mindurs404k

[mindurs404k]

do y’all ever think, in the dead of night, Kyojuro looks at himself in the mirror and finally lets his smile fall as he’s trying to search for the traces of himself that existed before his mom passed and before she unwittingly placed the weight of the world on his once thin shoulders? The part of himself that had two happy parents and a happy life that was nothing but safety and comfort and warmth?

[mindurs404k]

why is it that in every episode it’s like

and then behind mike’s back

crying over these homoerotic mfs

[mindurs404k]

i'm seeing versions of this meme go around bsky and i know who said that

[mindurs404k]

The Duke and I - N.K.

Synopsis. Dearest gentle reader, it is with great pride that we introduce this season’s most eligible bachelor, Duke Nanami Kento. However, ladies be warned, rumors swirl that our most gallant gentleman already has his eyes (and hands) set on a particular chambermaid. You.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!chambermaid!reader, duke!Nanami, BRIDGERTON AU, duke x chambermaid, slight social clashes, he’s SO in love, courting, face-sítting (fem rec.), squírting, spítting, he’s FÉRAL, fíngering, overstím, breaking furniture, dóggy, “just the típ”, manhandIing, HEADLOCKS, creampíes, tummy buIges, chokíng, dúmbifícation, PÚSSYDRÚNK Nanami, the ton, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. To that one nonnie that made it impossible NOT to think about this…

“And who–pray tell, is that fine gentleman, Shoko?”

“Who?”

“Him.” 

It was like watching a parade, of sorts.

Monarchs upon nobles upon countless upper-class elites filtering in and out of the royal palace. Each with a long, satin gown fluttering about, or men with glinting medals that likely cost more than four lifetimes of your wages. 

Debutante season had commenced. 

And as part of the Queen’s chambermaids, it was your duty to pain-stakingly welcome each special guest deemed worthy of attending her highness’s garden parties. 

Which is why - almost on instinct - you’d snapped your head towards the clip-clop! of a carriage steadying to a halt by the hedge-archway entrance. Catching just a flash of sleek blond, who…

Before the footmen swing open the carriage doors, and out steps the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your entire life-

“Oh, him. That’s Duke Nanami Kento.” Shoko drawls underneath her breath, dipping into synchronized curtsy alongside the household staff. “And he’s staring intently right at you.”

Honestly, Shoko might be one of the Queen’s most favored healers- but you really think she’s been neglecting the health of her eyes lately. Daring to elbow her in the side, “Don’t jest!”

She snickers, and you’re sure you detect the nearby daughter of a merchant family haughtily sniff your way—“I do no such thing.” Though, not for too long, fortunately for the two of your necks, because just then Duke Nanami’s stepping into clear view of the party - and you’d never glimpsed so many aristocratic mouths drop.

So many ladies (and some gentlemen) fluster, and so many older heads of families water at the mouth like they’d just spotted the most delectable prey. 

Understandable, however.

Because if Nanami was thoroughly agreeable to your eyes in the few peeks you’d stolen at him- then he was almost other-wordly now.

With the most charming, tidy golden hair pushed back, a few curls coiling at the nape of his high collar. A towering stature that made even the most accomplished generals hunch in on themselves, and you nearly audibly gulp at the broad flex of his arms within his navy jacket. Stern. Stoic. 

His molten, intense eyes peek over thin-rimmed glasses at the buzzing guests ahead, and you swear that they begin to stray somewhere near you—

“Heavens! Must I repeat myself, you common scullion?”

Ah, at the way Marquess Zenin Naoya was saddled right behind you and spitting hellfire, surely. 

You rush to bend into an apologetic bow, so low that the knobs of your spine start to ache- “Please forgive my impudence, My Lord-”

“Have you nothing between your ears but lint?” He’s growling, spindly hands tightening on his empty goblet of wine until you hear the silver material creak. And it’s hitting you right then n’ there that in your haste to ogle Duke Nanami, you must have failed to heed Naoya’s calls for more drink-

He turns his sharp profile to the side and spits on a patch of clean-cut grass, “A servant that knows not her place is no better than dirt. What do you gawk at like so?” 

“N-nothing, My Lord.”

And you can only watch, in slow-motion terror, as Naoya flicks his beady gaze behind you- and his sour face tenses at the vision of the tall newcomer that’d easily - and very obviously - ousted his mantle as the most eligible bachelor present. “That ol’ duke? Heh- dreaming that he’d bed a wench, did you?”

“Forgive me, sir, it was not my intent to give offence.” You’re breathing out, first clenching as you feel the withering looks that were starting to prop up around you two. Everybody loved a scandal. Trembling hands reaching out for his cup, “I-if you would allow me to just refill-”

“Don’t touch me!”

CLANG!

It happens all at once. 

The heavy goblet clatters to the floor, a warm chest nuzzles your back, and a strong hand was locked right around Naoya’s raised wrist. Right before he could strike. 

“It seems her highness’s liquor is exceptionally strong.” Nanami’s deep baritone sounds above your head and makes your skin bead with a blanket of goosebumps. 

And it’s slightly husky. So attractive. 

Especially when he’s tilting his head down so close, something primal in his eyes that made it feel like he was on the very verge of devouring you whole. Right there in the middle of the bustling garden party. Humming sternly, “Yuji, please escort our impaired marquess somewhere ah…quieter.”

“Y-yes, Nanamin- I mean, Your Grace!”

You’re watching, speechless, as a younger boy with the most vibrant head of pink locks runs up from behind and grabs onto both of Naoya’s shoulders to bodily steer him away from you.

He must have been stronger than he looked, clearly, because the proud heir was being lugged away like a sack of potatoes no matter how much he squirmed and fought - much to the amusement of the party-dwellers. And you.

But you’re quick to bite back your startled laughter once you’re realizing that Nanami Kento was still holding onto you. And not just stood behind- you must have stumbled amidst all the commotion because he had a large hand gripped onto your hip to steady you.

You were in his arms. 

Gasping, “O-oh.” You couldn’t have broken off faster from him, knees strangely weak as you’re forcing them into yet another curtsy, “I am so-”

“My deepest apologies, Honorable Miss.” The duke beats you to it, a strange smile playing along his stern lips as he bends into an even deeper bow. “I should have asked prior to touching a lady.”

“A-a lady!” You’re squawking, in what was most definitely an unladylike manner. Hands wringing to gesture him to straighten as much as you could without it being seen as defiance against one of the crème de la crème of nobility. “I assure you I am no such thing, Your Grace.”

Just then he kisses the back of your hand in greeting, “Please, call me ‘Nanami’- or ‘Kento’, should you wish, ma’am.”

“It- it is beneath you to be designated that by me-”

“I insist.”

And if everyone here was watching the upending chaos before, then they simply couldn’t remove their eyes by now. 

Whilst Nanami - still bowed - only tilted his head up with a smile, looking at you through his long, pale lashes.

You lift the humble fabrics of your working dress, a thick, dark-colored wool that marked you different from the tittering daughters of the upper-class. “B-but I am only in service to her highness.”

“Is that so?” And you’re breathing a sigh of relief as he stands back to his broad, proud figure- finally, he’s understood and would prance off as all young bachelors did to- “For I only gaze upon the most beautiful lady that has graced the floor this evening, and my blessed gaze.”

What?

“Have a charmed night-” Nanami has a dimple- he has a dimple that winks from the side of his grin as he turns and nods down with the velvety brim of his hat. “-My Lady.”

My Lady.

Utahime’s hands clap down on your rigid shoulders. “Sole heir to the Nanami fortune. Rich, handsome, aware when to cease talking.” Her low whistle rings in the air- tinged with such scandal, “Fiend seize it! I should hasten to practice your new title then, Duchess Nanami.”

“You have a lamentable deficiency in wit-”

Utahime, reputably sensible tutor to the offspring of the royal ladies-in-waiting, and known blockhead around your little trio. “And you have a lamentable deficiency in eyesight.” Sighing, “The look he bestowed upon you, my dear…”

“Or would it be ‘My Lordliness.’” Shoko croons in as well, sipping on a flute of bubbly champagne definitely not meant for her. “Oh-so-beautiful wife of Duke Nanami-”

“Attend to your duties!”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to my attention - and certainly to that of all the ladies who frequent the halls of Mayfair - something for which you should do well to brace your hearts. Whispers spread that the most eligible bachelor of the season, gentle Duke Nanami Kento, erupted quite the scandal during her majesty’s garden soirée by fixing his much sought-after attentions upon none other than a humble chambermaid. 

Yes, you read that correctly, dear reader. For someone reputed in the upper echelons of society for being as stoic as he is handsome, Duke Nanami shares his first spark of interest as he searches for a bride this season.

So heed this author’s advice; as the famed noble resides in the royal palace for the rest of his stay, keep an eye about. For you may just be lucky to be named Duchess of the House of Nanami.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

.

.

.

“This is preposterous!”

“It is absolute truth-”

“It is a sham is what it is.” You’re nearly crying out as you shove Lady Whistledown’s latest scandal sheet back into Shoko’s arms. “He- the duke never fixed his attentions on me.”

And your best friend didn’t spare you a word, only a long, narrowed stare of her intelligent eyes that made your stomach twist. 

Did Nanami fix his- no. While you and Shoko huddled into a hidden alcove within the sprawling walls of the palace to read the latest on-dit gossip, you smacked yourself back into reality. 

The nobility often did have nothing much to entertain themselves with outside of fanning scandal. He was powerful. He was attractive. And he has as many prospects as there were knights in this palace, surely!

Because - of course, for the universe did love to laugh at your expense - he’d taken residency in the palace until the season ended, as one of the Queen’s guests. 

Days later you could count every look, every smile, every bow- goodness, there was that one time that you’d been placing cutlery along the winding royal dinner table. Only for Nanami’s engulfing fingertips to brush against yours and make your skin scorch with his whisper, “Thank you, my lady.”

You’re almost befogged why that wasn’t splashed across Lady Whistledown’s writing- chambermaid loses her wits, hear ye!

“Wh-whichever way one looks at it.” You’re stammering out, realizing that you’d been quiet for much too long. “His grace is simply raising some kind of mischief.”

“Certainly.” She was not certain.

“Just you wait- by the end of this season, Duke Nanami will be married to a lady of high standing and I shall–”

“Be disengaged?” That wasn’t the monotone, sarcastic voice of your longest friend.

It was something masculine, something amused. And it was emanating right from the open space of the corridor reading up to the alcove. 

You don’t have to turn your head to realize who it is - Nanami Kento. 

Though, you do turn anyway. And you almost regret it when you’re stuck by the sheer intensity of his stare, of his face leaned down so close. So intimately that you can’t stop yourself from flitting a sharp glance down at his plush, curving pink lips. 

Perhaps Lady Whistledown wasn’t all that wrong - especially about him being handsome…

“Apologies for startling you, ma’am.” Nanami cuts your traitorous thoughts short by slowly tilting something flat and cream-colored in one hand. “Permit me to explain- will you hopefully be disengaged to attend the upcoming Royal Diamond Ball? Perhaps?”

You’re bowing, confused. “Y-yes, Your Grace. I shall be of service during her highness’s ball.”

It was only the most anticipated assembly this entire year, the annual gathering right in the Queen’s Great Hall to announce the diamond of the season. 

And in only a week, every single servant of the palace was to work themselves to the bone - welcoming, chaperoning, making note of the newly-made unions to titter over much later. 

“Ah, allow me to clarify.” Rubbing a free hand behind his neck, the famed Nanami Kento almost looks…sheepish. “What I meant was- might you be disengaged to…” Staring right at you, hypnotic. “-join me?”

“…What?”

“Of course, it would be no trouble at all if you can not spare a moment, I should be happy to merely converse with you.”

It slips out- “Th-that’s madness. All those ladies-in-waiting-”

Then he’s clasping your hands, he’s pressing the invitation in- but, more importantly, he’s holding you. “And yet, I would like nothing more than the pleasure of your company.” Close. Too close. His breath wafts your lips, “I hope this is not too forward of me. But should you let yourself, trust that I will take care of everything, My Lady.”

And just as soon as you think he’ll kiss you - how uncouth (though, you admittedly wouldn’t complain) - he bends at the waist to gently grasp your hand. 

“Everything.” Whispering a soft kiss into the back, Nanami lingers his lips - his gaze - for a long while. “I await eagerly for your word.”

He’s gone almost as softly, and sweetly, as he’d appeared.

Taking with him the scent of golden caramel, and the racing beat of your heart. You swear you’d have been stuck within the alcove staring behind his muscular back until nightfall had it not been for Shoko.

