’d been waiting for. He smiled, small and satisfied.
“Cum.”
Bonus:
When it was over, he didn’t move right away. He simply stayed there, breathing against your skin, his body still covering yours like a weighted blanket. The tension that had driven every thrust bled out of him until only quiet remained. Then, gently—always gently—Nanami eased out of you and caught your chin between two fingers, tilting your face toward his.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured. His voice, the same one that commanded you moments ago, was soft now, threaded with concern. He brushed stray hair from your face. You’d be mad later that your hair was sweat out, but he never cared. He paid to fix it anyway. Nanami pressed a kiss to your temple, his thumb drawing slow circles at the hollow of your throat.
You could still feel the ghost of his control in the way he moved, deliberate even in tenderness. He cleaned you up, murmuring quiet praise, wrapping you in his shirt before pulling you against his chest.
That was Kento Nanami all over—disciplined to the last, patient to a fault. The same man who could break you apart with restraint was the one who always pieced you back together again.
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↳ ❝ [tattoo artist sukuna who owns a tattoo shop & his polar opposite girlfriend who loves to visit his shop. reader has a sweet tooth for desserts and sukuna.] ¡! ❞
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
The soft chime of the bell above the tattoo shop door barely registers over the low thrum of buzzing machines and heavy metal music leaking from the speakers. The space smells like antiseptic, ink, and a touch of weed that clings to the walls even when no one’s smoking.
But the second you step in, the entire vibe shifts.
You’re a vision in a baby pink dress that hugs your curves so well, your glossed lips curved in a smile and arms full with a pink bakery box. Your presence is instant sugar to the testosterone-heavy air.
Geto glances up from behind the front desk and grins. “The cupcake fairy’s back.”
“Someone better marry her before I do,” Choso mutters around a toothpick, already reaching for the box you’re carrying.
“You’re all ridiculous,” you laugh, handing it off as Maki leans against the wall with arms crossed, eyes scanning the label.
“Sukuna better be on his knees for this,” Maki says, cracking open the box to reveal perfectly iced cupcakes in flavors she’ll never admit are her favorite.
“Oh, he’ll be on his knees eventually,” you hum with a wink that earns a laugh from Geto and a raised brow from Toji as he walks past.
“He’s with a client,” Geto says with a nod toward the back. “Told us not to bug him.”
“When do I ever listen to that?” you giggle, glancing over your shoulder.
But first—you chat. Leaning on the counter, you joke about the wild Yelp review someone left. You compliment Maki’s new piercings. Let Toji flirt with you for five seconds before you roll your eyes. But your gaze keeps flicking toward the back, where you know Sukuna is working.
Eventually, you excuse yourself, cupcake in hand, and slip past the “Staff Only” hallway that leads to Sukuna’s private room and the small office he barely uses—except when it’s you on his desk.
His voice rumbles behind the closed door as he speaks to the client—low, commanding. The sound alone has you clenching your thighs.
You close the office door quietly and slip inside, alone, heart beating faster as you slide into the leather chair behind his desk.
You spread your legs slightly, the hem of your dress riding up, and lean back.
Your fingers ghost over the hem of your baby-pink thong, and you exhale, letting yourself sink into the dirty thrill of being just a few feet from him. Sukuna hates being distracted while he works, but you aren’t like anyone else.
Your fingers slip under the thin fabric, soft strokes over your already-throbbing clit. You bite your lip, muffling the whimper that escapes, rubbing slow, teasing circles. Your other hand tugs down the front of your dress, letting your tits spill slightly over your push-up bra.
The thought of him seeing you like this, sprawled in his chair with your pussy already slick for him, makes you wetter.
Outside, the muffled buzz of machines continues. Footsteps. Laughter from the front.
You work yourself up in short, teasing pulses—just enough to make your legs tremble, your lips part in silent moans. You keep yourself quiet, just like he taught you, clenching around nothing as the tension builds.
Finally, after what feels like forever, the sound of a door opening down the hall sends a thrill through your spine. Sukuna’s voice. Low, smug. Saying goodbye to the client.
You quickly sit up, fix your top—barely—and push your panties down your thighs. When the door to the office creaks open—
His eyes lock onto you instantly.
Jaw clenched. Eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything for a full beat, just stares, nostrils flaring at the sight of you flushed and panting with your panties around your thighs.
“You serious?” he growls, voice a low, dangerous thing as he shuts the door behind him and locks it.
You bite your lip and look up at him, sweet as sugar. “I missed you.”
He’s on you in a flash.
Sukuna grabs you by the jaw and kisses you hard, grabbing you by your hips next and lifting you on his desk as his hand yanks your thong the rest of the way off. He doesn’t even undress fully—just unzips his pants enough to free his dick, thick and already hard from hearing your soft moans through the wall.
“I’m fuckin’ working, and this is how you behave?” he mutters against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip.
“I was quiet,” you whisper back, gasping as he lifts your leg onto the desk, opening you up.
“Not quiet enough,” he growls, pressing the tip against your slick hole and pushing in slowly, painfully deep.
You whine, head falling back, one hand gripping the edge of the desk while the other clutches at his shirt—still tight across his chest, muscles flexing as he holds your hips in place.
He fucks you deep and slow, hips rocking into you with practiced rhythm—controlled, quiet, but intense. The kind of fucking that makes your knees weak and your breath stutter in your chest.
You moan into his shoulder, teeth sinking in to stay quiet, while his fingers dig into your thigh.
“Next time you want attention,” he pants, voice ragged against your ear, “sit your pretty ass in my lap and ask like a good girl.”
“But I like being bad,” you whisper, teasing.
He groans—fucks you harder.
Your back arches, toes curling, trying to stay silent as your orgasm builds fast and messy, just from the thrill of it all. Sukuna kisses you through it, sloppy and possessive, swallowing your cries as you cum on his cock.
He follows with a low grunt, burying himself deep, hips stuttering as he finishes inside you, holding you still so not a drop escapes.
When it’s over, your chest heaving, your legs still shaking, he kisses your cheek and grins.
“Leave those panties behind and I swear—”
“You’ll fuck me again later?” you interrupt sweetly, fixing your dress.
His grin widens. “You’re damn right I will.”
You kiss his cheek one last time, slip out quietly while the team’s distracted, and leave your panties folded neatly on his desk.
Just how he likes it.
After the last client staggered out and the team cleared out with lazy waves and half-finished snacks, Sukuna was left alone to close. The scent of antiseptic and faint vanilla frosting still hung in the air—you always left something behind. This time, it wasn’t just the cupcakes.
Your pink panties sat crumpled on his office desk like a souvenir.
He stared at them for a beat. Ran a rough hand down his face.
Groaned.
“Fuckin’ tease,” he muttered under his breath.
By the time he walked through the front door of the apartment, the lights were low and warm. You’d been here for a while already—your purse tossed on the counter, heels kicked off by the couch. Music played softly in the background, something sultry and bass-heavy that matched the way you moved when you emerged from the hallway.
Wearing nothing but his black tee.
No bra. No panties.
Just bare thighs and your sweet face, lip gloss freshly reapplied.
“Took you long enough,” you pouted playfully, padding over to him on bare feet.
Sukuna dropped his keys in the bowl by the door, eyes devouring you as his tongue rolled across his bottom lip.
“You think you can pull that shit at work and not makeup for it later?”
“I hoped you’d make me suffer,” you said innocently, arms looping around his thick neck. “You know I hate being patient.”
His hands were already gripping your waist, sliding down to your ass as he backed you into the wall. That shirt hung just low enough to cover your pussy, but not from him. He lifted the hem, one hand gripping the back of your thigh to hike your leg around his waist.
“You’re real fuckin’ lucky I barely remembered to even lock the shop door behind me,” he growled into your neck. “Been hard all fuckin’ day thinking about how warm your pussy felt around me in that damn office.”
“I touched myself again when I got home,” you whispered, breath hitching. “Right on the bed. Where you like it.”
Sukuna growled—low and rough. His cock was already straining in his jeans, and he didn’t bother dragging it out. He spun you toward the hallway, slapping your ass as you giggled and ran barefoot to the bedroom.
You’d already ripped his shirt off mid run to the room and laid on the freshly made bed. Already lit the candle you knew made him lose his mind.
When he walked in, shirt tossed off, arms thick and veiny from the long day, you were lying on your back, legs slightly parted, waiting.
“Come here, daddy,” you whispered.
He was on you in seconds.
