#drabbles

[nanamisgirly]

she is my baby ! ྀི

“kento, my love,” you try to hold back a laugh, resting your hand delicately on his shoulder. you really do try.

nanami has been on edge ever since Satoru Gojo's eldest son, saviri, stepped foot onto your patio.

not because he doesn't like the kid—if anything, kento's been weirdly tolerant of saviri over the years. maybe even more than he tolerates gojo himself. but that tolerance went up in flames the second saviri sat next to your daughter on a pool lounger and casually rested his hand on her knee. 

kento hasn't blinked since.

he had been inventing excuses to walk past them every five minutes like some sunburned, poolside secret agent. at one point, he tripped over the garden hose just to interrupt their conversation. 

and everyone was laughing at kento like he was crazy.

but the truth is : he did not invite the gojo family to his daughter's 17 birthday bash just to witness that insufferably shirtless boy flirt with his precious girl. 

“she's a grown girl now,” you say gently, hopping up onto the kitchen counter next to his abandoned beer. His forearms are flexing where they grip the edge—eyes locked on the pool, laser-focused on saviri.

“she's not,” he snaps, a vein flexing along his jaw. “she's my little baby.” 

you hum, biting back another smile as you steal a sip of his beer. 

the thing is, kento had been fine with her adolescent chaos. he took it like a champ—the loud music, the mismatched hair colors, the time she said she wanted a nipple piercing. hell, he even nodded like it was normal when she came home with a tiny tattoo just above her hip.

“i'm going to kill him.” nanami's eye twitch.

“no you're not,” you reply sweetly, a little lovesick by how protective he is. “you're going to smile, pretend you're fine, and then maybe glare at him slightly less murderously when we cut the cake.”

“i should've invited yuji. yuji wouldn't flirt with her.”

“you paid yuji to stop calling you ‘dad’ every time he walks in the door.”

he doesn't answer. only hums darkly and gives your upper thigh a little squeeze. “mission one : in progress," he mutters under his breath. "see you later, love.”

before you can even ask, he's already marching across the patio, preparing himself as if he's about to fight some upper class S-grade curses.. except, this time, the enemy is 21-year-old with floppy hair and six-pack. 

as nanami approaches, he hears a glimpse of their conversation. “—I don't know,” saviri's saying with a low chuckle, “I always liked how you wear your hair up like that. shows off your—”

“saviri,” your husband's voice is pleasant, too pleasant, when he slides onto the lounge chair beside them. the way a normal man absolutely would not. “you look warm. do you need a towel?”

“uh-oh, no, i'm good, thanks… nanami-san.”

“hmm.” nanami reaches over and with the softest, most fatherly gesture in human history, gently lifts saviri's hand off his daughter's leg and sets it aside.

“dad,” she says slowly, squinting at him. “we're literally just talking.”

saviri leans back on his elbows, his skin tanner than his dad could ever be—earning this from his mom. “so, nanami-san,” he says with the exact same annoyingly charming smile satoru has. “do you work out, or is that just all residual cursed energy stress?”

nanami stays as rigid as a statue, arms crossed and sunglasses pushing his blond strands back. “do you want to be buried in the shallow end or the deep end?”

your daughter groans, dragging her hands down her face. “daaaaad”

saviri only laughs as nanami's legs stretch out slightly—a clear boundary line between his daughter and him. “i'm just saying you look good for your age. i hope i'm that fit when i'm, what, fifty?”

“i'm forty-five.”

“oh, wow. and you're not even grumpy !”

nanami exhales slowly. “saviri,” he says carefully, “are you flirting with me?”

saviri smirks, tilting his head innocently. “i mean… your daughter says i’m too flirty, so i thought i’d diversify.”

you can hear gojo wheezing in the distance. nanami’s knuckles go white on the armrest.

“i’m going to get more drinks,” your daughter mutters, standing abruptly, grabbing her towel. her cheeks are a little pink “saviri, come with me—”

“oh no,” your husband cuts in, voice sharp but still polite, the way one talks to an aggressive raccoon. “he’s fine here.”

“dad.”

“sweetheart.”

there's a deadly beat of eye contact. she throws him a look that promises revenge in the form of emotional manipulation, then stomps off toward the cooler with an exaggerated sigh.

“hypothetically speaking…” saviri says, turning his head casually. “how old would she need to be before you stop trying to assassinate me with your eyes?”

“hypothetically?”

“mm-hmmm”

“dead you'd have to be dead.”

saviri nods thoughtfully, still smirking. and kento doesn't miss how is blue vivid eyes follow your daughter's steps. “cool, cool. just gauging the timeline.”

nanami rubs the bridge of his nose like he's aged ten years in ten minutes before looking at gojo's son.

“you're just like him.”

“flattered.”

“don't be.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I'M GONNA BE A DAD?!l! || Johnny Storm ||

A/n: first part here

This is Part 2. Where Johnny finds out he's gonna be a dad!

The rotary phone on the counter rang just as you were pouring yourself a cup of tea in the Baxter Building’s communal kitchen. You jumped, startled, nearly spilling hot water down your wrist.

“Hello?” you answered, slightly breathless.

“Miss [Y/L/N]?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“This is Dr. Lynn from New York General. I’m calling with your results.”

You felt your stomach twist.

She paused delicately before continuing, “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

The words hit like a comet. You blinked at the wall, unmoving. Pregnant. With Johnny Storm’s baby. Suddenly the room felt both too quiet and impossibly loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice tight with emotion. “Thank you, Doctor.”

You hung up slowly. The phone clicked back into place. And then—

“[Y/N]?” came Johnny’s voice from the hallway. “Hey, Reed said you were down here—”

He paused at the doorway, glancing at your face.

Something in you cracked. “Johnny,” you said, barely above a whisper, “I just got a call from the doctor.”

He tilted his head, smile fading slightly, eyes flickering with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You swallowed. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

And then it happened.

WHOOSH!

Johnny flamed on so fast that he scorched the doorframe. The light from his ignited body bounced off the polished tile, casting flickering orange shadows against the cabinets. Somewhere upstairs, you heard Sue yell, “JOHNNY, NOT INDOORS!”

But he couldn’t help it.

“I’M GONNA BE A DAD?!” he practically shouted, laughing with disbelief. “NO WAY—REALLY?!”

You were halfway between laughing and crying. “Johnny, could you not burn down Reed’s kitchen?!”

He zoomed in a quick circle, trailing flames before extinguishing mid-spin, landing in front of you with a wide, boyish grin and hair still crackling with heat.

“You’re serious? You’re sure?” he asked, gently taking your hands, eyes darting to your stomach, then back to your face like he couldn’t decide where to look.

You nodded. “Doctor Lynn confirmed it.”

Johnny blew out a breath, then laughed again—loud and joyful. “Holy smokes—no pun intended—I’m gonna be a dad! We’re gonna be parents!”

He kissed you—twice—then suddenly turned on his heel.

“I gotta tell Ben. No—Sue. No, wait—Reed needs to design a stroller that’s flameproof! And a bottle warmer that works at 3000°F—”

“Johnny!” you called, grabbing his arm before he could dart off. “Take a second. Breathe.”

He looked at you, lit up in every possible way.

You reached up, brushing a stray spark from his hair. “We’ve got time. Let’s enjoy the moment.”

He grinned and leaned in, forehead resting against yours. “This kid’s gonna have the coolest parents on the planet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Coolest? I thought we were the hottest.”

Johnny smirked. “Touché.”

“Ben!” Johnny bellowed as he sprinted down the hallway of the Baxter Building.

You followed behind, slightly slower, still holding your stomach like that would somehow calm the butterflies. And the nausea. And the surreal reality that your child was now part of this gloriously chaotic world.

Ben Grimm peeked his head out of the lab door with a thick book in one hand. “What? You finally figured out how to fix your hair with science?”

“I’m gonna be a dad!” Johnny practically sang, grabbing the Thing’s massive rocky shoulders and shaking him with the force of a wildfire.

Ben’s book hit the floor.

“You—what?!”

Sue Storm popped out next, wearing her mid-century chic pencil skirt and a lab coat. “Johnny, I swear, if this is another prank—”

“No prank!” he beamed. “She’s pregnant! By me!She just found out. Doctor called her this morning!”

Reed poked his head around the corner, raising a brow, his neck stretching just slightly. “Fascinating… I did detect elevated hormonal shifts yesterday. I should’ve said something.”

You blinked. “You what now?”

Johnny waved him off. “Let’s skip the science breakdown and go back to the part where I’m gonna be a dad! ME! Johnny Storm! The Human Dad.”

Ben looked between the two of you, then broke into a wide, proud smile. Ignoring the fact that Johnny called himself the Human Dad.

“Congrats, kid,” he rumbled, slapping Johnny’s back so hard he nearly went flying.

Sue’s face softened as she turned to you, taking your hands. “Are you okay? Morning sickness? Do you need anything? Ginger ale? A dark room? A spa weekend?”

You smiled, touched. “Mostly I just need time to breathe. But we’re happy. A little shocked, but… really happy.”

Reed had already scribbled something on a nearby notepad. “I’ll start drafting some protective gear for the baby—flame-retardant fabrics, formula bottle insulation… perhaps a rattle that absorbs kinetic energy—”

“Reed,” Sue cut in gently. “Let her finish a trimester first.”

Johnny grinned and wrapped his arm around you. “You hear that, little flame?” he whispered down to your belly. “You’ve already got a super-team in your corner.”

Later that evening…

You caught Johnny in the living room, tongue between his teeth in concentration, knitting needles in his hand.

Or trying to.

“…Are you knitting?”

“I’m attempting to knit,” he muttered. “Sue said it would be meaningful. And relaxing. It’s neither.”

You peered over his shoulder and saw… well, what might have been a baby sock. Or a potholder. Or a… vaguely crunchy ball of yarn that had clearly been singed at least twice.

“Did you burn it?”

He scowled. “No. It got enthusiastically warm.”

You laughed, sliding onto the couch beside him. “It’s perfect. Our baby’s gonna have the only flameproof booties in New York.”

Johnny leaned over, kissed your cheek, and murmured, “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Your heart melted. “Me neither, firebug.”

He beamed.