“So…” She plasters a wry smile once you’re turning her way, invitation trembling in your grip. And you’re noticing that upon its envelope dazzles swooping calligraphy of your name, almost certainly written by him. “Would you prefer ‘Your Gracefulness’ or ‘Duchess Nanami’?”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader,

The ton is abuzz as her majesty the Queen’s Royal Diamond Ball nears closer. And the sole heir to the house of Nanami is certainly no exception. 

This author hears directly from a reputable source within her highness’s Chamberlain Office that Duke Nanami Kento was uncharacteristically fastidious in securing himself an extra invitation. Most claim this as confirmation of his grace’s dedication to finding a bride, most also claim they’d seen the aforementioned, infamous chambermaid being handed it.

Take care of artifice; but such intrigue of a commoner attending the most prestigious ball of the year may be much more than my readers may be able to bear.

So, ladies, grab your finest gowns and shortest shawls to make haste for a chance to snag the eligible bachelor’s heart once and for all this season! And I shall, of course, be in attendance to report on all the scandals that unfold.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

.

.

.

“I look…”

“Enchanting.” Utahime nods. 

“I was thinking more toad-eaten.” You have to mentally remind yourself to close your maw and do your very best not to gape at the reflection in the decadent mirror displayed in front of you. 

Despite your words, even you couldn’t deny that the deep, sapphire-encrusted gown you were donning made you look every bit the noblewoman that you weren’t. Its Empire waist snugly crowning the flowing muslin, sleeves fashionably puffed, with tasteful gold jewelry that you wouldn’t have so much as dared to look at let alone be dolled-up into.

It was made for you.

Quite literally. Utahime had been the one to write your letter of acceptance to Duke Nanami (after shrieking herself hoarse in excitement first.) And through a week of hushed conversation with his grace, the ball evening had crept up closer and you had an army of modistes and maids knocking at your servants’ quarters.

Scrubbing you raw, painting your face, slipping you into a dress he’d ordered tailored to your exact measurements- how did he even know?

Shoko had to let you use her office, and she was deriving her payment back for it by beaming at the sight of you. “And I was thinking more Duchess of the house of Nanami-”

“Cease!”

“Ah, so you observe? You are noble in all but title already.”

Whilst Shoko and Utahime - the traitors - burst out into peels of laughter, you’re left fiddling with the silken coverings of your gloves. “You…you don’t suppose he’s making a mockery out of me, after all?”

That makes them quieten down, and Utahime hugs your shoulders in a way that thoroughly displeases the attendants and their ruffles. “You shine everyone else down, my dear. He should be lucky to have such a lovely date this evening.”

“Quite so.” Shoko nods, “And should he dare fool around, I have long sought a specimen upon whom to test my latest scalpel-”

“Shoko!”

“Do let me join.”

“U-um, ehem.” The tense, honestly frightened clearing of Itadori, his protégé’s, throat cuts your morbid conversation short. And as he looks at you, the poor boy blushes- whispering something shapes strangely like a little—“Divine.”

Before you know it, you’re being escorted down the high-ceiling corridor just as you’d always watched the sisters and wives of nobility being guided so. 

It’s a pathway more than familiar to you, yet seems so foreign once you approach the grand, imposing double doors opened to the ballroom. It was a magnificent thing; one of the Queen’s proudest possessions - with diamond chandeliers that dripped yellow light like a second sun, and a grand polished staircase kissing down from the doorway to a dance floor at the bottom.

Faint orchestra and chatter tainting the sparkling atmosphere, you breathe in nervously and even the flower-scented air seems too expensive for you.

Itadori hands the chief footman your invitation - something that makes the latter’s bushy eyebrows raise as he recognizes your name. And then the boy squeezes your hand before he leaves you off at the edge of the entrance, “His grace will be utterly bewitched, My Lady. He already is.”

Oh- what?

In the blink of an eye, he’s melted back into the crowd of other youngsters networking outside. And with nearly every guest already inside - you could only descend.

Down.

Down.

Down, the massive carpeted staircase- and it felt like every pair of eyes were on you. Most stopping mid-dance. Some whispering behind their fans. 

And one, Nanami Kento, staring at you breathless and awestruck where he’d been politely conversing with the Queen herself, and a gaggle of entranced admirers. But he only had eyes for you.

Almost frozen. Almost shocked-

Enough so that your satin-covered feet were just a few steps away from reaching down to the marble ballroom floor before you’re thinking of turning right back around and running-

“You.” A hand on your wrist, a soft pair of lips on the back of your hand. Nanami Kento had broken through just about every rule of aristocracy to storm through packs of nobles and catch your wrist before you escaped. 

And when he kisses you, it felt like he was finally breathing for the first time after years. “I had- I had not dared to hope that you would truly appear.” Staring at you through thick, golden lashes as he bends deeper into a bow. “You have honored me with the presence of the most beautiful lady to ever grace these floors.”

Languidly, you’re twisting your body back to face him - to face the crowd - and the way that the distracted orchestra has to begin their slow quadrille from the top, several teary debutantes looking between you and Nanami before shoving their faces into their fans, and even Lord Naoya was casting great attention.

Muttering.

‘Might I inquire as to that lady? Does she have prospects-’

‘Do tell- is it true what Lady Whistledown’s paper said- Bollocks! I wanted to bed Duke Nanami.’

‘My, the chambermaid? The scandal! Oh, but they are a most remarkably striking pair…’

You’re gasping when you catch a glimpse of her highness shifting on her throne to peer over curiously. Nanami had authority- but this?

Gulping, “Is this…is this folly really alright?”

“Oh, My Lady.” He fixes you with a lingering look, “For you, nothing would be folly. May I have this dance?” 

.

.

.

“M-mmm, Your Grace-”

“What did I tell you, My Lady?” Nanami’s hot, simmering pant tingles your lips as he’s lavishing you with the swirling edge of his tongue. “Call me Kento.”

And you didn’t have any reason not to.

Well, first of all you two were far, far from any of the prying eyes of the ball by now - tucked away inside the empty, luxurious royal office allocated to him by the Queen. And then he had you pushed against the corner of the wide mahogany table in the middle- hands fisted into your gown, mouth searing against yours. 

Nanami flicks the slimy edge of his tastebuds between your spit-glossed maw and groans once you’re eagerly sucking. Gasping. Heaving. “O-open your mouth.”

You’d just made the stern, stoic Duke Nanami stutter. And the thought itself is enough for you to knit your brows together and unhinge your jaw even further, “Like this?”

“Wider.”

“Mmm- like-” A glittery ribbon of saliva slicks down the corner of your lips the moment he’s parting his plump, puckered mouth and kissing you in a way you’d never even heard of. “-this?”

So primal. So heated. He’s huffing out a clouded breath through his flared nostrils, and you’re all but melting with each sleazy scour of his tongue. 

“Yeah, wider. Lest I be thought ungentlemanly-” With a thumb latching onto the point of your chin, he has one hand angling your face, and the other curving ‘round your waist to support your weakening knees easily. “Suck on my tongue, ma’am.”

Kissing you and kissing you like he’s parched and every drop of sweet, syrupy water was just drooling from your mouth.

Your whirling head barely even realizes when Nanami has you softly falling back onto the frigid surface of the table. Splayed out completely. His beefy forearm eases the impact, mouth decorating with a few strings of spittle when he’s pulling back with a dampened pwah!

Lungs still clouding out in scorching breezes, “If you would allow it, My Lady.” And you’re whimpering when the doughy mountain of his palm comes rovering down your front. Not resting for a split-second until it was right between your poor legs- “I confess, not a morsel crossed my lips throughout the ball- and I find myself quite famished.”

You’re gasping, trying to close your legs- but it’s like his palm was glued to your drivelling core. Hungry. Desperate. “B-but it is beneath your touch to do such a thing-”

“You’re never beneath my touch.” You swear you catch him look down at your clothed cunt and gulp. Fawny irises dark and dilated, “Never.”

And almost as if he’s proving his point, his free, left hand clasps around your own and flies down gingerly to the absolutely massive bulging tenting Nanami’s trousers.

Oh.

He groans.

Oh.

And he’s looking at you through narrowed, predatory eyes- words so gentle even though the way the thick cylindrical curve of his erection was anything but. “See how you make me?” And with a teary nod, your hips find themselves bucking- “Witness how you- ah.”

Rutting. 

So carnally, with your gown and chemise falling back, it makes Nanami snap his half-lidded eyes down at you like he’d just stumbled upon a five-course meal. A predator blood-thirsty for prey.

Drooling in a thin, slow trail, he hastily wipes it away like a gentleman. He wasn’t just famished - he was starved. 

And by the way his touch shakes ever-so-slightly on your body, it’s a damn miracle that he hasn’t just lost it right now. “We wouldn’t want to waste your talents on just my hand, ma’am.”

Before you can even begin to wonder what his cryptic words meant, Nanami’s making use of the years of his noble training in combat.

Flipping your two positions, laying himself out on the far table, clinging onto your squirming waist to seat you right above his heavily respiring mouth. With your chemise tugged off with one hand, he’s stealing a good look at your naked, geysering pussy and moaning–

“I-I really am quite famished.”

And his voice breaks.

Making you jerk your hips in a slight gyration- unsure where to rest. “Wh-what are you going to- oh.” Whimpering, once he’s planting a firm kiss near the inner parts of your thighs where slick travelled like an adhesive sheen. Only pushing your gown to bunch upwards, “Please!”

“I shall be having my dinner, My Lady.” Lurching you ever-closer, he had your knees straddling each side of his face and it still wasn’t close enough. “Bon appétit.”

All five of his coarse fingerpads digging into the cheeks of your ass, he flicks his wrist and drags you straight into the gaping cavern of his maw. His glistening tongue was propped out just right to spank the surface of your pussylips on his tastebuds. 

“A-ah.” Thighs trembling, it feels so strangely and erotically wet with him salivating all over. 

He feels a slippery splosh of your juices leak from your slit and straight into his gullet, the creamy taste flooding up his tongue. “O-ohhh–” Savoring. “Has anyone ever made you feel like hah- this?”

“N-not at all, Your Gr-”

“Kento.”

“K-Kento–!” It’s all that you can squeal when the flexible tendril of his muscle crowns your hole and you’re seeing stars. His tongue is just so long n’ girthy that it makes your poor, filthy entrance clench when he’s slipping just an inch inside. “Fuck- n-ngh- fuck–!”

“Charmed you’re enjoying, ma’am.” And he sounds so genuinely elated - breathy, shaken - at the pretty moans falling from your mouth like music. 

Though, it’s not enough.

It might never be enough, so the duke can only prop up slightly on one of his strong elbows just to angle his mouth into the perfect French kiss with your cunt. Slapping his tongue right over the puffy folds of your pussy, he’s licking and licking each stray bead of slick bubbling out of you until you’re all tender and glossy.

Only then is he wafting his right thumb vertically down your cute slit, “Though, not to overwork my dear lady- but might you mind lending me a…hand?”

You’re snapping your head down so fast that your chin knocks against your heaving chest, “Wh-what do you need, Your- ah, Kento?”

“Oh, nothing much, my darling. Just…” Tilting his head, Nanami’s rendering you stupidly dizzy each time he twists the callused knob of his thumb in and out of your folds. “Spit in my mouth.”

“Wh-would that be appropriate?” He was filthy.

Feral. “I would love nothing more.”

And he meant it- he truly, completely, and utterly meant it. You’re watching his prominent Adam’s apple bob greedily once the bead of pearly saliva bubbles between your lips and dead-on into his mouth. Only swirlin’ inside for a mere second before spitting right back into your polished cunt. Hard. 

Letting the fat wad slip between your lips, and Nanami doesn’t waste a single second before pushing his rugged middle finger inside your hole. 

“There we go.” Gazing in pure lecherous wonderment at the way your needy ring of muscle was swallowing him up, every single solid inch right down to his mountainous knuckle. What a tight fit. “There- there, atta girl.”

“It just feels so- ngh- so-” You don’t even know how to control yourself, hips jerking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until the globes of your ass strike his chin and make you keen. “Ah!”

“Eeeeeasy does it, ma’am.” 

And he’s still grunting your name out with that title- even as he’s pryin’ apart your bloated lips and sticking in yet another digit. The fat ends of his index swiping across, engraving his family signet ring against your very walls-

“This is only a prelude, darling.” You’re flinching at the chilling scrape of the band on his second finger, and he grins. Glueing that very grin against your throbbing clit, he spits again- “Only just getting started.”

“Fuck- fuck!” Going against every policy you’d learned in polite society, you’re throwing your hips back and gyrating out looong sloppy drags of your cunt. 

