#a red cherry on a white-tiled floor

[soracities]

Maram al-Massri, from A Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor (trans. Khaled Mattawa) [ID'd]

[tonycries]

50 Shades of Kento - N.K.

Synopsis. You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! flirty!reader, CEO! Nanami, office AU, pánty-stealing, jealousy (Nanami’s side), Higuruma cameo, he goes FÉRAL, ROUGH S, chokíng, semi-public, manhandIing, p talking, p sIapping, spítting, slight angry s, he’s BIG, cervíx kíssing, talking you through it, oraI (fem rec.), creampíes, cúmplay, male mast., ínnuendos, no curses AU, slight bóndage, use of “work wife”, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CEO Nanami? I wanna be SAVED.

“-the boss looks really mad-”

“-where’s he storming off to before the meeting?”

“Bet he’s going to fire someone again-”

Now, it’s not like Nanami Kento intentionally built himself such a painfully strict reputation in the office. 

In fact, he’d spent the first few months as CEO wondering just what he might have done to make it so that none of his employees could even look him in the eye. Hell, they barely even seemed to breathe whenever he passed by. 

All of them except you - that pretty new hire always buzzing around his department. Even when it might not be too…professional. 

But, right now, professionalism was the last thing on his mind. 

“Dammit. Dammit.” Nanami’s hissing, sharp edges of his pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip to stifle away a ragged moan. Hard enough to bruise when he shuts the nearest bathroom stall with a resounding clatter! “B-before a meeting, too-”

Barely wasting even a split-second before unbuckling his belt and inching his greedy hand past the too-tight hem-

All because of you and that damn skirt.

“God fucking dammit-” His voice tumbles out in heady puffs into the air, murked with a growling tint of desperation.

Fingers usually so dexterous and deft whenever he’s typing away, now fumbling with the mere latch on his stubborn zipper. He’s spitting out a few slews of profanities before panting out an impatient tut and all but ripping his formal slacks down to his knees. 

Nanami’s sculpted thighs weaken, smearing out widely as he leans his back against the firmly shut door with a groan. Cold against his feverish body. 

Shit, he’d barely even touched himself yet already feels like he’s melting.

Because Nanami wasn’t just rock-hard - it was as if his swollen cock was built out of fucking diamonds. 

Hot. Heavy. Sobbing out a glistening streak of precum that slobbers access his washboard abs and wayyy down to his tawny happy trail. He wanted you. He needed you. 

“Fuh-fuck!” He gasps, instantaneously clamping his delirious mouth shut. Loosening that yellow speckled tie just so he can breathe, “Never been sooo fucking h-hard. Shit this isn’t- fuck.”

Achy red shaft throbbing out a needy ba-dump—! in his meaty palm, ribbons of treacly pre splatter in copious torrents down to his angled wrist. He’s making such a puddling mess all over the tiled floor, swiping up the fatly padded curve of his thumb to plug up those never-ending droplets. 

“N’ this is all your hngh- fucking fault.” Nanami’s canines glint in the dimmed lighting, snarled at that strawberry pink blush on his mushroomed tip. The very same shade of pink to match your flimsy panties today. Fuck. “Should fire you. Should really, r-really…”

But the heaving man can’t even finish those syllables, can barely even finish his thought before it’s once more overtaken by that image of you from only a few simple minutes ago. 

Knees bent to pick up some useless document for the meeting, too-short skirt hiking up just enough to flash him a good eyeful of your cute pink panties. You looked like the sweetest fucking dessert in it, and that adorable bow fastened onto your underwear was just the erotic cherry on top. 

That memory was going to burn behind his lids for the rest of his life. And oh, he could tell. 

That glint in your gorgeous eyes - how you’d batted your lashes up at him in exactly the way that made him gulp - told him everything he needed to know. 

You knew. Oh, how you pissed him off. 

“Sh-shit.” The thought makes Nanami’s poor heart race, plump balls twitching oh-so-eagerly when he dips into the side of his pants pocket to pull out something treasured. His secret good luck charm. “Know exactly what you’re fucking- hah- doing t’me. W-with your damn panties, n’ those skirts I hate and- and-”

And if anyone else had seen the uptight CEO of Jujutsu Tech right now, then they would have fainted. Undoubtely. Because dipping out of his pocket, he’s pulling out nothing but a frilly black garter.

Yours.

The very same one you’d “accidentally” slipped off in your chair after a meeting with him last month.

“Mmm—” He’s drinking back a few swallows of candied saliva once he brings the gauzy fabric up to his nose and sniffs. Long. Hard. The stuffy stall air notches up a few scorching degrees higher when Nanami curls his free digits around his bulky base and squeezes. “Bet that pretty pussy smells even s-sweeter.”

The thought only makes his slacked maw water even more guiltily. Bet you taste sweeter, too.

And like an animal, Nanami’s hunching his Herculean body over to spit out a steady stream of saliva right onto the bawling divot in the middle of his bloated cockhead. Watching it slosh in rivulets down his pulsing length.

Calloused thumb swiping over the weighty masses that top his filthy length like buttery icing. Biting back a whimper and tugging. He can’t stop.

“L-look how fucking hard y’got me–” He’s babbling away underneath his breath, clammy foreskin drawling up and down like adhesive with every roughened jerk. “All your fault hck! All your fucking- ptwah!” He gives himself another one, two, three more wads of excess spittle over his crownhead, taking a solid lick of your pretty garter. He breaks off with a pained mantra. “-fault.”

And shit, Nanami doesn’t know when he found himself acting like such a…pervert.  

But he blames you. Blames you and the way that thin lace of yours looks so sinful wrapped around his thick cock. Round n’ round coiling to massage every thickly inflated, lightning bolted vein-

“Hate how I’d never d-do this before-” He’s spilling out in throaty groans, swirling mahogany eyes widening at the sultry scratch of it up and down up and down his tender underside. With trembly fingerpads his smushing it all over the delicate curvature of his balls, “-before…you.”

And, shit, Nanami had a meeting in what- a few minutes? He can’t help but thinking about what his clients would think if they knew. What his employees would think. What you would think.

Would you…like it?

A muggy gust of air heaves out of his chest, sweat-slicked brows crinkling at the direction that those thoughts had just taken. Precum clinging onto his skin like adhesive, he fucks his fist like he’s angry.

He is - at you and every teasing touch of yours that makes every ounce of blood sprint down to his heavy cock. You, with your sunny smile and your eyes dazzling as if you weren’t just undressing him with your gaze. You, and your pretty outfits and stupidly sexy panties that make him run off right before important events-

“Gonna fucking- p-pay for this-” Nanami’s nose crinkles when he’s tugging his claggy white undershirt underneath his firmly grit teeth. Free hand straying to twirl little hearts over his puffy, bubblegum pink nipples, his tensed abs flex with every jerky buck. “-gonna- ngh-”

Gonna shove you down and make you feel just as needy as he is. Oh, Nanami’s thumbing underneath the heated line of his slippery slit, musing away just how much your clingy pussy would smooch it even better. 

“Wonder if I could ngh- fuck you stupid-” Nanami finds himself chuckling - chuckling. Low and crazed, plump lips twitching up at the sparks of bliss at the bottom of his abdomen. He was furious at you. “-would ya still be mouthy? Slutty? Ohhh, darling, I fuck you in every ngh- dream I have.”

And isn’t that what you wanted? What you’ve been driving him crazy for every since you stepped foot here? 

Joints in his wrist aching with that sloppy tempo, Nanami thinks he almost catches a rim of battered, stinging pink right where his fisted hand was hitting his toned abs. 

What he’d give to make your pretty pussy feel just as if she was his- what was it you call him? 

Ah, Nanami’s blossoming-red tip flinches as if being hit with a zillion volts of electricity as your words echo in his brain, his favorite melodic tune. His “work wife” was what you call yourself. 

“Tch, damn work- wife.” He’s murmuring, a blotchy blush taking over his handsome features - burning all the way up to the very tips of his ears. Fingers trawling faster and faster. Sloppier. He’s spraying out sheeny ropes of pre with every bruising pull off his swollen length. “Gonna show ya- gonna ngh- for how you make me- gonna make ya mine-”

“Kentooo? Are you in here?”

Fuck.

Without warning, Nanami’s teeth come latching harshly into his fist - he needs to. 

He has to, because just the mere notes of your voice from the other side of the door is enough for his ballooned balls to give a depraved pinch. Enough for him to cum.

Shit. Nanami’s head falls back against the wall, letting off strained gruffs around his flesh. 

A slow trickle of sweat beads down his temple at the sweltering splash of his undershirt being coated with vulgar cobwebs of thickly viscous seed - so much. Hot. 

And Nanami always did cum more whenever he thought of you - but this was almost too much. Such heaping volumes that it was like he couldn’t stop. Soaking your sopping garter, pooling out swashes of cum that formulate a sticky ring down his fingers. He’s leaking from his twitchy tip over n’ over-

“Fuck-” he’s hiccuping out, vision sparking with stars. He was too late - too entranced - to plug up his geysering orifice now for any semblance of order now. He hated how he was so weak for you. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” 

You really have corrupted him, because Nanami doesn’t feel even a single speck of shame when he leans even further against the door. Biting the insides of his cheek into silence, his ringing ears crane to hear just a syllable more of your tone-

God, he feels dirty.

But victorious. 

“Well, the meeting starts in a few minutes.” Nanami feels himself blush, he doesn’t give a single shit about some meeting - not when those words are enough for his aching cock to dredge out a few more ivory ounces that hit the tile with a deafening pap! “Hurry up, m’kay? It’ll be real boring without you, Ken—”

Minx. 

And Nanami doesn’t know what’s louder - the creaking shudder of the now-broken door hinges as you saunter out of the bathroom, or his beating heart.

Pulsing halfway out of his chest - not only at the fuzzy high of his orgasm, but at you. You, and those cute lil’ panties no doubtedly hidden away underneath your tight silken skirt. While you pretended to be all professional in the meeting that he is supposed to lead.

Dammit. Nanami’s head drops incredulously when his reddened cock gives another ravenous twitch. You were going to be the death of him.

.

.

.

You had no idea why everyone in the office was either scared senseless of your boss, Nanami Kento, or simply too intimidated by him to feel anything else. 

No one knew much. No one sought much.

But you knew that your self-proclaimed “work husband” was a gentle giant, surely - you’ve caught the way he silently comes into the building early with snacks for the break room, and leaves the latest personally finishing up documents he deems imperfect. What you simply didn’t understand was why no one else saw how hot he was.

Didn’t they see the absolute specimen of a man that towered around daily in tightly-fitted suits and perfectly combed blond hair? 

Those big, beefy arms, long lashes you’re almost jealous of, and regal features that dusted an innocent pink whenever you teased him too much. Always so worked up with the stress of running a company, that you couldn’t help but wonder if that would translate into bed.

Honestly, after years of men that disappointed and bored you - especially down there - could you really be blamed if you made things a little…unprofessional?

And you could tell that Nanami wasn’t complaining. 

Oh, he wasn’t complaining at all. 

No matter how much he’d falsely scowl or tut - you’d already “lost” one of your black garters, and you swear you saw just the slightest centimeter of it dangling from your boss’s pocket. 

The all-powerful CEO, but so weak for you.

What you really didn’t understand was why he didn’t take things to the next level.

You’d initially thought he would during your training period, whenever you’d stuck by him with your trusty notepad and tightest silky blouses that Nanami loved to pretend he wasn’t looking down. Always snapping his glassy eyes away after taking a long look at your bra, toying with his velveteen ties as if trying to choke either the hunger or the life out of him.

But when that came and ended, and you’d finally been awarded a permanent position, you finally got the chance to…have a little more fun.

Your favorite pastime was getting on your knees because of how oh-so-clumsy you are, brushing just past Nanami’s tersely bouncing knees. Lingering mere seconds longer when he presses his meaty thighs into you hotly.

“Oh?” It was like a little routine at this point, for you to faux gasp from your position on the floor as if you’d just noticed the touch. Each and every time. “My, how forward of you, work husband.”

Only to immediately get a choked-up groan of your name, and extra documents to finish by the time the work day was over. Worth it.

Because you had made the ever-stoic Nanami Kento blush. 

And the employee groupchat would text you about it for hours on end. Some swooning. Some skeptical. The rest of the office thought you were either very brave, incredibly slutty, or plain stupid. Possibly all three.

But seriously, you bite your lower lip to force down a giddy giggle when Nanami catches your winking eye for the nth time this past hour. Hastily looking back towards the hefty contract each n’ every time with a furiously grit jaw. He was so bad at pretending he didn’t want you.

Too bad you were getting impatient. 

“Right!” Comes the booming voice of a businessman that’d just secured a lucrative contract, you snap out of your whirlwind of thoughts when your client- President Higuruma from Kyoto Corporations, you think - stands up. Oh, the meeting was already over? “Now that the hard part is done, why don’t we all get the celebrations in, Kento old pal.”

