stargirl👾

katsuki bakugo has the kind of physique people swear only exists in superhero mangas — broad shoulders, thick biceps that flex even when he’s relaxed, abs carved into sharp lines, and a back so powerful it looks engineered rather than grown. every inch of him reflects years of discipline: early training sessions, strict eating habits, and a level of dedication that would break most people long before it ever built them. he’s the definition of strength honed, not gifted.

and as his girlfriend, you get the everyday perks of dating someone built like a walking powerhouse. your bag’s too heavy? he’s already grabbed it with one hand. new furniture arrives? he’s assembling it before you’ve even opened the box. puddle in your way? he’s lifting you without hesitation. he reaches the top shelf for you, carries every grocery bag at once, opens jars you swear were sealed by the gods, and pretends he’s annoyed even though he always steps in before you can struggle.

but the best part is the intimacy the moments where all that strength he has softens just for you. cuddling with him means being wrapped in warm, solid muscle, his arms locking around you like you’re the only thing he needs to hold onto. his weight settles over you in a way that feels grounding, protective, like he’s shielding you from the world without even trying. he tucks you under his chin, traces lazy circles on your back, and lets out those low, sleepy murmurs he’d deny ever saying, all while keeping you pressed against the safest place you know.

for someone who’s so loud and cocky, katsuki is surprisingly quiet in bed. because he hates the sounds he makes, finds his own whimpers and groans pathetic and weak. he hates the way his control dissolves, the way his body betrays him with hitched breaths and feeble groans. every time a whimper ‘threatens’ to spill from his lips, he’s gulping it down, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

he kisses you like he’s trying to swallow the moans building in his own chest. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, not just to taste you, but to make sure you’re so full of him that no sound can escape.

“kats breathe,” you gasp when he finally lets you up for air.

“shut up,” he snarls, but there’s no heat beneath his words.

when you finally sink down onto him, taking him in inch by excruciating inch, his whole body goes rigid. a sharp hiss falls through his gritted teeth, and he immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, as if in shame. you can feel the vibration of his groan against your throat, a guttural sound he tries so, so hard to kill.

“fuck,” he breathes, a mere puff of air against your glistening skin. his hips remain still, even as his cock throbs inside you

when you start to ride him, his hands fly from your hips to your ass, then to your shoulders, anywhere he can get purchase, as if he’s physically trying to hold himself together. his breathing becomes harsh and uneven. you can hear the struggle in every inhale. his crimson eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration that has everything to do with not falling apart.

you love watching him like this. you love being the one to unravel him. you pick up the pace, rolling your hips in that way you know drives him wild, and you feel the tremor that starts in his thighs, the way his calloused fingers dig bruises into your perfect skin.

a sound that’s half-gasp, half-whimper, bubbles up, and katsuki immediately clamps his mouth down on your shoulder — using your body to silence his own.

he’s drunk on the copper leaking from your broken skin. he presses soothing kisses to your shoulder and it makes you clench even harder around him. that’s what finally makes him break. a moan tears from his throat, muffled by your flesh but unmistakable. a vulnerable sound that’s completely at odds with the explosive hero he is by day. it’s the sound of him stripped of all his defenses

GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING

BETTER THINGS ARE COMING

僕のヒーローアカデミア pro-hero!fwb headcanons ⸻ mdni ◟✦

bakugō katsuki ⸝⸝ kirishima eijirō ⸝⸝ kaminari denki ⸝⸝ todoroki shōto

勝己 ⸻ katsuki

⟢ insanely protective over you, to the point where it’s not even close to being a secret that you two are fucking. this mostly applies to hero work, but it’s really any social interaction.

⟢ he’s not very good with fans, and he gets so visibly irked if anyone tries to flirt with him — baring his teeth and staring daggers. you’re the only thing that he could ever want, even if being in a relationship scares him to death.

⟢ always does favors for you that you didn’t even request, like tidying your apartment, restocking your period products, or bringing your favorite coffee to patrols — he has all of your drink orders memorized. he then proceeds to act annoyed that he went out of his way, but you know that’s just how he shows affection.

⟢ katsuki is a bit mean in bed, but only as much or as little as you want him to be. and he is very vocal.

⟢ he’ll fuck your throat like he hates you, then practically confess his love while he’s between your thighs, eating your pussy.