He kissed you hard, one hand fisting in your hair while the other gripped your throat—not too hard, just enough to make your thighs twitch. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he settled between them, grinding his dick against your slick, needy center through his jeans.
“I should make you wait,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel.
“You won’t,” you said with a wicked little smirk.
He pulled his jeans and boxers down in one pull. No warning. No teasing. Just him—filling you in one heavy thrust, making your nails claw at his back as you gasped his name.
The bed rocked. Your legs wrapped tighter around him. His mouth was on your nipples, your neck, your lips—biting, sucking, tasting. His strokes were rough, deep, and unrelenting, like he had hours of frustration to burn through. You took it all, babbling praise and filthy whispers in his ear.
“Been thinking about this all day,” you gasped. “Wanted you to fuck it out of me.”
“You get off in my fuckin’ office,” he growled, “and then expect me to just wait? Nah, baby. You’re not walkin’ right tomorrow.”
He flipped you on your stomach before you could catch your breath, yanking you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his cock. You cried out into the pillows, the sound muffled as he gripped your hair and drilled into you from behind.
Skin slapping. Breathless moans.
The filthy, wet sounds of your soaked pussy taking him.
He leaned over you, teeth brushing your ear.
“Tell me who fucks you this good.”
“You, Sukuna—fuck—you do—”
“Say it louder.”
“You, daddy!” you moaned, sobbing into the sheets. “You fuck me the best—”
He came with a deep grunt, burying himself inside and holding your hips flush against him. You collapsed beneath him, legs trembling, chest heaving, completely spent and marked.
After a moment, he kissed your back. Slowly. Reverently.
He pulled out, looked down at your messy, ruined pussy, and slapped your ass one more time.
“Go clean up,” he said, breathless and smug. “We’re not done.”
You turned your head just enough to smirk at him, cheeks flushed and hair a mess.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
You woke up with your legs tangled in Sukuna’s sheets and his big hand resting heavy on your thigh, still possessive even in sleep. Your body ached in the best way—his marks were everywhere. Between your legs. Across your neck. Down your chest. The aftermath of a night spent being ruined twice was still fresh in your body.
But what came after that?
Was always the sweetest part.
He took you to your favorite café that morning.
Not a flashy place—just a cozy little corner shop tucked between bookstores and flower stands, the kind of spot with mismatched chairs, cute plates, and chalkboard menus that change every week. He only came here with you. Wouldn’t be caught dead in this place otherwise.
But when you walk in?
He’s already opening the door for you, palm resting at the small of your back, making sure you get your favorite corner seat—the one with the little view of the window and plush cushions.
You’re wearing a matching knitted set with a soft cropped knitted sweater and your knitted leggings, glossy lips and hair held back with a matching knitted headband, and he’s in one of his black hoodies, joggers slung low, sunglasses pushed up on his head. He looks like he just rolled out of bed. You look like his sunshine.
He lets you order for both of you because you know the menu better, and when the barista lights up seeing you and rattles off the new seasonal flavors, Sukuna just waits—wallet already out.
“Strawberry matcha with oat milk.” you chirp, eyes wide and hopeful. “And the strawberry almond crepe, and maybe… that banana nut muffin?”
“You gettin’ every fuckin’ fruit on the board?” he snorts, tossing a card on the counter. “Fine. Whatever. Load it up.”
He adds an espresso for himself and a croissant he won’t finish but always orders because you like stealing bites. You giggle and thank him, lacing your fingers through his as you wait.
By the time your food comes out, Sukuna’s already taken over the seat beside you, arm slung around your chair and his thigh brushing yours. You sip your matcha like it’s the best thing in the world and make the cutest noise, lips pouty and cheeks puffed as you chew on a bite of your crepe.
Sukuna watches you with something close to worship in his eyes.
“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he says low, biting into his croissant, “but look at you. All quiet with some sugar in front of you.”
You smile mid-chew, humming like the happiest girl alive. “Mmm, I earned this.”
He huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb under your lip to clean a bit of whipped cream you missed. “Damn right you did. Took me like a champ last night.”
You wiggle your brows playfully, mouth full. “Still sore.”
“Good.”
He leans over to kiss your cheek before pulling out his phone to check his notifications—only to groan immediately.
“Choso sent another picture of a half-finished tattoo on someone who bailed halfway through. Pussy couldn’t take the pain,” Sukuna grumbles.
You giggle again, holding up your cup with both hands. “Maybe he needed a muffin like me.”
“Nah, he needed a better pain tolerance and maybe a spine,” Sukuna mutters. “Maki’s been talkin’ shit all morning too. Said she wants a raise just for dealing with Geto’s playlist. I swear if I hear one more 2000s R&B remix while I’m tattooing someone’s ribs, I’m gonna lose it.”
You almost choke on your crepe from laughing. “Be nice, baby.”
“I’m nice to you,” he says with a little side smirk, then leans in and brushes your hair back gently behind your ear. “Always nice to my girl.”
You look at him, cheeks full, lips pouty from biting into the muffin he broke in half and handed you.
“You’re so cute when you eat,” he murmurs. “All quiet and focused. Like I’m not even here.”
“I’m food-motivated,” you say proudly.
“I noticed.” He chuckles, leaning back just to admire you. “Gotta say though… I like you like this. All full, dressed pretty, sittin’ next to me in public looking like a fuckin’ dream.”
You blink at him, softening. “You’re in a good mood.”
“Because of you, dumbass,” he mutters, reaching over to take a sip of your drink. “Even if this tastes like fruit cereal in a blender.”
You laugh. He steals a bite of your crepe.
You nudge his thigh with your knee, and he rubs it back without thinking—always touching you, always grounding himself through your skin. The chaos of the shop, the headache of clients, all of it fades when he’s got you like this.
Sipping sweet shit. Kissing your cheek. Watching you smile.
Your fingers tapped against the keys of your Macbook, the lecture continued to go on in the background as you went back and forth between your tabs.
You were bored, you always were in this lecture. It was your last one of the day, having being able to finish college by 2PM so you could get to more imprtant things.
Your eyes darted down to your lit up phone screen, a notification that had you grining from ear to ear.
Your package has been delivered.
It was one of the two things that made your stomach flutter. Yes, you loved shopping; there was no harm in that.
You sighed, shutting your laptop halfway just as the professor’s monotone voice continued rambling about final papers and participation grades.
Second-year college life wasn’t exactly the spoiled princess era you were used to. Daddy cut you off the second you moved onto campus, told you it was time to “learn independence” and “feel what it’s like to stand on your own.”
You’d laughed. Thought he was bluffing. Until you tried to buy a pair of Balenciaga slides and found out your credit card was declined like some broke freshman.
Humbling experience, really.
But the universe had a funny way of balancing things out.
It was a coincidence, really. You had just gotten a part-time receptionist job at some fancy company, and part of your job was to get coffees for the higher-ups, and of course, a big clutz like yourself, spilt a salted caramel ice frappe with extra whip on Kento Nanami's sea blue shirt.
“Fuck, fuck—shit, I’m sorry! Ugh, that’s gonna stain… Here—take it off, I need to soak it… Why the fuck are you looking at me like I’ve got two heads?!”
You’d been panicking, frantically dabbing at his chest with cheap napkins, and he just… laughed.
Like, full-body, deep-chested, rare-ass laugh that turned heads all across the office floor.
And from then things continued to change between you two, it was like those books people read. He started coming out of his office more to talk to you, sent you texts everyday, asked you to lunch and dinner before you ended up making out in his car one day after he picked you up from college.
It had only been four months months since you two had offically started dating, you didn't mind working for him but Nanami was a provider. Didn't like his woman working, let alone working for him, he wanted you to focus on school and you were okay with that.
"Okay class, that's it for the day, please remember your end-of-the-year assignments are due in two weeks."
You were one of the first ones up and out of the lecture hall. You were already halfway down the street before you heard your name being called.
You paused mid-step, turning just as two familiar figures jogged up to you from the quad.
Nobara and Vic, they were your day-ones since freshman year Welcome Week, back when none of you knew how to work the washing machines in the dorms and bonded over cheap wine and bad decisions.
Now, the three of you were practically inseparable—housemates, brunch buddies, and each other’s go-to when campus life got too chaotic.
“Shouldn’t you two be in class?” you teased, crossing your arms as they skidded to a stop in front of you, both slightly out of breath.