They’d known each other a long time, you hear. And had apparently been rivals prior to forming this close relationship.

You think that your poor boss has never looked more grouchy than when he shrugs off Higuruma’s sociable hand off of one broad shoulder. Staring longingly at the clock that showed you’d all run way into evening overtime, “I’m not much of a partier myself, Hiromi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, when you have a team as good as this, then you simply must treat them.” The other man sweeps his dark eyes across the room, resting ever-so-slightly on you. “Or else the pretty ladies here will think you’re boring.”

“I-” Oh, you should’ve gotten tips straight from Higuruma - because Nanami’s cheeks ruddy. Eyes narrowing at you, then darting to his friend, “-I’m terminating our contract.”

“And I’m taking you to crack open the good whiskey I know you hide in your second drawer.” To everyone’s shocked amusement, Higuruma lugs his all-new business partner bodily out of the door. Words carrying from the distance, “You know you never did tell me whether you got a padlock for that drawer because of me…”

You’re still careening towards the glassy door to hear more snippets of that conversation when suddenly you hear a loud SMACK!

It hits your ears right before it hits your senses that Shoko had turned over in her seat beside you and planted a harsh swat on your arm. Hissing at the ache, you’re huffing at her knowing smirk, “What if I’m into that?”

She snickers, giving you another resounding strike just for the sake of it. You really, really didn’t know why the two of you were friends-

“Oh, I bet our boss would know, then.”

Kidding, of course you knew. And you can’t stop yourselves from falling into your familiar old gossip, the rest of your coworkers listening in curiously be damned. “I wish. You should’ve seen the way he reacted when I fussed over his tie before this. Seriously, it’s not my fault it was crooked for once n’ he almost ran away.”

“Ran straight back into the bathrooms, you mean.” She’s wiggling her brows, stopping only when you tilt your head curiously. “Oh- shit, you didn’t know? I heard from Utahime who heard from Yaga who heard from Ijichi who went to the bathroom that uptight CEO Nanami here was almost late to the meeting because he was having a fun little him time in there.”

You hear yourself gasp- no-nonsense, sensible Nanami Kento? Touching himself in the bathroom? “That’s why he looked…so fucked out. No.” 

“Yes.” She nods seriously. “And you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

“Ijichi - who was hiding underneath the sink out of fear, by the way, pfft- claims he’d been holding onto a frilly black garter.” Pointing very blatantly at the practically skin-tight skirt you’d decided to wear today. “And I know someone who just-so-happened to ‘lose’ a black garter in the office.”

“What-” you’re sputtering out, not because of the accusation - no, Shoko knew all about that - but about the confirmation of your suspicions that Nanami really did have your lacy lil’ number. “But if he liked that so much then why doesn’t he make a move?”

Shoko crosses her arms with the wise air of someone that had just solved the answer to the meaning of life, and was intentionally being coy about it. “Don’t you realize that you have the perfect solution for that?”

“What?” Wow, you really were on an eloquent streak today. 

Just then, the heavy meeting room doors slide open - and in walks a sternly reluctant Nanami and Higuruma with too many dozens of prized alcohol. Said Higuruma who winks at you garishly- 

You glance at Shoko’s smile, the kind she gets when she’s about to cement a contract that would result in several lawsuits that she already knows your company would win. Oh. You get it. 

.

.

.

And so does Higuruma, apparently.

Because even though he might not know of your little plan, the man was more than happy to keep you company amongst the thrumming masses celebrating. 

Somehow, the entire department had been roped in and packed inside the sprawling meeting room. Mingling over dim lights and softly playing music from the corner of your impropmtu office party. 

Which worked out in your favor, surprisingly, as it gave you the opportunity to eye a stony-faced Nanami’s reaction - stood right next to you when you leaned against Higuruma with a wheezing laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really funny, President Higuruma?” You’re tittering out and, admittedly, his humor was amazing - but what was more interesting to you was the way that Nanami’s neat brows furrowed. 

“Mhm, you’ll just have to get used to that, sugar.” You swear you hear the glass in Nanami’s vice-like grip clink! Thickened digits, so easily powerful and tightening until his mountainous knuckles shone white. “After all, we’ll be working together to take care of some big packages now.”

You feel your lips curl up into a sleazy grin, eyes locked dead-set on Nanami’s own. “Yeah, I’m quite excited to be handling those big packages, actually.” 

Higuruma raises a brow, “S’that so?”

“Of course.” And if you inched in ever-so-slightly closer to him, if you let your voice dip saccharinely in honey, then Nanami couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing but spill out a sharp huff, mouth tightening into a harsh line across his pretty face. “I only hope they’re bigger than what Jujutsu Tech has currently been working with.”

“Oh yeah, much bigger.” Nanami looked positively like an explosion just waiting to go off, and you didn’t know whether it was slight fear or anticipation that made your thighs clench sinfully together. “This contract will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“The bigger the better.”

You risk a glance downwards, just barely catching the way that your dear boss adjusts his sleek formal pants down near his thigh. Oh, lips parting, he was big, huh? Really big. 

And the quieter Nanami grew, the more talkative Higuruma became. More confident. “Pardon my forwardness, angel, but are we still talking business here?” And then comes the finishing blow - before you can blink, a strong arm latches onto your waist. “Because if we aren’t then-”

SLAM!

It’s all you can do to not shiver when you turn your gaze over to Nanami, who’d just clanged his half-full glass down on a nearby table. Veins bubbling with voltage from head to toe at the sheer metallic glint of something dangerous in his targeted gaze. 

Locked purely and utterly on you.

You can see the way his sharp jaw jumps with a furious tick. Fawny strands of blond curtaining over his furrowed brows, that slightly bumpy trail of his vein-

“I believe my employee is out of line, Hiromi.” Nanami bites out those words - sharp, and rugged. Piercing through your figure and sprinting right down to your heating core. The grin he gives you makes you shudder, “I will correct that.”

What? 

“Ken- ah!” You’re yelping when Nanami doesn’t give you the time for it to sink in, for you to even register anything other than the way his massive palm locks around your waist tightly. 

Doughy pads of his fingertips dig into the curvature of your hips, and you almost get whiplash at the tug of Nanami’s strong arms stealing you away from Higuruma’s touch. Tucking you into his blistering hot side, you think you feel dizzy with just how heady the combination of skin and cologne was. 

And then you leave - the both of you. Higuruma only calling after, stricken. 

You’re walking - or, at least, it feels like you’re walking. Almost on autopilot, you’re stuck on the firm set of Nanami’s jaw when he guides you briskly through the throngs of people. 

“Kento-”

“What now, darling?” Darling? He’s never ever called you that before. Never manhandled you with only one of his arms until you’re striding - running - down the familiar route to his richly-kept office. 

Oh.

Your own fingertips dig into the shimmering fabric of his fitted suit jacket, words coming out a little bit more breathless than you’d have liked. “Ken- sir, what are you-”

But, of course, Nanami Kento never let up that easy. Of course, he would never let you get the last word in if he had the chance. And tonight was all about chances. 

Whatever probing question dies in your throat when Nanami pauses - for a mere split-second - although it feels like hours in slow motion before he bends down and jostles you into a princess carry. Firm curves of his biceps digging underneath your thighs, a tender palm splays out across your back. 

Yet, the way that he’s staring deeply down at you is anything but.

“Oh, you know what the fuck I’m doing.” He wrenches out, vibrating you with the rumbling baritone that husks from his chest. So close that your own heartbeat matches with his fervent ba-dump! ba-dump! ba-dump! Each word just coated and dripping in something so raw that you barely even notice until after he weightlessly carries you past that familiar arching doorway. “It’s what you wanted, after all. Isn’t it?”

Dazed. Until the metallic click! of the door being locked by one of Nanami’s hands pull you out of your whirling thoughts.

He’s striding inside fast. Depravedly. 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” You sing-song, fingers trailing up to rub over his fuzzy undercut. And the moment you touch him, it’s like something in Nanami snaps. Something in him blinks…awake.

“Stop that.” 

Wasting with not a single nanosecond of hesitation before cupping his greedy palms on the squirming curve of your ass. He sneaks in a nice, long squeeze with one hand, the other facing down on the table in a long swipe to clatter down everything but that golden CEO Nanami nameplate onto the floor.

You suck in a sharp inhale when he splays you out like some spellbound slut on the cool surface of his mahogany office table. Unceremoniously. 

You’ve never seen him like…this.

He spanks his thick fingers along where your sinfully tight skirt was perking up to show off skin that makes Nanami’s mouth water. That makes him angle his head greedily for a flash of those very same pink panties that had him forgoing all duties earlier today. 

“Trying to make me fucking jealous. You forget your place, my love.” His index toys over the ribbony straps of your underwear. “I’ve been crazy for you since you stepped foot in this place. I’ve been yours.”

You, on the other hand, were still reeling to make your jumbling thoughts somewhat coherent. 

Rutting up into the merciless weight of his sculptured front pinning you down - Nanami’s body was feverish. So hot that it made your skin break out in a humid layer of perspiration, you felt so hot. You felt like you were melting already.

And his muscles, oh- even through a jacket, and that cotton button-up you so loved on him, he was so toned that you could count every delicious ridge of Nanami’s glissading abs. 

Rounded centers of your knees attach around his slender waist, you’re gasping at the firm plane of muscled obliques that welcome you. “N’ that’s what made you jealous? Heh- that’s so cute- mmpf-”

“Does it amuse you to break me, my love?” Nanami grapples two of his tough digits to smush your cheeks together, sultry leer piercing its way through his mask of fury. He growls, “To make me fucking furious?”

“Ngh- Kento—” The whimpers just won’t stop spilling from your lips, his gaze drilling into your eyes and falling straight to your drenching cunt. Your hips arch needily off of the icy cold wood to nudge your pussymound for more more more- “I- fuck-”

SMACK!

“Talk to me like a big girl.” He hisses, knotting his fingers around your tender throat so tight. Tight enough to drain you of the necessary volumes of air strangling in your throat, letting only a few weepy gurgles leave your mouth. Hard. “Ah ah, a big girl I said. If you can talking with fucking- President Higuruma, you can talk to me.”

“Want- want-” Your nails claw patterned lines that paint across Nanami’s muscular forearms. “I want you to kiss me, Kento.”

There. You’d said it. 

And Nanami’s smile was almost blinding.

He’s closing in the hypnotic inches until his plump lips hovered simple milimeters away from your puckered ones. Much too far for you, in your opinion. 

Fisting a single hand around Nanami’s sapphire collar, you’re dredging up your strength to finally pull him in for the kiss you’ve been waiting ages for at this point. Finally. Singing off a brief sigh at the heated proximity of his maw-

Only for Nanami to pull away.

“Wh-where are you going?” You’re mewling out, brows furrowing with the type of upset desperation that only Nanami was able to bring out in you. You needed him - and you needed him badly. 

But the only answer you get is the balmy breeze of his snickers clouding down your body, so scorching that it made flames of want zip down between your legs. And Nanami does kiss you - between the heaving valley of your chest, right underneath your left tit, your tummy- down, down, down.

Rip—!

There go your limited-edition fishnets - torn right with only a few tugs of Nanami’s carnal canines. Right with his mouth that burrows between the pliable hole he’d made between your legs. 

“Hm? What was that, darling?” He’s drawling away, shuffling until he was right between your legs. Until your big, bad boss was kneeling in front of you. “Oh! My sweet girl wants a little kiss, doesn’t she? How cuuute.”

Rutting up your hips, you just barely manage to get the edge of your slick-flooded thighs to stroke his dimpled cheek. Lips jutting out into a pout, “Yes- yes.”

“Too bad she didn’t earn it, hm? As if I’d kiss a mouth that flirted with another man in front of me- no matter how pretty. ” Nanami continues, like he didn’t even hear your pleas right now. Thank goodness you couldn’t see the way the cracking rawness to your voice made his pants so much tighter. 

There’s the stubborn schwf! of your skirt being pushed up in a rough tug. And it’s only once he turns his heart-eyed stare down between your legs that you realize. “So, guess m’just gonna hafta kiss you.”

He wasn’t talking to you. He was talking to your dripping cunt. 

No sooner does this realization hit, that Nanami’s eager kiss does too. A filthy, sodden French snog planted right through your soaked panties. 

Nodding along as if he was translating every slurp weaving its way from between your bloated folds. “Oh? What’s that you say? More?” 

He’s trawling the pointed edge of his nose up n’ down the your slippery slit, teeth nipping along the rubbery folds to make your entrance gush out slivery ropes of slick. You count exactly one smooch at your dripping base, two right where your pussymound was the pulpiest, and the final - longest and most lingering - on your throbbing clit. 