Straight from the treacly base of your pussy to where Nanami was nuzzling your sensitive clit with his nose. Again. And again and again- the duke’s kiss-bitten lips were burning and he’s still craning his neck for more. Panting, “Make a mess of me, My Lady. S’what I’m hah- here for.”

“N-ngh, it feels so gooood, Kento.”

And you don’t even have any inhibitions about that little slip-up of titles anymore, back arching into a perfect curvy ‘S’ shape at the way he’s salivating all over your pussy.

Rovering the ridged edges of his tongue in a cutesy lil’ heart over your clit, pressing down just enough pressure on it like a button. And it’s exactly what he needs to make you gasp, your hole winking- so that he can easily slide-slide-sliiide a third finger in with a resonating squelch!

“So wet. So divine.” He’s groaning at the sight of you suckling in on him and all his inches. Fitted in so deeply that your orifice is struggling to even squeeze, thighs clamping over his sweaty temples. Feeling inside you. Searching. “I must ask that you ruin me, darlin’. Ride me faster.”

Thighs aching, breaths shortening. His metal glasses thump the scorching front of your cunt and you whine. 

“Faster.”

“P-pleeease!”

It’s like he’s ravaging your pussy with his thrusts, blond brows furrowing in so tight as he’s leaning in even closer. Tuggin’ apart your folds, he’s discovering every sleek, leaking inch of your cunt like he didn’t have enough time. Never would.

And it’s with only spank after spank of his metallic ring that he’s somehow skidding it right down your saccharine walls and directly into your g-spot. “H-here.”

“There.” Even with the kaleidoscope of tears dazzling your vision, you can make out the completely pussydrunken grin that smears across his face. 

Rutting up against the swollen slope of your pussy, he laps up every sodden ounce of slick that escapes you once he hits his slimy target. “With greater fervour now, My Lady.” Your throat clogs up every time he reels his fingerpads down to the curvaceous edges and slams back in. “Harder-”

You grip onto the straight ends of his deltoids, flexing with muscular strength. “I-I’m not sure if that is possible-”

“Do not be gentle with me.” And it almost sounds like a command. Though he’s acting upon it like it’s a complete beg- swerving his palm to sticky clammily onto your left ass cheek and pushing you. “Let yourself hah- go. Give me all of you, I beg.”

You had the most powerful, stoic duke of all the season begging. 

And he needed it- he was toying with the lacy circle of your garter and snapping it down onto your flesh with a flick of his fingers. 

Only to make you wetter.

So wet with sappy, meady slick that he’s gulping down like his favorite liquor- splashing down between his lips and making him more n’ more inebriated by the second. 

Glasses still on. Pumping his hips up into the empty air, all he could do was fuck his fingers into your hotly-glossed walls and pretend he’s doing it all with his aching cock. “Do you think you can handle a fourth, darling?”

Gasping, “P-perhaps-”

“Then…brace yourself…”

You couldn’t brace yourself. You couldn’t even intake a steady breath even if you tried. 

Because while you’re perching your dripping pussy near the line of his straight nosebridge, Nanami’s slipping in the coiled edge of his lengthy tongue. Not his fingers. His tongue. 

In addition to all he was rummaging your melty insides with, he swabs over the texture of his tastebuds down where you were the most delicate and strokes his tongue inside—

“Sh-shit- shit shit shit-” Your mouth juts out into such an adorable pout that makes the man beneath you thrusts his rugged hips upwards. “I-I think I’m…close, Kento.”

“S’that so? Gonna cum?”

So difficult to even breathe when he’s strobing his fingertips down your bulging g-spot, already battered and bruised with the slamming impacts. With the way he swats the side of your thighs stinging with your garter, “Mhm—hck!”

Probin’ every velvety nook and cranny with his touch, Nanami can’t have you on his weeping cock so he’s twisting all his three- now four fingers, and his tongue inside until his wrist aches. His jaw strained. Tastebuds raw, just as much as your pussy was.

“The orchestra is playing, you can be as loud as your heart desires. Say the words, ma’am- I beg of you to please just hah! say the words.”

It makes your vulnerable lips tremble just to formulate the next few scandalous words, never before having been so fucked-out. “Y-yes. Yes, please. Gonna…cum.”

And you swear that the ever-sensible Nanami Kento is gurgling out a wet giggle right between the space of your puffy pussylips, sending white-hot shockwaves down your bowed spine. “I would be-” He wetly gasps out, before slapping his handsome features right back down. 

Addicted. He can’t even move. 

“I would- hah- I would be quite-” And his spectacles dig in deep until the metal surface sizzles against your core, pushing and pushing himself back. His tongue’s going wild, stirring around with the wettest slurps. “I would be quite offended if you didn’t, my love.”

He doesn’t just mutter the words - he’s biting them right ‘round the perky knob of your clit. Teething his glinting canines just hard enough while he’s slipping his tongue back out - right on time, right at the very second to tastefully receive the way you throw your head back and squirt.

Hot. Hard.

It feels like your entire body’s caught on fire and no matter how much you’re slobbering your hips to the front n’ back, it only makes the sensation worse. 

Your eyes water, mouth hanging open stupidly. “Yes- yes yes yes yes- I’m cumming-” Thighs trembling down upon either side of his eardrums at the friction- tight, and he doesn’t even care. “I-I’m cumming.”

“Squirting, My Lady.” Nanami corrects you, gently. Though, it’s a fucking miracle he even had the patience to considering that he’s gasping and panting for air but only pushin’ himself closer to the oodles of cute slick seeping out from you. 

He doesn’t even care. 

Doesn’t even need air- not when he can perk his head just right and push against your thighs. Wide maw unfastened gluttonously ajar to let the thick trickles of sap drip into his mouth after each zap! of bliss. Drowning him. 

Mouth sagging further open, lungs screaming at him. So many bucketloads of syrupy sweet sap that sprays his features until they’re all glittery. “Squirt- oh. You’re- ngh-”

And something’s breaking at the back of his throat when he’s roaming his dexterous, looong tongue between the plumpness of your pussylips, and you’re taking him in so easily.

Overstimulated till you can let off only whines n’ sobs when he’s lazily dabbing his way inside your quivering hole. 

“I’m so ruined, Kento.” Riding and riding. He wanted you to use him and you were- “It feels s-so strange.” The peak of your high was one big wave, and it tingles underneath your skin and makes your eyes roll. 

Never - even during all those long, lonely nights with your hand slipped underneath the covers - did it ever feel like this. Never were you leaking your essence this much, with your sappy juices falling all down the sides of his rosy red lips. “Never f-felt this ngh- way before, Ken.”

And that makes him groan.

Slowly, gingerly - almost like it hurt for him to detach his hungry lips with yours, he’s pulling you off with one hand stuck to your hips. Surging backwards with- no, he can’t surge backwards.

The duke’s planting one more firm kiss onto your cunt, open-mouthed. And then jerking back- and forth. Another kiss. Another repeat until about five times later and he’s finally ready to say goodbye to your sweet, overspilling pussy. 

But he’s not done with his little show- oh, the moment you’re finally spying a good, long look at him, you think you might cum again from just that.

Because Nanami Kento was ruined - blond hair astray, spectacles drooping down his nose, your pussy juices worn all over from the apples of his blushin’ cheeks down to his jawline like a lewd medal.

Waterfalling between the curves of his pectorals, gleaming wherever his pale skin was flushed. He looked as if there was a part of him that was feverish - barely even registering what he’s doing once he’s tugging off his slick-glazed glasses and sucking those pearly beads off of the frame.

Licking his completely wet glasses clean, Nanami tilts his head with a grin like he’s never been more accomplished. “I only live to please you, ma’am.”

“But that’s not fair.” You huff out a stubborn breath, shuffling down his tall body to try and cup the bulging outline between his legs that almost looked painful. “I, too, wish to-”

“Tonight is not the night, I’m hah- afraid.” He’s cleanly cutting off both your plea and your palm. Instead bringing up your shaky hand to kiss the inside of your wrist. Gloves off, his eyes primal and dead set on you. “I could never ask you to get on your knees. Tonight, I only ask that you let me drive you wild, darling. Let me devour you whole.”

And he meant it.

Oh, within sultry seconds Nanami was moving himself off of the tabletop and standing adjacent. Tall. Strong. Not letting you lift a single finger before he loops two hands underneath your thighs and draaaags you to the very edge.

Moistened thighs pasting to his obliques, “Pray, allow me to see to it. To everything.”

And you just wanted to rip the gossamer fabric of your dress off, but Nanami was oh-so-delicate with his hands all over you. Even though he’s fitting himself animalistically between your lewd legs and rutting-

“Why-” His breath catches once your petticoat and stocking are peeled off, both thumbs spreading your swollen pussylips like a lotus. Completely exposed now. “-hello, my love.”

Your mouth parts when you’re realizing that he’s not just talking to you- he’s talking to your cunt. Maw stretched into a smile so utterly lovin’, Nanami keeps that same dopey grin on as he’s leering his face down to spit. 

Again.

“Please, Kento.” You’re bucking your hips up impatiently, still shaky with the aftershocks of your high but you wanted more more more. Needed it. “P-put it in.”

He groans- oh, was it him that taught your sweet mouth to say those words. Corrupting you with every second he’s drawing soppy circles on your wet outer pussy, the duke can only tear down his dress coat and his trousers. Careful with yours but he was ripping his own clothes off. “As you wish, my darling.”

It’s just then that he’s finishing tugging down his sensually tight breeches—and you’re drinking in all of him. And fuck- was it a sight only for your most light-skirted dreams.

Because Nanami Kento was naturally chiseled, to the point where you could count each of his eight washboard abs. Every dip and muscular curve of his hardened front just tensed when the cool air hit him, leading a path of gold along his middle. 

A light happy trail down, down, down to where his red n’ aching cock sat heavily, so hard that his bulging tip looked just about ready to burst. Eight maybe even nine inches long, and so girthy that it made your mouth drop as if you wanted him fitted inside already. 

 You’re watching as his pre-glazed tip only coats an even more glistening layer of sap at your sinful attention. Trickling all the way down to his tightening balls, “You’re staring—”

“C-can you blame me?”

“I suppose not.” And the warmth of his towering proximity hits your body like a furnace, making you squirm restlessly when Nanami’s leaning over the edge of the table to tap-tap-tap his thick cockhead down between your legs. Rock-hard. “Brace yourself, ma’am, mhm?”

Then he’s splitting you apart-

And then he’s arching his sculpted shoulders to cage you underneath him and swearing–“Fuck.”

The first time ever that you’re hearing him spew profanities, just barely slipping the pointed globe of his shaft past the texture of your tight, hot cunt was ruining him. 

“I-I apologize, My Lady.” It was making him gasp, “I apologize, how uncouth of my character. I didn’t mean to-” It was making him urgently snap his head down in panic and watch with primal awe as he ruts- deeper. “F-fuck!”

“Oh my god-” You’re throwing your head back at the pressure, only to be grappled back in by Nanami just so that he can sliiide his lips across yours. Open-mouthed. “H-how are you going in so deep-”

“I cannot help myself.” Grunting, Nanami doesn’t even feel the stinging pain when he’s slamming his capped knee down on the plane of the desk. Angling his slender hips to shove the slimy crown of his tip into your gooey entrance, “It’s simply- it’s just-”

And Nanami Kento, so articulate and calm, doesn’t have the damn words anymore.

Stuttering, falling over his panic to thrust in and in between your trembling legs. He feels the cute rimming circle of your cunt tighten ‘round his fattened girth, and snaps his head down in panic. Spitting. “I-I must have it fit inside, darling. Please, allow me just the tip, at least.”

“Will- ngh! will it even-”

“Of course.” And he’ll apologize for interrupting your sentence later - much, much later. 

But for right now, the only thing that sparks in his fuzzy mind was to raise his toned left forearm up to your drivelling maw. Where you start gnawing wetly down on his skin, he spits- 

“Bite down. Harder.” Hips sloppy, knee hiking up even further to maze his flared cock inside. You feel your elastic hole stretch a wider diameter as he’s slipping yet another solid inch in. “Come now, harder. You can ngh- take it.”

“It’s going in.” And you don’t know whether you wanted to slam your hips forwards or jerk vulnerably at the sheer weight of his body leaning down. 

He breathes, “Yes- yes.” The breeze of his pants fanning your face, making your entire body erupt in flames by the time he’s squeezing past the tender slit carved onto his shaft. Cementing the bulging edge of his cocktip to the roof of your pussy with a raw sluuurp. “I have you. shall not let you fall- bite.”

And it’s all that you can do.

Because Nanami’s fucking you into office table like he wanted you to splinter straight through. 