⟢ he loves doggy, especially if he needs to let out some frustration, but mating press is his favorite by far. he can still pound into you just as hard, but he reaches even deeper in this position and the way you look at him — it’s his favorite thing ever, aside from eating you out.

⟢ how he’s so much bigger than you, seeing your perfect body folded to accommodate him like this, legs pulled into your chest and over his shoulders as he fucks load after load into you .. he can’t get enough. and fuck, he thinks that you are so pretty, the prettiest girl in the world.

bf!nanami is a man of physical habit, when you two are winding down on the couch after his long shift—his heavy, warm hand naturally finds a home on your thigh. the first time it happens, he’s just reading the paper, but he feels the immediate, rigid tension in your muscles.

he casually glances over, assuming you’re just caught off guard or feeling a bit shy. "are you cold?" he asks, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room. when you quickly shake your head, he simply pats your knee and shrugs it off, returning to his reading, though his observant mind notes the slight tremor in your frame.

bf!nanami who starts getting genuinely suspicious after the third or fourth time. it doesn't matter if his touch is a passive weight or a gentle, absentminded caress through your sweatpants—your breath hitches every single time. he notices the way your toes curl, the subtle shiver that runs up your spine, and the way you try to casually shift away from his reach.

nanami is nothing if not analytical; he knows compliance versus involuntary reaction, and you are definitely hiding something. he begins to purposely linger his touch, tracing the seam of your pants just to watch your eyelashes flutter and your lips part in a silent gasp.

bf!nanami decides to test his hypothesis on a rainy saturday afternoon. you're both cuddled up, your guard completely down as you watch a movie. without a word or a shift in his stoic expression, his large hand slides up your inner thigh and delivers a sudden, firm squeeze.

bf!nanami watches you gasp, a high, completely involuntary sound escaping your throat—a sharp, needy little squeak that cuts off the moment you realize what you've done. "oh? and what exactly was that noise for?" your hands fly to grip his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he doesn't let go.

instead, a slow, incredibly rare, and distinctly smug smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. he looks down at you through his glasses, thoroughly amused by your bright red face. "i don't recall the movie being quite that exciting," he drawls, his fingers sinking deeper into the soft flesh.

✮⋆˙. (▀▀̮▀) The strongest teaches you how to squirt . . .

You wanted to learn how to squirt.

Like, you really wanted to learn.

Being all over Twitter didn't help you either, as there's always somebody asking, oh, “ how do you squirt?” Or, “guys, I just learned how to squirt for the first time and I've never felt so much better.” And you just can't help but get FOMO.

Okay yeah sure, every time Gojo fucks you really good, it feels amazing, but something's missing.

He's already done everything in the book with you, with a few concepts here and there untouched, but you always end up satisfied, so you never dwelled on it.

You just really, really wanted to try feeling something new.

You already tried to do it yourself countless times, but your fingers could never reach the spots that he does, especially since his are significantly longer than yours.

So when he's currently fucking you and training your pussy to be more sensitive, it seems you finally get the hang of it.

“Mngh— fuck toru that…feels s’good..”

Gojo's long fingers curl deep inside your soaked pussy, his thumb pressing and pushing hard against your swollen clit with constant pressure.

He watched your face intently, bright blue eyes focusing on your pretty face as your walls flutter around his digits.

"Thaaat's it, baby," he murmurs, voice low and rough against your ear.

"You said you wanted to learn, yeah?"

His pace kept quickening as both fingers pumped into you steady, scissoring slightly on each thrust to stretch you open while his palm slaps wetly against your mound.

Your hips buck up off the bed, chasing the overwhelming sensation slowly building low in your belly.

Every stroke drags against that sensitive spot inside you, sending heatwaves through your body.

Gojo moves down, sucking one of your nipples right into his mouth. He bites down just hard enough to make you whine out, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

His free hand pins your thigh wider, keeping you spread for him as he works through your pussy harder.

Your breath comes out in short gasps when the pressure inside you grows almost unbearable, feeling like a tight coil getting tighter and tighter before releasing itself.

Your pussy clenches eagerly around his fingers as finally, a sudden rush of clear liquid sprays out all around them, soaking his hand and his wrist, along with the sheets beneath you in a hot, messy gush.