“See?” He hums, fleshy thumb outlining the slobbering fringe of your pussylips. Just peeking his manicured fingertip past your useless underwear, and inching backwards with a saturated squelch whenever you squirmed for more. Tease. “Now tha’s a good girl, she’d never flirt with another. You’re mine, right- all mine? Or- well-”

Your breath hitches when you feel the wet splatter! of a slimy clump of saliva striking your teary cunt dead-on. And Nanami’s thumb rolls over the sheeny glaze with such utter love, “Now you’re all mine.”

Your fingers sneak their way to tangle into Nanami’s mussed-up locks, pulling his sappy mouth even closer. So close that his curved chin hits your pussy with a wet plap! And the crisp whoosh of him drinking in your scent deeply has you whining, “Ken- more. More.”

Nanami growls and it’s almost feral. He’s knocking out a deafening mewl from your lips with a sharp, sultry spank exactly on the target of your pulsing clit. “More? More, huh?” Purposefully rovering the chilling band of one signet ring - holding it firmly down where your hole was leaking. “After you got this wet for Hiromi? Nice try.”

“This isn’t for Higu-”

Thwack! The hollowing noise of flesh meeting flesh sings out in your ears, every swat after swat being left on your pussy enough to make your head throw back helplessly. 

The sight of it only makes Nanami’s scouring fingers pry apart your gluey folds even wider, kissing every nook and cranny. Over and over. Taunting. “N’ now you’re talking about another hah- man when you’re w’me? I should fire you, darling.”

You already know he never would. 

But you can’t stop yourself from spilling out a string of swears anyway, “Th-this is all for- ngh-” Flinching bodily when he wraps the waterlogged remnants of your panties around one fist, ‘round and ‘round until your pussy was allll on shamefully display, and your delicate pink panties dig into your fleshy mounds. “-for you, Kento.”

And when Nanami pulls at the silky fabric with one hand, you’re dragged down across the table right with it. Till you were exactly where he wanted you.

“Correct.”

Your panties were in tatters now - and he tucks it away into his pocket with a wink. For later. “Hate these slutty fucking panties. Wanted them off every fucking time.”

Swiping away the syrupy trickle of saliva overspilling from his mouth, Nanami’s instantly surging over to connect his lips with your puffy ones. Groaning out a throat mmmm– the moment that candied flavor sugarcoats his lips.

The most lecherous squelches! speak across all four corners of his decadent office when Nanami handlessly tilts his head to let his scratchy tastebuds maze through your weepy pussy. 

He doesn’t even care that he’s getting the frames of his glasses all messy. Swirling out slow circles around the elastic ring of your entrance, before pumping inches in-

“Fuck-” You’re squealing, throat clogging with a leaden ball the moment he’s contracting his tongue to stretch your entrance out wiiidely agape. In and out until your rubbery hole was tenderizing to his ravenous shape and texture, “-fuck just like ngh- that.”

“Oh yeahh? You like this, huh?” Meeting Nanami’s gaze from between your cracked-open legs results in shockwaves all over your body. Because his molten gaze was gleaming - practically glowing. “Getting so turned on s’like you’re a ngh- damn waterpark. Think anyone else could get you this f-fuck- soaked?”

And you couldn’t even hide it just how aroused you were. Just how close. 

Wiry ropes of your webbed slick clings onto Nanami’s mouth with each soppy plap of his mouth clashing onto your cunt. Harder. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his thick cock was aching to do right now-

SMACK!

“Mmm sweet girl, makin’ such a mess. Answer me.” He spits into your syrupy pussy, urging out a few fresh waves of slick that laminate his fat digits in pure gloss. A gloss that he sucks up happily.

“You-”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Because you were so adorable being eaten out until you were stupid, none of that usual flirty snark present when he was making out with your cunt like a man parched. 

Swirling out tiny hearts on your clit with the mushy tips of his fingertips, he yearns to skim the perked edge of his tongue all over your gummy walls. Bumping into every delicate orifice, Nanami’s free fingers fly down to trace your tight ring of muscle. “Oh yeah?”

“O-only you–” Your blubbers are so adorable, mouth loosened into an oh! yet the only thing coming out of it are repeated shrills of Kento! How cute, Nanami can only hope that these walls aren’t thick enough that those outside won’t hear. He wants them to. “-only you can make me so- ngh-”

“Shy, darling?” He sounded so painfully pussydrunk right now. Rouge blush burning, gazing up at you heavily shuttered eyes, a maw that was drooling more and more with every lapping snog placed on your slobbering pussy. “What happened to my flirty girl?”

His flirty girl. 

Shit- the words themselves affect him just as much as they do you. Nanami’s muscular thighs manspread even wider with just how fat his painfully hard cockhead was bloated. Close. It’s so sloppy how he quickens his pace to toy with the button of your clit.

His, all struggling to get out the words from your mouth - battling with your heavy tongue to get out a keening- “You. Yours. Hngh- Only y-you can make me feel like this. M-make me feel so hck! close, Kento.” 

His perfect girl.

“Ohhh, say that again. Dunno if I quite believe that.” He groans, budging your thighs over to suffocate his head even deeper, god, he knows that he could pass out right here and still be the most content man on Earth. Holding your ankles behind his hand with a second hand, you can’t help but ogle the rippling bulge of his biceps. “Lock them.” Your tangling motions were limp - weak. But Nanami finds himself grinning anyway, holding you in place tightly, he’s doubly stuffing in two digits past your slicked entrance. “Say my name.”

“Ken- Kento?”

Piling upon wads and wads of stringy cum that sprinkle all over your thighs, just the striking sensation is enough for you to see stars. Enough to gasp when his probing digits pillage your gooey depths, “Again.”

“Kento.”

And of course, Nanami Kento wasn’t a merciless man. Mean. Filthy with just how much he’s clacking his jaw to grind into the supple rim of your, your knee bounces up even higher at the taut spring of something hot pooling in your tummy. 

He could tell. Oh, he could tell. 

You were always so adorably readable - especially with your wobbling lips, and those crinkling beads of tears spilling over from the corners of your eyes. Mumbling, “Kentooo-!”

And all he really had to do was pound a battery swipe along your sweltering walls, deeply. Skidding right across where he knew your magical g-spot would be. He’s giving your perky clit not one - hell, not even two - but three solid pinches on your sensitive hood. Hard. 

The babbling words “C-cumming-” are barely starting syllables out of your mouth before it crashes into you headfirst. 

You feel like you’re being run over with such waves of bliss, pupils sliding allll the way into the back of your scrunched lids. 

The wooden desk trills out a ringing creak! when you arch your spine into the perfect semi-circle, dragging Nanami’s mouth all over each and every crevice of your quivering cunt. Riding out your high in long sloppy drags. 

Using him. And how Nanami loved to be used by you.

“Yeah- yeah yeah—” Holding your gaze fatally, you can only watch as the pearly beads spraying from your cunt drip the long trailway down to hit the back of his throat. Your fingertips dig into his scalp, mushing his face even closer, “-cum. Cum all over m’face, my love. Make a fucking mess of me.”

You swear that Nanami’s voice was shattering into a whimper towards the very end. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with every greedy gulp, and he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

Not even when your sparking high fades out into nothingness, not even when that white-hot pleasure formulates into something sensitive. Almost painful. Gasping out a sharp ah! with every drag of Nanami’s tongue over your too-tender cunt. 

“S-sensitive-” You’re mewling, desperately trying to push on his blond head. Stacks of sweat-dampened hair plastering across your palm, “Ken- Ken, m’too sensitive.”

“Tch.” He’s panting, eyes latching on instead to your glistening pussy - all pretty with trickling layers of sweet, sweet juices and his saliva. What a mess he’s made. He swears he can spot a darkening patch oozing out all over the desk. 

Nanami rubs his fleshy thumb over the tantalizing curve of your pussymound just a few repeated times, “Let me ask her- hm, wanna let me ah- go? Ready to say goodbye, darling?”

And whatever slurring squelches that emanate from your soppy lips speak to him. Enough so that he finds himself nodding mindlessly, “Fine then.” Planting an exaggerated mwah! on your clit, “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” 

He was so gentle kissing your pussy goodbye - but so, so mean manhandling you off of the desk. In a singular fluid motion, scooping you up with two beefy arms underneath your legs and falling back into the CEO’s cushy chair.

“O-oh.” You find your thighs straddling his sculpted hips, hands falling precariously on top of his bulging deltoids. What a feast Nanami Kento was. 

He barely even had to try to make your hips grind in a jerky up and down on his too-tight bulge. Splotching out gluey patches of slick wherever your driveling lips were hitting. Nanami counts exactly six slippery streaks before he grabs your throat and pulls-

“Think ya earned it now.” He hisses through a simpering groan. You’re so pliable like this - so open to being dragged into a filthy, filthy kiss. “Mm- might just be my favorite ngh- lipgloss on ya.”

You’re smacking at the curvaceous valley between Nanami’s pecs - nothing more than kittenish pecks for him, “That- that’s so filthy, Ken.”

Skin dappling with a second skin of goosebumps with every inch exposed to the heady air, he’s unbuttoning your blouse slowly. Lazily. Pop! Pop! Pop! Taking his precious time to watch every minute huff and puff you cloud out. 

“Oh, darling.” Bursting out a bout of laughter that hits you to your very core as soon as your top and bra hit the polished floor. Nanami tilts back in his seat sexily, angling you to take up even more space on the comfortable seat of his lap - his thick, outlined bulge. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

Fuck.

He pants, “Hated these slutty skirts- fuck- made me almost call HR because you looked so- beautiful.” With your skirt soon shed, you’re suddenly reeling with the realization that you’re the only one naked right now. “Better with them off.”

Never one to fall behind, you can’t help but tumble your greedy digits downwards. Mouth lathering with a sloshing wave of greed as soon as your fingertips skim the rock-hard tent struggling in Nanami’s pants.

“Fuck- greedy girl.” At this point, it’s as if the exact measurements of Nanami’s hand were branded into the mounded flesh of your ass. Because each spank has you crying, “Don’t you worry now, m’gonna fuck that ngh- feisty mouth shut soon, but for now…”

You’re left hanging, waiting on where Nanami’s drawling words would take you next. 

But it just-so-happened that you didn’t have to wait. Didn’t have to register anything but the way that he’s tugging down his too-tight pants and boxers just enough-

“Oh my-” You gasp at the sight below you, blinking your weighty lids just a few times to make sure that you weren’t imagining things. Because, sure, on those lonely nights you’d imagined Nanami to be big - but this was just ridiculous. “-Ken, you’re so-”

Big package for sure.

“H-heh.” He preens, wrenching down the velvety fabric until it looped halfway down the padded meat of his thighs. “Don’t act so cockdrunk, my love- s’only gonna make me ngh bigger.”

Roaming five dexterous fingers to grasp his bulky base, the rest of Nanami’s nine- no, ten inches drip down needy gumdrops of pre onto your hand. He was long, girthy - blushed on his swollen mushroom tip a pretty cerise pink that matched your ruined panties. 

“Wan’ you inside me.” You’re purring out, and Nanami’s heart races as he catches a few glimpses of that complete and utter tease you usually are. You swipe your thumb over the syrupy top coating of precum on his tip, plugging it into Nanami’s mouth.

Well, he might be the boss - but not in here.

After all, who was he to go against anything his pretty girl said? 

“Mmm- s’that so?” He’s suckling right on your doughy pads, fringes of his neat teeth nipping your flesh. Looking you right in the eyes while leaving a few streaky smears across your drooling slit, up and down. Golden blond lashes so long they flutter against the flushed apples of his cheeks, “Gimme a kiss first, my girl.”

So sweet.

Or so you thought.

Because you’d just inched your allured body closer to give him what he wanted. Digging your rounded knees into the sides of his body to just let your pursed lips brush in an innocent, innocent skim across his kiss-bitten ones- 

Before Nanami wraps his hand around your throat and tilts your head back to let himself spit. Just seconds before nudging apart your sticky folds and pushing in-

“Ah!” Your eyes sprint between snapping open in sheer shock, and screwing tightly shut at the pure stretch. The tightness. You could almost hear the elastic creak of your weepy entrance being pulled to its very limits around Nanami’s globed tip. “O-oh my god-”

“Shhhh you can take it, good girl- my good girl.” He’s thumbing away the purposeful spatteres that decorate the sagging edges of your lips. Rounded centers of his fingertips sinking in tight around your throat, “Mmm- s’this a big enough package for ya?”

It’s an uphill battle to force your lids to shutter open, only to peer into Nanami’s glassy eyes to see that yeah, there was still a glint of raw jealousy in them. Still. 

Your hand dips its way down to swipe open your dewy pussylips, rubbing over the most tender spots on your drooling cunt when your hips stutter down inch by fucking inch. 

Splitting your tight orifice in half with his vast cylindrical cock, every wild rut that pumps Nanami even deeper makes you dizzy. Your ajar maw spilling with drool while he fucks himself furiously harder and harder and-

Head lolling over into the clammy crook of his shoulder, your tongue licks up a long stripe along his neck. “Ngh- s-so fucking big– Don’t know if I c-can take it.”