The half-lidded peripherals of his eyes latching onto where you were speared open like he was watching his personal show, “I hope you know…I’m no- hah- easily satiated man, my love.”

“Wh-what do you- fuck!”

Just on cue, he’s slamming the lines of his hardened hipbones against your inner thighs and making you recoil back near the edge of the table. Dangerously. Barely even giving you a second to pick yourself back up before he reaches over to lace both his rugged palms on top of your clammy scalp. Intertwining. Holding you there. 

‘Just the tip’ he said. And yet here he was, pinning you down just to bully his vein-covered length between your snugly stubborn lips. 

“Do not think to run from me-”

“Could never- ngh- could never-” You’re babbling easily at this point, because the curvy trails that his veins left along your walls were only driving you mad. “Just want more, Kento.”

“…Pardon?”

You blink your teary eyes up at him in a way that makes his throbbing girth fatten up, every ounce of blood in the duke’s head rushing to the ballooned-up knob of his tip. “M-more, I say-”

“More.” He’s echoing out, more to himself. Higher-pitched. Almost tasting the pure need in that one word, and the very repetition makes him half-thrust straight into the goopy depths of your pussy. “More…more.”

Nanami pants out a husky giggle—“More.” Oh, he’s just so in love with the way your cunt was struggling to swallow him whole n’ yet squeezing as you try. He leans back down and spits once more, thoroughly ungentleman-like. “Forgive my haste. You just m-make- me-”

And you swear you hear the tail end of that particular sentence break off into a whine once he’s finally, finally bottoming out. 

So sensitive that all it takes is one, two, three lucious swabs of his drivelling orifice to get you to cum. Throat torn with hoarse moans, head throwing back- “I’m- once more…?”

“F-fuck. You are.” Easing in the girth of his cockhead to be spanked against your cervix and make you see stars. Nanami’s already flooding your pussy with a pour of his scalding hot precum. “What a wonder this enchanting body is for me.”

Again. He has you orgasming all over him again.

He’s feeling just a twinge of disappointment in himself for not making you squirt yet another time- but the night was still young. And your sappy cunt was already so wet, with beads of sparkly juices smearing down his happy trail every time he’s whipping his hips forwards.

Slam after slam. 

Your entire body twitches with startles of euphoria, mewling. “Th-there’s so much- so- ah.”

Ah, how he would love to reach his hands over and wipe away the glistening tears streaming down your pretty face. 

But no, right now he had them locked on top of your head and was using the leverage to pound you stupid. Harder. Spiking the peaks of your high with each thorough probe of his stout, mushroom tip. “I know. I know I know I-”

CRACK!

Oh. 

The desk.

It takes a split-second for both your hazed minds to realize that the ancient mahogany table was sagging on one end, Nanami’s raw natural strength too much for it to handle. And then not even that for him to pull out his cock with a wet plop! 

Manhandling you down onto the hardwood floors like a doll, on all fours. It’s such a sinfully new angle to have him looming behind you, tense core plastered against your back once his lengthy cock siiiinks in-

Orgasm still dwindling, entire body shaking. “Fuck- nghhh- fuck, Kento–!”

“You are doing so well, darling.” One hand glues onto the side of your left ass cheek and tugs you back down with his grip. The other carefully rovers just underneath your tummy, “M-makes it so easy to wish to hah- give away to my inclinations.”

A primal sob wrenches from your throat when you’re feeling the slimy drag of his globular, pointed tip. Drawin’ out a zig-zag down and down where you were most delicate, until he reaches the target of your cervix, spank! “Th-then proceed- I beg of you.”

You didn’t know what those guttural words would mean. You didn’t even know if you would make it out alive- but right now you’re starting to doubt it once Nanami gasps.

Once he’s slamming one of his flattened feets by the side of your thigh, deeper. The raw, sensual feeling so much that he can’t control himself. Rutting and rutting away as if he’s gone feral—

“Is this to- to your liking then, ma’am?” The duke’s gurgling out through a translucent froth of spittle, splat-splattering right down the middle of your arched spine. “H-how about now?”

He shutters his eyes furiously and rams the remaining few inches of his cock. Bottomed out and still trying to probe even deeper inside, so all he can do is plant his sock-covered foot over the top of your head and press. Bending. “N-now?”

“I adore it—” You’re keenly whining, “Love it- ngh- please.”

Proudly, Nanami dares to snicker as his left thumb brushes down the plump, roaming tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushin’ down just on the curvy tip of where you could feel his split-ended cockhead thrashing your poor insides. “And I should love to hah! make this gorgeous cunt mine- make you mine.”

And he was a man of action.

It was high time you realized that, because within exactly three repeated swats of his plummy, rose-colored shaft- he’s discovering your g-spot. He’s kissing that bullseye with a looong, soppy glide.

“Though…that is what I am doing, that should be no hngh- sham.” 

Feeling all the crimson rush to your head, he presses down just as his aching hot cock presses in. “It’s- it’s just- fuck.”

Faster. Harder. So sloppy that the planks of the floorboards start to sing out in singing creaks of protest, soiling with a trickle of syrupy precum and slick being poured from straight between your legs. Constantly. 

Rubbing himself swollen n’ redly raw on the cavern of your tight pussy, Nanami doesn’t even want to blink to break his staring contest with your bulging pussylips. 

Milking himself. 

The sweetest smooch for your sweetest spot, Nanami coos as you shake- struggling to keep your weakened arms straight as you hold yourself up in this lecherous position. “Come now.” Your overstimulated vision spots with pure white as he darts the hand at your stomach to loop around your throat like a necklace - a headlock. Springing you upright—“I have you, My Lady.”

Spittle waterfalls in embarrassing bucketloads from your mouth and stains the front of his beefy forearm, squeezing your airway. Dilated pupils swirlin’ stupidly every time his strawberry divot circles the entrance to your womb. Squealing, “Y-you…ngh!…mm–”

“Hmmm—?”

“You- hck! please, Ken-”

His warm, ravaging cock was so big that the constant stretch of your walls finally had you stupid. Your brain nothing but a pulp of melted mush every time he snaps his clammy hips to your ass with a stinging pap! of skin-on-skin.

 “Me…I’m-” And it’s like each time the puffy veins decorating each side of his overworked shaft gets squeezed, Nanami finds himself seeing stars. Sweaty, bulging biceps tightening on your throat even harder- you scream. “I have you, My Lady- I’m yours.”

Your hole gaping, thighs wet. Just taking everything he’s giving as he finally cums—and you do, too.

Though, you’re not registering it at first. 

Not when that leaky hole at the very end of his cherry-red shaft pipes out a creamy icing of cum, layering thickly across every inch and cranny of your rummaged insides. Pump after pump- each one has your pathetic pussy overspilling with so many knotted wads of seed, and yet he always had so much more more more-

“O-oh.” He’s grunting out, feeling a particularly big splash of sap at the base of his cock- and it’s only then that you’re both realizing that you’d just squirted. All over again.

It’s traveling down like a flood between your thighs, painting a glistening ring on the tawny curls at his hilt. Soaking him utterly n’ completely that Nanami finds each thrust to let off the most primal sluuuurp! 

“You- you really are the most beautiful hck! lady that has graced this Earth, my love.” Your gaze, your smile, that soul. It was your soul he found most beautiful, the instant he laid his eyes upon you. 

He simply knew.

“Y-yet, I’m a chambermaid-”

“I care not.”

“You’re just-” It’s a damn wonder that you even could still speak by now, because every rubbin’ massage of his fat cock only left your mind blank. “-saying- mmm- saying that, Kento.”

“I fear you are mistaken.”

His veins indent your walls with lightning bolts, his cum cobwebbed across your spongy cervix and was splashing after each jackhammer. 

Nanami drills into you low and slow now just to help your dripping wet cunt suck him dry. Loving the cute, velvety way you were clamping around his rovering shaft tiredly, “Only allow me to prove my ngh- heart.”

You’re so fucked-out that you’re barely even flinching when he’s finally freeing you of his sinful headlock. Taking mere nanoseconds to pluck that infamous House of Nanami signet ring off of his finger- and pushing it straight down the ring finger on your left.

An engagement. A promise. 

“I shall get you another ring- one that is proper, one you deserve, when- if you shall have me, My Lady.” The smoky tone of Nanami Kento’s bass tickles the side of your stinging throat, almost a purr. “I swear it upon my word-” He guides that very same boneless hand of yours to cup his plush, thumping left pectoral. “-and my heart, to forever keep you the most beautiful lady upon this Earth. You shall never want, for I pledge to you my body, my soul for your happiness.”

You whimper, thighs still shaking with your high. Tears slipping down your face that he kisses away, “I-if you’ll have me, Your Grace.”

“Kento.”

“Kento.”

And by the time the last of his wadded ounces of cum had finished spraying out, Nanami pulls his hips back with a bellowing squelch that makes your body heat flare. Such a creamy mess of ivory glossing your pussylips that he’s taking one glimpse at and gasping-

You mewl, “K-Ken, what are you-”

“It seems…” He drawls, manhandling you spread-out onto your back with his sculptured hands. Snaking his face down to mouth a hot puff over your swollen folds that stick together. Tasting. Drooling like he’d just happened across his favorite dessert. “-that the ball is far from finished, my wife.”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader,

It seems we have a rather special (and scandalously romantic!) special announcement. Yes, whilst your lips were whispering at her majesty the Queen’s Royal Diamond Ball the previous night, those of his grace, Duke Nanami Kento, have certainly been up to worse. 

The ton reached new heights of hysteria over Duke Nanami’s attendance of the ball with his lovely chambermaid acquaintance. This author personally confirms that her highness’s royal orchestra was barely audible over the sound of shattering hearts!

However, if this was where the story ended, dear readers, we would still possess our wits. Not only had her highness titled this unnamed belle of the ball as the Diamond of the season; aforementioned diamond was not in audience of her naming!

Where was she, you might ask? Why, nowhere else but bedding a certain handsome duke—or so palace patrol whisper amongst the halls. 

An impatient dalliance or stirring the pot? You tell me, dear reader, though it certainly doesn’t help that said new diamond was spotted near the end of the evening with both a real diamond and the Nanami signet ring upon one’s betrothal finger!

 It’s said that the House of Nanami - and particularly a once-stoic Duke Nanami Kento - has been exceptionally lively in preparation for the blessed union and his new bride.

On the other hand, this author shall have to purchase new robes for a summer wedding. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown.

A/N. Tell me why it was SAUR difficult to write in regency speak I feel like I don’t even know this language anymore pls-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mindurs404k]

[mindurs404k]

hottest thing a guy can be is a simp. just. a loser. a spineless fool. a total wet wipe of a man.

[mindurs404k]

Is Two Really Better Than One?

Summary: in which Nanami's wife gets hit with a curse and he comes home to two wives, not one... Warnings: smut, married couple/established relationship, f!reader, threesome, dom!nanami, mention of being used as a sex toy, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, spanking, paizuri, spitting, doggy, dual ride/double cowgirl position, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, slight size kink, slight yuri action, voyeurism/exhibitionism?, totally inaccurate use of the curse science or whatever, not proofread - like literally not at all sowwy Word Count: 4.5k

Nanami is flabbergasted. 

When he came back home after a long hard day’s work, he was impatiently waiting for his wife’s loving embrace and reviving kiss. There’s a routine you two follow and he upholds it like a knight pledging allegiance to the crown – arrive home at 6pm, you greet him, he takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes whilst you prepare dinner, and then you dine together. He expected you to be at the front door with an excited grin and open arms, just as you did yesterday and the day before that.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was two wives waiting for him. 

“Ken! Make her go away,” you scream. 

The other you snarls, “No, you go away.”

Apparently, you’ve been hit by a spirit splitting curse – it fragmented your soul into perfect halves. There is no ‘original wife,’ just two different parts of the same woman he loves. At least, that was how Shoko explained it on the phone. How long the effects will last is indeterminable, though Nanami’s simply glad it’s a harmless consequence and not something more disastrous.

“I want her ugly ass gone, Kento,” you growl.

And other you shrieks. “Excuse me? I am literally you. If I’m ugly, so are you, idiot.”

“Yeah? Well, somehow, I’m just prettier, so suck it.”

Sitting in the living room, he loosens his tie and stares up at the ceiling. He supposes it really was just too much to ask to have peace and quiet in his life, to be able to catch up on some rest and sleep, and have dinner with his wife, his only wife. Right now, the two of you are smacking throw pillows at each other’s faces, exchanging limp blows over his body, and insulting one another.