And you thought—yeah. Chaos or not, this was the start of something truly fantastic.

[cxsmicbaby]

here's a little johnny storm drabble... smut at the end ;)

read parts two and three here

thinking about being the fantastic four's live-in personal assistant/agent. and of course, johnny’s into you. how could he not be? a pretty 20-something that he sees everyday? it’s like asking the birthday boy not to blow out his candles.

i'm thinking like... behind-the-scenes fifth member sort of thing, like you're not a fighter but you're just as essential to their continued success as the rest of them.

it was reed that hired you—as the group became more famous, he realized they needed someone to handle the publicity affairs stuff, so he could put his focus on all his important cosmic research and whatnot. you were some random celebrity's personal assistant when he found you—late 20s, impressive resumé, and an academic background in science.

you had the potential for a bright future, but it was stunted by having been stuck in the same position for too long, with no promotions available. so reed contacted you, brought you in for an interview, and determined you were the right candidate for the team.

when you meet the rest of them for the first time you're terrified. you'd met many celebrities before, but none with superpowers, and not to mention that they're basically the most famous people on the planet.

but they're all so nice to you. especially johnny.

when johnny first lays eyes on you and your cute little outfit—the way your fingers shake a little, how your eyes keep darting around the room, and that adorable nervous smile—he can't help the giddy feeling he gets. it's been a while since he's been around someone so pretty; life had been stressful lately, leaving him little time to go out and do anything that was really fun.

but now you—such a lovely little thing—would be in the tower, all the time. what reason is there for him to leave?

you have your own room and office, both happening to be quite close to johnny's quarters, which he had thanked reed for so much the man had threatened to move you. don't flirt with her, reed demanded, and johnny could tell he'd meant it.

unfortunately, johnny definitely hadn't meant it when he promised he wouldn't. you're just too cute; when you huff at him for lingering in your office too long, bouncing around your space with a teasing grin you grow to really hate; when you chastise him for being so public with his frequent 'escapades' and think he won't notice the jealous quirk in your brow. it's bad for your image, you argue, and johnny arguesmthe opposite; that's kind of my whole thing, sweetheart.

"well, it's antiquated," you quip, turning back to your computer with an irritated look on your face. "and don't call me that. it's patronizing and very unprofessional."

but you like it. johnny knows you do. you love his attention, and you're bad at hiding it—the best part is, he knows you aren't doing it on purpose, and that you probably think you're doing a good job at concealing your tells.

sometimes, he's an insufferable tease, doing his absolute best to work you up and make you lose your temper. he's heavy-handed with the flirtation then; getting a bit too close to you when he passes by in the hall, winking at you in meetings, flustering you in your office to the point that you raise your voice, then get embarrassed at your outburst.

other times, he's subtle, innocent, not really trying to tick you off. he surprises himself with how genuine he can be then; to be fair, it's a rare occurrence.

you're watching the afternoon news, taking a coffee break, while johnny lounges on the couch. the reporter is talking about your latest publicist achievement with the team, some story about thing, and johnny turns to look at you over his shoulder, smiling.

"you're good at your job, you know?" he says, and you can't help but be a little shocked at how sincere he sounds. he sees that, and laughs, turning back to the screen so he can toss a marshmellow into his mouth.

"no need to look so appreciative. i know you love my compliments."

sorry. he just can't help it.

regardless of how much joy johnny gets out of making you squirm, he can't deny that there are, unfortunately, real feelings behind his semi-obsession with you. this is quite the unwelcome realization, because johnny hadn't had real feelings for anyone in a long, long time. the experience is not one he particularly likes and much preferred to keep things detached, and to the point. it's a lot easier that way.

but johnny can not stay away from you, no matter how he tries. the harder he does try, the worse it becomes.

one night johnny thinks he'll sit on the other side of the dinner table—he always sits next to you, first to tease you, and then because he wanted to. johnny finds you're the most agreeable to his annoyances at dinner, laughing at him instead of scowling. maybe it's the food.

but, in attempts to try putting distance between you, johnny sits on the other side, next to ben, leaving you to sit closest to reed. you're confused, especially because johnny keeps glancing at you, meeting your gaze for a second, and promptly looking away. you're also hurt, even though you try to fight that, because it's dumb. you shouldn't care, anyway.

but you do. you care so much that when you're doing the dishes that night, and johnny creeps into the kitchen, you scoff, ignoring him in a way that can only be purposeful.

"you okay?" johnny asks, even though he's already smiling that insufferable smirk, which you know is there, despite your back being to him.

"why wouldn't i be?" you hate how pathetically irritated you sound. you scrub a little harder at the plate and try to focus on the shine of the foamy bubbles.

johnny circles you, keeping a distance that's on the brink of being too close. "beats me. you just seem a little upset, is all."

you want to scream, but you feel yourself falling into the trap, despite everything. "i'm not upset. that would be silly."

he laughs, and you see him in your peripheral vision, leaning against the counter beside you. watching you.

"whatever you say. careful with that, it's my favorite." like he has a favorite plate.

he sits next to you again the next night, and neither of you say anything, but he swears he sees you smile when he pulls out the chair.

NSFW BELOW! mdni!

most of johnny's tormenting is innocent. he likes to see you a little uncomfortable, likes it making you nervous. but there are other times, where he admires you a little too long, eyes tracing the curves of your body, and he starts picturing things. like how you might look on your knees, staring up at him with your pretty eyes. how you might look with him staring up at you, between your thighs, your plush lips parted while you watched him. that's his favorite.

he wants you, painfully. it gets to the point where he can only think about you when he wants some release; touching himself in the shower like a pre-pubescent teenager, embarrassingly worked up by the filthy things his own mind is conjuring.

four months into your hiring and you're driving him crazy. johnny can barely look at you now without thinking about kissing you, touching you, tasting you; it's ridiculous, and he's beginning to get a little embarrassed about it. he still teases you, but now all his comments have an air of desire to them—something that had kind of always been present, controllable enough for him to bury it in smug smiles, taunting laughs. but johnny can't control it now, can't mask how you effect him.

his only saving grace is that you seem not to notice. not really, at least. you return his yearning gazes with this adorably frustrating, confused expression, furrowing your brows as if to ask him what his problem is. you are my problem, he wants to say, and then he wants to kiss you breathless, take you to his bed, and make you feel so good you take back every snide comment you've ever made about him.

but instead he always smirks at you, turns away. tries to calm his mind before he pops a semi in his pants that always seem just a little too tight.

one night johnny’s sitting in the living room, popping handfuls of cereal into his mouth straight from the box; typical thursday. you walk in, and he turns, but is caught off guard by how good you look—you’re dressed up, a considerable amount of skin showing (at least, more than you do when you’re on the job). he swallows hard and tries to keep his eyes on your face but it proves difficult.

“and where are you headed, missy? it’s almost ten.” his head swivels to follow you as you walk through the living room, into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

“i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you say, but there’s no real bite behind your words. you search for something in the refrigerator, can’t find it, and close it with a sigh, turning to face him. “johnny, did you drink my cranberry juice?

the frustrated look on your face is sort of cute but it (thankfully) distracts him from studying the way your hips look in your outfit; soft, plush, and very grabbable. well, maybe it’s not really distracting him that much.

he rolls his eyes and turns back to the television.

“no. isn’t that for ladies, anyway? i heard it makes you taste better. that and pineapple juice.” he says it with a laugh, but it’s not nearly as smug as usual. he regrets it immediately, mostly because all he can think of now is getting the chance to taste you, and how sweet he knows you’d be. and warm. fuck. he can see your flustered face in his head even though he isn’t looking.

“ugh, whatever. you’re buying me more.” there's an extra bite in your tone, but he can't figure out what, and you're gone before he can ask any more questions.

johnny's left him with a sinking feeling in his gut—are you going on a date? it’s a little late in the evening but that barely means anything. you could be going out with your girlfriends, but that scenario isn’t great for him either. there are tons of guys that would give anything to get in your pants, and at a club they’re more liable to try it. he can only hope you wouldn’t let them.

johnny’s usually a late sleeper anyway, but he makes it a point to stay up till you’ve returned, keeping himself entertained with dumb tv shows and another box of cereal. the rest of the team are sound asleep when you finally stumble inside, clearly doing your best to be quiet.

it's around 1am, so you're not expecting anyone to be awake—you should've known better.

"past midnight, huh? on a thursday?"

you jump, and you almost let out an exasperated groan at his familiar, grating voice. johnny's sitting almost exactly where you left him, but he gets up when you make eye contact, leaning against the wall as he watches you. he's checking you out again, quite obviously—you're annoyed at the fluttering in your stomach, made worse by the wine you'd consumed at dinner. you may have had a bit too much, but you'd needed it to get through the date; the guy was a total jackass. first and last time you let your friend set you up.

"ugh. have you just been sitting there this whole time?" you huff, slipping your shoes from your aching feet. he doesn't move, just watching you with those infuriating blue eyes, shadowed by the lack of light in the room. "you have a conference tomorrow at noon, johnny. you should be sleeping." today at noon is more accurate, you think, but semantics lose their importance past midnight.

"well, you shouldn't be wasting your time on dates with idiot guys," he says, voice a little hushed, something hidden behind the words that would be simple coming from anyone else. you sigh despite the way your cheeks warm. your lack of a response is a mistake, because johnny's eyes light up and he pushes himself off the wall, circling you.

"so it was a date, then? where'd he take you?"

his interest in your date is off-putting but you can't deny how easy it is to play into it. the remnants of alcohol in your blood make you feel more open, and you decide you don't have the energy to play a game with johnny right now. you tell him the truth.

"doesn't matter. it was horrible. he talked about himself for, like, the whole thing. and he wasn't even that cute."

johnny's brows shoot up at your genuine answer, and he laughs, intrigued by this rare, honest mood of yours. you move past him to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

he follows you, taking slow, deliberate steps, standing a little too near. "that sucks. shame you wasted such a pretty outfit on a guy like that."

you scoff, but your ears are hot. "thanks? i think."

johnny is silent for a second, observing you with a glint in his eyes that you read as slightly dangerous and very, very attractive. he looks especially good in this lighting; biceps bulging just slightly as he crosses his arm, slick smile almost calling out to you. you want to wipe it off his face. you want to put him on his back and shut him up. the thought surprises you, but not as much as the visuals that come with it. you look away, embarrassed, like he can see inside your head.