“Now now.” With a rude spank! your fingers are swatted away meanly, Nanami’s own taking over in its place. Not to do the job - just to toy with the buzzing nub of your clit while he pumped you snugly full of his never-ending shaft. “Move that hand, lemme see my girl’s hah- pussy take my big fuckin’ cock.”

Salty tears spring to your eyes and end up dripping onto Nanami’s awaiting tongue, voice laced with something primal. “Poor baby, getting nervous. Don’tcha remember what you told Hiromi?” You did. “The bigger the better?” You remember. “So buckle up n’ take it like a good girl now, my love.”

Your answer is nothing but a half-lucid nod, “Y-yes, Ken-” 

“Hm?” He pinches your clit. A warning. 

“Sir.”

“Atta girl.”

And then Nanami’s bottomed-up, his hefted base sagging against your sopping wet lips, globular swell of his breeder balls nestling up behind your cunt in a congratulatory smooch. And he was kissing your other lips just the same.

Leaving wet swabs that decorate your pulpy cervix in translucent streams, you’re squealing after each n’ every fat thud! of Nanami’s rotund cockhead mushing into your gooey depths. Probing veins massaging you incessantly.

He couldn’t get enough.

“Atta girl-” He’s snickering into your mouth, pounding and pounding even more despite the clingy push of your pussy. Despite the way that he can’t even go any deeper - his cock was still aching for more. To strike the bullseye of your womb. “O-ohhh atta giiirl. Open wiiiide f’me.”

Like a mantra. You weren’t any more coherent, with your words garbling out over every leathery creak! of the pristine office chair. “Loud- g-gonna be loud, Kento.”

“I don’t care.” Nanami spits out immediately, leaving a heavy-duty swat on your bulging pussy folds as if to ask why should you care, too? He had such a way of speaking to you with his body, rendering you speechless after only a few seconds in the presence of his vicious tempo. “Let them hear, they couldn’t fuck you like this. Let them know hck! wh-who makes this slutty cunt feel so good.”

And it wasn’t a question, but you’re answering anyway. Looping your boneless arms around the expanse of Nanami’s broad shoulders, your limbs stick to the sweat-drenched fabric of his button-up and you huff. 

“You- need you to-” You’re murmuring away, numb tips of your fingers fumbling with his pearly buttons. Two seconds away from ripping this damn shirt off of him, “-need to see you.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s letting his top fly open to reveal what looks like yard upon yards of smooth, sculptured skin. Shiny with a glimmery sheen of humid perspiration and slick - puddling from your weepy cunt at the way that Nanami was so sexy. All jiggling pecs and abs for days, you find your pussy gulping his length up n’ down even faster. Nipping along bites that redden his flesh prettily, “Woah- Really are a slut, my love. N’ I fucking love it.”

Nanami was always such a possessive man, one hand latched onto the side of your waist and helping you stumble along with every pap! The other wandering down to pat that proud curve where your cozy hole was being overstuffed with his fat cock, before traipsing up to your clit-

“Mmm– gonna have everyone know.” He’s biting down on his bottom lip, looking up at you through teary lashes. Tapping your clit, “Say my name, my love.”

“Ken-”

“Louder.”

“Ken!”

The chair bustles with every jerk, and the unsteady motions only have Nanami driving even deeper. “Mmm- now say his name-” He’s settling your mouth open with another clump of saliva, kissing away the smearing excess. “-say his name. Say Higuruma-”

But it was no use. The only thing your mouth seemed to be able to form into was a loud Ken. Just as he’d wanted. Just as what makes him chuckle, “Gonna fuck you s-so good that fucking Hiromi s’gonna know from a mile away.”

Ohhh, how he loved that cute lil’ thought. 

He was certainly jackhammering you like it, motioning your hips into eager gyrations even faster than your fatigued legs could handle. Practically carrying you through every claggy slap of skin-on-skin, Nanami’s tensed core burns with the friction. 

But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even burn the sting of anything other than the way his sensitively enlarged balls were papping against your skin. Painting sweet, sweet bruises for days. 

“Would ya like that?” He’s mindlessly babbling away, and even through his hooded eyes you could tell that Nanami was completely pussydrunk. He wasn’t even circling your clit now - he was writing out on top a rapid K-E-N-T-O. Gone. Ruined. Rolling his hips in sloppy bucks, “Wan’ me ta fuck you until everyone knows?”

You’re nodding. Nodding and nodding away, and Nanami thinks this can’t get any better. You’re so gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this, who knew his office tease would be so…pliant?

He’s already in heaven with each saturated slip n’ slide massaging your weeping orifices. Angling his hips ever-so-slightly to the side to feel more of you-

That’s when he hits it.

That spot. 

And oh, Nanami thinks he could cum right then and there with the way your slicked walls kiss his length in a lingering smooch. Just as lovers do. 

“There-” you’re mumbling out, your lips leaving tiny pecks across the grinning corners of his lips. But you didn’t even have to start for him to already be bouncing you with the target of exact, precise strikes to your g-spot. Spotting steamy splotches of parched precum over that bulging spot, “R-right there, Ken- don’t miss don’t miss.”

“Would never fuckin’ imagine.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes. 

You believed him - just as much as you believed in the flurries of stars bursting countlessly behind your eyes. Hushing out, “M’close, Kento- gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum.”

How could you not be close when he’s back to his favorite hobby that makes you squirm - pinching your throbbing clit right in time with the long, long lines his battering tip glides across your sweet spot. Ending allll the way back at your cervix. “Mhm, gonna make you cum on m’fucking cock. Hafta l-let those fucking ngh- losers know whose pretty pussy this is.”

And once the ever-stoic Nanami starts babbling, it’s like he can’t stop. 

“Mine-” Sucking on your bruised lower lip like his favorite candy. “Mine.” Twice. “Mine.” Thrice. He’s fucking you like he’d die if he slowed down right now, massaging your rubbery entrance deliriously raw. Teeth grit the closer and closer he inched himself, “Gonna let Hiromi know. Gonna let Ijichi know- Shoko- fucking Ino who w-was making eyes at my girl. My wife.”

You’re gasping, “W-wife?” And it seemed like such a highly tense moment to finally accept you as his work wife. That is, before-

“Mhm—” And there’s no regret, none of that usual shyness in Nanami’s eyes as he fucks you with deep eye contact. Thumb finishing off drawing a final KENTO on your clit, “Better know that m’gonna buy you th-the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen, my love.”

Maybe it’s the way that he’s so serious. Maybe it’s the drilling pace of his thumping cock. Or maybe it’s just Nanami himself; boring up at you through droopy eyes and foggy glasses, a delirious smile plastered all over his face while he rammed you to your orgasm.

Fat tears collecting on your waterline, your vision blurs with just how intense of an orgasm he’s wrenching out of you. You swear it’s the best you’ve had in years - maybe even in your entire life.

“F-fuuuuck–” Your fingers drag unorganized lines all over his smooth shoulders, making it out as if he’d just been attacked by wild cats - but it’s just you. You and your sappy folds milking Nanami’s very soul, hot puffs of condensed breath hitting his craned neck when you lean in. “A-all for you, Kento.”

And the exact moment Nanami feels your lips descend upon his skin to suck - the exact moment he realizes that you’re marking him - his breath strangles in a gasp. 

“Darling- darling.” He’s panting out, shivering fingers setting the soft spots of your cunt free to get a good grope of your ass. To muster all his fucked-out strength to whack your pussy against his sharp hipbones with a resounding pap! “Oh, darling m’cumming- fuck- better take every drop now.”

But it was impossible to.

Because Nanami was cumming so much - even more than he had in the bathroom just hours earlier. Torrenting out sticky webs of seed that glue your walls feebly together and scratch such a primal urge inside you to have him fill you up.

He’s fighting to keep his head from throwing back, blinking away the sparks that bolt behind his eyes to drink in the sight down below. 

In awe at just how much of it was overspilling in ivory ribbons from the stretched-out ends of your sodden slit. Stretching thickly over his bulked base in a buttery ring, it’s so messy that he’s barely thinking before smearing over the wadded mess.

“Ken- mmpf-” Your mouth falters as soon as he stuffs in the glazed-over tips of his fingers, swirling around a slow circle inside your unhinged maw. He already knows this is going to be good. “Want more.”

More.

More.

Here you were - stuffed until your poor pussy couldn’t even handle just how much cum Nanami was still fucking into you. Spraying out a fountain of creamy globs with every pressurized thrust planted on your pussy - and you still wanted more?

Something flashes behind Nanami’s eyes.

And before you know it, you’re whimpering at the loss of his girthy inches weighing down in your cunt. There’s a saccharine fwop! followed by the slosh of trickling cum when Nanami pulls out, “C-come back.”

With a ringed finger plugging up your geysering hole from losing any precious ounces, Nanami carries you over to that familiar office desk in a single stride. Splaying you out - manhandling you - with ease until you were bent over the cool surface. 

Your cheek being pushed into the currently saliva-soaked wood, wrangling hands instantly tied behind your back with something silky - fuck, Nanami’s tie. Your cunt once more stuffed to the very brim with all of his throbbing cock. 

He’s leveraging the little restraint to jostle your hips ever-deeper. You’re squealing at that stretch - one you’re sure you’d never get used to. “K-Kento, sir–”

“Shhh, my love.” You hear in throaty groans from above you, and Nanami’s muscular weight pinning down your body makes you even wetter. As if he was just melting his abs into your curved back, smearing back n’ forth in tiny smudges after he starts pushing- “Say another word n’ m’gonna get ya pregnant- then they’ll really know you’re mine.”

.

.

.

It’s not like Nanami Kento to ever be late to a meeting.

Given, there was that one time a year ago when he’d almost been late before an important contract discussion with Kyoto Enterprises. But thirty five whole minutes late to a meeting? 

Well, that was unheard of. Impossible, really.

And Shoko finds herself sighing, tapping her nails impatiently on the glass table. Honestly, there were so many better things she could be doing with her time than waiting for her mystery of a boss. And - just her luck - you weren’t here today to distract from the boredom of corporate life, either. 

The universe is against her, really. 

“Oi, Ijichi–” She calls out to the fidgeting man seated across from her - and she doesn’t know whether he jumps because everyone on the team is on edge, or simply because this is Ijichi. “Five more minutes, then we file a missing persons report.”

“I-I am sure Mr. Nanami is ah- fine-” He pushed up his dangerously low glasses, muttering underneath his breath. “...hopefully.”

“I think we should go with the missing persons report.” Higuruma pipes up from one end of the room, the man had become a much-loved addition to this department since the contract. “Because I hate to say it, but the man has no life. There’s no reason for him to just-”

SLAM!

“My apologies, I’m late.” Nanami pants out into a silence that could only be caused by the object of your conversation suddenly intruding. A blur of impeccable suits and blond hair. 

Well, Shoko couldn’t see his face properly from the way he was hunched over to catch his breath like that - but she was glad he seemed unharmed.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

Because then Nanami stands up properly.

And honestly, she doesn’t know what makes her heart stop more. The fact that Nanami Kento arrived late to a meeting - or that he arrived late to a meeting with lipstick stains all over his lips, his jawline, his neck. And- and were those hickeys bruising his neck?

The coffee cup in her hand falls, and it’s not the only one. Surely, this had to be a prank- wait, does her boss even know what that is?

Still thinking it’s some strange practical joke, she’s squinting to get a closer look at the strangely familiar color of that lipstick. That- shit, wasn’t that your favorite shade?

Nanami snaps his head to Shoko the very moment she says your name - almost as if a form of experimentation. Before looking down at himself and finally - finally - seeing the state he was in. He sighs, fond. “Ah, my apologies again. My beautiful wife held me up, and I forgot to check if she left marks.”

Wife. 

Higurua drawls out the question striking through everyone’s mind right now. “What. The. Fuck.” 

And Ijichi squeaks out the second most striking question, “W-wife? D-do you mean your w-work wife, Mr. Nanami?”