Nobara rolled her eyes, dramatic as ever. “Girl, please. Like we were gonna sit through a full two-hour lecture on modernist architecture. Be serious.”
Vic snorted, already pulling a vape out of her hoodie pocket. “We dipped ten minutes in. Professor started with a slide titled ‘Brutalism and You.’ I was out.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Y’all are terrible.”
“Self-care babes,” Vic shot back with a wink. “You should try it sometime.”
Before you could fire off a comeback, Nobara snapped her fingers like she just remembered something urgent. “Oh! Before I forget—listen. I got a date in a few nights… and I need to borrow those black kitten heels you just bought.”
You paused mid-step, blinking at her like she grew a second head.
“The ones I got last month?” you asked, voice already laced with suspicion.
Nobara nodded like it was a done deal. “Duh. They’ll go perfect with my fit. C’mon, you’re not even wearing them yet.”
“Because I’m saving them,” you deadpanned. “Also… they were a gift.”
That made both of them stop dead in their tracks.
Nobara’s mouth dropped open like you just told her you won the lottery. “A gift? From who? Since when are you getting gifted designer shoes and not telling us?”
Vic gasped, already clutching her imaginary pearls. “Wait. A man bought you those?!”
You didn’t realize how fast y’all had power-walked until you picked up your package of your doorstep, keys already in your hand, unlocking the front door of your shared apartment.
Nobara was hot on your heels, grabbing your arm before you could slip inside. “No, no, no—run that back. Gift? Where exactly do you plan on wearing them? And who exactly are you wearing them for?”
You bit your lip, heart doing that annoying little skip thing it always did whenever Nanami crossed your mind. The safe answer was to lie. Play it off. Say it was some random campus guy you weren’t serious about.
But lying to your girls? Yeah, that felt worse than telling the truth.
“I mean… yeah. They were a gift. From… someone I’ve been seeing,” you admitted slowly as the three of you filed into the apartment.
Cue the twin gasps behind you.
Vic literally dropped her vape onto the couch cushion. “Bitch.”
Nobara was already yelling, flopping onto the loveseat like she was in the middle of a soap opera. “You’ve been holding out on us?! WHO IS HE? What’s the tea?! Why haven’t we met him?!”
You shook your head, trying to hold back a grin as you kicked off your sneakers and grabbed your tote bag. “Nope. Not happening. Y’all are too nosy. This one’s… just for me right now.”
Both of them groaned like you’d physically wounded them.
“Ugh, I hate when you get mysterious,” Nobara whined, already grabbing the remote like she was gonna drown her feelings in bad reality TV.
“Yeah, well,” you said, already halfway down the hall to your room, “some things are better when they’re not a group project.”
You heard them fake gagging as you shut your bedroom door behind you.
You smiled as you looked at the pink parcel that now sat on your bed but your smile shifted to the contact that popped up on your phone.
Your teeth caught your lip as you flopped yourself down on your bed, phone resting against your ear.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Nanami’s low, smooth voice answered on the other end—deep enough to make your toes curl. “How was class?”
“Boring as hell. But thinking about you made it bearable,” you teased, twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.
You heard him hum under his breath, like he liked the sound of that. “Good girl.”
Your breath hitched. Heat rushed straight down your spine.
"Miss you, haven't seen you in a couple of days."
You could hear the deep sigh that left his lips, "I know sugar, I know, but I got a suprise for you.”
"Yeah, what is it?"
You didn't have to wait for the blonde's reply; the sound of your doorbell went off, your brows furrowed, not expecting anything but you went out to answer the door only to see Vic was signing for a package.
"Well, maybe it's another gift from Mr Guess who."
You rolled your eyes as you sntached the box out of her hand before heading back to your room.
"I'm guessing you got the surprise."
"Kenny, what did you do?"
You put the phone on speaker as you open up the box, you squealed as you pulled out the pink glittery halter neck dress out of its confinement.
"Pa, you did not!"
His chuckle came low through the speaker, “Wanted you to have something special. Thought about you the second I saw it.”
You pressed the dress against your body, already picturing how it’d cling to your curves.
“Wanna take you away for the weekend,” Nanami continued, voice dropping a little lower. “Starting tonight. Wear it for me?”
Your breath caught. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. I’ll pick you up in three hours sugar.”
"At least you know how long it'll take me to get ready."
"Of course, know my woman don't I? Now go."
You practically squealed, doing a little excited wiggle on your bed. “You’re really serious?”
“Dead serious.” His voice was velvet, dark and promising. “I’ve been patient long enough. Wanna see you."
Your stomach flipped again—this time in that warm, liquid heat way that made your skin feel too tight.
“Yes, sir,” you said softly, already climbing off your bed to grab your overnight bag from the closet.
You didn’t miss the sharp inhale he took at that.
“I'll see you soon."
It didn't take long for you to pack; it would be your first time going away with Nanami, and to say you were nervous was an understatement. No, it wasn't the first time you had spent the weekend with the blonde, but this was different.
You had packed the essentials, including the little pink package you got delivered today. Your eyes darted to the clock on your wall, cursing under your breath you made your way to your ensuite bathroom for a quick everything shower.
You certainly did not have the time for it but God help you if you didn't smell and look good for the man.
It didn't take long before you were doing a full face of makeup, your face was beat, your lace was melting as you put on the finishing touches to your makeup and jewellery.
Your phone buzzed against your nightstand, you paused mid lip combo as you saw his incoming text.
Outside sugar, take your time.
"Shit."
You jumped up, pulling the dress off your bed and before you knew it you were all wrapped up in glitter and pink.
Your hands straightened out the dress as you looked into the mirror, your hair straight as it flowed down your mid back, it was in a nice side part, your edges laid nicely against your lace.
You quickly slipped on your heels before grabbing your overnight bag and making your way out of your room. You were glad to see the yappie twins had passed out on the couch, you'd shoot them a text to let them know you were okay later.
Nanami stood against his car, draped in an expensive blue suit with a bunch of flowers in his hand. The low sunset caught the gold in his watch, his sleeves pushed up just enough to show off his forearms.
His gaze lifted from his phone the second he heard the door shut, and for a moment…he just stared.
Like actually paused.
Like he needed a full three seconds to recalibrate because yeah…you looked that good.
“Damn, sugar…” His voice dropped low, almost like it was for him more than for you. “You look stunning.”
You felt your face heat as he took your bag off your shoulder with one hand and cupped your jaw with the other, giving you a soft, lingering kiss right there on the sidewalk.
"Come on baby, I got a whole weekend planned and I'm this close to throwing it away."
You gigled as you pecked his lips once more before he helped you into the car.
The drive was nice, his hand never left your thigh as he drove you both to God knows where, music softly played through the speakers.
"So you gonna tell me where were going?"
He chuckled, squeezing your thigh softly, "No, I'm allowed to keep some things a mystery."
You kissed your teeth, the blonde pinched your thigh softly, before pulling your hands to his lips. The ride went on, and before you knew it you were pulling up to this beautiful resort. You sat up straighter as some black gates opened up, revealing a stunning coastal resort built into the cliffs like something straight out of a dream. Modern architecture, soft golden lights, staff in white uniforms with welcoming smiles—it was giving luxury escape.
Your eyes widened as the car came to a smooth stop under the grand covered entryway. Nanami hopped out first and circled around to open your door, reaching for your hand like you were royalty.
“Kento…” you exhaled, letting him help you out as you looked around, your heels clicking softly against the marble drive. “You really did all this for one weekend?”
That signature soft smile curled on his lips—the one that made your knees go a little weak. “It’s not just any weekend,” he said. “It’s ours.”
You didn’t even realize how tightly you were squeezing his hand until the valet appeared, politely taking the car keys. A bellboy began unloading your bags with care, and you just… stood there for a second, soaking in the ambiance. The air smelled like sea salt and sandalwood. Every surface shimmered with candlelight and wealth. You felt like you had stepped into another reality entirely.
Nanami placed a gentle hand on your lower back as he guided you through the glass doors. The lobby was grand—high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows with panoramic ocean views, marble everywhere. He made small talk with the receptionist, handling check-in with that quiet, composed confidence of his, while your eyes wandered the space.
God. Damn.
You were still admiring a massive flower installation near the center of the lobby when his hand slid back onto your waist, grounding you instantly. “They’ve prepared dinner for us,” he murmured close to your ear. “Come on, sugar.”
The two of you followed a suited host through the resort’s winding halls until he opened a set of frosted glass doors that led to an outdoor terrace, secluded from the main dining area.