"well, the night's still young," he finally says, with a crooked smile that makes you ill. "you shouldn't go to bed upset, you know. it's bad for you."

you take a sip of water, looking back at him with narrowed eyes. "what are you suggesting?"

that's how you end up sitting in criss-cross-applesauce on the floor in johnny's room, nursing a beer like you're in college. he's in front of you, some inches away, face a little flushed from the alcohol, and a big, bright grin that just won't go away. johnny is insufferable not just because he's devastatingly handsome, but because he knows he is—it makes you hate yourself, and how you can't help but swoon when he laughs.

"honestly, you should've known by the time of day that the date was gonna be shit," johnny blurts, after finishing his third beer. you roll your eyes.

"i'm serious," he continues, and shifts so that he's leaning back on his hand, one knee bent to rest his elbow on. "any guy takes you out past nine, he's not looking to really romance you, if you get my drift."

you scoff, bringing your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself from his disarming gaze. "did you ever consider that maybe i wasn't looking to be romanced? you never heard that song? girls need love too, storm."

you're smiling teasingly at him, but johnny's eyes flash a little dark, and a pit forms in your gut. you wish you didn't say it, but it's already out, and now you've given him an excuse to take the conversation in a direction you very much want to avoid.

"you're really desperate enough to fuck some random guy? must be a bad dry spell, then."

johnny says it because he knows it will piss you off. and you know that, but you let it piss you off anyway.

"i know you're not calling me desperate. you'd fuck anything with two legs and tits." it comes out a little meaner than you intend, but johnny likes it, you can see it in the way he laughs. your stomach twists and you curse the little ache that starts between your legs. it really has been a very long, very bad dry spell.

"i'm just saying, it doesn't have to be that way." his tone of voice is dangerously low and you wish you weren't sitting so close to him. "there are a lot of guys who would kill for the chance to give you 'some love'. and i promise you, you'd be leaving them much happier than you did this other guy."

you exhale a little breath, forcing yourself to make eye contact. he feels much, much nearer, even though you know neither of you has moved. his blue eyes have darkened to a navy—or is it that his pupils have swallowed up all the color? you shift, hoping he doesn't notice the way your thighs involuntarily clench at the movement. god, you're folding pathetically, you think, but you say it anyway.

"and why would that be?" you prod, voice soft and hesitant. johnny's smile falls into something predatory. he's got you right where he wants you.

"well," he starts, moving just an inch closer, under the guise of changing his position. "you're pretty, sweet, put together. and... you know. some guy might think it's hot to watch you fall apart. so, he'd take his time with you. give you everything you deserve."

your breath hitches, but you swallow it down. is he saying what you think he is? the ache in your core is starting to throb dully now, making your cheeks feel even hotter than they already did, your eyelids falling just the slightest bit as you watch him.

god, you're a tease, johnny thinks, even though he knows you're not even trying to be. your reactions spur him on and he continues before he can really think about it.

"he'd probably kiss you first, lay you down, make sure you were comfortable," his voice is thick, like molasses, smile all but gone. he's barely even looking at you; his own words are shaping a scene in his head, and he can't help but get lost in it. "then, he'd touch you, your stomach, under your tits. your inner thighs. careful, controlled. just enough to make you want more."

you're enamored. your throat feels dry, the room so quiet around you the silence presses on your ears. "... and then?"

johnny's eyes dart to you, and he takes in that slightly dazed look on your face, and the way your legs twitch almost imperceptibly. he's already getting hard, just looking at you, thinking about what he'd do to you. he hopes you don't notice, but he can't be bothered to hide it now.

"and then," he draws it out, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. "i think... he would want to keep teasing you, just to see that cute look on your face, but... he wouldn't be able to stop himself." he inhales sharply, like the room is running out of air. "so, he'd compromise and kneel between your legs, kiss you over your panties, till you were squirming, begging him to take them off."

johnny is entranced by the way you react to that. he's never pegged you for a prude, but you seem almost mortified at the image, your eyes going a little wide. he lets out a strained laugh, because he's definitely hard now, and can't stop imagining what kind of panties you're wearing.

"what's wrong? don't act all innocent now, you're the one who asked."

your answer almost makes him gasp. "well, it's just—i've never, you know. i've never had a guy go down on me. is that embarrassing?"

johnny's done for. and you are too.

he's got you laid out on your back just minutes later, propped up on your elbows as you watch him between your trembling thighs. he's face to face with your cute little lace panties, one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other pressing down gently on your lower stomach, a toothy grin spread across his face. you're embarrassed by how hard he's staring, eyes locked on the wet spot right in the center of the thin fabric.

"johnny," you start, but before you can continue, he's rubbing torturously soft over your clit, and you're amazed at how good it feels even through the cotton. "quit teasing."

he chuckles breathily, glancing up at you before he focuses on the treasure in front of him. "sweetheart, i'm gonna make you feel so good, you have no clue." he kisses your inner thigh—he can't resist nipping the skin just a little before he pulls away. "i like when you say my name. keep doing that."

you want to argue, but his mouth is suddenly on you, and you forget the words.

johnny kisses you over your panties, just like he said he would, his hand moving to hold your hips down when you twitch into his mouth. soon it's like he's making out with your clothed pussy, tongue hot against you, humming softly at the soft gasps you let out—against your will, because you don't want him to know how good it feels, but you can't help it.

"johnny," you moan, a little humiliated by how desperate you already sound, "just take them off, please."

he doesn't lift his head immediately, but when he does there's a shit-eating grin on his face that makes your stomach twist. his lips are shiny, eyes dark and a little lidded.

"told you i'd make you beg for it."

johnny takes mercy on you, and hooks his pointer under the hem of your now-soaked underwear, pulling it aside far too slowly. you're wet, wetter than you think you've ever been; nobody's ever taken their time with you like this, and you fight with yourself not to mistake it for care. it's just johnny's insatiable desire to see you vulnerable, you tell yourself, even as he stares at your exposed cunt like it's been given to him by the gods.

"fuck. can't believe you were keeping this from me," he mutters, throat bobbing. he makes you lift your hips so he can shimmy your panties off completely. then, he slips his thumb through your folds, like he's studying you, taking samples for further experimentation.

you gasp softly when he brings his thumb to his mouth. jesus christ.

"so sweet. guess that cranberry juice really does work."

you want to slap him, but before you can protest his poor sense of humor, he finally looks back at up to meet your eyes—and he looks possessed. you're throbbing in anticipation, fighting the urge to push your hips up toward his chin.

"mm. you look beautiful like this, sweetheart. all spread out for me." he elbows your legs open a little further to punctuate his words, lifting your thighs onto his shoulders with little effort. you wish you could say something, but you don't trust your own voice.

johnny wants to tease your silence, but he can't wait any longer.

you cry out softly when his tongue lays flat against your pussy, hand coming instinctively to grab at his hair. you sink your fingers into his scalp when he shakes his head gently from side to side, rubbing his hot mouth shamelessly against you. god, does it feel this good every time? you fear he might be spoiling you for any other guy, but push the thought away to focus on the pleasure.

he moans into you when you tug on his hair, lips finding your clit, sucking voraciously for just a second before giving it little kitten licks.

"shit, johnny—feels so good," you breathe, hips squirming against his strong hold. he doesn't come up to taunt you, to show you his smug smirk; he just groans at your words, the vibrations making your back arch into his mouth. when you manage to look down at him you see his ice blue eyes relentlessly staring up at you and you swear he's smiling.

johnny pulls away just a moment, his face gliimmering with your wetness—he turns his face into your thigh, biting, licking, kissing, making you arch into him. then, he's looking back to you; you can feel his hot panting against your pussy.

"should've done this a long time ago," he mutters, mostly to himself. then, his voice goes low, a little raspy.

"i want you to cum on my face, sweetheart. can you do that for me?"

you nod frantically, despite the way heat rushes directly to your face at his request—anything for him to put his mouth back on you.

"you gotta say it, honey. use your words."

you swallow and fight to regain your voice. "i wanna cum, johnny. please, make me cum."

what a pretty voice you have when you're begging. one of johnny's hands stretches up, slipping under your top to play with your tits, pinching through your lace bra. were you wearing a matching set? johnny suppresses a groan, feeling his cock ache at the idea. then, he remembers you wore it for someone else, and is overcome with a possessiveness that makes him look away from your watery, pleading eyes.

he ducks back into your warm cunt instead. you keen into his mouth, and his eyes flutter shut, hot tongue slipping inside you. he can feel you throbbing around him, and his hips twitch against the carpet of their own volition.

your thighs try to clench around his head but he forces them apart, pressing you down with his palm flat on your tummy. you're embarrassingly close to cumming but you feel like you'll die if he stops. his nose bumps your clit every time his tongue fucks into you and it's making your head swim. you're trying to be quiet, but you've never had such trouble doing so.

"i think i'm gonna cum," you whisper, sounding more desperate than you've ever heard yourself. both hands are in johnny's hair now, drawing him closer, using him as leverage to grind against his touch, even if he's making sure you can't move very much. johnny hums, making you yelp, and then the rough pad of his tongue flattens against your clit, and you're gone.

your panting goes a little high-pitched, and johnny knows he's got you. he groans ragged into your cunt and you let out a punctured whine, thighs shaking as you still—you writhe in his arms while his tongue fucks you through it.

johnny regards himself as a good man, but he wonders what specific deed he's done to deserve such a blessing. it must've been a big one.

"oh—johnny, johnny, wait" you cry, despite how your fingers tug on his hair, forcing him deeper. "it's too—ah—too much—!"

he wants to tell you it's not enough, that he could kneel between your legs and worship you like a goddess for hours, make you cum so many times you forget everything but his name, but he knows that's too far. at least, for right now.

"sorry, sweetie. couldn't help myself," he says, so casually, like he wasn't just making out with your pussy. he pulls away, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

johnny eases your shaky legs from his shoulders, and kneels in front of you, chest heaving. his pupils are blown and you can't help but notice that he's incredibly hard, so much so that you think it must be painful. he notices you looking but doesn't say anything, just smiles insufferably. you're too blissed out to get annoyed.