“No.” He’s tilting his head in confusion, as if there was any possibility of anything else otherwise. Pulling out a glinting golden band hung around a simple chain from underneath his suit. A wedding ring. With your name engraved. “My wife wife.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ one hundred paired prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ a pot of fresh coffee and split knuckles

²⁾ orange peels and a car battery

³⁾ sand dunes and leather boots

⁴⁾ a printer and a knife

⁵⁾ incense and handcuffs

⁶⁾ a crushed velvet sofa and a video camera

⁷⁾ stale cigarettes and cotton candy

⁸⁾ loose change and headlights

⁹⁾ grey hairs and a gold belt buckle

¹⁰⁾ burnt coffee and grass stains

¹¹⁾ cherry cola and blue jeans

¹²⁾ chipped green nail polish and an empty dinner table

¹³⁾ a stack of paperwork and metal music

¹⁴⁾ a patchwork quilt and sweet tea

¹⁵⁾ a hockey sweater and a two-seater sofa

¹⁶⁾ perfume oil and rolled up shirtsleeves

¹⁷⁾ fallen leaves and guilt

¹⁸⁾ radio channels and a birthday card

¹⁹⁾ ravens and meadowsweet

²⁰⁾ apologies and bitter red wine

²¹⁾ library books and pouring rain

²²⁾ a breathalyser and popcorn

²³⁾ princess plasters and iodine

²⁴⁾ a tote bag with one broken strap and a winding staircase

²⁵⁾ a parasol and a tumbler of straight whiskey

²⁶⁾ fresh honey and a cult

²⁷⁾ wisdom teeth and blue eyes

²⁸⁾ sour cherries and a stolen hoodie

²⁹⁾ the flu and a heatwave

³⁰⁾ a boonie hat and a sunset

³¹⁾ vanilla perfume and a kitchen counter

³²⁾ a buffalo skull and a leather armchair

³³⁾ a throw pillow and a doorway

³⁴⁾ pink fluffy handcuffs and an unexpected guest

³⁶⁾ a package and a divorce

³⁷⁾ a stripper pole and a hangover

³⁸⁾ familiar cologne and a black eye

³⁹⁾ a lit candle and a snowstorm

⁴⁰⁾ an unsealed letter and a fallen pine tree

⁴¹⁾ headlights and footprints

⁴²⁾ a blocked number and traffic lights

⁴³⁾ a racesuit and a countdown

⁴⁴⁾ a butcher’s apron and a phonecall

⁴⁵⁾ battered comic books and a broken window

⁴⁶⁾ cold floorboards and a roommate

⁴⁷⁾ smooth vermouth and gold rings

⁴⁸⁾ a lip piercing and a rough hand

⁴⁹⁾ someone’s spare room and an eclipse

⁵⁰⁾ a game of mahjong and bad jazz music

⁵¹⁾ a jigsaw puzzle and a mortuary

⁵²⁾ a broke-up sidewalk and a knitted scarf

⁵³⁾ a poundshop wig and broken glass

⁵⁴⁾ a bunk bed and a crush

⁵⁵⁾ a red ink tattoo and a dinner gone cold

⁵⁶⁾ a warm palm and a flannel shirt

⁵⁷⁾ fresh basil and a half-empty bottle of arrack

⁵⁸⁾ a nightclub bathroom and smeared eyeliner

⁵⁹⁾ a busted lip and strawberry icecream

⁶⁰⁾ a floral-patterned dress and a looming balcony

⁶¹⁾ peach pits and a pressed shirt collar

⁶²⁾ a white mercedes and cheap perfume

⁶³⁾ a fwb and a housekey

⁶⁴⁾ a blue sarong and a fingertip tracing over a scar

⁶⁵⁾ a sauna room and a terse exchange

⁶⁶⁾ fried plantains and a briefcase

⁶⁷⁾ dried lavender and a tiled bathtub

⁶⁸⁾ a hotel room and a bouquet of lilies

⁶⁹⁾ sweet mango lassi and a suitcase

⁷⁰⁾ orange streetlights and a nightmare

⁷¹⁾ a crucifix and a thigh tattoo

⁷²⁾ a palm tattoo and the thrum of a heartbeat

⁷³⁾ a champagne room and a police siren

⁷⁴⁾ blue nitrile gloves and a hickey

⁷⁵⁾ a double-wide trailer and shotgun shells

⁷⁶⁾ stitches and pyjama shorts

⁷⁷⁾ karaoke and a snowdrift

⁷⁸⁾ an older man and a twin bed

⁷⁹⁾ chinese takeout and a graveyard

⁸⁰⁾ wet clothes and ambulance sirens

⁸¹⁾ carbolic soap and a creaking staircase

⁸²⁾ an undercover assignment and wrung hands

⁸³⁾ the back seat of a limousine and bustling night streets

⁸⁴⁾ a steamed-up bathroom and cold floorboards

⁸⁵⁾ a grand prix and a breakup

⁸⁶⁾ a third place trophy and a picture frame

⁸⁷⁾ the last slice of birthday cake and crossed legs

⁸⁸⁾ squashed raspberries and heated cheeks

⁸⁹⁾ pink lipgloss and brass knuckles

⁹⁰⁾ a ghost mask and a late visit

⁹¹⁾ loose bullets and slashed tires

⁹²⁾ a tactical belt and patterned bedsheets

⁹³⁾ a goaltender’s stick and a lonely walk home

⁹⁴⁾ a dog bed and a migraine

⁹⁵⁾ lit billboards and a floor-length gown

⁹⁶⁾ a divebar negroni and a game of pool

⁹⁷⁾ olive trees at harvest time and divorce papers

⁹⁸⁾ a caviar bump and vanilla coke

⁹⁹⁾ a whale tail and pantsuit

¹⁰⁰⁾ legs thrown into a lap and calloused hands

[pinkaditty]

Starstruck Coral (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

okay so uh. i don’t really know how to explain this one. like truly i don’t. i feel like it came 2 me in a vision from a higher power or something bc this doesn’t feel like it was my own idea, much less self-indulgent, but regardless??? i actually like it!!!!

a/n: what i can say is that this was directly inspired by me buying this lip plumper tint called "Starstruck Coral" and how literally everyone around me once i put it on was like "ITS SO PRETTY!!" so yea. that's what this is. also. yea. been writing a lot of porn-free fics lately. don’t worry, im not uninspired. rather, i just wanna focus on budding feelings 4 a little while. then it’ll be back 2 porn i promise. im too insane 2 be kept from porn 4 very long i fear. 

maybe part 2? maybe? idk yet i dunno. i might. i might not. we’ll see what my brain says…

summary: romeo cannot stand your visage so he styles it to his liking. why are you suddenly the belle of the ball? (leo, rui, haru, ed, and lyca make guest appearances here lol)

cw: some sexual comments. minors dni as per usual. no smut i fear!

Looking for Part 2? Click here!

“...Why are we doing this, again?”

“Shut up.” Romeo’s voice is practically seething with barely restrained anger as you interrupt his focus for the umpteenth time. He holds up one finger in the air towards you, not even turning to look at you. He slowly puts his finger down, and his hands twitch, clearly resisting the urge to ball into fists. “Just shut up. Let me handle this.”

Romeo continues perusing the available colors. Pearlescent White, Modest Matte Mauve, Cherry Pop Red, Hot Tease Pink, Starstruck Coral, and Raven’s Wing Black. He narrows his eyes and whips his head around to your face, studying your features intensely. His eyes pause on your lips, and he frowns as you roll them between your teeth nervously. 

“Would you stop-! Urgh, nevermind.” He starts before abruptly stopping, turning fully towards you and grabbing your face, directing it in different angles in the light. He pays strong attention to your lips, noting the thickness, color, and shape of them. He grumbles to himself, looking back at the colors on the shelf. Only one seems to be a perfect match.

Starstruck Coral. That’s the one.

He plucks it off the shelf and places it in the basket before stalking off to the cash register. He knows you know to follow him, and you do, meekly following his steps, still unsure of the purpose of this outing. You shift idly from one foot to the other as he pays at the cash register, listening to the general ambiance of the store. People chattering, items being scanned, wheels of carts rolling along the tile floor. You’re idly reading the label of a pop culture magazine when Romeo appears at your side, sour expression etched into his face. It makes you jump, and he looks at you with an even sourer expression. “Let’s go,” is all he says, his voice loud and demanding, leaving little room for argument. He walks off again, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure you’re following him, which you are, confused expression still stuck on your face. 

The two of you return to the Darkwick train station through a door labeled “Employees Only”, careful not to get caught. Once you board the train, Romeo unceremoniously tosses the bag of products towards you and sits across from you. His expression is enough to broadcast that he’s more than over this, despite having spent hours meticulously scanning the available products to find the ones that best matched your skin. He studies you again as you take your seat and the train begins to move. His eyes rove over your face again, as though picking apart your appearance in search of flaws. He hardly flinches when you look up and catch his gaze, though when you nervously turn away, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go on. Ask what you want to ask.” His voice comes out exactly as exasperated as he’d meant it to be. He would hope this would discourage you from asking any questions, but he knew better than that.

He watches you shift nervously before speaking up, looking down at your fingers fidgeting with the bag instead of making eye contact with him. “...What is all of this for?”

He exhales, already sick of answering your questions even though he hadn’t answered any. “That anomalous cloak does not do your makeup for you.” Part of him assumes this would be enough explanation, but at your still confused expression, he rolls his eyes and continues explaining. “I am tired of going on missions with someone as basic and unappealing as you. If you are going to be a constant, I insist you at least know how to do your makeup to fit in when we go on high-class missions.” He doesn’t bother sugarcoating anything. Instead, he leans back in his seat again, deciding this was a job well done. He hears the crinkling of the bag and pops one eye open, watching you as you study the products in the bag. You pull out the Starstruck Coral lip tint and suddenly you have his full attention. He opens both eyes and tries to discreetly lean forward, watching as you turn the box around in your hands. He was awful proud of that choice. It was the perfect ombre blend of coral and pink, not too warm and not too cool. It would match your undertone perfectly and it even had a shimmering quality to it. So long as you wore it right, he was sure it’d refine your appearance an exceptional amount. 

After finishing praising himself for his genius internally, he leans his head back onto his seat, content to just get this over with. As long as you didn’t look as constantly unappealing as you usually did on missions, it would be fine. He couldn’t get why, but it irritated him. Granted, your skin was okay at best. There were some acne scars here and there, blackheads all over your nose, and slightly puffy undereye, which he suspected was from not getting enough sleep on this accursed campus. Other than those faults, your skin was okay. No visible outbreaks or dryness. He had to applaud you for at least taking his advice to heart and moisturizing a little bit. It had done noticeable wonders, at least to him. 

He hears the unmistakable sound of plastic wrap being torn, and he perks up again, noticing you unwrapping the Starstruck Coral lip tint. He leans forward again, curiosity suddenly bubbling within him. “Put it on.” He says before he can think about it, his eyes focused on the small unwrapped box in your hands.

“...Huh?” You give him a puzzled look, tilting your head. His eyes flick towards you in annoyance and he gestures towards the box, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Don’t be dense, put it on!” 

You nod hurriedly, and he can tell from the way your eyes glimmer that you’d wanted to try it. He has to resist the urge to smile, your subtle but affirming reaction filling him with pride. He watches as you open the box and pull out the lip tint, turning it over in your hands before unscrewing it open. Romeo can already feel himself growing impatient, idly tapping his foot as he waits for you to start. “It may be a little messy because I don’t have a mirror, but I’ll do my best.” You warn him, finally unscrewing the tint, admiring the pretty ombre color. He sits up when you speak, and unbeknownst to you, a scowl crosses his face momentarily. You hear his footsteps before you see him, crossing the short distance across the train in record speed and snatching the tint away from you before you could apply it with shaky hands. 

When you look up at him questioningly, he shakes his head, holding the tint and applicator brush in his hand. “Just hold still.” 

With that, he leans over you, placing the thin tube of tint in your hands and firmly holding your chin, his eyes seemingly glued to your lips. “Open.” When you do as he says, he gently applies the tint to your bottom lip, pursing his own lightly glossed lips as he focuses. He exhales, and fails to notice the way you shiver, his breath fanning over your neck. His knuckles gently press into the soft skin of your cheek and chin as he carefully follows the border of your lips, watching as the plush skin yields to the pressure before plumping up again. Somewhat caught between a haze of his intense focus applying the tint and unexpected fascination with the buoyancy of your lips, Romeo accidentally smudges some of the tint. Despite his bubbling annoyance at his own blunder, for a moment, it’s an almost charming imperfection. The lip tint glitters against your skin, smudged just off the corner of your parted lips. If he were any more brazen, he would have given in to the odd temptation unfurling in his stomach to simply kiss it away. Fortunately for him and his own reputation, he’s far more proper than that. With a pointed glare at the corner of your lips, he wipes away the smudge with his gloved thumb. He glances at the sparkling residue left on his glove before wiping it away onto your top lip. When you flinch in response, he has to suppress a shiver down his spine. This action was inexplicably intimate, yet he didn’t understand where his flusteredness was coming from. There was no reason to act nor feel like this.