This animosity is unfounded. She is you and you are her. You are both his wife, with the exact same body, personality, past, hopes and dreams. And yet you’re at each other’s throats like there is a long feud between your warring families. Nanami sighs again. “Please, stop fighting. Let’s just get on with our evening and wait for the effects to subside.”

Both of you press close to him, taking a side each. You cling to his arm, cradling his bicep between your breasts, seeping warmth into his skin through his work shirt. Nanami clears his throat. You smell nice – always do – but right now, the scent of you is engulfing him from all sides. Other you pokes his chest. 

With an accusatory tone, you question, “Why aren’t you pushing her away, Kento?”

He leaves a kiss on your head, hoping to soothe your irritation. “I could never push away my wife, darling. I’d sooner die.”

“But I’m your wife.”

“No, I’m his wife.”

Nanami wraps his arms around the both of you, rubbing comforting circles on your backs; if he doesn’t do something, he might just come out of this with no wife. “You are both my wives. Just as beautiful as the other and just as ferocious. So, there’s no need to fight, alright?”

“Oh my god, what if we’re stuck like this forever? I can’t share you, Ken! I won’t. And! What if you start to like her more than me? I’ll kill myself.”

Gaze softening, he holds you tight. “That won’t happen, my love. It just wouldn’t. I’m confident things will go back to normal soon enough and you’ll be whole again. That’s our biggest concern, not ‘who will I prefer.’ That’s a silly thought; I love you in all the possible shapes and forms you come in. I could never choose just one side of you to love, it’s simply impossible.”

A moment of silence passes. 

“He is such a sweet talker, isn’t he?” You ask yourself.

You reply with a chortle. “The absolute sweetest. Thank god we put up with his grumpy ass before he fell for us.”

His heart swells. To watch you two get along fills him with so much pride and he can’t quite explain it. Perhaps it’s because he loves your smile, the way your cheeks get so plump with the force of it. Maybe it’s because he knows how long you’ve struggled to reconcile with the need to love yourself, truly, and how you find it torturous to confront yourself and see all those flaws he thinks creates your perfect soul. 

Maybe it’s simply because he loves you so much; there’s no need to question it.

“Ugh, get your hands off my husband!”

“No, you get your hands off my husband.”

And Nanami sighs again.

On and off, you two keep bickering, momentarily being quieted by his hushed commands to behave before starting up again shortly after. Slowly losing the will to fight, he accepts his indefinite reality. His house might never know peace again and he might never truly clock off work even once he returns home. It seems, outside of the office, he also has to manage stubborn individuals and rising tension. 

Still, it’s not so bad, he thinks. Having two of you is a blessing; he’s always encouraging you to eat more with the rationale of wanting more of you to love, after all.

But, his reasoning at this moment isn’t so pure.

The feeling of your plush bodies in his grasp is distracting. Two sets of your breasts are bouncing against his sides and in his face with every move you both make. Hands rove all over his body, staking their claim, and teasing the skin underneath his clothes. Nails scrape against his thighs, digging in when you try to control your anger, using him as the punching bag. He needs to keep his cool, to maintain control so he can ease your worries and dispel trouble at any time. But damn it if it isn’t taking a lot of effort to stand his ground. 

“Ken,” one of you whispers in his ear, lips brushing the shell, “you’re hard…”

Looking down, he comes face to face with solid evidence of your observation. How embarrassing – his wife was hurt and is facing an indubitably anxiety-provoking situation whereby she might never recover as whole from again, and despite that, he’s aroused. What kind of man is he?

What kind of terrible husband would be so self-centred?

“We can help… if you’d like.”

The kind that’d be married to you, apparently. 

Speechless, Nanami can do nothing but sit back and let his wife unbuckle his belt whilst the other unzips his trousers. One has a look of complete glee when she finds his hard cock already leaking and the other sports a focused expression, working her hand up and down his length. You really are his wife, split or not. No one could ever touch him so seductively, so enticingly, already threatening to shake his entire foundation with simple grazes. 

He should stop you both, should establish boundaries and get on with dinner. Instead of giving into baser instincts, he should lead by example and ensure your safety and wellbeing by being patient. But…how can he when your velvety palms play with his balls, fascinated by the weight of them?

“Come here, sweetheart,” he mutters, losing all grip on reason. He discards his glasses. “Come give Kento a kiss.” 

Two heads rush to his face. They collide with a bang. Hissing, you throw aggravated looks at each other. “He meant me.”

“Uh, no, he meant me.”

Tutting, he cradles both of your faces and brings one up to his lips. He lays a kiss where you bumped your head and then another to your mouth. Slowly and gently, he indulges in your taste, swallowing your breathy moans and teasing your tongue with his. Then, parting ways, he pushes your head down, eager to feel those juicy lips wrap around his throbbing cock. 

He meets your gaze. “You too, love.”

Mirroring the ministrations, he loses himself in the steamy kiss, groaning into your mouth when the you that’s licking his cock from the base to the very tip slides her wet tongue on the slit. Fuck, he needs more. He needs to feel you. 

A hand of his slides down your body, groping a breast, tweaking the nipple, before it ventures further down to between your legs. You’re soaked. Pussy lips swollen, he wastes no time in working two calloused digits inside. Wet, tight, and hot, he can’t get enough of how your cunt clenches around him. 

“Ah, Ken! So good. Thank you!”

The wife that’s drooling on his balls pouts. “Me too, Ken. Make me feel good too, please.”

He smiles. “My sweet wives, always so polite. Tilt your hips this way, darling, show me your pretty pussy. That’s it. And you, sweetheart, let me kiss your beautiful breasts.”

Now, both of his hands are being thoroughly coated in your wetness, squelching their way inside your pulsing canals. Mouth full of your breast, sucking and flicking your hard nipple, he lets himself be consumed by your scent, your warmth, your softness, and the wondrous sounds of your barely subdued whimpers and squeals. 

Being weighed down by your body, the reminder of your love and need for him, of which reflects his own for you, is the purest form of bliss he never would have thought he was deserving of. There is nothing more rewarding than drawing out your pleasure, than curling his fingers in just right against that gummy spot inside you that pushes out even more sloppy juices, and washing away your fears and worries. 

In this moment, as both of your hips are grinding down onto his hands, he wishes there was another of him. He can meet all your needs at once, overwhelm you with his body and drive you crazy. Then, there’d be no need to be jealous or possessive. Though…Nanami has a dark realisation that perhaps the sight of a cock that isn’t really his pushing its way inside your body would drive him to madness and not the pleasurable kind.

“Fuck, Ken! I’m gonna–”

“Cum!”

You orgasm at the same time as your other half, juices flying and soaking the sofa underneath your bodies. Speckles land on his creased trousers, drowning his hands and dribbling juices down his wrists. Nanami throbs, cock jolting in the cold air.

Slumped over his body, one of your heads perks up. “Hey, uglier me, wanna give him a boob job together?”

“I’m ignoring that insult, bitch, but yeah, whatever.” You roll your eyes and then land a peck on Nanami’s cheek, giving him a wink.

Getting down onto your knees, you force his legs to spread wide to accommodate yourselves. A little frazzled at seeing you two collude and leave him out of the decision making process, no word of complaint can manifest before he throws his head back, unable to stand the sight of impish joy all over your irresistible eyes doubled as you watch his cock bob once and twice. 

“Ugh, isn’t his dick so pretty?”

The kitten licks you leave on his frenulum are your answer. Then, you both wrap your breasts around his cock, nipples kissing each other and his sharp intake of breath elicits giggles. Up and down, you rub his heated length with your supple breasts. His fingers thread through your hair, unable to keep his hands off you. 

“Is it good, Ken? Do you like it?”

Nanami groans. “Y-yes, it feels amazing, sweetheart. You’re so good to me…always so good to your husband, aren’t you?”

Giggling again, you two exchange grins, feeling mighty proud of yourself, he supposes. And he knows he can cum just like this, that his cum will spurt all over your faces and breasts. It’ll coat your plump lips and you’ll be able to taste his salty spend. Lightheaded, he gasps for air, intent to get his bearings, to not let you two have your way with him, but then you surprise him one more time. 

Lips locked, you two make a big show of moaning into each other’s mouths, tongue twisting together in an obscene display that has his heart thumping faster and faster until he’s sure he’s losing his mind. 

You might never stop surprising him no matter how long he’s loved you. 

He can’t take it anymore. The smell of your sweetness, the evidence of your euphoria coating his skin, the doughy blanket of your breasts around his cock is driving him insane. He needs you and he needs you now. In agile haste, he stands and takes his clothes off all while you both watch. 

“I-I need to be inside you, darlings.” There isn’t enough space on the sofa for what he wants. So, with a grunt, he lifts you two and carries your bodies up, biting back a smile when you squeal and giggle, into the bedroom. You both bounce into each other’s embrace when he drops you off on the mattress. “Strip.”

Clumsily, you remove every article of clothing. Your arms get caught in your shirt and your panties get tangled around your ankles. “Ugh, Ken, help.”

“I’m here. I’m here.” He helps you two out, wrangling your clothes off. “There we go, honey. Upsi-daisy.”

Though he might never admit how pleased he gets when he’s needed, he’s sure you know. There’s no way you don’t. You feel the evidence of it when he pins you to the kitchen counter to fetch the plate you’re reaching for and you surely see the way his eyes darken as you place a foot on his lap, wordlessly asking him to clasp your heels on for you.

As soon as your clothes are off, he pounces – sloppily swallowing your wet moans, he devours you and then the other you, swapping and switching till he gets frustrated and gasps for air. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I love you so much. All of you. In every life, in every time. Always.” You’re lying so prettily for him. Whatever he has done to deserve you today, he hopes he’ll do it again and again so he may never part from you, not even in death. His hands don’t know where to stay, exploring, groping and squeezing and pinching wherever they please. There’s so much of you he wants to feel at once and it’s like an urge he can’t fight. The need to be with you, to please you, to immerse himself in your essence wholeheartedly is choking him up, calling forth tears in his eyes. “God, if only you could see yourself from my eyes.”

“Ken, I love when you get all emotional, I swear, but please just fuck me already.”

He gulps. “Yes, love. I will.”

“No, wait, fuck me first.”

“Wait your fricking turn, oh my god.”

Another fight breaks out. 

Nails are out, hands are flying, hair is being pulled. Kento huffs. He’s trying to get in between you two without using force, without accidentally hurting you, and just as he’s about to pull you apart, a resounding SLAP!echoes. It’s a grating noise that steals his breath. In a flash, he’s got you behind him and you pinned to the bed. 

“No.” Nanami growls. Breathing hard, he shakes off the sudden anger coursing through his veins. Wide eyed, you just watch him release his punishing hold on your neck that he didn’t even realise he had on you. The scolding fire in him doesn't disappear. “No one hurts my wife. Not even you. Understand?”

You nod frantically. 

“Good. You know I hate to punish you but you won’t disagree when I say you need to be reminded of the rules, would you?” You shake your head. “Use your big girl words.”

“I need to be punished, Ken. I need to be reminded of the rules.”

Satisfied, he leans back on his haunches and beckons the other you to his front. There’s a mark on your cheek and it makes his chest squeeze painfully. “Oh, look what you’ve done to your pretty face. My darling wife and her penchant for violence. You’re going to give me more grey hairs.”

“I hope so; you’ll be a silver fox. Yum.”   

A fruitless frustration builds inside – it’s akin to that cuteness aggression you claim overcomes you often, he thinks. Well, he won’t deny himself any longer. He tugs your neck and kisses you. It’s rough, it’s messy, it’s sloppy. And he does it all while keeping his eyes on the you that’s in near tears. “Why don’t you -hah- show my wife how to be a good girl? Show her the reward you deserve.”

“Okay, Ken.”

Leaning back into his firm, sturdy body, you hiss as the threatening stretch of his fat cockhead pushes through the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. Slowly but surely, he’s worming his way into your pulsing cunt. Nanami grunts when he finally bottoms out, balls constricting with the labour of keeping his cum in his balls and not in your pussy prematurely. This is all far too much for him. To be thrusting into you, holding you upright by your arms as you watch his cock shine with your juices, is an insane fantasy he never even dreamed of, but it is his reality and he damn sure will make the most of it. 

“Ngh, tell my wife h-how you’re feeling, sweetheart.”

Breathless, you try to talk despite the delirium-inducing pleasure he’s ramming into your tight cunt. “G-good. I feel good. Ken’s so big a-and I’m feeling so full. Fuck, Ken, fuck me harder.”

The sound of skin slapping, the squelching of your pussy, and the heady moans and grunts are all going straight to his head. Overstimulated, he clutches your breast for a tether, grounded by the weight and the softness. His pace quickens. “Like this? Hmm? You like this, darling?”