"so? see what you've been missing?" he's still a little breathless, running his hands up and down your thighs as if to calm you down. it's deceptively sweet and makes you smile softly at him.

"i can definitely see the appeal," you decide to say, and johnny presses a little kiss to your knee. you think he's about to ask if you can return the favor, considering you can blatantly see he needs it, but he just keeps smiling down at you.

"good."

he grabs for your panties and helps you slip them back on, sitting you up, fixing your hair.

then, johnny's walking you to your room—across the hall—and right before you get to the door, he tugs you close to him, lips brushing against yours when he speaks.

"you should really let me do that more often. to... make up for all the time you've gone without it."

johnny thought he’d be able to stop thinking about you once he finally had you, but as he lies awake in bed that night, he realizes it’s only become worse.

read part two here!

[hotluncheddie]

Steve, who just wants to make some money selling old clothes on Depop. Some of the stuff his parents bought him is designer so he knows he can get a good price for it.

Rockstar Eddie, who’s always looking for good vintage T-shirts to buy, starts having polos that he’ll never wear delivered to his po box.

He’s too embarrassed to message the cute seller with the nice arms who posts pictures of himself in his dorky polos. So Eddie just keeps stress buying them instead.

No one is more surprised than Eddie when he redownloads Grindr on a particularly lonely night and sees that cute Depop boy is 4miles away and active.

In a fit of insanity Eddie invites him to his place. The guy obviously having no idea who he is but seems impressed with the interior of his apartment (which Eddie spent way too much money on Facebook marketplace to achieve).

Things are going well and it turns out cute Depop boy's name is Steve, he works at a bar and is a really really good kisser. Until they move to the bedroom and Steve notices three polos all strewn across the top of Eddie's dresser. Three polos that he just sent out, all going to the same address.

'Uh' Steve says, staring at them.

'Ah.' Eddie says, feeling the blood rush to his face so fast he's slightly numb from the waist down.

Explaining quickly, so as not to prolong his torment, Eddie describes his Depop dilemma in the best way he can. Ending with how exited he was that Steve agreed to meet him and Eddie could finally get the chance to get to know him.

Steve is quiet for along moment, picking up his polos and folding them in a neat stack.

'You liked my pictures that much?' He asks. Speaking in a voice which reads much more delighted awe, than angry disgust, like Eddie was expecting.

'Yeah.' Eddie shrugs. 'You're like, insanely beautiful sweetheart.' He says, feeling the honesty of it blasting out of his face like a lighthouse.

Turns out Steve has a thing for compliments and is not just good at using his mouth for kissing. Eddie also finds out that he looks insanely beautiful in all kinds of positions.

Who knew Depop would get him a boyfriend.

[madaqueue]

f!reader - 18+ MDNI (jerking off and he watches freak style - wk: 0.7k)

his hands are firm. not soft, not gentle, but firm. strong. stable, where they rest on your hips.

rex lapis (you don’t know him as zhongli, not yet) contains the power of the earth and none of its kindness.

“undress,” he says. it’s not a request, but not an order. it’s a statement, one you willingly agree with.

you agree with most things he says. it’s easy to, when he speaks with the knowledge of all the soil and the sun that shines away overhead. now, it warms your skin, and makes the shedding of your clothes far more pleasant.

when you’re finally naked, his eyes rake over your body and it itches in their wake.

you could cover yourself up, but you don’t bother - there are no prying eyes here, in the private garden of the most respected man - the most respected god - in the guili plains.

none dare to compete with his honor, none except guizhong, of course, but you hate her and she’s not here now, nor will she ever be. she does not earn the privilege of hearing rex lapis’s approving hum, nor seeing the way he stalks towards you with lidded, golden eyes, nor feeling those stone-firm hands settle on your waist.

“you are otherworldly,” he says, inspecting you with the same scrutiny as ever; it used to make you shiver and blush, but now you revel in it. because you are deserving of something, of being perceived by the great leader who will save the world and lead your people to salvation.

(his people, you know - you have no claim to this land, nor to him. but in moments like these, he lets you pretend).

“pleasure yourself for me,” he whispers into the space behind your ear.

you don’t want to, truly - you want him to hold you and touch you and make love to you, and if that doesn’t suffice, then at least fuck you. but he won’t tonight, clearly. tonight, he wants to observe, as he often does in silent meetings or when standing atop the highest staircase and watching the city scuttle below.

(sometimes you feel like a bug to him, like something he’ll inevitably grow tired of and crush beneath his heel. but he hasn’t yet; maybe you have a bit more time. you’ll enjoy it for what it is).

“of course, my love.” you settle onto the bed, and say nothing when he doesn’t return the pet name (he never does - you are always his sun or his earth or something he honors more than love).

your fingers trail down your chest and to your stomach, then down, between your thighs. one finger enters your warmth, and rex lapis - zhongli, he’ll tell you later, much later - watches with hungry eyes.

“good. you’re doing very good.”

the praise makes your cheeks burn, but you don’t stop. no, you bury another finger inside and whine.

“add another.”

and you do. you’d do anything for him, you’d tear your ribs open and give him your still-beating heart if he asks. but he doesn’t ask - he simply watches, and narrows his eyes.

“faster.”

so you speed up.

“deeper.”

so you pump further inside until your wrist starts to tire.

“good,” he breathes. by now, you’re a whimpering mess at his hand - indirectly, albeit, but his doing nonetheless. “keep going.”

and you do.

you don’t think you could stop if you wanted to.

from across the plain, he adjusts the waistband of his trousers, and you catch the hardness straining against it, even though he never moves, never touches you; even though you want him to more badly than any grace in the heavens above. he keeps watching, amber eyes never straying. they smolder your skin and it burns; and yet, you need to be warmer.

finally, with one palm resting over his growing bulge, he growls, “cum for me.”

and you do. with a scream and a light that bursts from your chest, you do. you love him and you’d do anything for him, this most of all. for your rex lapis - your zhongli, later - you’d do it all. just to see those golden eyes and feel those stone-hardened hands on you once more.

a/n: here's your weekly quinn being a freak abt man

[lemonandlime22]

What a sight

Synopsis: A final goodbye after a long fought battle

Warning(s): Descriptions of injuries, angst

A/n: first post back and it had to be angst, wouldn't be right if it wasn't. also pls give feedback if theres anything writing wise i should work on

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuu could only feel deep shooting pain all over their body, the soft fur between their fingers was the only thing keeping them from screaming. Their breath was shallow and they were hyper aware of every cut, broken bone and puncture all throughout the fragile body they were in. With what strength they could manage, they squeezed Grim closer to their core, the nipping wind and growing shiver was starting to get to them but his heat shooed it away with ease.

Their eyes were swollen shut, whether from crying or the smoke they weren't sure. They could feel their dislocated shoulder continue to press into the concrete below them and the broken leg that felt as if it was twisted in the wrong direction, which it very well might have been. But possibly the worst of it was their ribs, they could feel more cracking the more they moved. Having been hit by a large piece of debris that nearly crushed their chest, how they were still alive was a mystery but who were they to question it.

On the other hand, for having lost the fight, Grim seemed to be unscathed. His fur still soft and breathing deep. He was alive, Yuu was relieved. And after all this, this mess, the school turned to rubble, most everything was covered in thick black ink, that really all Yuu cared about. In this moment, with the pain that consumed their body, the ruins that surrounded them, Yuu was glad that Grim was okay, that their best friend was alive, that their brother was breathing. They didn't care that he was the reason their breathing grew raged as bones began to puncture their lungs, that they might never get to see their family again.

They used their last bit of strength to curl further into him, resting their forehead against his. A cold numbness started to grow and consume them, but they didn't fight it, and for a moment everything was silent, forcing their eyes open, Yuu was able to catch a glimpse of the rising sun that broke through the smoke, and they could swear they could hear the morning birds singing in the distance. And smile settled on their face

“What a beautiful sight, I could get used to this….”

…

…

…

“Wha.. ? ..Yuu?”

“…Yuu..?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

[kamapon]

Some bunch of drabbles from my sketchbook

[apt79651]

[drabbles] winbre / tutoring you

ft. sakura, nirei, suo, umemiya, kaji (& hiragi?)

if you asked them to help you study for school, this is how they'd help (or not) ToT

sakura would have you teach him things instead. you'd be surprised at how many high school level concepts he doesn't know. he doesn't remember what the pythagorean theorem is, for god's sake. that was quite literally in middle school math class. he wasn't the type to listen anyway, not when the kids in his elementary and middle school class were his main concern rather than actually studying. it prompted you to explain whatever's on your textbooks or powerpoints, indirectly helping you study. he could care less about your subjects. but since it's you... he listens (even if it doesn't make sense).

"... i guess kinda get it." sakura mutters, his cheeks flush because of being a bit embarrassed from having you explain things to him like it was common sense. "you didn't have to go above and beyond reviewing me, shouldn't you be the one studying this crap?" he rubs his nape, looking to the side. "but... i guess it's fine, if it's helping ya." he just hoped your yapping landed you a good score. and it most likely did! sakura's dumbfounded expressions and confused questions made whatever you were explaining easier to remember, for some reason.

nirei would make you flashcards and organize your notes. studying was totally his forte. he'd be the type to be the studious kid and get really good grades. you'll end up with super organized notes, all key points highlighted, and long paragraphs from materials paraphrased. you'll probably learn your topics together, so you both can go at the same pace. or if he already knows, he'll have a lot more to tell you. he also shares some of his memory techniques with you.

"looks like you got this subject down!" he always looked happy to help you, but he glowers just a bit brighter if his skills are put into use. "how about another subject next? or do you want to take a break? i understand, since breaks are necessary!" he offers his suggestions and was eager to hear from you. it's safe to say you'll get a good score. you can't go wrong studying with nirei.

suo will make sure you get a good grade. he's quite well-read in a lot of things. somehow, he already knows a thing or two about your subjects as well for some reason (as long as it doesn't include art). he explains things clearly and concisely, it's not hard to follow what he says. although, he'll be sure to discipline you in some way as you study. he will not let you slack off, neither can you get away with not listening to him.