He applies the tint to your top lip in a more rushed fashion, suddenly wanting to replace the earlier distance between you two. He frowns when he finishes, nitpicking any slight smudges or missed spots, before stepping away, admiring his work. “There.” He plucks the tint from your grasp, screwing the applicator back on and tossing it into the bag. “...This might be good enough,” he says, feigning confidence, but he can hear the way his voice wavers with uncertainty, a part of him itching to do more. His gaze flickers upwards to meet yours and an idea pops into his head. He could do your lashes. They were long by itself, but some of the mascara he’d bought couldn’t hurt. Despite himself, he finds himself sitting back down in front of you, reaching for and holding your chin firmly again. He turns your head every which way, determining what else he could do to refine your appearance some. Unfortunately, he’s aware this train ride ends soon, and he feels himself getting nauseous at the idea of spending more time with you than he has to, despite the anticipation crawling up his spine. He reaches for the bag again, pulling out the mascara he’d bought earlier. When you reach out your hand to apply it yourself, he gently swats your hand away. “No. Hold still.”

He doesn’t give you much choice, still holding your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He purses his lips again, telling you not to blink as he applies your mascara. He finds himself staring at your eye color, noting the color of the mascara in comparison. Perhaps next time he ought to choose something that made your eyes stand out more, or maybe that’d be easier done with some eyeshadow in the correct shade. He decides to halt his thoughts there, scowling. He had to focus, and he was damn well sure there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. He internally recoils at the thought of having to peruse the shelves with you over his shoulder again, constantly shifting your expressions, making it harder for him to focus. The slight furrow in your brow even now was distracting, and all he could think about was how he wanted to remind you that frowning causes wrinkles, and you would be especially susceptible to them if you didn’t keep up your skincare regime. Instead, he lets go of your chin and flicks you between your brows, frowning at you himself. When you get the message and relax your expression, he nods appreciatively and continues his task, moving to your other eye. 

Finally, the task was complete. His eyes flick back and forth between your eyes, watching as you blink at him dubiously. When satisfied, he pulls away, screwing the applicator back into the mascara and observing your face. Your eyes seemed wider and brighter, and the added mascara helped your lashes appear longer. Your lips were bright and shimmering, still covered in that Starstruck Coral color. Romeo smiles to himself, proud with how he managed to turn around your appearance with so little. He reaches for your face again, holding your cheeks with considerable tenderness, as though scared one wrong move would smudge and ruin the perfect portrait of you. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as he gazes at you, checking your entire face for imperfections, glazing over the negligible or unnoticeable imperfections that couldn’t be immediately cleared. He exhales, feeling himself gleam with pride as a reluctant smile digs into his cheeks yet again. He sits down beside you, still holding your face. “Non c'è male…” He mutters to himself, finding his gaze lingering again on the pretty ombre mesh of pink and orange and red on your lips. Truly, Starstruck Coral had been the right choice. 

He’s basking in his pride more when he hears the shutter click of a camera, and a whistle in a familiar voice. “Now this will do numbers on WickHive.” The same familiar voice cackles and Romeo already knows he hadn’t moved away quickly enough to avoid the picture. One glance up and there he is, Leo, staring down smugly at his phone, where the incriminating image is probably being held. Surprisingly, hunched over Leo’s shoulder is Rui, inspecting the picture with a crease in his brow. Romeo cannot believe his lack of luck. 

Romeo catches it when Rui makes eye contact with you, and it doesn’t escape him how Rui’s eyes flicker with an emboldened interest. Stepping past Leo, Rui heads to you with an extra skip in his step, wide smile already spreading across his face. His voice is higher than usual, and Romeo wonders if mere makeup was enough to trip up the ladykiller himself. “Woooow, MC!” He stops a short distance away from you, his eyes flickering across your face as he takes in your makeup. “You look cuter than usual today. What’s brought this on, huh?” Rui’s tone is filled with mirth as he pokes your nose playfully. Romeo stiffens and has to bite back the urge to swat his hand away from your face. 

Romeo carefully watches your reaction, and is almost relieved when you don’t smile immediately. “You like it? I haven’t seen how it looks yet.” You reply to Rui, a little hesitant but clearly glad for the praise. 

Rui sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Awww, you should! You look so cute!” His face breaks out into a wide smile again, and it’s almost crushingly obvious that Rui’s a flirtier version of Kaito at this point. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for this, hm?” Romeo looks up to notice Rui’s gaze on him as Rui vaguely gestures in your direction. 

Romeo doesn’t resist the urge to puff his chest out a bit, folding his arms indignantly. “Indeed.” His terse answer doesn’t hide his swelling pride, he’s aware, but brevity is the soul of wit, which he likes to claim to possess.

“He picked out some makeup items for me.” You chime in, holding up the bag with a relaxed smile. It seems you’ve finally taken to Rui’s compliments. 

Rui shakes his head with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly picking up on the message behind the gift, but happy for you nonetheless. “Well, leave it to Romeo to pick out such a pretty color. It suits you.” Rui winks at you before finally finding a seat on the train, just across from you, taking Romeo’s former seat.

Leo, who’s clearly been either editing the picture or waiting his turn to soak up all the attention, saunters up to you, smug smile still on his face. Romeo doesn’t miss how your earlier smile seems to fade all at once. He would laugh, but it’s not that funny. 

“Gotta say, I agree with Rui. Who knew…” Leo trails off, his fingers reaching for your chin and holding it with uncharacteristic tenderness, tilting your face upwards towards him. Romeo notices how you stiffen at the contact. “...That the honor student could be—” Leo suddenly snaps his lips shut, and Romeo can tell from the way his lips purse despite being in a smug smirk that he had to bite back a compliment. Leo only falters slightly, brow creasing minutely before quickly straightening again, lips quirking back up into a teasing smile, more words as demeaning as they were saccharine sweet on the tip of his tongue. “Well, it suits you. You might even be unrecognizable enough to pass as a beauty in this picture.” Leo smirks, waving his phone in his hand. 

Romeo finds himself intervening before he can really think about it. He swats Leo’s hand away from your chin. “Stop that. You’ll smudge her foundation.” A blatant lie, but it would be sound enough to get him to back off, Romeo hopes. Something about this was fraying at his nerves. 

Leo raises a crooked brow at Romeo, a slow, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know, Romeo. The blackheads on her nose account for a lack of any foundation at all. Nice try, though.” Romeo should be thankful Leo lets it go, but all he can do is turn away indignantly, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He hears a chuckle before light footsteps padding away, and gently exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. By god, of all people to board the train at that moment… 

Rui walks at a much faster pace than you and Romeo, strained expression on his face. He’d left Lyca and Ed in charge of the bar while he was off on a short mission, as he explained earlier, and could only hope that they hadn’t mistakenly set the bar on fire. 

Romeo was headed to the bar for drinks, and as far as he was concerned, you were coming with him. The earlier incident with Leo convinced him he cannot let you out of his sight for today. Leo had cited some excuse for not coming to the bar, but Romeo could tell from the grin Leo flashed his way that he can expect that picture to be all over WickHive by evening. A drink to forget it, even temporarily, would be enough for Romeo. 

Rui heaves a sigh of relief as he steps into the bar, glad to find nothing on fire nor destroyed, but Lyca doing the work while Ed sits perched at the bar. A red shock of hair buried in a white sleeve also denotes another guest. Romeo has to grit his teeth, remembering how Haru went on and on about you after first meeting you. He can only imagine the endless waterfall of praise he’ll surely come up with on the spot seeing you even remotely dolled up. He makes a mental note to bring painkillers for the inevitable headaches he gets when he comes here and Haru happens to arrive. 

Clearly, Romeo needs to be more forthright about how he’s trying to protect his ears, because when you plop yourself down in the seat right next to Haru, all he feels is dread. He quickly slips into the seat on your other side, despite there being no remaining danger. 

Rui, finally behind the bar, gently nudges Haru. He immediately raises his head, and Romeo can’t tell if he woke up that quickly or was already awake and out of it so soon. The faint blush on his face indicates the latter. As Haru reorients himself, Romeo notices Lyca peering at you oddly. He’d never so much as heard this boy speak, but something tells him he’s going to be as much as, if not more of, a headache than Haru. 

“Oh, hi MC-! …Wait. Something’s different about you.” Haru’s voice had its classic drawl it always had when he’s getting close to being hammered. Romeo’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard from Obscuary’s entrance. He watches, jaw clenched tight as Haru inspects you. Boldly, and probably not realizing how drunk he is, Haru reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly tracing the skin above your eyebrows. Romeo notices you don’t recoil at this touch, but he doesn’t know if it’s because you know he’s drunk or if you happen to not dislike Haru. Both options are less than ideal.

Puzzled expression still stuck on his face, Haru traces his fingers downwards, caressing your cheek. “Yea…” He mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers. “Something’s…” his fingers reach the corner of your lips, “...Different…Oh!” His eyes widen like it’s finally occurred to him, and his gaze remains transfixed on your lips, shimmering coral color still bright and undisturbed on them. “You’re wearing makeup!” 

“Is that what that is?” Lyca cuts in, suddenly appearing behind you, craning his neck to get a good look at your face. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing your appearance before leaning away, satisfied. He crosses his arms, a light blush dusting his face as he tries to ignore the staring he just did. “Hmph. It’s pretty.” His compliment is short and terse, but Romeo can tell from your relieved sigh that you’re happy to receive it nonetheless. However, said compliment is quickly followed up by: “...You reek of the damn blond gigolo, though.”

Rui stiffens behind the bar, cleaning a glass. “Come on, my cologne isn’t that potent.” He looks up from his task to find all five of you avoiding his gaze. 

Ignoring Rui’s distressed cry of shock, Haru turns to you again. “Lyca’s right. It is pretty. Though…” Haru leans towards you, his chin propped up in his hands, “I always thought you were quite the looker, you know.” His smile is disarmingly handsome, even to Romeo. His flushed cheeks and lovestruck gaze probably only add to it. Romeo suppresses a gag, turning away. 

Rui, having partially recovered from the prior shock, also leans towards you, resting his cheek in his palm, partially hiding a cheeky smile. He hums in agreement with Haru, nodding. “Can’t disagree with that. You’re an attractive gal.”

Romeo shivers, ready to pull you away from Haru and Rui’s gazes. When Lyca cranes his neck to gaze at you again, Romeo snaps. 

“Will you horny dogs keep your dicks in your pants and your lascivious gazes off of her?!” He knows he’s one to talk considering the way your lips simply shimmering was enough to disarm him on the train, but still. This was ridiculous. 

“Really, now…” A soft, low, velvety voice echoes through the silence following Romeo’s outburst. Ed appears behind you, gently placing his hands over your ears. He mockingly frowns disapprovingly at Romeo. “Using such vulgar language in front of a lady…” He shakes his head and tuts a few times, a smile crawling onto his face. “Surely you know your manners?”

Rui chimes in, teasing grin all over his face. “He may need a refresher on them.”

With that, Haru, Rui, and Ed dissolve into snickers, just as Romeo bursts into a blush. Lyca, off to the side, looks a little confused. 

“I don’t get it. Why not use words like that in front of her?”

Romeo’s walking you home. He insisted on it. He wasn’t about to let a repeat of him being humiliated yet again by your side, nor was he going to let some other ghoul or normal human lay his eyes on you, at that. Maybe this makeup was a bad idea. But then, he turns to sneak a quick glance at you. Your expression appears quite pleased, and your shimmering lips are curled into a small smile. 

Well. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea. 

“Thank you.” Romeo’s surprised to hear you pipe up, and turns towards you questioningly. 

“For what?”

“For the makeup.” You gaze at him kindly, giving him a small smile. He’s taken aback by it. “Can’t say you were kind about it, but I appreciate it regardless.” 

Romeo hardly stiffens at the comment. He knows he wasn’t particularly kind about it, but that’s the point. How else is someone who can hardly remove their blackheads going to take proper care of their skin? He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, letting his thoughts run around his head. Part of him wondered if he had another reason for buying you makeup in the first place, and why this entire gift felt like it was only going to bite him in the ass later. Maybe it already was, what with how you’d managed to catch the attention of every single ghoul they’d encountered today. But that didn’t make sense. Why would you gaining attention bite him in the ass? He shakes his head, a blush forming on his face as though he already knows the answer. 

“Shut up. Just use it on missions.” Romeo’s response is as terse as ever, quick and to the point. He watches as you roll your eyes, and something in him twinges, partially wishing he could’ve given a nicer comment. 

When you arrive at the chapel, he watches you bound up the steps, sticking around despite himself. He musters up an obligatory “Good Night,” right before you close the door on him, and he watches as your shimmering Starstruck Coral lips pull into a grin. 

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

He turns away as you close the door, ready to fill the rest of his walk back to Sinostra with more pondering. His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupts his peace, however, and he turns it on only to find an innumerable amount of notifications from WickHive. 

“Kurosagi…” He curses his name under his breath. “When I get you…”

a/n: yippee!!!!!!! im surprised i managed to finish this. i honestly like it a lot, i think it's really cute and i like the way i wrote it. i genuinely hope you guys like it too!!!!!

shameless note that, as usual, i love likes, comments, tagged reblogs, and asks!! please feel free to let me know in any way you like just how much you loved my writing! it's what keeps me going!

until next time!!!