“Yes, Ken! Fuck, I’m close. More, Kento. Fuck me more.”

Over your shoulder, he watches you writhe and squirm on the bed, a hand squeezing your breast the way he is and fingers pumping inside your needy cunt at the pace his cock is working its way into your other half. Impatient, you whine. “Hurry, Ken. I want your cock too.”

He licks his lip. Sweaty, eyesight ever so slightly blurry, and growing closer and closer to his climax, urged on by the tight pulsing of your pussy, he continues thrusting inside. “Behave. Can’t you see I’m -ah, fuck- p-pleasuring my wife? Bad girls don’t get to touch, do they? They don’t get to have their cake. And. Eat. It. Ngh. Too!”

To highlight his point, he lets you slip through his grasp. You fall on top of yourself, bouncing breasts pressed tightly against each other. Your face is buried into the crook of your neck, uncaring about how loud your moans are. Nanami finds purchase against your slippery ass and holds it still as he fucks his cock into you, using you as a glorified cock sleeve. 

“Give me something. Anything, Ken. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Nanami grunts. “Open up.”

A fat drop of his spit lands with a plop onto your awaiting tongue. You gulp it down eagerly. Your fingers work themselves inside your cunt even faster, unperturbed by the weight of yourself pinning you to the bed, sweaty and shaking. Dare your husband say, you rather like it. His cock pulses.

“Soon, honey. Just be patient, a-alright? And then I’ll -hah- fill you up. Just have to -ngh- make my wife cum first.” 

Expert hips grind into your tight pussy, cockhead hissing your g-spot and stretching out your gooey walls again and again. If he had it his way, he’d never leave your cunt, but he has a responsibility to make you both cum. He can’t be selfish.

“Ugh, hurry up, you whore,” you mutter into your ear. Then, he sees your mischievous hand trail down your other’s spine until it descends between your legs. When the moans get louder and the clenching of your pussy steals Nanami’s breath, he can only assume you’ve taken matters into your own hands.

You cum around his cock with a scream. 

Hips stuttering, his orgasm soon follows. “Ah, f-fuck! So tight. So fucking good.”

His choked groans are all that can be heard as you lay limp. He too falls to the bed, lying beside your bodies. That had to have been one of the strongest orgasms he had ever had. Never a dull day with you. Just when he thinks he’s got you all figured out, you prove him wrong. What a privilege it is to learn all about you every day for the rest of his life.

“Hey, my turn!”

Brushing back his blond locks, he chuckles to himself as he watches his cock throb back to life. It seems his body has adapted to be sure he can attend to his wife’s needs. Both of them. “Get up here, sweetheart. Take what you want.”

Excited, you shove your other half off and rush to straddle your husband’s hips. You don’t wait; his cock slides inside with ease from your juices. “Oh, god, yessss. Fuck, Ken, I can feel you in my lungs.”

Bracing himself by holding onto your thighs, he can do nothing else against the desperate bouncing of your ass. The pleats inside of your perfect pussy are attempting to wring him dry all over again and Nanami’s abs flex with the building pressure. His cock is still recovering and it’s sensitive but you don’t care. Now, he’s the one being used like a mere toy. 

“S-slow down, honey.” He hisses. “Hah, slow -hngh!- d-down.”

“Hmm, shit, Kento. Y-you’ve gotten so big…” Ignoring his pleas, you must be referring to the layer of fat that’s grown on his body, thanks to the delicious food you’ve been cooking for him. Wholly embracing married life by skipping visits to the gym in lieu of staying longer in bed with you, he’s realised that his clothes no longer fit as they did. It’s embarrassing for a man who prided himself in being fit and put together but it gets you so wet and so needy, he doesn’t dare change a thing. “I want to -ah ah ah fuuuuck- drown in you.”

His chuckle is punctuated by the grunts that your incessant bouncing is forcing out of him. “If it’ll make you happy, my love.”

You clench down. 

“Ah, don’t -oh fuck- squeeze so tight.” He reaches for your clit, thumbing at it. You yelp, hips bouncing faster. Looking so absolutely beautiful, he can’t keep his eyes off the recoiling breasts in his line of vision. Suddenly, his mouth is suffocated with something hot, wet, and delicious. “Hmmph!”

You’ve sat on his face, leaning forward on his stomach, clearly keen to be involved once more in the fun. Submerged in your scent and taste, he doesn’t hesitate to slurrrrrrp! up your juices. He can taste his cum too and it dribbles down his chin. Cunt wrapped around his cock and another leaking wetness right into his mouth, Nanami swears he’s in heaven, delirious with the devastating gratification of pleasuring his wife. “Ride me faster…my face…my cock…that’s it, dear…doing so -ngh- great for me…my -hah hah- perfect wife.”

Lapping up your juices, he throbs when you squeal on his tongue.

“Is that how I really sound when you eat me out? Ew.”

Other you growls. “And is that what I really look like when I ride you?”

SMACK!

SMACK!

“Don’t t-talk badly about yourself. I won’t have it.”

Rubbing your sore ass, you mumble, “Mmm, sorry, Ken.”

“Yeah, s-sorry.”

Soon, you three work back into a punishing rhythm. Nanami hates to be so strict, but he can’t bear to hear you be so mean to yourself. It makes the hairs on his arms stand. If his eyes aren’t rolling to the back of his head, he’d lecture you about the importance of loving yourself. Again. But he can’t string full sentences together. Not right now. Now when you’re all so close. 

Your clit is bumping against his nose whilst his tongue pierces your cunt and he wonders if you can both feel the specific kind of bliss the other is – a cock kissing your g-spot, filling you up, and your pussy being thoroughly ravished by his greedy mouth. 

“Yes, Ken, suck my clit…hmm, just like that… yes yes yessss.”

“Fuck, Ken, your cock feels so good. I love it! More more more. I need it.”

Whatever his wife wants, he’ll oblige. Planting his feet, he fucks up into you, jostling your body. You shriek. His pace is relentless, merciless, and they push you further and further until your climax nears. Off balance, your face falls in between other you’s breasts. Whatever you’re doing to those tits he loves so much is making his wife’s eyes roll to the back of her head too. 

Nanami’s nearing his end. He needs you to get there first. Always. “Come on, sweetheart. Make me –ah make Kento– proud, won’t you? Let me h-hear, feel a-and taste my darling wife -hah- cum.”

“Yes, Ken!” You both screech.

And soon after, your husband finds himself covered in a flood of your juices. 

“FUCK!” 

“SHIT!”

“OH GOD!”

Nails dig into his skin, scratching and stinging. The grip you have on his cock tightens until he’s robbed of his breath and forced over, hips pumping up into your scalding cunt. Your moans are muffled between your breasts when his searing cum paints your walls white. 

Clinging to each other, the three of you black out. 

Minutes or hours later, Nanami is the first to wake. Finally, the sight that greets him is not anomalous or extraordinary – it’s just his wife, singular and whole, draped naked across his lap and snoring. He’s trying to catch his breath, staring down at your sleeping form. “I’ve -hah- tired you out, huh? Poor thing.”

Just as he wanted, he’s covered in sweat and your juices, owned by you in every way possible. This is how he’d like to spend the rest of his life if he could: attending to your needs and drawing out a smile even in your sleep. He pets your head, a shaky smile on his lips. Your eyes flutter open. 

“There’s my beautiful wife. Hi. I’ve missed you, darling.”

Groggily, you ask, “Am I fixed now, Kenny?”

Bringing up your face to his, he skims his nose against the tip of yours. “You were never broken to begin with, my love.”

“That’s sweet…can we go eat now? I’m hungry.”

Petting your pussy and seeking out your heat as if his fingers are magnetised to it, he whispers against your lips, “You can take one more round, can’t you, honey? For me? For Kento?”

You both know it won’t stop at just one round. 

It never does. 

And thank fuck.

[mindurs404k]

its OK 2 B Ugly AF & get no Game

[mindurs404k]

[mindurs404k]

This 100% happened yall I know it did

(Also shot in the dark but can y’all spot the 40 year old movie reference in this haha)

[mindurs404k]

The tongue piercing of unimaginable joy |

Sukuna x Fem! Reader

Inspired by the delicious fan art above by @/hunnismokah!!!

MDNI

Content: piercer! Reader, sukuna is a freak, inappropriate use of a stomach mouth, needles, making out with sukuna’s stomach, face sitting (kind of?), oral f. receiving, p i v, doggy style, creampie

A/N: finally got it done after like three weeks. this is absolutely freaked right out to the max. Enjoy🫶🏻

As a piercer, you’ve seen a lot of freaky shit. Some scary shit, honestly.

Rejected and angry piercings of all kinds, insane requests for you to poke holes in body parts that shouldn’t be named. You’ve seen people faint and vomit. You’ve seen blood, pus, and other bodily fluids.

You’ve quite literally seen it all.

Or- well, you thought you had.

Your whole world tilted on its axis on what started as a relatively normal day.

The sun was shining through the shop windows, and some soothing music played through a small speaker on your station desk. Nobody had passed out yet, and you had an appointment for a midline tongue piercing later, something you’d done a hundred times.

Easy.

Then, he showed up. Tattoos all over his body- wide, dark bands that marked his thick muscles, and a general air about him that said “don’t fuck with me if you want to keep all of your teeth”. Your immediate thought was that a tongue piercing would look good on him.

Too good, maybe.

Now imagine your surprise, when he caught you staring at his tongue while he spoke, said “not that tongue, stupid.” and lifted his shirt to reveal a second mouth with- you guessed it, a second tongue. It flopped out comically and waved at you through sharp canines as if to say “down here, dummy!”

So, yes, the day started off normally. But it ended with you crouching in front of a very toned abdomen, gripping a flexing, wide tongue with P-clamps, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with its owner.

The situation was bizarre enough, but the added stress of the simple fact that he was objectively an extremely hot man creeped up your spine like wildfire, leaving your cheeks hot. You were made aware, too aware of the strong thighs clad only in adidas shorts while fit snugly between them, watching the muscle flex while he shifted his legs wider around you. And you were definitely made aware of the bulging abs you kept accidentally making eye contact with, slopes of muscle that had you unconsciously clenching your thighs together.

You just wanted to get this weird- and strangely, inappropriately arousing ass situation over with. It was the last appointment of the day, and all the other piercers were already cleaning and packing up, heading out the front door to leave you with this strange, sexy monster you couldn’t figure out if you were scared of or insanely attracted to.

Probably both.

You grabbed the sterilized 14 gauge needle, told him to take in a deep breath (he ignored you in favour of staring intently at your face like he was trying to explode you with his mind) and slid it through the anomaly of a tongue.

He hadn’t even flinched- not a breath, not a blink. Just stared at you in that searching way, like he was peeling back layers of you and making himself cozy under your skin- like he belonged there.

“I was told they were pleasurable.” He grunted down at you in a voice that did strange things to your thoughts while you slipped the silver jewelry inside.

You squinted up at him, unconsciously eyeing the beautiful way his features were put together, confused at his words.

“Tongue piercings.” He clarified, almost exasperated like you should have figured it out already, like you instantly should have caught the direction the conversation was going in.

You paused while screwing the threaded end on, eyes flickering back upwards to meet red ones. “Pleasurable?” The questioned slipped out while you tried to ignore the drool dripping down your gloved hand.

Tried.

Was he some kind of masochist? getting off from the pain of a needle going through his tongue? He didn’t really look like the type. Honestly, he sort of looked like the opposite of a masochist-

“For the receiver.” He bluntly cut off your unprofessional train of thought, but unfortunately led you down an even darker alleyway of sinful visualizations.

Oh.

For the receiver.

You stared at him after you’d finished inserting the jewelry, your gloved hands lying limply at your sides. You didn’t instantly move to get up, and he grinned down at you like the sight of his teeth alone could swallow you whole.

You cleared your throat, maybe trying to break whatever spell was being cast between you, before finally moving back from the overwhelming heat of his body to fiddle with the tools at your station.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Guess I’ve heard that.” But he stayed seated, eyeing you like you were a snack he wanted to feed to his stomach mouth for easy digestion.

“So you’ve tried it.” It wasn’t a question, more of an angry statement while he stared at you like there was a magnetic pull from his eyes to your body.

What was this guys fucking deal?

You raised a brow, flicking your tongue over the roof of your mouth to confirm you didn’t have a polished piece of metal there. “Uh, I don’t have a-“

“I was talking about being on the receiving end, dumbass.” The parchment crinkled under him when he stood from the bench, stalking forward to crowd you against your desk.

Your brain stalled.

He was asking if you’ve ever been eaten out with a tongue piercing.