You blinked.
A private candlelit table was waiting there, set with a view of the ocean horizon now melting into violet and gold. A string quartet played soft instrumentals in the background. Your seat had been pulled out already, and a server greeted you with two glasses of champagne before disappearing.
"Ken, what the fuck is this?"
"Dinner."
You kissed your teeth as you took a sip of your wine, your eyes catching his in the dim light of the restaurant.
"You know what I mean, this is big Ken,--"
"And I only give the best for you,"
You tried to hide your smile but it was getting hard to. Kento Nanami did love to spoil you, you knew this. From your first date to the first time you had sex, Kento did not skint on anything so this should not have suprised you at all.
Dinner was phenomenal, it was never a dull moment with Nanami, he wasn't like boring older guys, knew how to keep up with you, yes you still threw in the old guy slander but it didn't matter to either of you.
"My friends are curious about you."
Nanami paused mid-chew before his eyes focused back on you, placing the fork near your mouth, your lips wrapped around it as you took a bite of his steak.
"And what do you tell them?"
You tilted your head softly, your eyes sprakled with that bratty glint he was oh ever so used to.
"Oh, not much." The blonde's eyes bored into you as he felt your foot run up and down his leg softly, before reaching up to his thigh.
"So nothing at all?" his hand grabbed your ankle before it could inch any higher, his thumb traced over your anklet, the one he’d given you last month for your birthday. 14k gold, with his initials engraved into the tiny charm.
"Not yet, I like that it's just us, you know? No one else weighing in, so I want it to just be ours for now, is that a bad thing?"
Nanami just continued to stare, his hand not leaving your foot. You felt your stomach dip slightly, not knowing whether or not you said something wrong.
The blonde picked up his napkin, wiping his hands softly before he got up from the table. Your eyes tracked his every move as he rounded up behind you, pulling your chair out softly.
"We haven't finished dinner yet."
Nanami pulled out his wallet as he left a not so little tip before grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together as he pulled you out of the restaurant.
He didn't say anything as he guided you past the reception towards the elevators.
"Ken..."
Your nerves continued to settle in you but they didn't last long, Nanami pulled you into the empty elevator and before the doors could even close he had you pinned against the cold panels, lips capurting yours.
You gasped into his mouth, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he deepened the kiss — slow, but intense. His mouth moved with purpose, his tongue brushing over yours like he was tasting something he’d been craving for hours.
His hand slid down to your thigh, hiking your dress up as he pressed his hips forward, just enough for you to feel how much he wanted you.
“It's not a bad thing, baby," he murmured against your lips, voice rough, barely above a whisper. “Not at all. It can be just us… for as long as you want.”
That sent a pulse straight between your thighs. You whimpered, head tilting instinctively as he kissed down your jawline, dragging his lips along that soft spot below your ear that made you shiver.
The elevator dinged casuing Kento to step away from you, fixing your dress and his suit, the blonde took your hand, thumb grazing over your knuckles as he pulled you towards your hotel room.
The suite door clicked open under his keycard, revealing a space soaked in soft golden lighting and coastal breeze — floor-to-ceiling windows framing a dusky ocean view, sheer curtains fluttering in the evening wind.
You stopped in front of the glass windows, your room on one of the highest floors had you looking right down onto the ocean.
But you barely had time to take it all in before Nanami's hands found your waist again.
He pushed your hair away from your neck as his lips left soft kisses along your nape. You titlted your head slightly, giving him more access, Kento's fingers began trailing up your thigh, parting them softly before they found the hem of your lacy gift.
"What's this?"
"A present, for you."
He bit down on your neck, "Oh?"
You moaned softly, eyes locked in on your shadows through the window, "Got them today, wanted you to see them, but I guess it can wait till later."
"Don't worry, I'll appreciate them later sugar."
He spun you around, your body hitting the glass softly as his lips met yours again. You moaned into his mouth as your tongue tangled with his, your arms hung loosley around his neck, fingers running softly through the hair on the back of his head.
His hips pressed forward, letting you feel the heat and pressure of his arousal, and it stole the air from your lungs.
“Kento,” you gasped against his lips, “we’re— the window—”
“I know.” His hand cupped your cheek. “You look too good not to be seen like this.”
Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you again, his hand sliding up the back of your thigh, fingers curling under that barely-there lace. He lifted you without effort, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing you to the glass with a reverence that made your heart ache.
Kento pulled away from you, slowly sinking to the ground as he pulled your leg over his shoulder. Your breathing was labpured as his eyes locked in on the wetness of your panties.
You moaned out as his teeth grazed against the inners of your thigh before he let out a cool breath on your clothed slit.
"You are so fucking perfect, wear them for me again later yea?"
You only could nod as he pulled them down, leaving your cunt bare to him. Kento never wasted any time when it came to having his head between your thighs, his lips wrapped perfectly around your clit, your head tilting back as it hit the window with a soft thud,
Your hands flew to his hair, his tongue flat as he licked a long, slow stripe, causing you let out soft moans into the air.
He swirled around in practised circles before flicking just the way he knew would make your thighs tremble. You choked out his name, hands flying to his hair, fingers curling tight as his pace stayed slow but unforgiving.
“Kento,” you whimpered, already pulsing under the drag of his mouth. “God—please—”
His grip on your hips tightened as he moaned into your cunt, sending shockwaves straight to your core. His eyes darted up to his as one of his hands slid down, a single finger slipping inside you with ease, curling just right as he kept his mouth locked to your clit.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured between strokes. “Could stay down here all night.”
Your legs were shaking, that pressure building hot and heavy in your lower belly. And he knew—of course he knew. He always did.
He didn’t stop until you were gasping, body jolting against the glass, his name spilling from your lips in a cracked moan as you came against his tongue.
Your thighs clamped around his head, and he let them—let you ride it out on his mouth like he needed to feel every pulse of your orgasm.
Only when your grip loosened did he finally stand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, your slick shining on his lips. He looked down at you like you were the only thing in the world worth worshipping.
You were still trying to steady your breathing when Nanami loosened his tie, slow and smooth, never breaking eye contact. His jacket was the first to go, then his shirt, buttons slipping free one by one as his chest was revealed, toned and golden under the soft hotel lighting.
When he held his hand out, you didn’t hesitate. His palm was warm as it guided you toward the massive king-size bed. You sat at the edge, legs slightly parted, watching him wrap his tie around his knuckles.
"Want you on all fours, baby."
"You want me to strip?"
He shook his head, unwrapping the tie from around his hand as he gesutured for you to get into position.
You swallowed thickly, crawling up and arching your back instinctively. The dress clung to every curve, riding up high as you positioned yourself on all fours. Kento let out a breath behind you like the sight alone had knocked it out of him.
You never questioned Nanami when it came to sex, the man knew how to please you every which way.
You moaned softly as you felt the soft smack of his hand on your ass. Your back was arched perfectly, the dress still hugging your curves.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
Then he gathered your wrists gently behind your back, his lips brushing over the inside like a kiss, soft and tender. You could feel the heat of his breath before the silk of his tie looped around your hands, securing you in place.
“This okay?” he asked, voice serious now, checking in like he always did.
You nodded but Kento didn't appreciate, his hand came down harder against your ass causing you to cry out, your body jolting as you let out a breathless gasp. “K-Kento—”
“Use your words,” he said calmly, almost too calmly for the way your pulse spiked. “You know better, sugar”
“Yes, sir,” you breathed, thighs clenching as the words slipped from your lips.
“Good girl.” You could hear the approval in his tone, the pride, like you’d just pleased him in the deepest way possible.
The sound of his belt unbuckling filled the air, and your breath hitched. You couldn’t see him—but you could feel him, standing behind you, watching, palming himself slowly as he took in the way your ass arched up for him.
He leaned down then, kissing the base of your spine before whispering, “I’m going to take my time with you. You gave me such a pretty gift tonight—it’s only right I unwrap it slow.”
You felt the heavy press of his cock against your slit, dragging through your wetness before he rocked his hips just enough to tease your entrance.
You whined, writhing under him, your wrists twitching in the tie. “Please...”
Kento pushed in with a low groan, the stretch slow and deep, dragging every inch out like he wanted you to feel all of him. Your jaw dropped as he bottomed out, the burn delicious, your body clenching around him like it was made for this.
His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he gave a shallow thrust.
Then another.
And another—deeper now, harder.
“You’re taking me so fucking well,” he breathed. “Always do.”