Gojo smiles and groans at the sight, fingering you through it with quick movements, so that the squirt keeps coming in short bursts.

"Fuuck, look at that," he growls, eyes locked on the way your cunt pulses and sprays. "So pretty when you let loose like that."

Your thighs tremble, clit becoming achingly sensitive.

You gripped the sheets and looked down at the mess, “hah…oh my god…what a mess..”

Another wave hits as he keeps rubbing your clit in tight circles, drawing out every last tremor and whine until you're left twitching, the new bedsheets already soiled under you.

He finally slows his hand down, but doesn't pull out, carefully stroking your inner walls as the aftershocks roll through you.

"Atta girl," he praises, voice coated with satisfaction.

"Knew you had it in you."

part one here!

you knew your nebulous position as the other woman was never going to last. when you’re the affair partner of both people in the same relationship, it’s inevitable that the truth will eventually come out. you just decide to have it happen on your own terms.

you escalate your own behaviour; with suguru, who you mostly have sex with and share the occasional drink, you up your antics. you leave behind lip gloss, you kiss bruises in places he won’t immediately notice, keep your nails sharper to scrape lines down his skin. you moan in his ear as he fucks you and ask, “what would your husband think, if he walked in here right now? watching me take you like i’m the one you’re married to?” just to relish in the way his voice strangles on a heavy groan as he comes.

with satoru, who’s far more interested in the emotional side of things, you devote yourself fully to the role of secret girlfriend. with suguru, you might be a nice, illicit fuck for when his husband’s busy. with satoru? you’re the partner he wishes his husband was. he takes you on elaborate dates, he buys you flowers, he flourishes with every sweet kiss and whispered affirmation. when he calls you late at night, paralysed with fear because he just knows his husband is cheating, you leave suguru in bed to console him from the safety of your bathroom. he can barely look at you when he fucks you, refuses to turn the lights on, then shudders in your arms as you nurture him in the aftermath.

it’s manipulative. you’re halfway in love with them from the thrill alone. you let it build and build, watch as their marriage slowly falls apart from their own actions, and, when it’s all coming to a climax, you arrange a threesome.

in the end, it’s easy. you invite them. suguru tells you happily that his husband’s out of the prefecture that weekend, and he misses you so much, sweetheart. can’t stop thinking about you. satoru tells you his husband is definitely with that homewrecker, so why can’t he spend a weekend with you? they don’t even care about the third, so long as you make sure they’re hot.

then they both show up, and it’s glorious.

after all, aren’t you blameless? it’s suguru that told you he wants something casual, satoru who said he doesn’t mind if you see someone else at the same time, since he’s doing the same. it’s not your fault they’re cheating. it’s not your fault they’ve accidentally fallen for the same woman outside of their marriage. it’s definitely not your fault that you accidentally arranged a threesome with both of them. how could you know? it’s not like suguru’s ever seen you snooping through his apartment. it’s not as if satoru has given you any details about his wayward husband, either.

there’s a moment of silence. of shock. they stare at each other in obvious disbelief while you smile cluelessly. you tell them you “just know they’re going to get along!” and they “have so much in common.” they don’t correct you. no, suguru does something better:

“it’s nice to meet you,” he says, perfectly neutral. “i’m geto suguru. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

satoru looks heartbroken. he looks angry. “gojo satoru,” he replies. “can’t say i’ve heard much about you.”

“looking forward to learning more, i hope.”

“something like that.”

you’re giddy with excitement. how couldn’t you be? they don’t even know. they’re playing some secret, private game between just the two of them, unaware that you know. that you’re a witness to it—better yet, that you’re an orchestrator.

they fight over who kisses you first, and when you goad them into kissing each other, satoru bites suguru so hard his lip splits. suguru growls, pulls him by the hair, and tells him that if he can’t mind his teeth like a good boy, suguru will tie him up so he won’t be able to use his hands, either.

somehow, that’s exactly what happens.

satoru bites and scratches as you all undress, a ball of tightly wound feeling he can’t quite get ahold of. when suguru kisses your neck, satoru tugs at his long hair so hard his neck cracks. after that, well, suguru doesn’t let it slide. he sits you in satoru’s lap and watches satoru bite his way across your tits before pulling his arms behind his back and tying him to the headboard. satoru’s legs follow, winding his calves to his thighs. it says something that satoru doesn’t argue.