Right…

“I- uh…” you stared dumbly up at him, suddenly all too aware of the dwindling inches between you- all too aware of his red eyes that set every inch of you on fire, that were flickering up and down like he was sizing you up.

For some reason, you were afraid to tell the truth. Afraid of what this failed science experiment turned extremely hot man was going to take from it- take from you.

But his prying gaze was too much, and it forced out a tiny “no” from your clenched teeth.

He seemed to like that answer, judging by his wolfish grin and the way he dragged a big hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trailing his fingers down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Good.” He hummed. “I’ll let you be the first to try it out then.”

Any normal, respectable piercer would have scoffed and shoved him out the door. You, however, were clearly not one, because instead of saying no, you whispered out “you need to let the piercing heal for five weeks first.” hurriedly like it would shield you from him and the things his presence was doing to your body.

And, of course, Sukuna just smirked like he’d won a million dollars. “See you in five weeks, then.”

And then he was gone, the shop bell jingling with his exit. You had stood there, a strange intoxicating concoction of fear and arousal swirling in your lower stomach while your heart pounded away in your chest like you’d just narrowly escaped a bear attack.

You hadn’t expected to ever see him again.

Now, imagine your surprise when exactly five weeks after your appointment you spot a large, tattooed, unmistakable form standing at the bar while you’re out for some drinks with a couple of piercer friends.

“Oh my god, is that him??? Mr. stomach mouth? Wow, he really is hot. Like, smoking. Like, I’d let him ruin my life hot.”

While your friend Mia was a great piercer, unfortunately she was really bad at keeping her mouth shut. And, unfortunately, she was already several drinks in. Enough to squash her volume control into nothing.

Sukuna’s head whips around to your table like a shark that just smelled blood in the water.

You barely contain a gasp when his heated eyes land on you, drinking you up like you’d just been served over the bar counter for him.

“Oh my god, he’s totally coming over here! Dude, he looks like he’s going to-“

“- shutupshutupshutup- oh, uh- hey! Long time no see.” Your smile wobbles when your eyes drag up his large frame, noting the way his shirt hugs the abs that you were already eerily familiar with.

Jesus, did he somehow get bigger from last time?

Sukuna peers down his nose at you like you’re gum he’s trying to peel off the table. “I need you to check if my piercing is healed.”

Wow, okay. Has he ever heard of the word hello?Are pleasantries a foreign concept to him, just like getting a shirt that isn’t two sizes too small seems to be?

Your friends cast bewildered glances at you, like you have any explanation for why this freakshow of a man was so damn strange. “I’ll- uh… need to wash my hands first.”

He just grunts and follows you like a dog when you head to the washroom, into the single stall and locking the door behind you two.

You- admittedly stupidly- don’t protest because, well, it would probably be better to do it in private without people gazing at you like you’re inspecting a gaping hole in his stomach.

That might raise some unwanted questions.

You wash your hands intricately, making sure to get every crevice a germ could possibly be hiding in, for health and safety reasons. Sukuna glares a hole in your back, tapping his foot impatiently like he’s never heard of health and safety in his goddamn life.

“Jesus, are you scrubbing in for surgery? Hurry the fuck up.”

You sigh and turn the tap off with your elbow, drying your hands on a paper towel before approaching him, cautiously. “You don’t want it to get infected, right?” He grumbles, peeling his shirt up to give you access to the bizarre piece of him you unfortunately hadn’t hallucinated.

Like it had a mind of its own, it grins at you sharply before opening wide. Sharp, white canines split to frame his pink tongue, nesting the metal ball you’d placed there weeks ago.

You notice then, acutely, that it does not drop its tongue out for you.

With a jostling shiver, you come to the dazzling conclusion that you really, really don’t want to stick your fingers in there.

Sharply, accusingly, you glare up at him. “Are you going to bite my fingers off?”

he just rolls his red eyes like he doesn’t look like the type. “If I wanted to bite your fingers off, I would have done it already.”

Alright… that doesn’t really help you feel any better, but whatever.

With a deep breath, you power on, hesitantly sticking your thumb and pointer in between too-large canines that you’re trying not to look at.

He sighs when you grab the muscle gently, and you can’t tell if it’s a happy sound or not. But you slowly drag the slick muscle out anyways- eager to free yourself from his wide jaws that look like they have the same psi as a pit bull.

Looking for any signs of irritation, you eye the smooth ball of metal in the centre of his large tongue, watching as saliva pools in the centre. There’s no redness, pus, or blood.

The tongue wiggles in your hold, as if trying to pull you in closer. You shudder.

“Well, doc? What do you think?” You ignore the jab at your earlier hand washing with an eye roll, taking one last lingering look at the metal.

“Looks healed to me.”

Just as you’re about to pull away, a big hand lands on the back of your head, keeping you in place right in front of his stomach mouth.

Your back is hunched uncomfortably like this, and as much as you don’t want to kneel on the grimy bathroom floor, your knees are forced to hit the tile with a thud anyways. Your hands fly out to his thighs to stabilize yourself, accidentally squeezing at the hard muscle there.

“Prove it.”

You squint up at him through the flickering bathroom light, wondering if maybe he’s lost his goddamn mind. (Though you’re starting to suspect he never had it in the first place. Guy with the stomach mouth? Huh, who would have thought).

“What? how?” The fabric of your pants shuffle in the silence from the way you rub your thighs together, because this scene was starting to do some very, very naughty things to your brain. Who can blame you, when he glares down at you like that, when his hand shuffles in your hair and his nails scrape against your scalp.

“Prove it’s healed, with your tongue.” He grunts out, and you almost think your knees are going to give out underneath you.

Prove it’s healed. With your tongue.

Makeout with his stomach.

He doesn’t really give you time to process or make any sort of decision, because he drags your head forward- gently, and shoves you into his second mouth.

It’s… odd. Not in an entirely unpleasant way, but it’s definitely different. Especially when a too-big tongue slides into your mouth, nearly filling it, licking along your gums and sliding between your teeth like it owned the damn place.

When you feel the telltale hot metal ball running over your own tongue though, sliding pointedly along the nerves there, your head spins and your thighs shake. You lost in it, running your tongue over the crevice of the piercing and moaning when his tongue pushes in further. Almost forgetting what you’re even there for, until he drags you away from his mouth.

The world spins, the mouth-watering abs in front of you coming into focus until he uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head back to look him in his eyes.

“so?” You might be imagining it, but his voice sounds deeper, rougher than before.

all you can reply is a breathless “huh?”

“Is. it. healed.” He somehow always manages to make questions sound like threats, and it makes your eyes widen, thighs grip each other tighter.

“I- uh- yeah. It’s healed.” His eyes darken then, into something sharp and promising, and he reaches down to grab you under the elbows like a stray cat, setting you down on two unsteady feet.

“Great. Let’s not waste any more time then.” He ushers you out of the stall bathroom like his stomach hadn’t just kissed you stupid, like you had any idea at all of where you were headed.

“Uh- okay.”

He certainly wastes no time getting out of the bar, barely giving you a chance to wave goodbye to your smirking friends before dragging you out into the cool street, over to the parking lot where he ushers you in to the passenger side of what you assume (hope) is his car.

Despite every self defence and women’s safety book you’ve ever read, your guardian angel cringes when you let him shut the door, buckling yourself in while you watch him get in the drivers side.

“So, where are we going, exactly?”

Sukuna seems to be getting tired of how slow you are on the uptake, an angry tick forming in his brow. “Back to mine, obviously.” He grumbles.

“Why the fuck would that be obvious?”

“I already told you, that you’re going to be the first to try out my piercing. Now shut up and sit tight.”

Normally, you would squawk back after someone told you to shut up- especially a man. but you’re too busy hanging onto the first part of his sentence to really fight back all that much.

With a jolt to your stomach, your mind reels back to that conversation you had all those weeks ago, when sukuna promised to eat you out with his brand new tongue piercing once it was healed.

And now, it’s healed.

Before you know it, he’s pulling up to an unfamiliar apartment building in a well-off neighbourhood, practically dragging you out of the car while you barely manage to get your seatbelt off.

During the elevator ride up to his apartment, he makes sure to get you familiar with his face mouth, too. Kissing you silly against the ugly wallpaper and groping at anything he can reach until you mewl into his mouth.

You know now that both mouths are greedy, both tongues slide against your own like they’ve got something to prove, like they’re telling you what else they can do.

When the elevator dings, you squeal as your view tilts and he lifts you into his shoulder like a wriggling sack of potatoes, fisting the back of his shirt in panic. He has one hand gripping the back of your thigh while he makes his way to his apartment, dangerously close to where you know you’re dripping wet for him, and you squeeze your eyes shut as blood rushes to your head, heating your cheeks red-hot.

You half expect him to bang your head on his doorway in his haste, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he carefully steps through, probably deciding to leave all the brain damage for when he’s fucking you stupid.

you certainly won’t complain about that.

You do squawk in protest when he drops you from his shoulder onto his mattress, though. But quickly forget about it when he climbs over you, placing two possessive hands on either side of your head.

“Been waiting to do this forever.” And like he has absolutely no patience left in his system, he tears off your shirt like it just flipped him off, giving the same rough treatment to your pants, taking your underwear along with them while he’s at it.

“It was just five- ah! w-weeks.” His sheets are soft under your head when it tilts back in pleasure, a moan ripping from your throat while he sucks a dark bruise into the curve of your neck.

“Felt like five fucking months.”

For a guy who seemed oh so impatient to get you here, he spends an awfully long amount of time marking your throat, dragging his teeth down to suck a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive skin.

You squirm under him, back arching up into his greedy mouth, unconsciously grinding down against his thigh in between your legs, moaning at the friction while he smirks into your chest.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you?” He pulls back from you to tare his shirt off, staring at the ruined look on your face, eyeing the way your hips squirm in search of any friction he’ll allow.

You huff, ready to argue that he was the one who dragged you from the bar and was definitely the only desperate one here. but like he sensed you were about to disagree, his grip on your waist turns to steel and he flips the two of you around, setting you down on his lower stomach.

Right in front of his … friend, who was grinning at you like it knew what was coming.

Sukuna grinds his hips upwards, jostling you forward and making you catch yourself on his chest, hands instantly gripping the thick muscle there greedily.

“C’mon, brat, sit-“ he uses his grip on your waist to drag you forward those few extra inches, right over top of his second mouth, instantly pressing you down, hard.

The first broad, wet swipe has you keening, your hips instinctively jerking back at the overwhelming pleasure but sukuna holds you steady.

It’s odd- he has full view of your face like this, he can stare at the way your eyes squeeze shut, the way your mouth drops open in a moan while his other mouth does all the work. He doesn’t have to split his attention, and it makes you feel all the more exposed. He can watch every single reaction- can calculate exactly how good he’s making you feel.

Does this count as face sitting or ab riding? Can it be both? How many unspoken rules are you breaking here, exactly?

All thoughts are jolted from your head when you feel it- that little ball of metal. An addition to his tongue that honestly should be illegal with the way it allows him to pinpoint your clit, circling around while your arms give out underneath you, crushing you against Sukuna’s broad chest while you moan into his neck.

“Mmh, does that feel good?” His breath is hot against your ear, his teasing tone shooting straight down your spine and into your pussy.

All you can do is moan in response, hips twitching forward and back- unsure of whether to run away or towards the blinding pleasure, but his iron grip gives no leeway.

You can feel the moment he doubles down, the curl of his tongue against you turning mean, all malicious intent behind every swirl. And you swiftly realize that you severely underestimated the control he has over his second tongue, because the way he flicks the piercing against you feels damn near weaponized- like he’s thought about it a thousand times before.

You can feel the promise of your orgasm creeping up the base of your spine, hips starting to grind down into his wet muscle, feeling the hot metal roll against you. But it’s only when he grips a hand into your hair and tilts your head back to watch your face intently that it roars through you like a punch to the gut, choking out all the air in your lungs while your jaw drops open and hips lock up against him.

His tongue pushes you through your orgasm, right until the last aftershocks.

But then, it doesn’t stop. Even while you twitch in overstimulation, your eyes widening in panic.

“W-wait! I can’t-“ he just grips your twitching hips harder against him, dragging his tongue down to your entrance to push inside while you groan at the stretch.

“Can’t what, brat?” You’re trying to listen to his words, but the curl of his tongue inside you has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “You made me wait five whole weeks and you’re only going to give me one? Fuck, no.”

And just like that, he’s fucking you with his studded tongue until you’re moaning brokenly, gripping a hand into his pink hair while he groans at the feeling of you clenching down on him.