You cried out as he picked up pace, hips slapping against your ass, the sounds echoing in the golden quiet of the suite. Every thrust made the headboard creak softly, and the pressure—the fullness—had your toes curling in the sheets.
Your body rocked against the tie binding your wrists, the helplessness of it only making the pleasure sharper. He had you, completely—wrapped up in silk and praise and that damn perfect control he carried like a second skin.
The blonde groaned as he felt your gummy walls suck him in, he always was mesmerised by how well you could take him. The warmth of your cunt always had him lose just a little of that self control he was famous for.
He watched the milky ring form at the base of his cock, your ass rippled against his hips at every thrust. He could feel the way you tightened around him, a knowing sign you was already close to your orgasm.
Kento pulled on the binds, your body arching as you barley fought against the orgasm that started to creep in..
“Gonna cum for me, sugar?” he murmured, voice low and gravelly, the rhythm of his hips turning urgent as he chased the sounds of your desperate little whimpers.
“Y-Yes—yes, sir—oh my god—”
“That’s it,” he growled, hand coming down to grip your ass as he drove into you harder, deeper. “Come on then, be a good girl and give it to me.”
You gasped, chanting his name like a prayer, barely able to hold yourself up. The climax slammed into you like a wave breaking against glass, your whole body trembling, back arching before you finally slumped forward, boneless and wrecked, your bound wrists barely supporting you.
Kento didn’t let you fall far.
He eased out slowly and leaned down, kissing your spine like he was painting you in devotion—soft, unhurried, reverent. “You did so good, baby,” he murmured between kisses, his voice warm and grounding. “Just like that. Always so perfect for me.”
He untied your wrists with a gentle hand, thumb brushing over the faint red marks left by the silk. You moaned softly, dazed, pliant as he helped you out of your dress, peeling it off inch by inch until you were fully bare in front of him.
“Come here,” he whispered, and you didn’t resist when he guided you onto your back, cradling your head against the pillow before his mouth found yours again. His kiss was slower now—sweet and deep, tongues gliding together like he had all night to get his fill of you.
“Ken—” your voice wavered, but he hushed you with a soft kiss to your throat.
“Shh, I got you.”
You barely noticed when he reached under your knees—until suddenly, your legs were folded up tight to your chest, thighs pressing into your body as he slid back inside you in one long, slow stroke.
Your gasp echoed off the walls.
“Kento—!”
“Just like this,” he whispered, towering over you, one hand gripping the back of your thigh while the other cupped your cheek. “Want to feel all of you. Want to fuck you so deep you forget your own name.”
Your body arched beneath him, overwhelmed, overstimulated, already so sensitive. But he was so deep like this—too deep—rubbing against every spot inside you that made you lose your breath.
“Look at me,” he said, voice low and full of heat. “Eyes on me, sugar.”
You obeyed, barely holding on, and the second your eyes locked with his, you let out a whimper at the sight of him, the darkness of his eyes settled on you as he continued to fuck you into the mattress. The squelching sound of your wetness accompanied with the plap plap of his skin meeting yours had your eyes rolling back.
“That’s it,” he groaned, fucking you through it, relentless now. “That’s my girl.”
You sobbed his name, tears pricking your eyes as your legs shook in his grasp. He didn’t let you move. He smiled, sweet and dark. “You’re always such a good girl for me.”
You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All you could feel was him, deep and unyielding, his praise melting into your skin as your body trembled under him. His hands were everywhere—cupping your jaw, gripping your thigh, pressing your legs up higher so he could bury himself to the hilt over and over again. You could feel yourself drip into the mattress, but Nanami wasn’t one to be wasteful, you barely had time to register his quick pull out before his mouth slurped out you cunt.
He kept your legs pinned high, his tongue licking deep into your walls before dragging up to your clit, sucking you with a hunger that had your eyes rolling back and your hips jerking. He didn’t stop until your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, until your pussy was fluttering around nothing and begging to be filled again.
“You’re gonna give me that last one,” he groaned, sinking back into your walls, his control slipping. “Gonna cum with me—fuck, gonna feel me so deep you’ll be dripping for days—”
You cried out his name, nails clawing into his back as your last orgasm crashed over you like a fucking tsunami. Nanami cursed, hips stuttering, and with a final thrust, he came undone—his release hot and heavy inside you as he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there.
His forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking, breathing hard. The only sound was your shared gasps and the ocean wind outside.
“You did so good,” he whispered again, kissing you softly now. “So good for me, sugar. So fucking perfect.”
You could barely catch your breath as your fingers raked through his hair, his head buried into your neck as he continued to whisper praises into your skin.
“Still need to see that gift you got me in full view.”
You giggled, rolling over causing him to shift behind you, pulling your back into his chest as he spooned you from behind.
Just wanted to write a choso fic... This aint got another part cause na..
Ps: I forgot this finished fic was in my drafts so here ya go.
The music pulsed through the lounge like a heartbeat, steady and heavy, the low hum of voices and clinking glasses adding to the atmosphere. You looked up as the bartender slid a cocktail your way, chilled and clear. A smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth as you sipped, eyeing the room. Tonight, you had no agenda other than to enjoy yourself—but then you felt it, a gaze burning into you from across the room.
You didn’t have to look around to know who it was. You’d already noticed him the second you walked in—tall, dark hair pulled back, intense eyes that could cut right through you. He had that unbothered vibe, leaned back against the bar, calm like he owned the place. And now? He was looking right at you, giving you a once-over that lingered a little too long to be innocent.
You raised an eyebrow, letting him know you weren’t just anybody. He noticed, smirking back like he was ready for whatever you had to offer. With one last sip, you decided to close the distance and sauntered over, heels clicking against the floor as you stopped a few inches from him. Close enough for him to feel your presence, but not close enough for him to think he’d won anything yet.
“So you just gon’ stare all night, or you got somethin’ to say?” you asked, letting your voice hold a little tease, a little challenge.
He chuckled low, leaning in slightly. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, voice smooth and deep, every word like velvet. “I was just waiting to see if you’d come over on your own.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” you said, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Big man, too good to make the first move, huh?”
“Not too good,” he said, eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stand up. “Just don’t gotta chase when I know you want it just as bad.”
His confidence was practically dripping, but there was something else—something about the way he looked at you, like he was studying every inch of you and committing it to memory. He took a step closer, eyes trailing from your face down to your lips, then back up.
“So what’s your name?” you asked, finally.
He leaned in, voice a low murmur. “Choso. And you?”
You told him your name, watching his expression shift as he repeated it, as if savoring each syllable. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a spark as he held your gaze. He wasn’t playing, and something about his vibe told you he wasn’t just another smooth-talker. He wasn’t about to ask for your number or play the usual games—he looked like a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
He took another step forward, leaning down just slightly until you could feel his breath on your neck. “You know,” he murmured, voice just for you, “I don’t like wasting time. So if you’re feelin’ this too, maybe we can take it somewhere else.”
A shiver went down your spine, but you kept your cool, raising an eyebrow. “Boy, you really think you just gon’ walk me outta here like that?”
Choso tilted his head, amused. “Depends,” he said, voice steady and low. “You wanna see what I got in mind?”
Something in his eyes made you pause. You didn’t break eye contact, your heart picking up speed, but your voice was steady as you replied. “Lead the way.”
Choso led you through the dimly lit hallways of the lounge and out into the cool night air. He kept his hand light on the small of your back as you walked, but the heat radiated off him. The moment felt thick, like you were both waiting for the other to say something, but words didn’t feel necessary. He exuded this quiet confidence—like he knew exactly where this night was headed and was content to let it play out in his own time. You could tell he wasn’t one for unnecessary small talk.
Minutes later, you were stepping into his place: sleek, masculine, all dark tones and low lighting, with a floor-to-ceiling window showing off the city skyline in all its late-night glory. It was impressive, almost too perfect—but that only made him more intriguing. He walked a few steps ahead, then turned, looking you up and down slowly, like he was weighing every inch of you.
“So this how you do things?” you asked, crossing your arms, keeping your tone easy but your stance ready. “All quiet and mysterious, huh?”
He let out a quiet laugh, closing the distance between you with a few deliberate steps. “You got a problem with that?” His voice was low, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent chills down your spine.
You shrugged, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ll let you know if I do.”
He tilted his head, a faint smirk pulling at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, trailing a hand slowly down your arm, his touch light but deliberate. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, but every word was weighted, like he was savoring the way you looked under his hands.
You raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to impress me?”
“Nah,” he replied, his eyes holding a dark gleam. “It’s supposed to let you know I don’t play games. When I want something, I make it clear.”
The air between you practically crackled, a heavy silence settling over the room. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He was testing you, seeing how you’d react, and when you didn’t pull away, he continued, his touch becoming bolder, his grip firm around your waist as he pressed you closer.
“Tell me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “how much can you handle?”
You smirked, running a hand along the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there. “Think you can find out?”
That was all the invitation he needed. He backed you up slowly until you felt the wall at your back, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you in his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, but the look in them was sharp, calculating, like he was mentally cataloging every reaction, every hitched breath, every glance.
He leaned in close, his mouth hovering just a breath away from yours. “You like a challenge?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, each word laced with something dark, almost dangerous.
Your heart pounded, but you kept your tone steady, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. “Why don’t you give me one?”
In response, he smirked, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was possessive, claiming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about who was in control. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, just enough pressure to send a thrill through you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed you harder against the wall.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath coming in low, steady beats as his thumb traced slow circles against your neck. “You can try to play coy all you want,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, “but I know you’re feelin’ this just as much as I am.”
You gave him a slow smile, your pulse racing. “Guess we’ll see how long that confidence lasts.”
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate through you. “Oh, trust me,” he said, leaning in close, his lips brushing your ear. “I got enough to last all night.”
The next moments were a blur of heat and hands, each touch more intense than the last. Choso’s dominance wasn’t loud or showy; it was a steady, deliberate control, like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you. His grip was firm, his movements unhurried, every action calculated to push you just a little further, to keep you on edge.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. “Told you,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw as he held your gaze. “I don’t do anything halfway.”
You raised an eyebrow, letting out a slow breath. “Neither do I.”
He chuckled, stepping back just slightly, but his gaze never left you, a promise hanging in the air. “Then you better keep up.”
The tension between you and Choso thickened as he pulled you from the wall, guiding you through the dimly lit apartment until you found yourselves in his bedroom. The city lights cast shadows across the room, a faint glow illuminating his sharp features, the intensity in his eyes undeniable. He watched you, hands grazing your arms as he stepped closer, letting his fingers trail slowly, possessively, along the line of your jaw.
“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice low, with a slight rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew it the second I saw you.”
Your breath hitched as his hand slid down, his grip firm around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and powerful, like he was barely holding himself back.
“I could say the same about you,” you replied, your voice steady but soft, feeling the energy between you two grow thicker, more electric.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating low in his chest. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning.”
Without another word, he tilted your chin up, bringing his lips down to yours. The kiss was intense, but slow—controlled, almost like he was savoring the taste of you. He wasn’t rushed or careless; every movement felt purposeful, like he was taking his time, memorizing each reaction, every shiver that coursed through you.
Choso’s hands trailed up your back, his grip firm as he shifted you onto the bed. He hovered above you, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took you in, his eyes dark with a possessive hunger.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he pressed kisses along your collarbone, down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. His teeth grazed your skin, a rough edge that sent a surge of anticipation through you, his hands exploring every inch, testing how far he could push you.
“You talkin’ big game, but I don’t know if you really ‘bout it,” you teased, eyes challenging as you met his gaze. You weren’t going to let him have full control without a fight.
His grin widened, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Is that a challenge?”
You smirked, leaning up to press your lips against his, daring him to show you what he was made of. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and the air between you turned charged, electric. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a promise—a thrill of something dangerous, like he was giving you just a taste of what he was capable of.
Choso pulled back, his fingers brushing down your neck, lingering at the pulse point, feeling your heart race beneath his touch. “Then let me make one thing clear,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing yours, his voice like velvet. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, filling the room with a dark intensity that was intoxicating. You didn’t break eye contact, letting him see the challenge in your gaze, knowing this was only the beginning of something that felt bigger than either of you.
“Prove it.”
And that was all it took. His control slipped just slightly, enough for him to let go, to press you against the bed with a fierceness that left no room for questions. He wasn’t just taking you; he was showing you the lengths he’d go to leave his mark on you, to make sure you’d remember this moment, remember him, long after the night was over.
As his hands roamed, as his touch grew rougher, you felt yourself surrendering to his rhythm, to his pace, each sensation blending into the next, pulling you deeper into his orbit, where nothing else mattered except the two of you.
He picked her up like nothing like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she let out a soft gasp as his grip dug just slightly into her thighs. He was hot to the touch, shirt off, skin gleaming with a light sheen from the heat they’d been building between them all day.
“You good?” he asked low in her ear, voice a full-bodied promise that vibrated in her bones.
Before she could answer before she could smirk or toss something slick back he dropped her onto the bed. The bounce of the mattress caught her breath in her throat, silk sheets ruffling beneath her body as she landed, wide-eyed, lips parted.
Choso stood at the edge, towering. That look in his eye, full beast mode, full claim, full You gon’ feel every second”
He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, eyes roaming over her body like she was art, war, and worship in one breath.
“Spread,” he said.
You bit her bottom lip. “What if I don’t?”
He tilted his head, smirked, then crawled onto the bed slow panther-like. The mattress dipped beneath him, one hand planted beside her head, the other gliding up the inside of her thigh till it hooked under her knee and pulled her open, lips brushing her jaw.
“Then I take,” he growled, and kissed her deep. One of those tongue-and-teeth kisses that had her back arching into him, her arms winding around his neck, her body remembering how perfectly he fit.
“You want me to behave?” she breathed between kisses, teasing but breathless.
He kissed her harder. “No. I want you to remember.”
Then he dipped down, slowly, kissing every inch of collarbone, chest, belly making her feel each place his mouth landed like a ritual. When he got lower, her hips already rising for him, he paused, looked up with that dark, honey-slick stare.
“Hold still,” he said, voice gritty. “You ran before. Not this time.”
And then he devoured her.
The kind of devouring that made her moan out his name, the full one CHOSO! over and over like a prayer gone rogue. His hands pinned her hips down, his tongue and lips moving with mastery, devotion, and intent to have her unravel under him like silk sliding off flame.
By the time he came back up, lips glistening, beard damp, her chest was heaving.
“You good?” he asked, cocky but breathless himself now.
“I was.”
He didn’t even let her finish, flipped her over gently, hand flat on her back. “Nah, mama. You will be.”
Hours slipped by in a haze of touches, whispers, and promises. By the time the first light of dawn crept through the window, you lay next to him, breathless, tangled in the sheets. He looked over at you, his eyes softening just slightly, a rare vulnerability there that made your heart skip.
“What?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you caught him staring.
Choso shrugged, a lazy smirk crossing his face. “Just makin’ sure you’re still breathing. Thought I might’ve taken you out for good.”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you propped yourself up on one elbow. “Boy, please. I’m not that easy.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think you can handle me?”
You leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back, meeting his gaze with a steady confidence. “I can handle a lot more than you think.”
Choso laughed, the sound low and genuine, like you’d finally managed to catch him off guard. “Guess I’ll have to keep pushing, then.”
You didn’t need to respond; the look in your eyes said enough.
There are hours that ask for honesty; ones that lingers beneath memory and language. These questions are meant for the stillness of late evening or early morning, when the world softens and you’re left alone with what remains: recollections, longings, and the truths you rarely speak aloud.
Since I haven’t seen an ASK list for a while, “Ink & Echoes” is an invitation to reflect and to explore the spaces between what was, what is, and what never found its way into words.
Send a number. Share. Be kind, and have fun.