EDIT BC I SOMEHOW FORGOT?: a few hc's im adding 4 relevance's sake:

rui wears strong cologne and douses himself in it

haru has grey eyes

that's all yippee!!

[grenadehearts]

౨ৎ lazy mornings with ochako, legs tangled together, the soft snoring of her breathing. the sun shining in through the delicate lace of the curtains, highlighting her auburn locks messily cascading down her flushed face. her pale pink tank top rising up her midriff, exposing milky tanned skin that you know—if you were to touch—would melt into your fingertips like molten lava.

and she’ll stir, straight into your arms, as you stare at her with messy strands loose from your braid—the one she did last night with doting hands. and her wide doe eyes will open, lashes fluttering gracefully, and you’ll see the milky brown reminding you of creamer being stirred into coffee. of deer frolicking in the meadow, white spots and all. of silky lace ribbons tied in hair.

and you’ll playfully jab and knead at each other’s skin, neither wanting to get up, rolling around and tangling in the covers until you end back up side by side. warm hands on even warmer skin. the sun covering you both like a halo. the blanket laid loosely on the edge as you run fingers through hair and swap gloss, tasting the cherry chapstick on her plush lips.

pulling away with a dopey grin.

“mmm, strawberry?”

and she’ll giggle and hide her face into the pillow—because you guessed it right (you always do). and you’ll follow her movements, tickling her skin, causing her to squirm and laugh until the sound melts away.

and then you’re above her, peering into her eyes—the color of your shared irises swirling and mixing together into something almost digestible. and her face will light up a rosy pink, and you’ll press soft kisses all over her until the sun gets exceptionally bright and your cat comes in, tail swooshing in the air with soft meows, letting you both know it’s time to start the day.

ochako gets out of bed with a delicate yawn and a stretch of her limbs, revealing her sleep shorts with little teddy bears on them. and you’ll shoot her a daring grin, and she’ll beam—round cheeks and all—as she races you to the kitchen. footsteps pattering against the wooden floor, socks slipping on tile until you both reach the kitchen, breathless and giggling, gripping onto each other and the counter for support.

and you’ll bicker over who makes breakfast, dopey grins all the while, both so desperate to spoil the other that you settle on just doing it together. although she has a way of coaxing you easily, so you’re seated on the kitchen counter, legs dangling off the ledge as she mixes pancake batter. and you’re eating strawberries out of the carton while she flips pancakes, and as they sizzle into the heat of the pan, you’re tugging on her tank top, pulling her straight into you, settled between your legs.

you feed her strawberries and rub the red-tinged berry around her lips before kissing her—lapping the sickly sweet nectar off her mouth.

she tastes like springtime. like swimming in the lake where lily pads rest. like rolling down an open field where flowers cling to your skin and lighten your soul.

and you’ll shove the fork with fluffy sweetness—powdered sugar and syrup clinging to it—into your mouth, but it’ll never taste as sweet as ochako’s lips on yours. and you’ll lay cross-legged with matching tummy aches, endlessly flipping through the channels, only to find there’s nothing nearly as interesting on tv as ochako’s sweet voice filtering through the air, straight to your heart.

and the day will pass by quietly, and before you know it, the sun will set and the animals will rest. your bedroom floor will be coated in thrown shirts. the house will smell of cinnamon and vanilla from the baked cookies. the bathroom will still have the soft glow of dimly lit candles, and the scent of ochako’s cherry blossom shampoo will drift throughout the master bath to the bed you’re laying on—bubbles still drifting in the air from the bath you both shared mere moments ago, skin lathered in perfumy scents, tangled bodies sinking into warm sheets.

and you’ll lay on the bed, the mattress sinking you further and further down, covers hung over bodies, fingers intertwined, moving in harmony with breathless gasps of overwhelming ecstasy—twisted in each other’s entropy.

and you’ll taste the moonlight on her lips. you’ll taste every season that passes—from spring showers to december’s chill. and you won’t be able to rest until you hear the sound of her breathing that soothes you to sleep.

౨ৎ masterlist link here.

taglist: @luvseraphh @lotusstarr @cupkiki @candiiee @wokar @tuneinwlosers @the-faceless-bride @3lenaatvt @t33th--r0t @chocolatedefendorbaa @chosostonguepiercing @notartemis777 @idk1187 @chitteringcicadaeyes @xoxojisu @203steph @cvnt4him @princessshnazzy @chlosology @soundtrqck

[clockwayswrites]

Danny spread his bangs apart as he peered into the mirror, checking on how bad his roots were doing. It really didn’t matter if they looked bad, he just didn’t want anyone thinking too much about how he actually had black hair. The cherry red locks slipped out of his shaking fingers.

His roots were white.

That wasn’t—

Danny scrambled to part his hair on the other side where he had thought the white patch was. Maybe he just forgot which side it was on. It’s not like he’d seen is natural hair in a long time. Maybe he just…

The wall tiles were cold against his back as he slammed into them and slid to the floor. It was white too. There was more white. Had he not… wasn’t he… clearly he wasn’t using his powers enough. That’s what it was, right? It wasn’t that, this wasn’t inevitable, he just hadn’t been using his powers enough. Being in the shelter, staying in once place, it just had made him too cautious. If he just used them more he could halt this. He could stop the change. He could stop…

Stop what?

Dying?

Is this what it all was?

Was he just dying slowly, one day at a time?

Had this been inevitable since he stepped inside the portal?

Someone was pounding on the door.

“Kid— if you’re doing drugs in there!”

“No, my bag just fell,” Danny said. Or he guessed he said. It felt like a stranger saying the words.

He had to move on.

This shelter had been good— better, at least. They hadn’t asked his age. But if he wasn’t using his powers enough maybe he had to go back onto the streets. Maybe he had to leave.

Danny shoved his toiletries back into his backpack and unlocked the door. He kept his head ducked and mumbled a sorry as he tried to slip past the employee. A hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

“Kid—”

“I wasn’t doing drugs,” Danny snapped, yanking his arm away. He held it close to his body, rubbing it. The guy hadn’t hurt him, but it had felt— it had been too much. “My bag just fell, guess I didn’t get it on the hook.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Danny shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was a good jacket, warm. He had got it at a shelter in the last city. It was the only good thing from that place. “Didn’t eat lunch.”

The employee sighed, slumping a little. “Go see the kitchen. Aida is in, she’ll give you a snack.”

Mumbling a thanks, Danny backed up a few feet before the turned around and headed to the kitchen. A snack would be good. It might be a long time since he got any good food, he’ll to use his money for a bus out of here tomorrow.

(edit: made an update thread)

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars falling, the heat lingering in the evening, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Savior

Yan Shigaraki x reader

Warnings: mind break, isolation, sensory deprivation

800 words

He wanted to be perfect for you. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. That's why he agreed to become a guinea pig, to become unstable, a monster. When he becomes a true monster you will sit perfectly in his maw. Not like you knew about any of this. All you knew was that you've spent weeks in near total darkness. Scared, cold, and totally alone.

The room itself was pretty big. A plush king sized bed and soft blankets contrasted by a cold tile floor and gray walls. A table and chair littered with books and papers was the only thing to keep your mind active. The desk barely stood on 3 legs, having been broken after a week of being trapped in this box. There wasn't even a window or door to give false hope of escape.

Black fog oozed out of the wall just like it did every day. At first you would cry and beg for whatever was beyond the void to let you out. Screaming until your throat grew hoarse every day until you ultimately lost your voice. Your throat has healed but you know it's pointless to talk anyway. A hand passed through the darkness and left a bag on the floor and took the bag with yesterday's garbage with it. Clean clothes, some food and water, and a sudoku book. The puzzle was a nice change of pace, something to hold onto so you don't completely lose your mind. The isolation was really getting to you though. Often unable to tell if you said your thoughts out loud or in your head. Sometimes even imagining a voice talking back with you. You weren't sure how much longer you could take this isolation before you truly went insane.

The food always looked good, being a simple but balanced meal. Nothing ever too fancy or too cheap. The clothes were shorts and a t-shirt. Thin but it was fine as long as you stayed on the bed. The single light in the middle of the ceiling was on an automatic timer, and the only thing that sort of what you keep track of how many weeks you've been locked in here. At least that's what you have been using as a daily indicator along with the routine food drop off.

Slowly it felt like more of your will was draining along with your sanity. The craving for another human, for any comfort or companionship was ravenous.

You tried a few more times to talk to the void when it would show up, but all that left was an empty feeling in your heart when you never got a response. Despair, that's what it was. A crushing feeling coupled with the intense feelings of loneliness. All you could do was sit and wait, and wait, and wait…

You were never a religious person but watching the wall crumble to dust made your soul scream. An angel! He had to be an angel! Why else would he come and free you after all those months of soul crushing isolation! Freedom. That's right, he was your freedom. So why couldn't you move?

Your chest started heaving and your hands trembled. You watched your savior through misty eyes as you fell to your knees, your legs no longer able to support your weakened body.

“Hello.” His scratchy voice trilled, filling the silence that's been consuming you for so long. “I've waited so long, so so long to be able to do this..”

He knelt down in front of you and roughly grabbed your arms, the piece of metal attached to his left hand biting into your skin. It was impossible to care about the little details though. Not when his hands felt nice and cool against your hot skin. Not when his voice finally broke your burden of silence. Not when the rough feeling of his lips on your own felt like Nirvana.

You know you recognized him from somewhere. His white fluffy hair and cherry red eyes were distinctive enough, but all of your memories from before the room all felt so far away. If it was important you would remember, right? Well as far as you're concerned your angel is the most important thing in the world right now. He was your world.

He kissed you like a man taking his first drink after a month in the desert. A famished roughness that left you light headed, but you returned the enthusiasm as best you could given your weakened state. It felt like you were being eaten alive. Even if you were though you didn't want to stop him. As long as he kept touching you, as long as he was near you, as long as he stayed with you. You wouldn't care what he did. He was your savior after all.

[cherryxhaze]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 17)

Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

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Chapter Summary: When Eddie takes you to look for apartments in Indianapolis for college, he can no longer fight the fears that come with it or stop them from affecting his mood. WC: 3.2k Warnings: MDNI. A short angsty chapter with fluff and comfort at the end. Explicit language. Eddie's moody in this one. Continuing their growth together. We're getting close to the end of this series and this will be the last of the angst to come! Series taglist: @littlexdeaths @siriusmaraudeers @amandahobblepot @eddie-is-a-god

Sunday, May 18th, 1986

The classifieds section in the latest edition of the Indianapolis Star sits in your lap, red ink circling the multiple destinations on you and Eddie’s agenda for the day. You take a deep, reassuring breath in an attempt to settle the anxiety creeping into your gut as the highway exit for Indianapolis appears, willing excitement and hope to take its place instead. 

With your choice to attend Indiana University in the fall solidified, now it’s time to find a place to live and the prospect of living in a dorm does little to excite you. Many of the classified ads for apartments in the paper appeal to the working college student, promising the perfect fit with a close proximity to campus.

“Where to first, babe?” Eddie asks from the driver's seat. With a quick look at the coordinated red markings on the classified ads and map of Indianapolis, the van follows your directions toward the first address.

After a few minutes, the van slows to a stop in front of an apartment building. Outer walls made of faded red bricks rising 5 stories tall, dark fire escape stairs settled near the white edged windows. Nothing fancy, but decent enough to fit the bill. With a quick glance to Eddie, he gives you a tight-lipped smile before you two depart from the van and head inside. 

The expectations from the outside coincide with the inside. A one bedroom apartment. The smell of cleaning products provide some relief as you look over the cream colored walls paired with worn cherry wood floors and molding. Slightly dated white appliances match the tile flooring in the small, but adequate kitchen. Big windows fill the rooms with soft sunlight, allowing a view of the heart of the city. Exploring the bedroom and its attached bathroom, you can’t stop yourself from visualizing all your belongings filling the quaint apartment. What you’d put where, how you’d decorate it. Imaging Henny running through it and napping on the windowsill. 

Only a mile away from campus, it checks everything off your list.

“I really like this one, it’s practically perfect.” you remark to Eddie as you stand in the bedroom. He follows, giving a quick glance around.

“It’s alright, I guess.” He sighs as if unimpressed, an impression that’s solidified when he doesn’t return the smirk you give him, only continuing to look around and walk back into the living room.

You shrug it off, holding onto the hopeful feeling that comes with the ease of imaging yourself here. With every inch fully explored, you and Eddie return to the van. Making sure to mark a star next to this listing before you’re onto the next stop only another mile away.

The next apartment you have marked is only 2 miles away from the first, and in the short drive it becomes clear the area is less than savory. The whole area seems darker almost, even in the clear light of day. Darker bricks and cement lining the buildings, dirtier sidewalks less populated than the last. Some buildings in clear need of some TLC, while others are completely rundown. Spots of glass are settled on the sidewalks, whether from windows or broken bottles you aren’t sure. The van slows in front of a dark tan building that looks not much different than the ones surrounding it, corresponding numbers to the address you have circled on the exterior by the front door. A double take to the newspaper in your lap confirms it.