“you act like you two know each other,” you say breathily, chest sore from where satoru bit your breasts on the wrong side of too hard, skin pinkening and indented with the shallow divots of his teeth.

satoru groans, watching as suguru pulls you away, situating you in his lap with your back to his chest and your legs spread over his thighs, presented to his husband. “never met the guy,” he says lowly, “and if i have, i don’t recognise him.”

“don’t worry,” suguru croons. “we are going to get very familiar.” his hand caresses down your side as he says it, thumbs rubbing strong circles into your skin.

satoru’s eyes stay fixed on your face.

suguru takes you apart with careful efficiency, teasing you until your pussy flutters with each brush of his fingers against your thighs, your navel, just short of the apex of your thighs. when he finally touches you where you want him, his fingers are long and slow and languid as he spreads you open, fingering you with lazy contentment as he sucks wet kisses down your neck and back. he leaves you straining and whining, makes satoru watch until he’s groaning as if he can feel the phantom touch of suguru’s every caress.

suguru bends you forward until you’re on your hands and knees, head just barely brushing against satoru’s knees. satoru parts his legs further, staring down at you with something close to awe. a little scared, a little sad, and very aroused. suguru crowds your back, bending over your figure and biting the shell of your ear as he slowly, slowly sinks into you.

“my good little wife,” suguru says, loud enough for satoru to hear. satoru chokes on his next breath, bordering on a sob. “should’ve married you, sweetheart. i could keep you like this forever.”

“suguru—“ satoru pants.

his skin is red and raw from his shuffling, his dick rock hard and straining against his black boxers. from the way his chest heaves, his eyes burn red-rimmed with tears, you’d think he’s the one being fucked. when he catches you looking, he lurches forward with a low groan, cut off as the rope tightens around his muscular thighs. he murmurs your name on a strangled groan.

a hand moves, grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you to look over your shoulder, neck craning at an awkward angle. “ignore him, sweetheart.” suguru whispers in your ear. “eyes on me. he’s not the one fucking you so good, is he?”

“i could be,” satoru growls. “i have. fucked her hard and fast, like a whore. she must be, if she’s willing to fuck you.”

it’s mean, unnecessarily targeted at you when the ire is really directed at his husband. suguru’s eyes crinkle on a smile.

“that’s not a very nice thing to say, is it? she’s always so sweet, so good. maybe you just don’t fuck her right.”

“i’ll show you—“

you stop listening. suguru thrusts so hard and sure, just slow enough to have you craving more, just fast enough to satisfy you. stamina has always been his strong suit, and he fucks you into over sensitivity. his thumb moves, sitting heavy and mean over your clit, rubbing firmly against you with every thrust forward. you fall apart warbling his name, hands reaching backwards to scratch at his thighs. then he fucks you to tears, keeping eye contact with satoru, muttering filth in your ear all the while.

“should knock you up, so you have no choice but to marry me.” he says, watching as satoru’s mouth drops on a whine. “keep you happy and full in my bed, so you never have to leave. you’d be the perfect wife, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

satoru comes untouched with a breathy whine of your name. your name, as if his husband isn’t right there. as if he hadn’t just watched his husband fuck the girl he’d been playing around with. suguru follows soon after, spilling into you unprotected.

they both stay the night. you share a quiet, almost awkward breakfast, where you play the fool and chatter with your usual enthusiasm. when they leave, it’s at the same time.

no matter how many times you beg your boyfriend to accept he's a wildly attractive man, he follows with self deprecating statements. that you're "too pretty" for a gruff bastard like himself, citing low standards as your reason for staying with him. he's too humble for his own good, a trait he picked up early in his life that snowballed into a burden of insecurities as an adult. but you're not into men who are selfish in the bedroom, the only occasions where he feels worthy of your love and devotion to him.