1. What’s a dream you’ve had that you didn’t want to wake up from?
2. Which book feels like it understands you better than most people? Why?
3. What scent makes you nostalgic, and what memory does it pull you into?
4. If your soul had a color today, what would it be and why?
5. Describe the feeling of 2:00AM in your own words.
6. Which fictional character would write you letters, and what would they say?
7. What’s something small that always makes you feel safe?
8. Do you believe some people are meant to find each other more than once? Why or why not?
9. What song/poem sounds like your heart?
10. Which memory feels like a dream now?
11. Where would your mind go to rest if it could travel without your body?
12. Do you fall in love more with ideas, moments, or people? Why do you think that is?
13. What’s your favorite line from a book that stayed with you?
14. If you could press a feeling into a jar and keep it forever, which one would it be?
15. What do you romanticize even though you know it hurt?
16. What do you do when the world feels too loud?
17. If your life were a story, what would this chapter be titled?
18. Who or what lives rent-free in your imagination, and why?
19. What’s a dream you gave up on, and do you still think about it?
20. Do you ever feel like you’ve already met your past or future self in dreams? Tell me about it.
21. What’s a quote that makes your chest ache (in a good way)?
22. Which season holds the most memories for you, and what are they?
23. Is there a place you’ve never been but constantly imagine? What’s it like in your mind?
24. Do you believe there are emotions we don’t have words for yet? What might one of them feel like?
25. What would you write in a letter you’ll never send?
26. Which part of your story do you never tell, and why?
27. When do you feel most like yourself, unedited?
28. If your dreams were a language, what would they be trying to tell you?
29. Which detail of your past do you think shaped you more than it should have?
30. Do you believe in emotional seasons? What season are you in now?
31. Who understood you before you understood yourself?
32. What’s a thought you’ve never said aloud but keep returning to?
33. Which memory comes to you most often without warning?
34. What’s something you’ve never learned how to explain?
He’d have no choice but to, since it’s ALL you play when you’re cleaning or cooking. You can’t tell me he doesn’t smile at his desk while you sing I Wanna Be Down by Brandy while you’re cleaning up the living room. And when Ascension by Maxwell comes on, though he can only do a little “two-step”, he’ll pull you in his arms and sway with you. He may even learn the lyrics, just to reassure you that you will never have to question your role in his life. And don’t get me started on Pony by Ginuwine! The man wears a smirk,cheeks and ears red, while he watches you roll your hips to the beat as you do your makeup or hair in the mirror of your shared bathroom, your eyes watching his in your reflection…Just give me a soft man who dances with me to 90’s slow jams PLEASE
Anywho, I just needed something self-indulgent. I am a 90s baby and I mostly play 90s R&B when I’m feeling down and today this drabble came to mind. Today and yesterday weren’t good mental days for me and after crying for hours, I needed something soft to ease my mind…Until Next Time 🫶🏽
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Summary: Nanami offers options to help you de-stress. But you both know which option you'll pick ;)
Warnings: Talk of things that’d stress anyone out at work, theoretical murdering of that annoying co-worker (we all know that one person), foot rubs, mischievous & dirty talking Nanami, fingering, praise, countdown, aftercare.
Word count: 1.6K
Rating: 18+ MDNI. It’s smut, y’all. You’ve been warned.
Credits: Pexels (left and right pics), pinterest (middle photo). Banners and dividers by @saradika-graphics
Kento Nanami knows when you’ve had a stressful day.
He can tell by the way you toss your keys and drop your work bag like a ton of bricks on the front foyer side table.
He can tell by the way you kick your shoes off haphazardly in the hallway, padding barefoot into the living room, hair slightly askew as if you pulled your hair in frustration earlier.
He can tell by the slight strain in your voice as you try to avoid ranting, simply saying, “At least I didn’t murder anyone with my bare hands today. I can’t make promises about tomorrow, though.”
You flop down next to him on the couch. He puts the book he was reading off to the side and faces you, quirking a small smile before he leans over to kiss you and say hello.
He pats his lap, and you shift sideways, obediently putting your feet across his thighs.
“Well dear, I’m sure if you did murder someone, it would be in self-defense and completely justified. You’re a model citizen that just has zero tolerance for office bullshittery.”
You groan with relief as he lifts your right foot with one hand, the other hand digging hard into the arch.
“The victim…no…we’re not going to be generous like that…the instigator…I’m sure they had it coming. They probably ate lunches with their mouths wide open. They most likely wrote emails, starting with Per my last email. They definitely talked out of turn during meetings. Simply horrible.”
You close your eyes, enjoying him work his wonders as he switches to your other foot.
“But…we can always get Hiromi to work his magic and persuade the prosecutor to get the charges dropped. So there, you’re all taken care of. Murder away.”
You giggle, wiggling your toes. Snarky, devious Kento was the best version of Kento to cheer you up.
“Ah, and there she is…” he murmurs, his smile growing wider. “But it looks like you still need some de-stressing. I’ve got a few options for you to consider. You’ll get them all tonight, but you get to pick which one you want first. A bottle of wine and seafood paella for dinner? A bubble bath? Or…more of my hands?”
You hum, tapping your chin, pretending like you’re considering all the options. But you both already know what your answer will be.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax.”
You’re both sitting on the bed, your back to his front, his legs straddling yours. Starting with a firm massage of your neck, back and shoulders over your oversized t-shirt, he helps your tense muscles slowly loosen up. You groan with relief as you feel yourself slowly melt against him.
He lands soft kisses and nips along your shoulder and the side of your neck. Big, warm hands wander across your sides, then around to your ribcage, in a slow, lazy pattern, over the top of your t-shirt.
He rests his chin on your shoulder. “I know you just wanted a massage, and I’m more than happy to just give you that. But today I’m thinking, maybe you’d like a little more?”
“Oh yes please,” you quickly reply, a small grin tugging at your lips. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s bemused by your answer.
“You give so much of yourself, but sometimes it’s good to just…take. Let someone else do the giving. Let me do that for you.”
He leans back to lift the hem of your t-shirt up. Seeing the only other item of clothing you have left on is your panties, he laughs softly. “A little eager for it, aren’t we?”
“But you’re so good at helping me relax, Kento. The least I can do is make things easier for you,” you say playfully.
He balls up your t-shirt, flinging it with ease across the bedroom into the laundry hamper.
“Oh, flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” he huskily replies. “Now, can you take your panties off for me?”
You lift your hips slightly, sliding your panties off with a few wriggles of your hips, then flicking it off the bed.
Effortlessly, he lifts you up, placing you right on his lap.
“Spread your legs for me. Yes, that’s it, drape them over my thighs. Comfortable now?”
You whisper a soft yes.
He hums. “Look at you. Completely naked, sitting on my lap. Legs parted wide,” he emphasizes by running his large, warm hands up and down your inner thighs slowly. “You couldn’t close them if you tried, because I won’t be letting you. Not until I’m done with you.” He squeezes your thighs just hard enough to emphasize his point.
You close your eyes, breath hitching at his promise.
“I think…we should do a countdown. I’ll count down from ten, and on one, I want your head emptied of all thoughts, focused on nothing but coming for me. Would you like that?”
You swallow, nodding.
“Words, love?”
“Y-yes Kento.”
“Good girl. Let’s start.” His hands slowly stroke up from your thighs, up your sides, across your stomach, and then upwards to cup your breasts.
“Ten. I love it when you can’t help but squirm on my lap when I do this.” His fingers capture your nipples, rolling, tugging for long moments, making you pant and wriggle in his hold, as he nips at your shoulder with small kisses and bites.
“Nine. Are you making a mess on my lap already?” You look down to see a small wet spot forming on his sweatpants, and can feel his erection pressing against your ass. “Are you sure you can make it all the way to one?”
“I’ll be good, I promise,” you blurt out, biting your trembling lower lip.
He lets out a low, dirty hum. “We’ll see about that. Eight.” You gasp as one of his hands tweak and flick a nipple, the sensation arrowing straight to your aching pussy. His other hand slides down your belly, going straight to your throbbing clit, gently circling and rubbing it with two fingers. You close your eyes, trying to keep quiet as he continues for a short while longer, whispering filthy things in your ear. Reflexively, your thighs start to shake, and you instinctively try to close them.
His hands pause what they were doing, instead sliding down to your inner thighs. Firmly, but gently, he wrenches them apart again, holding them in place for a few agonizing moments.
“Seven. Keep your thighs parted for me, sweetheart. That’s it. I know you’re feeling a lot already, but we’re not even halfway there yet,” he chuckles. “Use your hands. Put them where I can see them.” Feeling satisfied that you could keep your thighs parted with your own hands doing the work, he continues the countdown.
“Six.” His hands flirt between your legs, teasing your wet folds with light touches. Avoiding your clit and your aching entrance, but rubbing everywhere else. “We could both work from home a few days a week…couldn’t we? Think I could…help you manage your stress a little more proactively…if we did?” He nips at your earlobe, making you shiver, waiting for your response.
It takes a few seconds for you to answer. “We’d…get…n-nothing done. You’d be so…so h-handsy and d-distracting,” you stutter out.
He chuckles. “Five. Well, I won’t deny that. I’ve always wanted to indulge in some weekday afternoon delight with you. And it would be So. Very. Delightful,” he punctuates the last few words by suddenly rubbing your clit and thrusting a single long finger into your wet, fluttering hole.