"focus." suo snaps you out of your thoughts by pinching your cheek. he could tell you weren't listening attentively. "remember, this test happens tomorrow. getting a low score is the biggest punishment you can get. do you realize that?" he gently chides, even if his words don't match his tone. he then points at your notes. "review your notes for a bit. in the next set of practice questions i'll give you, you can't look at them. okay? get it remembered before we proceed to the next topic." he says with his usual smile. he's patient enough to correct your mistakes. just know you'll pass with flying colors... maybe you'll even have one of the highest scores in class. everyone asks how you did it, but not how you are...

umemiya would totally distract you. don't get it wrong, he helps you. he tutors others sometimes around furin if they need help. but seeing you work so hard just made him go way too soft. he doesn't want you overworking yourself! (even if you've only been studying for half an hour...) during a study session, he excuses himself out for a bit. during his absence, you try reading some notes and do some practice questions. after a while, you hear the door click open.

"get your nose out of that book for a minute." his hand ruffles your hair, beckoning you to look behind. umemiya was also holding a paper bag of pastries on his free hand, waving it around. "i got a snack! you can't study without extra energy. c'mon, just try, i know you'll like these." he urges you, and left no room for discussion. he will spoil you way too much and give you one-too-many breaks. his laidback teaching style starts to make you reconsider your goals.

kaji should've been the last person you asked. but desperate situations call for desperate measures, don't they? sure, he's reliable for a lot of things. but academics? he doesn't study... at all. he's seriously uninterested in his subjects. kaji will be reluctant to help because of that. he'd initially suggest kusumi or another classmate of his. but if you keep seeking him out despite his dissuading, he'll give in eventually... after getting annoyed at you.

"alright, fine...! if it makes you shut up, let's just get it over with." kaji tells you. and... he ends up taking you to hiragi's house. ultimately, he gets hiragi to tutor you instead. while you two study, kaji will just be listening to music in the background. well... he helped you, technically! you won't be talking to hiragi if it weren't for him, right? although, hiragi was a bit of a scary teacher... but he got things done. at least you got a decent score.

[satvrnsearth]

Imagine nanami’s face when he hears “shut up, mommy!” from your childs mouth. feel like he’d be passive aggressive idk. andddd maybeeee, possibly, a girl dad..

nanami was sitting by the couch, reading a book when he happened to overhear a conversation between his wife and his daughter.

“sweetheart, I know you want to play but I told you before that school work comes first.” you gently brush your fingers through your daughter’s hair, sensing her annoyance. You’ve been at it for a few minutes now, going back and forth. “no! I want to play!”

you sigh, crouching down to her level. “no, school work first."

nanami wanted to intervene, but he also wanted to see how you would handle this situation. that is, until—

“shut up, mommy!” she huffs, sniffling.

nanami's attention immediately turned to his daughter with a stern expression, clearly displeased with her words to you—his wife. you—though surprised at your daughter's outburst—held your composure.

nanami kneeled down in front of his daughter, his voice firm but not overly harsh, "you know better than to speak to your mother that way, young lady. It's not appropriate or respectful, and you need to apologize, right now.”

the little girl pouted, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she crossed her arms. nanami could see the defiance mixed with guilt in her eyes, but he remained steadfast, not budging from his position. you stood nearby, trying not to show the slight amusement on your face at your daughter's stubbornness.

nanami reached out, gently taking the little girl's hand in his own. His tone softened, slightly, as he spoke, "I understand you're upset, but there is no excuse for disrespecting your mother like that. I need you to say you're sorry, and mean it."

the little girl looked up at her father, her tough facade crumbling slightly. she squirmed in place, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. after a few seconds of silence–she finally muttered, "I'm...sorry, mommy."

nanami felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth, satisfied with her response. he nodded approvingly before turning to you, who gave a small, relieved smile in return.

💭;; might I say this is one of my fav works EVER??? idk i just liked this sm idk why

credits—

dividers: @cursed-carmine

[v1x3n]

nanamis whose been working overtime loads recently, trying to save enough money for a beautiful wedding. he often comes home tired and dazed, you know how the schedule goes.

you run a soft hand down his clothed chest, feeling the tired, tight muscles underneath. you murmur a softer, "missed you."

to which he grumbles something under his breath then smiles smally, "missed you too.." he lets a silence pass, a comfortable one, as your hands roam his chest and his hands roam your hips. "help me undress?" he suggests.

youve never gotten him out of his clothes faster, showing off his damp muscles, his large thighs, just his entire body was gorgeous to you. he guides you towarss the bed lazily, pushing you into the sheets, letting then swarm you. his eyes droop as he collapses ontop of you, "fuck, you smell good."

you breathe out a laugh as he picks himself up to undress you. he trails his fingers down your body, his mouth does the same. kissing along your skin, right over your stomach pudge then down to your thighs.

hastily dipping his fingers into the hems of your underaeae and throwing them aside. you gasp at the air hitting your glistening pussy. your eyebrows knitting together as you let out a deep breath. "can i?" he mumbles, kissing a small peck to your inner thigh. using his large hands to part your legs and get comfortable lent to press a smaller peck to your needy lips.

you nod once. "words, pretty."

"yes, please." you beg politely. his lips connect to your small bud, instant pleasure jolts through you and escapes with a loud gasp, "oh!"

kento sloppily kisses your clit, the small thing shining pink and hard. she twitches as he presses his tongue against you. he groans in your whines and whimpers, your hand burries itself in his hair - growing more soft groans from him. gently pulling on the strands, you moan out as his tongue travles downwards, past your sloppy folds and through to your juicy hole.

he slurps your wetness in a loud sound, salivating over the taste. you mewl loudly, your eyes rolling back in an instant.

god.

he tugs his nose into your clit as he licks your hole, stimulating both at the same time. he loves the way your legs twitch. fuck. he loves the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you look - fucking all five senses! then his licks grow faster and he dips the tip of his tongue into your tightness.

your orgasm is right on the brink, you can feel it. the coil twisting - about to explode. just a little more...

"oh, fuck, ken!" you breathe, teeth holding onto your bottom lip, scoring blood. then his tongue haults. "...ken?" you mumble, your body twitches in anticipation.

after a second of silence, orgasm vanished and you peak down to see him almost drooling onto the sheets. dead asleep.

his hair messy, naked, sleeping in between your legs. your hole tightens in the slightest. tou run a hand over his hair and let out a sharp breath. he looked perfect, his parted lips, his sloped nose, his sculptured face.

you wish you could be mad at the lack of orgasm but hin sleeping was far too cute. youll let him off with a warning.

[nanamisgirly]

your dilf doesn't need 'perfect'　ྀི　

“w-wait—” you were panting, legs wrapped around his hips where dilf!nanami straddled you on the countertop. you pull back just as his mouth dragged open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you don't remember how exactly you ended up there, how things turned from soft touches over dinner to a heavy make out session—tongue sliding between your lips, big hands pressing you against his chest. 

it's been months of holding back for both of you—resuming your relation to slow touches, soft kisses, and ‘no pressure sweetheart’ every time things started getting heavy. since you weren't experienced and kind of…scared, dilf!nanami suggested waiting til you're ready. and you've been grateful for it, even when you returned home some night aching and soaked from just making out with him.

and maybe all the courage you gathered to tug him in by his tie tonight and kiss him like you were desperate for it, had drained from your veins the moment you felt one of his hand sliding up your thigh and the other slipping under your shirt—hot, rough, calloused.

“did i go too far?” he asked, one hand still under your shirt, fingers hovering just under the band of your bra, not moving an inch. “it's okay. you don't need to explain. we can stop, sweetheart.” his lips were swollen—covered with spit. his eyes glassy and you could feel the weight of his cock pressing against your shorts.

“no—! no… i want to,” you blurted out too quickly, voice overlapping his, desperate not to be misunderstood. but even as you said it, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes, so you turn your head, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you continue, 

“it's just…” you exhaled, shame blooming fast in your chest. “i'm not confident about. . y'know.” you gesture vaguely toward your boobs. “they look nice in a bra and—uh…you've probably seen better. i know they look big in a bra, but they don't, well…stay up. they're soft, and…” your voice tightens. “i just…i've read things. about guys saying they were disappointed. or didn't want to even see them during the act, unless they were covered—” you laugh nervously, voice cracking. “it's so embarrassing. i-i didn't want you to see them and think—think they're…ugly.”

the silence that followed felt unbearable.

it only makes your anxiety grow and you feel so dumb for talking about it, maybe you should just have stopped and that's it…because nanami didn't move an inch since your little monologue, his honey eyes still trying to catch your gaze. 

your stomach drops. you start to shift trying to get off the counter, anything to escape mortification. “look, i'm sorry,” you say, heart pounding, eyes glassy. “i-i shouldn't have brought it up, i—umh—it's ok. i just thought that'd be nice to tell you before hand and huh…fuck i ruined everything didn't i?”

that's when you feel his hands coming to your hips, pinning you in place on the countertop. you gasp as he presses his cock against your core harder than ever—twitching with need.

when you looked up, his eyes had darkened. his brows were furrowed, jaw tight, emotion bleeding into every sharp line of his face. “that,” he said flatly, “is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.”

your breath hitched.

“i'm not a boy with a warped idea of what women are supposed to look like.” he leaned in, cupping your jaw to be sure your eyes stay locked onto his. “i'm a grown man. you think i'm painfully hard, grinding against you, shaking, because i'm waiting for something ‘perfect’? sweetheart, i'm here, aching because it's you. all of you that i want.”

his voice was low, frayed. barely holding together. “let me very clear, sweetheart, i'm going to lose my mind when i see them, i will drop to my knees and thank the gods for putting someone as sweet as you.”

your lips part, trying to breathe through the whirl of embarrassment and affection and…arousal.

“ken—”

“does this—” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding your trembling fingers down to the thick, pulsing shape of his cock straining in his slacks, “feel like someone who's going to be disappointed?”

you whimpered, your smaller fingers squeezing his boner. 

“f-fuck…” he shuddered. “if you want to stop,” he breathed, forehead falling to your shoulder. “i'll stop. if you want to wait, we'll wait. another month. another year. i don't care. anything you want, for you to be comfortable.”

but his voice cracked at the end—like he was hanging by a thread. you felt it too, his body coiled tight, like a beast barely leashed.