"just a little more." he smirks into your thigh, pulling your lower body towards the edge of the bed for a closer examination. fuck - your pussy is too perfect, better than anything he's imagined in his head and it's being offered to him on a silver fucking platter. "hand in my hair, now." his tone leaves no room for argument, but the intoxicating pleasure renders you incapable of speech. sure, there are men more attractive than him you could be entertaining - but none of them could worship your body as expertly, which is validating enough for him.

it irks him (jokingly) how you put together outfits that compliment your body perfectly whenever you're out in public. if a conventionally attractive man passes by, shouta's grip on your hand will tighten for a split second. "yeah, he was definitely looking at your ass. can't say i blame him, though." on date nights, he makes an effort to dress up and look presentable - similarly to how he would at press conferences in a tailored suit, hair slicked back and facial hair trimmed.

he's at his most irrational when making love to you - he's an underground hero who deals with the worst criminals on the streets, brings a damn sleeping bag to his lectures and exhibits a rough demeanor to the public. he doesn't deserve that dollish look in your eyes, how your irises sparkle and reflect upon his unfiltered gaze. "can't get enough of you, how fuckin' perfect my girl is. all i do is take from you, is that right?" you've conditioned your ears to tune his negative statements out, focusing intently on how his fat tip keeps slamming into your sweet spot.

ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, pussywhipped!teasing!izuku yay, brat!fem!afab!reader, cunnilingus, porn no plot, reader has a beauty mark in the hoo ha, clothed sex

ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: this is a reblog from my old account

ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: observant + annoying bf izuku eating out shy reader for the first time

ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~340

“you got a beauty mark in here, baby.”

after vehemently refusing to observe izuku eating you out for the past five minutes due to shyness, your arm covering your sight lowers so you can glance down at him lying in between your legs, and you watch as his thick fingers spread open your drooling folds into the shape of a V. a shiver runs down your spine as he presses a chaste kiss directly to the mark before swiping over it with his tongue.

“what…?” you ask hazily, attempting to prop yourself up onto your elbows, “i do?”

“uh huh.” he takes another lick, the sound of your guys' bedsheets rustling as he adjusted the growing tent in his sweats. “you want me to take a picture?”

“uh, no—” you scowl. a whiny whimper quickly replaces the sound. “what the hell am i gonna do with a picture?”

“look at it,” he shrugs. “admire it. love it” — chuu — “that’s what i’m doing.”

he must be crazy, you decided, to think you were going to let him have documentation of you receiving oral for the first time — pajamas pants pooled at your ankles, shirt riding up your stomach, hands trembling, needy pussy spread open — on his phone. you shake your head, a breathy hiss escaping you.

“babe, can’t you just— ah — do it without the comments? it’s embarrassing…”

izuku only lets out a simple hum in response. “bossy, bossy,” he muses. his lips wrap themself around your clit before giving the bead an obnoxious slurp. “i just think it's funny.”

“funny?” your brows scrunch. “why is it funny?”

your boyfriend merely laughs at your confusion and how you writhe underneath him. “cause’ it’s like— y’know that thing about how moles are the places where your lover in a past life kissed?” when you roll your eyes, the grin tugging at his lips deepens. “looks like someone was getting freaky.”

god, did he ever shut up?

“izuku,” you huff, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “don’t be weird.”

“alright, alright,” he concedes with a chuckle, “no talking with my mouth full, got it.”

“told you to stop sending me twitter porn, freak.” you scoot away from him in bed.

“babe we gotta try it.” he grabs your waist and scoots you back over. “what? you don’t like me all of a sudden?” he peppers kisses across your hot cheeks. “just watch it.”

he watches you open the link, the way you squirm, watching the girl hump against the guys abs. the way she moans, the way her thighs shake, the guy looking up at her like she’s hung the stars.

“let’s make our own.” he nudges his nose against your neck.

“our own what?” you purse your lips.

“video. of you rubbing this cute little pussy on my abs.” he starts to kiss the side of your neck.

“you don’t have any abs.” you close your phone, tossing it aside.

“shut up.” he chuckles. “you can ride my face after while i jerk my shit.” he nips at your pulse.

you push him back on the bed and push his shirt up and he’s quick to tug it off, watching with lidded eyes as you shimmy out of your sleep shorts. you straddle his waist, looking down at the phone he’s hold in one hand while the other his resting on the back of your thigh.