Impossibly, the second orgasm is even sharper, more intense than the first. It sears through you like wildfire until you lay boneless on top of him, and only then does he stop.

- only to flip you back over underneath him, grinning at the whine that falls from your lips when he frees his throbbing dick to rub it against your clit, circling down to tease your entrance.

“Think you’re ready for me, sweetheart?” He doesn’t even give you a chance to say yes before he’s pushing in that first inch, stretching you out until your head presses back and your jaw drops open, unable to make a sound at the overwhelming stretch.

He groans- something deep and guttural as his hips twitch forward like they want to slam home all in one. He hesitates though, just barely. Probably conscious of the fact that his dick is a monster and would split you open in one go. So he slowly grinds into you instead, giving you time to adjust, time to feel every vein rub against your walls. Spreading you in slow thrusts until he’s bumping against your cervix.

You pant into the air between you, meeting his heated gaze with your own, watching the way his eyes flick from where the two of you are connected and back up to your face.

The restraint on his features is clear, along with the iron grip on your waist- and watching him struggle to keep his hips from moving sends flares of heat through you.

You don’t really mean to- it’s more of an experiment, really, when you squeeze down around him, hard. But the breath is knocked out of you when he groans deeply and drags his hips back, slamming them forward again.

He glares down at you, gripping the back of your thighs and bending forward until you’re squashed against the mattress like a bug.

“You want to play dirty, brat?”

And then he’s fucking you for real. Long, hard snaps of his strong hips that have your eyes rolling back into your head. Your moans getting caught in his mouth when he leans down and connects it to yours.

His hips are just as mean as his tongue, like they were made precisely to ruin you, genetically engineered to make you see stars, especially when he thrusts up and-

“Fuck!” All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut when he rams into your sweet spot, sending jolts of lightning through your nerves.

You can already feel it- the telltale heat creeping up your spine, just from a few snaps of his hips.

“Yeah? Right there-?“ he emphasizes the word with a precise thrust in the exact same spot like it’s a bullseye he’s aiming at, leaving your jaw hanging open with moans that you couldn’t stop if you tried. And then he does it again, and again, and again until you’re locking up underneath him, moaning his name with your orgasm.

You spasm, thighs twitching under his hands and eyes rolling back into your head at the absolute bliss that washes over you. Every sharp pound into the back of your pussy pushing you further and further.

Sukuna moans while you clench, his grip turning harder against you.

“Shit, you’re fucking- tight-” It’s almost a struggle for him to keep fucking you through it while you squeeze around him, sucking the thoughts right out of his brain. He almost cums right there- but the sheer need to feel you reach another high keeps his hips still, waiting for you to stop spasming around him like you were trying to cut off his blood flow.

You’re spent, panting up into the air, barely conscious as he pulls out and flips you onto your stomach underneath him, tilting your hips up and rubbing through your folds until you whine.

He lines himself back up, both of you groaning while he slides in.

Everything is tighter at this angle- when he bottoms out, he hits up against something devastating inside you, something that makes tears gather at your lower lash line.

Then he pulls out, and slams back in, and you’re officially fucked right out. Your arms collapse underneath you, muffling your squealed moans against his sheets, until he plants a big hand in your hair and drags you up so his breath hits the back of your neck.

“Tell me how good I’m fucking you.” He thrusts harder, faster- making you choke up, your eyes rolling back at the searing heat- fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You don’t reply, too brainless to even process a response.

“Tell-“ one thrust. “-me.” Then another, meaner thrust, until you’re babbling-

“Yes! S-so- ah! So good! Fucking me sooo good-“ your words are choked off when he doubles down, reaching a hand around to circle your clit while he angles his hips upwards and fucks you until you cum around him, hard.

Probably the hardest you ever have.

“Fuuuuuck yes, give it to me. Keep fucking squeezing-“ the feeling of your walls around him pushes him into his own high. Thick spurts of cum hit the very back of your pussy while he groans brokenly, his chest collapsing onto you and effectively squashing you to the mattress while you both twitch.

Panting in the aftermath, you can feel him smirk against your shoulder blade, and a rush of adrenaline and fear surge through you.

“Now it’s your turn.” His words are husky, panted against you.

Huh? What could he possibly want from you now, after he fucked you completely brainless into his mattress? You couldn’t stand up right now if your fucking life depended on it.

“It’s your turn to get a tongue piercing.” His smirk turns evil against your skin. You can feel his teeth. “It’s only fair. don’t you think, brat?”

[mindurs404k]

“I like noses, I like big noses—because you can um… yknow, sit on them…….”

content: mdni, smut (18+) hiromi higuruma x fem!reader, eating u out, a fantasy from my freaky ass mind

A/N: the famous Doja Cat said this in an interview and I AGREEEEEE 🤓 gimme ur nose HIROMI

Hiromi Higuruma doesn’t understand why you stare at his face so much. Or more specifically, why you stare at his nose so much.

It’s a large, sharp nose, and one of his most prominent features, he gets it. But still, he can’t help but feel a little self conscious at how you, his cute new girlfriend, likes to poke and glance at it every so often as you both cuddle during movie nights.

The moment it finally clicked for him, though, was the first time your pussy was on his face.

Grinding and grinding— so much grinding—of your hips. That’s when it clicks. Your hands in his short dark locks, pulling him even closer to your pussy. And him? Goddamn, he’s a man starved.

He licks, flicks, and thrusts his tongue in your slick cunt, all while holding your trembling soft thighs still as you sit on his face. He’s devouring you, and the added sensation of his big nose pressing into your clit—oh my—makes you feel like you’re in heaven.

He shifts his face, pressing his nose as close as he can into your pretty, slick, wet hole, wanting nothing more than for you to fucking cum on his face. Nothing would make him happier than to taste more of you.

He groans into your pussy, the added vibration making your walls clench in need. Hiromi’s a messy eater, and tasting your juices is making his thighs clench and his cock harden, forming a tent in his boxers.

It doesn’t take long when you finally do cum. He makes sure his eyes are trained on you from below, wanting to see the fucked out, blissful expression on your face.

He can’t help but grin widely as you move away from his face and slump into the pillows, panting.

“If you wanted to feel my nose on your pussy, you could’ve just asked, love.”

[mindurs404k]

[mindurs404k]

thinking about how nanami’s personality does a whole 180 when he’s drunk.

sober nanami is all quiet control, buttoned-up tension, and low-effort elegance. he moves with purpose. speaks in perfect timing. never lets himself slip.

but drunk nanami?

drunk nanami is a mess.

not tipsy. not buzzed. drunk.like shirt unbuttoned three buttons down, tie hanging out of a back pocket, eyes heavy and glassy as he stares at your mouth mid-sentence

he gets flirtyand not suave, calculated flirty. he’s all breathy “you always look this good or is that just the gin talking?” while leaning against your shoulder like you’re gravity itself

he gets handsy rubs your thigh under the table tucks your hair behind your ear cups your face and whispers “you’ve got a really beautiful face, you know that?” like it’s the most tragic thing he’s ever said

he starts calling you pet names he’s never said sober

“sweetheart” “my love” “baby” like he’s trying it on for size and then immediately falling in love with the way it tastes in his mouth

and when someone else tries to flirt with you? he’s behind you in a second pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear, all low and unsteady “tell them you’re mine, darling. or I’ll have to make a scene.”

and the thing is? he means it. because drunk nanami feels everything too much and when you get him alone?

he kisses you like he’s drowning

his hands are everywhere not coordinated like usual no graceful unbuckling or perfect pacing he fumbles with your top and lets out a frustrated groan when it won’t slide off right

“fuck– sorry. I’m usually not–” “this drunk?” you offer, breathless

he laughs into your neck warm and soft and ruined “this clumsy.”

he pushes you onto the bed and climbs over you with a kind of heavy desperation his hands are shaking a little his breath is hot and uneven as he mouths at your chest, your throat, your jaw “need you,” he mutters “need you right now. can’t think. you’re all I want.”

he eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your pleasure a little messy a little too eager tongue slipping just off-target until he finds the right spot and groans like it physically hurts to feel you twitch against his mouth

his fingers tremble when he slides them in slower than usual thicker, deeper

when he finally gets inside you he gasps actually gasps like he’s never done it before like he can’t believe you’re letting him

“shit, you feel good– so fucking good– please, sweetheart– please don’t let me mess this up.”

and it’s not the usual Nanami rhythm not smooth or paced he thrusts in shaky, desperate rolls of his hips brow furrowed, lips parted, hands gripping your waist like he needs the anchor

he’s so far gone so in it so full of whimpers and please and don’t stop looking at me

you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer because this version of him? this raw, undone, needy-drunk version? you love him too

he comes with his face buried in your neck muffled curse full-body shudder holds you through it like you’re the last soft thing he’s allowed to touch

the morning after? he wakes up with his head against your chest hair a mess shirt half on

and the moment he realizes what happened, he groans softly and covers his face with one hand “…did I talk a lot?” you grin, already pulling the sheet up around your chest

“you begged,” you say sweetlyhe lets out the softest, most horrified sigh and doesn’t make eye contact for three hours

[mindurs404k]

"Do I still turn you on?"

Your stupid question came just after you kissed your husband good night, his silver brows furrowed while his hands rested on the band of his cotton pajamas. He had just pulled them up after drying himself from his bath, his bare torso still balmy and beaded with unwiped water.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well, we've been married for this long now," your fingers playfully wiggled as you counted the number of anniversaries you've celebrated with him. "I'm just wondering if you still think I'm pretty and all..."

Satoru's lips pursed into a thin line, a small sigh escaping his mouth as he stomped over to your side of the bed and unceremoniously pulled down his pajamas right in front of your face.

"T-Toru! What the—!" You exclaimed, dropping your hairbrush in complete disbelief. His wide shadow loomed over you as you sat on the edge of your shared bed, as though hiding this sight from the rest of the world.

His boxers were tented uncomfortably, the kind he always teased you with whenever you were in close proximity. He'd grab you as soon as you were within an arm's length away and rub against you until you melted like putty and played into his hands.

He seized your wrist and brought your palm against his crotch, hard, throbbing, twitching almost painfully— and it made you swallow deep.

He had an erection.

Satoru watched your expression through his feathery lashes and lidded eyes, his hand moving to cup your chin. "What does it look like? Does this look like I'm not turned on by my wife?"

It was a stupid question, indeed, and the answer was there even before you aired it out loud.

You rubbed the tip of his cock with your warm palm, your fingers gently closing around his length as you stroked him, his expression softening as he saw how embarrassed you were— for even asking such a question.

A glint of mischief darkened your husband's baby blue eyes, a twinkle of adoration and desire lighting his features as he completely dropped his pajamas to the floor. "You better stop asking stupid questions because you're never gonna get any stupid answers from me, only real ones."

[mindurs404k]

What do you think of a farmer!reader x Sanemi? 👀

the stardew valley brainrot has taken over with the demon slayer mod

Farmer!Reader and farmhand!Sanemi? You mean a big, strong man who can help you sling vegetables and fruits in half the time? The one you call when a dumb piece of farm equipment breaks down, even though you’re more than capable of fixing it yourself because he’s liable to get sweaty and wipe his brow with the hem of his t-shirt, letting you sneak a peek at those sinfully toned abs you fantasize running your tongue over?

Farmhand!Sanemi, whose skin is a delicious nut brown under the blazing heat of the sun, who has hair the color (and texture) of cornsilk. He’s quick to help you with something heavy and you’re quick to let him — any chance to ogle those biceps, right?

Oh, but he’s also sweet even if in a gruff sort of way. Maybe not super talkative, at least, not at first. Ply him with enough iced tea and a few sweet treats, however, and he’ll gradually open up. Sure, he probably doesn’t know how to flirt (no matter how hard you try), but he does know how to fix that one burner on your stove that doesn’t work, or the tear in your screen door. Some days you walk back into your house and find him tackling another project you didn’t know needed attention, but you’re always happy for the help.

And Sanemi might be dense when it comes to the affairs of the heart, but he knows he watches you as much as you watch him. Too often he finds himself fixating on how tenderly you plant your seeds, your hands delicate but precise. Would your fingers comb through his hair the same way they rake through the dirt, confident but gentle? Day after day, he watches you coax life and abundance out of even the most stubborn little plant. He can’t help but wonder whether you might be able to do the same to him. If you haven’t already begun to do so.

Don’t even get me started on his hands. How big and warm they would be, or how, despite the roughness of the thick calluses lining his fingers and palm, they would be so gentle sliding down your waist or running between your thighs…

Oh yes, sweet anon, I am a VERY big fan of this idea.

[mindurs404k]

Uh oh, wedding got ruined 🥀