“you're too nice, ken.” you say teary-eyed, half laughing, half melting.

“well, k-keep squeezing me like that and i'm afraid i won't be nice any longer.” he groaned, lip brushing your neck.

your thighs wrapped tighter around him. “you can take it off,”

his head snapped up. “you sure?” his gaze held yours as his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt again, and when you nodded, “arms up, sweets,” he said softly, and you obeyed.

when he tosses delicately your shirt to the side, skilled fingers quickly find your bra and unclip it, oh very so slowly.

when your bra hit the floor, everything held still. like the world paused long enough for nanami to lose his mind quietly. his eyes dragged up, heavy-lidded and wrecked. one big hand came up—trembling—cupping your breast with a war raging in his mind : should i worship or ruin them?

“sweets,” he breathed, thumbing over one of your nipple, “they're perfect. so fucking perfect i feel like i'm hallucinating.”

[khioneee]

simon is one of the girls (sort of)

boyfriend!simon was always invited to girls’ night—not out of obligation, but because everyone genuinely wanted him there. he fit into the group effortlessly, his quiet, protective presence becoming a staple at every gathering. whether it was lounging around in pajamas with face masks on or heading out for a wild night at the club, boyfriend!simon was part of the plan.

if it was girls’ night, boyfriend!simon was there. need someone to open a bottle of wine? he had it uncorked in seconds. carrying heavy bags for a night in? already done. if the group was heading to the club, simon was always the first to volunteer to drive everyone home safely at the end of the night.

boyfriend!simon never overstepped, but he wasn’t a silent bystander, either. when conversations got lively, he’d chime in with the perfect sarcastic remark or sly observation, earning a mix of giggles and mock glares. and when a topic turned to relationship drama, he always gave it to you and your friends straight.

“dump the bloke,” he’d say bluntly, not even looking up from his drink. “if i hear his name one more time, i’m blocking his number myself.”

your friends always groaned, but soon enough, they started messaging him directly for advice.

out on the town, boyfriend!simon was the designated protector. no one had to ask—he was always at the edge of the group, watching for anything suspicious. he made sure no one lingered too close, and if someone tried to chat up one of your friends unwantedly, simon’s presence alone was enough to send them packing. if they didn’t get the hint, simon would step forward, voice low and deadly calm: “you’ve got somewhere else to be, mate.” that always did the trick.

despite his intimidating size, boyfriend!simon never felt out of place during your quiet nights in. he sat comfortably among blankets and pillows, scrolling on his phone as face masks dried and reality tv droned in the background. your friends teased him mercilessly about it, but he didn’t mind.

“you’re basically one of us now, si,” one of them joked once.

he gave a small shrug, not looking up. “just don’t expect me to paint my bloody nails, yeah?”

with boyfriend!simon around, you and your friends could relax fully, knowing he’d take care of everything—from heavy bags to creeps at the bar. he wasn’t just there for you—he was there for everyone you cared about, making sure nothing went wrong on his watch.

one night, after everyone had left and it was just the two of you, you leaned into him, curious. “why are you so sweet to my friends?”

boyfriend!simon didn’t miss a beat, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he answered softly, “because they mean a lot to you—and you mean everything to me.”

an. i desperately need a man like him.

[cxsmicbaby]

this is a part two to my previous johnny drabble... i think you can read it without reading the other and still understand but it'll make more sense if you read that one first :) enjoy

read part 3 here

mdni; this is suggestive from the beginning and straight up filthy by the end... 😈

you figure things are going to be different now that johnny's had you laid out naked on the floor in his room. you're almost put off by how normal he acts, though—maybe a little disappointed, if you really let yourself think about it.

it reminds you how little the night meant to him. he's probably used to it, you realize—fucking someone he works with, and then pretending nothing happened. he had a life before the fantastic four and you can only imagine how much worse he was back then. at least you didn't really fuck, but the difference feels negligible.

did it mean something to you? you try to ignore how much you think about it, but it's hard, especially when you're alone with him. you look at his annoying mouth stretched into a self-satisfied grin and can only picture how it felt when his lips were on you. they're much more useful that way, you think; at least then, he shuts up. well, kind of. he's certainly a dirty talker.

johnny is very good at hiding it—you're right, he does have some degree of practice in this field—but it becomes more difficult everyday. he's with you in your office in the morning and wonders what's really stopping him from crawling under your desk and eating the attitude right out of you. his hand brushes your thigh at dinner and it takes a lot to convince himself not to just rest it there.

it's like he has a devil and angel on his shoulders—the angel is him, but with reed's insufferably monotonous voice, and the devil looks a lot like you in that matching lace set he can't get out of his head.

a week passes and neither of you have brought it up, so you decide maybe he just wants to forget about it, despite the way he'd made clear how much he didn't want to directly after it happened. it's none of your business, you convince yourself. and it's probably better in a professional capacity for you to ignore this slip-up, anyway.

then, sue throws a party. it's for a charity, and you remember setting it up at the beginning of the month, but the time has passed you and when she starts talking about it you have to pretend you're just as prepared as she is. you want to blame johnny for distracting you from your job, but you know it's your fault.

it's a beautiful party. the baxter building is opened to the public—at least, to the guest list—and you hired a band to play live music, which reed seems to like very much. you decide to wear something a little more on the revealing side; nothing crazy, but enough to get some stares, some double-takes, just to make you feel good. you know there's only one guy you want to pay attention to you but you tell yourself it's not for him. that would be pathetic, right?

there's a bartender, too, and you spend most of your time talking to him, because the one guy you really want to talk to is off flirting with some redhead. and he looks good, too—he's wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dress pants fitting him perfectly (a surprise, since all his bottoms seem to you on the verge of being too tight). his hair is tousled and the only way you can categorize it is a very put-together bedhead. the memory of tugging on the honey-blonde strands washes over you and you order another drink.

"tough night, huh?" the bartender comments, eyeing you with a little smile as he mixes your next drink. you sigh, propping your elbow onto the makeshift bar, leaning your chin into your palm. he's a handsome guy; dark brown hair, relatively tall, pretty eyes. not the worst company.

"...it's a very nice party," you say, as if you're trying to convince yourself of the fact. you haven't really answered him, but your response is enough of an answer in itself. the bartender looks up, dark eyes studying the crowd, and nods.

"mmhm. you don't seem to be enjoying it, is all."

he places your drink in front of you and you swirl the liquid around with the little black straw, sighing like a lovesick schoolgirl. you're already a bit tipsy, so you can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed at your obvious lack of excitement. you just hope nobody is paying enough attention to you to notice—nobody but your handsome conversation partner, that is.

but someone else has noticed. of course he has. how could johnny not be looking at you, when you look like that?

it was all he could do when he'd seen you, two hours earlier, walking in step with sue as you checked things off a clipboard, making sure the tower was ready for the event. he had thought a lot about what he'd say to you tonight; he wanted to talk about what happened, maybe orchestrate it happening again, but the sight of you took all the words from his overactive mouth, and for once he couldn't think of what to say.

"you okay?" ben had asked, sitting next to him in the kitchen. the smug smile on his face had been enough to let johnny know he didn't really care about the answer. "you look a little pale."

johnny had just scoffed, turning his whole body away from you, crossing his arms. it felt a bit childish but he did it anyway.

so now, johnny is stealing glances at you over the top of his whiskey glass, hoping the girl he's talking to doesn't notice. you're sat at the bar, leaning toward the stupidly handsome bartender, who's smiling at you in a way that irritates johnny immediately. he thinks this is your third drink; he lost sight of you for a few moments, but he doubts you had the time to chug another in that period.

you seem a little upset. johnny doesn't want to give himself too much credit but he hopes it's because of him. not that he wants to make you upset, but in his experience the degree of upsetness equates to how much you care. he hopes you care about him. the thought is scary so he takes another, longer sip of his drink, finishing it.

"oop, looks like i'm out," he says, flashing the girl a toothy smile. "i'll just be a second."

he makes a beeline for the bar now, knowing it's probably not a good idea to have two drinks in a row—especially because he can already feel the effects of the others he's had—but not really caring. the bartender sees him before you do. the guy turns his attention to his new customer, but doesn't move far enough away from you for johnny's liking. he bites his tongue and takes the seat beside you.

"johnny," you say, before he can think of something smart to greet you with. you sound a little drunk—nothing concerning, just bubbly, and your smile is more dazed than he's used to seeing. "having fun?"

johnny glances from you to the bartender, asks for something he knows is convulted and time-consuming, ignoring the guy's slightly annoyed expression. once the intruder is safely distracted making his drink, johnny puts his attention on you, and his body warms at your eye contact.

"yeah, yeah," he answers, clearing his throat. "you did a good job. with the whole thing. music is nice."

you giggle softly. johnny likes that sound. it's like wind chimes twinkling in the breeze. "sue did a lot of the planning, to be honest. i kind of forgot this was happening until yesterday."

johnny smiles, laughs under his breath. his hands are interlocked on the bar's surface and he's playing with his fingers as he watches you. you think for a moment that he's nervous, but the thought is ludicrous—johnny, nervous? never in a million years.

"isn't that your whole job? you know, organizing stuff?" he teases, because it sounds like something he would say if things were not so strange between you. he wonders if you even feel the strangeness—you've been acting perfectly normal all week, like he didn't just have his face buried in you, which ticks johnny off more than he wants to admit. it's not fair to expect you to acknowledge it if he won't, which he knows, but he's never been one to advocate for all that is fair.

you roll your eyes, but when you look back at him there's something soft, malleable. "i guess i've been a little distracted."

johnny's eyebrows twitch. he takes a deep breath, swallows hard, has to look away from you. "distracted, huh? that's no good."

you take a sip of whatever drink you've ordered and johnny wonders if he should tell you to slow down, but you're an adult. he doesn't want to parent you. plus, he hates when you tell him to slow down at things like this, and he doesn't want to ruin the delicacy of the moment.

he thinks very hard before he speaks. very, very hard.

"well, if you're ever feeling that way, and you really need to focus..." he starts, after a breath, spinning in the barstool so that his entire body faces you, "i'm always more than willing to help out."

johnny bites back a smile at the look on your face. god, you're adorable.