“c’mon pretty.” he flexes his muscles and that’s all the coaxing you need. “pull this shirt up for me.” he slides the hand on your thigh up, dragging the fabric of one of his shirts up your body.

he hums when you press yourself against his abs, lifting the shirt up to your neck in the process. you give an experimental grind of your hips and a soft moan slips from your lips. you press harder, fingers curling into the shirt you’re holding up. he flexes again, your breath catches as you follow the ripple.

“nghh fuck!” you gasp, perked clit pressing right against his hard muscle.

“feels good?” he looks up at you with a lazy grin.

you nod your head and hump against him faster, chasing that building heat in your tummy. he lets his hand on your waist slide up to your tits, kneading and playing with your nipples, pulling the softest sounds from your lips. he can feel how wet you’re leaving him and he squints his eyes with an idea.

“keep those eyes open.” he pinches your nipple, accompanied by a little zap.

“denki!” your mouth falls open when he gives the same treatment to your other nipple.

he drops his phone and grabs onto you with both hands, rubbing all over, stopping to send little shocks to your nipples that make you melt. you’re drooling, pleading, thighs shaking right on the edge, when you feel it.

“ahh! denk- denki please!”

electricity flows through his abs, through your slick going straight to your pussy and your hips stop, orgasm tearing through you as you soak his muscles. he keeps you moving until you’re spent and he’s pulling you up his chest.

“wha-?” you blink.

“sit on my face.” he pulls you down to his mouth.

“he looks alright.”

“girl.”

“what!?”

you have no idea why or how you and hanta got so invested into this shitty youtube show you’re watching. the butts of the joints you smoked lying in the ashtray on top of the coffee table might be part of the explanation. you’re not so sure though.

“he totally looks like a cheater,” hanta drones on, slurping an obnoxiously loud sip out of his drink. “just wait for the reveal at the end, i know i’m right.”

“oh, but she’s just putting everyone in the red box!” you huff. “he’s tall, and he looks nice.”

“height isn’t everything,” he shakes his head. “did you hear what he said? he definitely doesn’t know how to treat a woman— ow, fuck!”

“you’ve got some nerve!” you laugh, lifting your leg away from hanta’s lap to kick the side of his thigh, almost making him lose his grip on the can in his hand. “literally your whole charm—” you throw up quotation marks with your fingers, “—is being tall. who the hell are you to talk?”

hanta grabs your ankle mid-air, forcing it back on his lap with a snort. “yeah, but i know how to treat a woman,” his thumb brushes your shin. “whose weed are you smoking and whose food are you eating, hm?”

you roll your eyes, lips curling into a pout before you hold out a hand. “i want another peach ring.”

he gives you a lazy grin and a raise of his eyebrow, muttering a teasing ”bratty girl” under his breath before reaching for the bag of gummies in front of him. he fetches a peach ring, but instead of putting it in your hand, he starts leaning towards you. “c’mon, say aaaah—”

you consider slapping his hand away, but eventually you give in, parting your lips. hanta’s holding the gummy between his thumb and pointer finger, and when you let your tongue roll out, you make sure to give his digits a nice lick, too.

the way the look in his eyes changes instantly is not lost on you, so you grin happily and lean back, enjoying the fruity flavor spreading through your mouth. the video drones on in the background, but you know neither of you is paying any ounce of attention to it anymore.

“what’s wrong?” you coo. “you’ve gone quiet.”

but hanta was never one to talk about how he feels - hell, the limbo of relationship labels you’ve in this whole time is the proof - he shows you, bringing those same fingers now coated with your saliva to his lips and sucking. something in your guts flips, your body betraying you immediately as your hole clenches around nothing.

now it’s his time to look smug. “what’s wrong? you should know better than to bite off more than you can chew.”

“ugh, shut up. you’re cringe now,” you groan, trying to hide how flustered you are. “and don’t tell me that got you hard—”

oh, but it did.

you watch him get up, carefully moving your legs away from his lap and back down on the leather cushions, then stop in front of you. you should be ashamed of yourself for getting literal heart eyes just by looking at the stupidly big print of his cock in his pants, but you also can’t help the spark of pride in your chest when you know you can get him worked up oh so easily.

“you wanna feel it?” he’s looking down at you, half-lidded eyes, staring into your own like he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants, wrapped around his finger. you can’t tell if it’s the cotton mouth, but your throat is suddenly parched. you can only nod.

and the bastard has the audacity to smile as his hand settles on the back of your head and pushes. right against his groin.

you’re a goner.