You let out a small whine, hips lifting to chase the pleasurable sensation of his finger pressing, rubbing inside you. Your head drops back onto his shoulder.
“Four. Hmm…I can feel those little squeezes around my finger now. Are you close already?”
“Mm-hmm”, you mumble, your ability to form words now eluding you. “I p-promise I’ll be good,” you repeat your words from earlier.
He adds a second finger inside you, and you moan shamelessly as he crooks them deep inside, rubbing for long moments, while his other hand that was on your clit moves up again to cup and squeeze a breast.
“Three. Almost there. Oh, you’re doing so well. Look at what you’re doing to me.”
You open your eyes to look down to see that you’ve drenched the front of his sweatpants. You squeeze your eyes shut again, head lolling back against his shoulder once more.
“Two.” The hand on your breast slowly trails back down the center of you, stopping just above your clit, tracing random swirls with his fingertips. So close, but not quite enough for what you need.
His lips hover next to your ear. “I know you’re close. You’ve been such a good girl for me. So proud of you for holding on.”
“Gods K-Kento. I-I…” you whimper. “Please…”
“One.” His fingertips quickly drift downwards to rub your clit hard, with the two fingers that were inside you thrusting deeper and harder at the same time. “Now come. Come for me. Hard as you can. There you go, just like that,” he murmurs.
Your body tautens for a moment before the waves of your orgasm hit you, causing you to shake and cry out in his hold. Your hands fly up to grab at his neck to hang on, and you whimper once more, turning your face to seek his mouth as he finally kisses you.
Neither of you speak for a few minutes. The only motions and sounds you hear and feel are of him once more rubbing your back, arms, and legs. Eventually, he slides you off his lap, engulfing you in a tight, warm embrace.
“How are you doing?” he nuzzles against your neck.
You let out a satisfied sigh. “Well…I don’t feel like murdering anyone anymore. It’s because I can’t even lift a finger thanks to you. That was…” You make a brrrrring noise, making him laugh out loud. “That was just what I needed. Thank you.”
“Mission accomplished. Now then…want me to draw you a bath for you to soak while I get dinner ready?”
“Yes, please. And Kento?” You turn your head to look into his twinkling, warm brown eyes.
“Hmm yes dear?”
“Don’t think for a moment this was all just for me. I want you to feel good later, too.” His eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise.
“Oh, the night is still young. I might get a little worked up making dinner. Cooking paella can be tricky business.”
“Well, you can definitely count on me to help you unwind later.” You feel his smile against your shoulder as he kisses it.
Other Words for "Look" + With meanings | List for writers
Many people create lists of synonyms for the word 'said,' but what about the word 'look'? Here are some synonyms that I enjoy using in my writing, along with their meanings for your reference. While all these words relate to 'look,' they each carry distinct meanings and nuances, so I thought it would be helpful to provide meanings for each one.
Gaze - To look steadily and intently, especially in admiration or thought.
Glance - A brief or hurried look.
Peek - A quick and typically secretive look.
Peer - To look with difficulty or concentration.
Scan - To look over quickly but thoroughly.
Observe - To watch carefully and attentively.
Inspect - To look at closely in order to assess condition or quality.
Stare - To look fixedly or vacantly at someone or something.
Glimpse - To see or perceive briefly or partially.
Eye - To look or stare at intently.
Peruse - To read or examine something with great care.
Scrutinize - To examine or inspect closely and thoroughly.
Behold - To see or observe a thing or person, especially a remarkable one.
Witness - To see something happen, typically a significant event.
Spot - To see, notice, or recognize someone or something.
Contemplate - To look thoughtfully for a long time at.
Sight - To suddenly or unexpectedly see something or someone.
Ogle - To stare at in a lecherous manner.
Leer - To look or gaze in an unpleasant, malicious way.
Gawk - To stare openly and stupidly.
Gape - To stare with one's mouth open wide, in amazement.
Squint - To look with eyes partially closed.
Regard - To consider or think of in a specified way.
Admire - To regard with pleasure, wonder, and approval.
Skim - To look through quickly to gain superficial knowledge.
Reconnoiter - To make a military observation of a region.
Flick - To look or move the eyes quickly.
Rake - To look through something rapidly and unsystematically.
Glare - To look angrily or fiercely.
Peep - To look quickly and secretly through an opening.
Focus - To concentrate one's visual effort on.
Discover - To find or realize something not clear before.
Spot-check - To examine something briefly or at random.
Devour - To look over with eager enthusiasm.
Examine - To inspect in detail to determine condition.
Feast one's eyes - To look at something with great enjoyment.
Catch sight of - To suddenly or unexpectedly see.
Clap eyes on - To suddenly see someone or something.
Set eyes on - To look at, especially for the first time.
Take a dekko - Colloquial for taking a look.
Leer at - To look or gaze in a suggestive manner.
Rubberneck - To stare at something in a foolish way.
Make out - To manage to see or read with difficulty.
Lay eyes on - To see or look at.
Pore over - To look at or read something intently.
Ogle at - To look at in a lecherous or predatory way.
Pry - To look or inquire into something in a determined manner.
Dart - To look quickly or furtively.
Drink in - To look at with great enjoyment or fascination.
Bask in - To look at or enjoy something for a period of time.
Calling all aspiring storytellers with hearts full of whimsy! Get ready to sprinkle a touch of enchantment into your scenes with my Scene Wo
683 members, 435 posts about #creative writing #creative writers #helping writers • Guiding Writers to New Heights
Other Words for "Look" + With meanings | List for writers
Many people create lists of synonyms for the word 'said,' but what about the word 'look'? Here are some synonyms that I enjoy using in my writing, along with their meanings for your reference. While all these words relate to 'look,' they each carry distinct meanings and nuances, so I thought it would be helpful to provide meanings for each one.
Gaze - To look steadily and intently, especially in admiration or thought.
Glance - A brief or hurried look.
Peek - A quick and typically secretive look.
Peer - To look with difficulty or concentration.
Scan - To look over quickly but thoroughly.
Observe - To watch carefully and attentively.
Inspect - To look at closely in order to assess condition or quality.
Stare - To look fixedly or vacantly at someone or something.
Glimpse - To see or perceive briefly or partially.
Eye - To look or stare at intently.
Peruse - To read or examine something with great care.
Scrutinize - To examine or inspect closely and thoroughly.
Behold - To see or observe a thing or person, especially a remarkable one.
Witness - To see something happen, typically a significant event.
Spot - To see, notice, or recognize someone or something.
Contemplate - To look thoughtfully for a long time at.
Sight - To suddenly or unexpectedly see something or someone.
Ogle - To stare at in a lecherous manner.
Leer - To look or gaze in an unpleasant, malicious way.
Gawk - To stare openly and stupidly.
Gape - To stare with one's mouth open wide, in amazement.
Squint - To look with eyes partially closed.
Regard - To consider or think of in a specified way.
Admire - To regard with pleasure, wonder, and approval.
Skim - To look through quickly to gain superficial knowledge.
Reconnoiter - To make a military observation of a region.
Flick - To look or move the eyes quickly.
Rake - To look through something rapidly and unsystematically.
Glare - To look angrily or fiercely.
Peep - To look quickly and secretly through an opening.
Focus - To concentrate one's visual effort on.
Discover - To find or realize something not clear before.
Spot-check - To examine something briefly or at random.
Devour - To look over with eager enthusiasm.
Examine - To inspect in detail to determine condition.
Feast one's eyes - To look at something with great enjoyment.
Catch sight of - To suddenly or unexpectedly see.
Clap eyes on - To suddenly see someone or something.
Set eyes on - To look at, especially for the first time.
Take a dekko - Colloquial for taking a look.
Leer at - To look or gaze in a suggestive manner.
Rubberneck - To stare at something in a foolish way.
Make out - To manage to see or read with difficulty.
Lay eyes on - To see or look at.
Pore over - To look at or read something intently.
Ogle at - To look at in a lecherous or predatory way.
Pry - To look or inquire into something in a determined manner.
Dart - To look quickly or furtively.
Drink in - To look at with great enjoyment or fascination.
Bask in - To look at or enjoy something for a period of time.
Calling all aspiring storytellers with hearts full of whimsy! Get ready to sprinkle a touch of enchantment into your scenes with my Scene Wo
683 members, 435 posts about #creative writing #creative writers #helping writers • Guiding Writers to New Heights
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