"more than willing, huh?" you repeat, and he watches, fascinated, as your tongue pokes out, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth for just a second. "i didn't know you were such a good samaritan."

he scoffs. "really? couldn't tell by my superhero status?"

you laugh, and the tension breaks just the slightest bit, but johnny doesn't want that—he wants it to be suffocating, wants it to be so strong you can't resist its pull.

"besides, you know i always get something out of helping you." he says it low, looking right at you, so it's impossible for you to miss what he's trying to say. you hear it, you see it; your smile falters and your eyelashes flutter when you blink at him. "i'm a pleaser."

people-pleaser, is what you know he should've said, but you also know johnny usually says what he means, even if that meaning is obscured. the alcohol in your blood makes you feel hot and you shift in your seat, ignoring the way your core starts to ache. god, you're easy, you think, but it doesn't stop you from playing johnny's game.

you're both standing and moving to somewhere with less lighting just a moment later. the bartender turns to place johnny's ridiculous drink in front of him only to see, with a frustrated huff, that he's gone. better add it to the tab.

he takes you to his room, because he 'doesn't feel like having to small talk a bunch of idiots', and no one will bother you in here. you're both sitting on plush chairs this time—your outfit is not made for you to be comfortably seated on the floor. you keep glancing at the spot where you were lying down as he made you see stars and hope he doesn't notice.

"that bartender was checking you out," johnny says, relaxing into his seat. his legs are spread and his head is tilted back, eyes low as they look at you. you're close enough that his knee brushes yours, but you ignore it as best you can.

"so?" you counter, shrugging. "he was cute."

you imagine this will annoy him, waiting for some sort of comically insulting quip, but all johnny does is stare at you. his head rolls to face the ceiling and you watch his adam's apple bob with a particularly hard swallow. a pregnant beat passes, a rare moment where you have no clue what johnny is going to say—usually, you can predict his conversational rhythm, but whatever this is, it's out of bounds.

"i can't stop thinking about you." he says it like it's nothing, like he's telling you what he had for breakfast or what he plans to do this weekend. your breath hitches, and he continues, eyes still trained on the ceiling. "when i saw you in that outfit i was hoping you wore it for me."

johnny's honesty shocks you, almost enough to coax you into being honest too—i did wear it for you. but even if he's being genuine, you know his ego is dangerously big, and if you inflate it anymore he might burst.

you want to play it cool, but your heart is hammering, and you can't think of anything you could possibly say that wouldn't result in you making another very big mistake. his head swivels to face you again, a crooked grin playing on his lips. you wish he wasn't so handsome.

"you look beautiful. makes me think about how beautiful you looked begging for me."

your stomach flips, your face boiling. johnny's hand is lazily reaching out to you, resting palm up on your knee. the skin-to-skin contact is light but it makes you feel dizzy.

"come here," he asks; too soft for a demand, and there's an unspoken please, his fingers flexing.

you can't bring yourself to say anything, so you take his hand.

johnny pulls you fluidly toward him, and now you're perched sideways on his lap, legs resting over his. your arm is over his shoulder because there's nowhere else to put it, but it brings your face even closer to his. he's smiling up at you, dazed, and his tongue traces his bottom lip, like he's trying to taunt you.

"johnny," you whisper; you meant for it to be louder, but your voice fails you. "this isn't a good idea."

his hand lets go of yours and falls to your thigh, rubbing gently up over your hips, to your waist, and back down again. his other is on the small of your back, keeping you secure against him. the drunkenness renders you a little more dumbfounded than you would've otherwise been and you think you might be in a dream.

"mm, right," he hums, almost absentmindedly. "but... you're still sitting here."

your eyes fall to his lips, and that's enough confirmation for him.

when johnny kisses you, you finally understand how he gets all those girls to come running back to him, even when he publicly shows them he doesn't care. it's slow at first, but so personal, so deep, you're immediately lost.

what you don't know is that johnny doesn't kiss every girl like that. sometimes he doesn't kiss them at all. he didn't kiss you last time, even though he wanted to, but now he can't resist it. kissing is a strangely intimate act to him, reserved only for the heat of the moment or when absolutely necessary. right now, it's neither of those things—or is it both?—and he's enjoying it more than he ever has.

he molds his lips to yours, his hand on your hip squeezing the flesh just barely before he moves to hold your head, thumb pressed against your chin, coaxing your mouth open. his tongue bullies inside and you moan at how soft it is. you start thinking about feeling his tongue elsewhere and pray he doesn't feel your thighs clench.

but he does. johnny feels it, and sighs into your mouth like he's wounded, pulling away only enough to breath. there's a little string of saliva stretching between you and his eyes darken when you lick your lips to get rid of it.

"i wanna touch you," he rasps, like he's been dying to say it since the beginning of the night. since the last time. since he met you. "let me, please. you know i'll make you feel good."

it pains you, because you do know. and you want it, more than anything you've ever wanted.

"okay," you say, like you're acquiescing, when in reality you've started to throb just thinking about his fingers on you. "okay."

johnny kisses you again, and his hand releases your face to trace down your collarbones, ending at the curve of your tits—he cups one, his thumb going in circles over where your nipple would be. you feel it hardening under his touch, and he must feel it too, even over the fabric. he's helping you take your top off in a second, unclasping your bra like he's done it a million times before; on second thought, he probably has.

he wants to take his time to admire you, play with you until you're squirming in his lap, but the drunkenness is making him feel rushed, urgent, like he has a finite amount of time before this bubble bursts. he bites you gently when his tongue pushes past your lips again, fingers pinching at your pebbled nipples just to soothe over them with his calloused thumb.

"you have the prettiest tits," johnny huffs, between kisses. he gets an idea then, when you keen into him; he pulls away from your mouth, quite reluctantly, and then he hoists you up by the waist, shifting you so you’re straddling him. his hands find purchase on your hips and he drags you forward; his bulge is pressed right up against the inside of your thigh now, and you're in awe at how hard he is.

you don't have time to ask what he's doing—his lips lock around your nipple, hot tongue circling it, and you let out a soft, surprised cry.

he hums, sending vibrations through your chest, making your hips twitch. you hate to beg him because you know it's what he wants but you can't help it. you tangle your fingers in his hair and scratch at his scalp, in a way that makes johnny feel weak.

"you’re being cruel," you breathe, staring down at him. he's looking up at you with something like affection and it makes you pant harder. "if you wanna touch me, you better do it."

you know he's not, not by a long shot—you know he could be crueler, the thought of which shockingly appealing to you.

but johnny seems to like what you've said, smiling even as he's got your tits in his mouth, hands grabbing at your ass. then, he pulls away with a soft pop, insufferable smirk stll playing on his flushed face.

"but i am touching you, sweetheart. gotta be a little more specific."

you huff. he is such a dick. any other man would be falling over himself, but he's so put together it frustrates you.

you kiss him this time, your tongue licking into his mouth; johnny is shameless in showing his appreciation, moaning against your lips, tilting his head so you can explore him a little deeper, palms flat on the curve of your ass. emboldened by how much he seems to like this, you drag your hips forward, over his clothed length—you're almost giddy at the sound he makes. it's like the groan gets caught in his throat, like he's trying not to let it out, but just can't help it.

"fuck," johnny breathes, when you pull away. his pupils are swallowing up all the color in his eyes. "keep doing that."

so you do; a little harder this time, but just as slow, and you don't stop. the tip of his dick catches against you and you gasp, a little high-pitched—johnny's lashes flutter and his head rolls back, hands pushing against you, trying to guide your movements. you're surprised, because he's almost enjoying it a little too much; like it's the first time he's been anything close to touched in a while.

you don't know, but it really has been a bit for him, a month and some change, he isn't counting. johnny has been very busy; that's what he tells himself, but the truth is he hasn't been able to make himself want anyone but you. he hasn't even really tried, to be honest.

it's almost like he knew he would get the chance to have you like this, and he was saving himself, making himself wait so it would be all the better when it finally happened. he's not really thinking about it like that in the moment, though—his mind is kind of going blank, edges blurring together, corners rounding.

johnny angles his hips up towards yours, so he can match the rhythm of your grinding. it somehow feels better like that, and your hands clutch at his shoulders when he surges forward for another kiss. it's breathier this time, more broken—you swear he's letting out whines into your mouth.

"shit, wait—" he finally mutters, tugging on your bottom lip as he pulls away from you. "you almost made me forget what i was gonna do."

truth is, johnny's a little scared he's gonna blow his load in his pants like a teenager if you keep going, so he has to find a way to redirect your attention.

it works beautifully, especially when his hand is moving over your stomach, and then down between your thighs. he watches you the whole time, making you feel extremely exposed. you realize that you're topless and he's still fully clothed, so you reach for the buttons of his shirt, managing to undo a few before he slaps your hand away, and rips through the rest.

you giggle in surprise, cheeks going hot at johnny's eagerness. you press your palms against the expanse of his chest and feel him take a sharp breath.

you're very good at distracting him, but johnny's not going to let himself get tied up this time. he fights through the way you're touching him and continues his task, hand slipping under your bottoms so he can cup your cunt. you shiver, and he presses his middle finger into the seam of your panties, feeling how wet you already are. god, he wants to fuck you, but that somehow seems more serious, and very irreversible. not that he can take any of this back. not that he wants to.

"was that guy really doing it for you, or is this all me?"

johnny tries to sound like he's in control but his voice is strained and a little debauched. you catch the way he says that guy, like he's disgusted at the idea of any other man coming close to having you like he does right now.

"shut up," you try, but it only makes him laugh, dark and breathy. he's rubbing up and down the seam now, soaking the fabric, teasing you the way he's quickly grown very fond of doing. he leans forward and hooks his face into your neck, sucking a bruise right beneath your ear.

"i don't think you really want me to. you seemed to like it when i talked before."

johnny pushes your panties, slowly sliding his middle into you. you feel his hot pants against your neck and let out a soft sigh. how is it that his mouth and his fingers both feel like heaven? you can't imagine them combined. you hope that you won't have to—that he'll just show you how good it feels. maybe next time.