“hantaaa—” you whine, voice muffled by the fabric of his sweatpants, fat bulge pressing against your lips drawing out a needy moan. “mhm,” he drawls lazily. “lost all your big talk already, eh?”

his big hand guides your nose right along the ridge of his cock, the heady scent of something you can’t describe, something so uniquely him. your hands paw at his thighs for leverage, face nuzzling against his front.

“please…” you look up, cheek resting on his throbbing erection as you give him puppy eyes. and hanta isn’t exactly a strong-willed man himself, the warmth of a precum stain seeping through his boxers a dead giveaway that he’s just as turned on and desperate as you.

he pulls your head back, his thumb finding your lips and pushing in. “suck on this,” he murmurs. “if you’re good enough maybe i’ll let you have the real thing.”

┊┊a/n. idk what the beginning is it's just my irremediable need to set the mood and it's kinda ass be kind ok

♯ a bit rushed bc i did it in a rush also ❤️☺️

Nanami had never considered himself a jealous man.

possessive, perhaps, in small ways. protective? certainly.

but jealousy? it was messy. the sort of thing that clouded judgement and made people act irrationally.

Nanami preferred facts.

and the fact was that you were free to spend time with anyone. the fact that your smile didn't belong to him. and the fact that he trusted you completely.

but why—why had he spent the last twenty minutes staring at his phone?

the photo on the screen was harmless for god's sake!

a group picture from a company dinner. you sat near the center, smiling oh so sweetly to the camera.

but the problem is there was a man sitting beside you.

nothing appropriate or suspicious. just a coworker. a coworker whose arm was slung casually over the back of your chair.

a coworker who seemed to appear in every photos your friend posted. a coworker whose name you had mentioned bunch of times this week without realizing it.

Nanami locked his phone and set it face down on the table.

he hated this feeling. Not because he distrusted you.

there was no reason for the knot tightening in his chest.

there is no logical explanation for why he suddenly found himself wondering whether you smiled that brightly around everyone. or whether you looked at everyone the way you looked at him.

the apartment door opened suddenly, snapping him out of his trance.

"Kento?" your voice drifted through the hallway.

you stepped into the living room, smiling when you saw him.

"There you are."

Nanami returned the smile automatically.

but as you sat beside him and started talking about your day, he found himself listening for one name. and when it finally appeared in the conversation? his jaw tightened.

your words faltered. "Kento?" you looked at him carefully.

for a moment, neither of you spoke.

then, quietly, you asked. "Is there something wrong?"

he met your gaze briefly before looking away.

the silenced stretched. not uncomfortable, just heavy. Nanami wasn't entirely sure how to answer.

you knew your husband too well to notice when something was off.

"Kento."

"Hm."

"You're doing that thing."

his brows furrowed slightly. "What thing?"

"The thing where you pretend nothing's bothering you."

you moved closer on the couch, turning toward him fully.

"Did something happen at work?"

"No."

"Did someone annoy you?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you tired?"

"Always."

your expression only softened.

your fingers reached for his hand without thinking. you interwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, talk to me?"

you waited patiently, giving him space to speak.

Nanami hated that he was making this difficult.

eventually, he said, "Who is he?"

you blinked. "...who?"

"The coworker."

your eyes widened slightly. "Oh."

for several seconds, you said nothing.

then, "Are you jealous?"

Nanami closed his eyes briefly. "Perhaps," he sighed.

your expression softened even further.

you shifted closer until your shoulder rested against his.

"I found him annoying," you started. "He talks too much, he steals food, he's arrogant too."

the corner of Nanami's mouth twitched. you caught it immediately.

"There he is."

"I was here the entire time."

"No, you were somewhere in your own head."

you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

"I don't smile because of him," you sighed. "I smile because i was having fun."

his gaze softened. "I know," he admitted.

"Then why are you suffering by yourself?"

a faint huff escaped him, not quite a laugh.

"Because," he pulled your joined hands closer. "I was hoping it would stop if i ignored it."

"Did it work?"

"No."

you laughed. "That was unfortunate."

he laughed along with you. "It was."

the knot in his chest began to loosen.

not because the jealousy had vanished. but because you were looking at him exactly the way you always had.