"lucky for you, my mouth's not really occupied this time, so i can talk all you want," he whispers, finger slowly finding a rhythm, palm pressing up into your clit. you whimper softly, eyes fluttering shut—your hands tug at his hair, almost trying to keep him in the crook of your neck, so he won't be able to see how much you're enjoying his touch. (even though it might already be too late for that.)

"i've thought about this so long." your breath hitches at his confession, at his tone of voice, suspiciously unguarded. "wanted this so long."

wanted you, is what you hear, and you bite your bottom lip to stop from moaning out loud. your hips start to grind into his hand and johnny's other comes up to play with your tits, licking at your pulse point.

"you make me fuckin' crazy, sweetheart," he sighs, like finally saying it has lifted a weight from his chest. "you make me pathetic. sometimes i get hard just looking at you. or hearing your pretty voice."

johnny slips another finger inside you and your back arches into him, breathy whimpers shamelessly escaping you, because he's right—you do like it when he talks. you like it a lot. he's got a dirty mouth, but it's laced with something soft, pliable, like he's bearing himself open to you, even though you're the one being touched.

he lifts his head from you and you're forced to make eye contact. there's something dangerously similar to adoration in his gaze and it makes you shiver.

"but you never notice. even now, you're looking at me like you're surprised." his fingers curl inside you, picking up pace, and your head falls to his shoulder. he lets you, even though he would really rather see your beautiful face as you're falling apart.

"what's a guy gotta do, huh? how do i prove to you, how fuckin' badly i want you?" johnny's tone is teasing but it's just in his nature—he really means what he says. he'd do anything you asked him to do to you. god, he'd let you do anything to him.

"johnny," you whine; you don't know how to say anything else. "you—just—"

he laughs at your inability to really tell him what you want to say—he doubts you have anything you want to say at all. "what is it, honey? you wanna cum? c'mon, tell me. i'll give you whatever you want."

his palm grinds hard and slow into your clit, a sharp contrast to the way he's fucking you on his fingers in earnest now. you let out a shaky moan, hips struggling to keep rhythm with his movements.

"yes, please—" you gasp, forcing yourself to face him again. "please, i wanna cum."

johnny's eyes flash so dark your stomach drops. a drawn out groan of surprised disappointment leaves you when he's suddenly retracting his fingers, pulling them out of your panties. you open your mouth to beg him to keep going, but then he's bringing his glistening digits to his lips, and you watch as his eyes flutter shut, tasting you on his own skin.

"you are such a freak," you huff, chest heaving.

he smiles at you but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, because he's already hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. he makes it to his bed in three hurried strides, lies you down on the mattress, and is between your legs before you can complain.

he takes your bottoms off in record time, and your panties, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor. then, his mouth is on you again, and it feels somehow better than the last time—your hips lift up to chase his tongue, a depraved moan escaping you. you hope the music is loud enough.

johnny is not being as careful as he was last time. last time, he was trying to pick you apart, but this time he's already been pieced apart himself, and he's lost in you. he's eating you out like he hasn't had a morsel of food in days, like he's sick and you're the only thing that can make him feel better. your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging to the point of pain, but he just groans into you when you do it, hips jutting forward like he's so turned on he can't contain himself.

it's overwhelming, and you're on the brink of cumming before you can really process it.

"j-johnny!" you keen, hips squirming against him. he's not even bothering holding you down this time, hands grabbing at your thighs to keep himself pressed between them. "oh fuck, i'mgonnacum—!"

your vision whites out, legs tensing around johnny's head so tight you're afraid he's gonna suffocate. he'd like nothing more, and wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you there, makes sure he gets his fill, even as you're gasping and telling him it's too much.

three very loud knocks on his bedroom door make you both freeze, and he finally lets you go—you can't tell if you're relieved or disappointed. you make startled eye contact; johnny just raises his finger to his mouth, telling you to be quiet.

"yeah? i'm kind of busy," he calls, slowly walking around the bed and approaching the door. you sit up on shaky arms, eyes following him. your chest is still heaving, and your brain is lit up with fog, like the night sky right after fireworks.

"doing what? you better not be jerking off in there." you let out a heavy sigh of relief. it's just ben. you know the hulking man is just a sweetheart at his core and would never come in johnny's room unannounced.

johnny looks to you and then back to the door, smile trembling like he's trying to keep in a laugh.

"so what if i was? it's my room, jackass."

ben groans. "just come out, man. sue's looking for you."

you think you're safe, but then ben doubles back, and reminds johnny that you put in a lot of work for this event, and that it would probably hurt your feelings to know he was cooped up in his room hating it. your face grows hot, like that's what really embarrasses you and not the way johnny's face is still casually slick with your heat.

"just be nice to her, alright? she's a very sweet girl."

if only ben knew just how nice johnny had been to you tonight, he thinks, but he just laughs to himself and listens for retreating heavy footsteps.

a beat of awkward silence passes. you let your head fall to the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut, exhaustion and slight regret warring in your body. you're almost upset you don't regret it more.

"so," johnny starts, breaking the quiet. "we should probably get out of here, right? they're gonna be suspicious if we're both gone too long. "

there it is. he's about to pretend nothing happened again, to pretend he didn't say all those things to you, pretend he didn't touch you with reverence saved only for an intimacy you hadn't been familiar with until this. your head is starting to hurt. you're certainly beginning to regret it more now.

"right," you say, "we should get out of here." you force yourself to sit up, stand, walking toward your clothes so you can get dressed again. you expect johnny to move toward his closet and grab another shirt—the one he'd been wearing is lying torn on the floor—but he only watches you, hands on his hips.

"right," he finally echoes. "but... you know. you should probably go first. i need... a couple minutes."

you turn to him, about to ask why, but then your eyes fall to the unmistakable print in his pants, and the small wet stain right where his tip would be. you almost feel badly for blueballing him twice in a row, but not badly enough to suppress your laughter.

"really? a couple minutes, that's all it takes you?"

he scoffs, but there's a grateful smile on his face. "i wouldn't tease, sweetheart. it's not like you've been lasting much longer."

something in you feels emboldened by the things he's whispered to you tonight. you stare at him and a teasing smile plays on your lips, eyes still a little blissed out.

"maybe next time, i'll help you out. we'll see who lasts longer."

you adjust your top and go to walk past him, but johnny catches your arm, and pulls you in. you're surprised when he kisses you. it's soft, unhurried, not as desperate. you feel an uncomfortable ache in your chest when you pull away. there it is again, the adoration in his eyes; this time, he blinks, and it's gone.

"right," johnny whispers, against your lips. "next time."

and when you walk out of his room, glancing down the hallway in both directions to be safe, you can't help the giddy butterflies in your stomach at the thought. next time.

[grenadehearts]

katsuki with a mean girlfriend.. smut

katsuki swears the universe gave him the meanest, brattiest damn girl alive.

always angry. always quick to bite back. always faster than him with a sharper insult that even he wouldn’t dare cross.

you’re rough around the edges, sharp-tongued and demanding — barking orders at him like he’s some underling. do this, fix that, not like that, idiot. and if it’s not perfect, you're pouting, arms crossed, throwing the dirtiest, most lethal glares at him that leave him seeing red — not with anger, but with something worse.

because fuck, he's so pussywhipped he can't even think straight when you get like that. that scowl, the cruel curl of your lips when you talk down to him... it’s a migraine and a goddamn turn-on all rolled into one.

but this — this right here —

when he’s got you spread out bare for him, your thick thighs trembling under the squeeze of his palm, ankles hiked up to your ears, caged in a brutal mating press —

this is when katsuki wins.

when your sopping cunt clutches at him, sweet and wet and so needy, when all that sharpness bleeds out of you and leaves something soft, pliant, and his.

the change is fucking addictive.

that bratty mouth, the one that usually cuts him down in two seconds flat, now only spills high, broken whimpers, breathless gasps, words slurring together into sweet, incoherent babbling.

“ngh, k-katsuki—! f-fuck—!”

voice wrecked, desperate, so pretty when you try to snap at him and only end up whining.

“yeah? thought you had somethin’ to say, princess,” he growls, slamming his hips forward, skin smacking against skin, forcing another pathetic little moan out of you.

your fingernails dig into his shoulders, your glare watery and useless now, any fight you thought you had long pounded out of you.

he knows he's in charge.

knows your voice holds no bark, no bite, nothing but soft broken pleas when he's fucking you this deep into the mattress.

the only time you're really his — the only time you’re sweet —

and katsuki plans to drag it out for as long as he fucking can.

masterlist link here.

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[madaqueue]

18+ MDNI - f!reader (nasty freak boy who cums too early...i love him)

virgin!satoru who thinks he’s going to die. genuinely, he thinks his heart is about to explode out of his chest and his last memory will be the way you stare down at him with those lust-blown eyes and that awe-struck smile. why else would he be shaking like this, covered in a layer of sweat and lightheaded to the point his vision is swirling?

“are you ready, satoru?” is the only thing he can make out above the ringing in his ears - how can he tell you he only has a few moments to live when your legs are spread like this and he’s so hard it fucking hurts?

virgin!satoru who is the farthest fucking thing from ‘ready’ but he’d rather die than disappoint you, so he’s at least got to try.

with an unsteady hand he swipes the tip of his cock up and down your slit, watching the way the light sparkles with how wet you are, for him.

“you can put it in, baby,” and he fucking groans, he can barely look at you when you talk to him like that, all syrupy sweet and thick and dripping.

virgin!satoru who finally, finally, pushes himself past your entrance. his eyes are locked on the way you swallow his length, the way he’s so hot he can’t breathe, can’t get enough air in because it all smells like you.

virgin!satoru who cums before he even bottoms out. he’s trembling and whining and it only gets worse when your hands find his shoulders and pull him into you.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, fuck-”

“it’s okay,” you coo, and he’s so fucking warm, and he’s grateful he can’t see the smile on your face because he thinks it might actually make his heart stop.

virgin!satoru who straightens his back, slowly pulls his cock out of you and watches in awe as his cum leaks down your thighs, who can’t stop himself from smearing it through your folds with his thumb, who doesn’t miss the way your pussy clenches as he does.

virgin!satoru who’s already hard again, who no longer cares if he’s dying because this must be heaven, who stares back at you with wild, unfocused eyes as he says, “i think…i think i’m ready now.”

a/n: i think i blacked out from lust writing this