“Well… this is it” your voice wavers slightly at the announcement, eyes raking over every crack in the foundation.

“Absolutely not.” Eddie retorts without hesitation, foot resuming on the gas pedal to continue down the street.

“Wh- Eddie! Come on, this is the cheapest place I could find!” You look between your boyfriend and the apartment building now fading behind you.

“Ha. Yeah, no wonder.” He scoffs, voice hard as steel.

“Come on, we didn’t even give it a chance!”

“Oh I gave it a chance, Sweetheart. I don’t need to be worrying every night about my girl getting mugged on your way home from school.” He doesn’t spare you a glance, only a shake of his head with his decision finalized. You recede with a huff, sinking back into the passenger seat. With a couple more listings to see, you hope the rest of them are as decent as the first.

The next address takes you to the outer edges of the city, away from most of the hustle and bustle where there’s more greenery and less of the constant noise found closer to the heart of the city. There’s less apartment buildings and more houses, including the one at the next circled address. It’s clear the house has toughed out many seasons but still emanates a cozy, inviting atmosphere with off-white singles and a small yard. The information in the ad details the house is split into apartments with the shared living space of a kitchen and living room, ideal for college students with the university only a short drive away.

When Eddie shifts the van into park, you barely waste a second climbing out and onto the sidewalk, almost anxious your boyfriend would quickly find something wrong and drive off again. You hear the familiar scuff of his Reebok’s next to you as you both eye the place and the neighborhood.

“You uh, got some big girl job I don’t know about?” You giggle, looking at his features that are scrunched in confusion. “How are you gonna afford renting this whole house?”

“I’m not renting the whole house, Eds. The owner rents out rooms.”

When you look from the house to Eddie again, his eyes are now on you. Only he’s looking at you as if you’ve just spoken to him in another language.

“Nope, no. Too risky.” He argues, curls swinging as his hands move with his words.

“Eddie-”

“You don’t know these people, Y/N. They could be freaks, real freaks!”

In the middle of a deep sigh and roll of your eyes, you spot who you assume to be the owner stepping out from the front door. An older man with salt and pepper hair, hunched over onto the stair railing with a pipe in hand.

“Look, Eds. We’re already here and the owner’s already seen us so let’s just take a look, alright? Please?” you beg exasperatedly with big, bright eyes pleading up at him. He meets them, looking over you before his chest raises with a deep breath, sparing a glance to the old man on the porch watching.

“Alright, fine.”

The owner is friendly enough, ushering the two of you through the well-lived in living room and kitchen that is in need of some light cleaning and personality. After following his slow but steady steps up the stairs, the owner whom you now know as Fred, grumbles towards an open door before leaving you and Eddie to explore the small but amble room on your own.

There’s not much to look at; gray speckled carpet lines the floor of the room and beige flowered paper is glued onto the walls. With a look into the closet, you’re skeptical of its capacity to contain your wardrobe but you’re sure you can make the space work if needed. Though you love the idea of having your own apartment, renting a room out of a house is a cheaper option while still giving you the chance to live with other college students. You can make due.

“Oh, hi!” an unfamiliar husky voice coming from the hallway catches your attention, turning around to spot a tall, tan-skinned, and muscular guy standing in the doorway. “I’m Mark, you?”

“Y/N”

“Eddie”

Mark's gaze only flickers to Eddie for a split second before it’s back on you, flashing his pearly whites.

“I live in the room right at the end of the hall. Are you moving in?” You don’t miss the flirtatious smirk on his nude lips, nor the way his eyes quickly look over your body and neither does Eddie.

“No-” “No.”

You laugh awkwardly as you take in Eddie’s rigid posture that’s now angled toward Mark. The tension hanging in the air between them is nearly visible to the eye.

“I’m just looking right now before the Fall semester.”

“Oh, are you going to Indiana University? I’ll be a Senior there this year myself. What major ar-”

“Well, like she said. We’re just looking right now and I think we’ve seen everything. Right, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice is cold and features firm as he looks toward you, hand outstretched for you to take with your own. With a stunted breath you grab Eddie’s hand, forcing a smile while he leads you out of the room. You offer Mark a polite wave goodbye as you pass him and follow Eddie right out of the front door.

“Like I said, freaks. No way. That guy was a total creep.” He spits out the final word once you’ve re-entered the van, quick to turn the keys in the ignition.

You exhale and lean back into the clothed seat, deciding to let Eddie take the win on this one too. Out of the three you’ve seen, only one is still a viable option with the list now dwindling. Any rooms for rent or ‘bad’ neighborhoods out of the question, you’re unsure what, if any kind of list will be left by the end of the day.

The sunshine that once illuminated the city now hides behind clouds, peeking through only momentarily as drops of rain splatter onto the van’s windshield. The hope and excitement you had at the beginning of this trip is disappearing with it.

By the time every circled address has been checked off, that hope is a far gone memory with Eddie finding something wrong at every place, nothing was good enough. Though his protectiveness over you and concern for where you’d be living was endearing at first, as you make your way onto the highway back toward Hawkins, it’s downright pissed you off. The light drizzle of rain has now turned into a downpour, the squeak of the windshield wipers rapidly sliding across the glass to keep up with the water is the only sound filling the van beyond the Dio tape playing through the speakers.

You aren’t sure if it’s just you or if the heat filling the van is the cause for your cheeks to burn red hot. Eddie hasn’t said a word since you parted the last apartment on the list and neither have you. Leaving you to ponder what the hell is wrong with him for the whole ride home. His mood has been off from the get-go today, before you even left Forest Hills Trailer park and has remained steadfast till now. You hadn’t expected the way he acted today at all, but what irks you even more is how much his sour mood has leaked into yours, chipping away your excitement bit by bit, listing by listing. Leaving you teetering on the edge of a snippy comment you’d later regret if provoked. 

When the van returns to the gravely driveway of Wayne’s trailer, silence continues to permeate the space between you. Following Eddie wordlessly into the trailer, you wonder if you even want to. Considering if you should just return to your trailer, let Eddie sulk in his shitty mood and try to salvage yours. But still, your heart tugs you along after him into the bedroom. You lean against the door frame, watching as he yanks off his vest and jacket to fall on the floor, digging around his drawers for the weed stash. 

“Maybe I should spend tonight at home.” You test the waters, watching and waiting for any reaction reminiscent of remorse or guilt, any kind of change from the mood he’s given you today.

“If that’s what you want.” He mutters without meeting your gaze, sitting on the edge of the bed and sprinkling bud into a fresh paper to roll.

Your jaw clenches and you’ve officially been pushed over the edge you’ve walked the last few hours. You fully step into the bedroom and slam the door behind you, finally drawing his attention.

“What I want is to know what the hell has been up with you today?!” you cry out in frustration, but he only looks back down at the weed in his lap.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit you don’t! You’ve been in a bad mood all day, constantly nitpicking and shooting down every single place we saw. I don’t understand!” You take a breath as you read his body language, tense but slouched shoulders with his head hung low. Taking another step closer, your voice comes out softer. “So, please… help me understand, Eddie. What’s wrong, baby?”

The sincere desperation in your plea finally breaks through his walls, his shoulders slumping with it.

“I’m scared, okay.” He admits sheepishly.

“Scared?” You prod, disposition going soft while your eyebrows knit together in confusion as he takes a shaky breath.

“I’ve been able to push down the thoughts about what’s going to happen when you move to Indy and start college for awhile now, but I couldn’t run away from it today. I had to face the reality that you’re leaving and yeah, I know it’s only an hour and a half away but it’s not across the street, or in my bed almost every night.” His own voice betrays him as it cracks toward the end and it feels like a vice grip on your heart, pulling you until the bed dips with your weight next to him. 

“And of course, I can’t help but think about what happened the last time you moved. You’ll have a whole ‘nother life there, new friends, shit, maybe you’ll meet some guy like Mark and decide you like him more than me.” 

You bite back the retort the bubbles up from your throat, intent on letting Eddie air out all he’s been holding back in this moment of vulnerability. His watery brown eyes look up from his lap to meet yours, effectively putting a lump in your throat and summoning tears to well in your own. 

“Tonight on the drive back, you were so quiet and I know it’s because of me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if you were thinking the same thing I’ve been. Wondering if there will be better for you at college, better than me… better without me.” 

The grip on your heart tightens with his confession; the worries about your love, the insecurities on his ability to hold yours with the uncertainty of the future. It pains you that they blind him from seeing himself the way you do, from seeing the undying love you have for him. You reach for his hand and interlock your fingers, taking a deep breath as you look over his face with love and admiration.

“Eddie… I can’t act like I know what the future holds but I can tell you this with 100% certainty. I love you, and I can’t see myself falling as hard for anyone else as I have with you.” You search his eyes, seeing the way they soften as he takes in your words. His hand tightens around your own while your thumb gently strokes his skin. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your bottom lip, contemplating making the offer that’s been floating in your head for months.

“And… I um, think there’s a simple solution to all this. All those places we saw today, Eds… they’re big enough for two people.”

His eyes widen with the realization of your offer, body turning to full face yours. Weed tray put off to the side of the bed so he can take both of your hands in his.

“Really? You want me to move with you?” With a nod of your head and a soft smile, one of his own spreads across his face. “I’d follow you anywhere, baby.”

“Eddie,” You breathe out. “I don’t want you to ‘follow’ me. I want you to be with me, you know, build a life together. But I don’t want to get in the way of your dreams, either. If you want to give the rockstar thing another shot then-”

“Sweetheart.” He stops you in your tracks with a dry chuckle and a shake of those dark curls. “Yeah, I could give it another go if I wanted to. Do another demo with the band and try to get signed. Move to LA, maybe even become famous for a few years and hopefully not lose myself in the process. But, I don’t even know if I really want that anymore, especially if it’s not with you.” His tongue darts out to wet his pink lips before he leans in closer to you, holding your undivided attention. “All the dreams I have about my future, you’re always in them. The only future I want is with you, my love. No matter where we are, no matter what jobs we have… as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

A wet laugh bursts from your lips as a tear breaks free and your forehead falls to rest against his. The rough skin of his thumb gently wipes the tear from your cheek before cradling your face. Faces slowly inching together until your lips collide, desperation in every seamless movement. Desperate for each other's touch, desperate to convey your love.

Gasping breaths escape your mouth each time your lips part before they meet again in a soft and slow tantalizing dance. A dance that only intensifies and deepens when his big, warm hands grab onto your thighs, pulling you to straddle his lap. You fall into the position eagerly, arms sliding behind his head, fingers losing themselves in his curls. The wet sounds of your mouths and the muffled whimpers leaving them fill his bedroom. Losing yourself in the pillowy softness of his lips and the tight grip of his hands kneading the fat cushioning your hips.

As you part for a breath, you’re overcome with how much you love Eddie more and more everyday. The thought only intensifies as he flashes you a wide smile, dimples on full display. Your finger twirls around a loose strand of hair framing his face.

“So in all honesty, which place did you like the most today?”

“Think I’m gonna have to go with the first one.”

He swears his heart skips a beat when you smile back at him, the kind of smile that spreads to your nose in a cute little scrunch. 

“That one’s my favorite too.”

When your lips meet again he doesn’t waste time licking into your mouth and breaching your lips, tongues engaging in an impassioned, lewd wrestle. You let him lay you back onto the pillows, your legs eagerly wrap around his waist as you fall into another night in your boyfriend’s bed, conveying your love and passion for each other for hours to come.

[xstarsmvxz]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 ❀

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 .𝟎𝟎𝟎 - 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐞𝟒𝟐 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭! 𝐨𝐜

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➬ Miles morales, a star student at Brooklyn Visions Academy finds himself infatuated with a certain red headed girl he’s never even spoken to (yet), causing him to have a mental battle whether he should talk to the schools best guitarist and registered ‘cool girl’ and risk embarrassing himself or just absolutely keep to himself and live a regret filled life. Unfortunately for him- the universe decided not to be on his side.

Athena Blake, the schools so called ‘cool girl’ and best guitarist notices a boy she recognises from her calculus and advanced English class staring at her a lot. At first the red headed beauty finds it cute and mostly jokingly makes fun of him for it, rarely sending small smirks and head tilts his way, sometimes having brief conversations. However, when she notices him beginning to always loom around her and seemingly follow her around, she decides to ask him about it.

𝐜𝐰 ➬ one way pining (for now..), Athena being a flirt, light swearing, Miles is lowkey a dork, ooc, he and uncle Aaron are still the prowler!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ➬ 2.1k

The walls and hardwood floors of the dimly lit theatre room are basically vibrating as the strumming of guitars and booming sound of drums being played can be heard, playing along to the song ‘I hate myself for loving you’ by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

People passing the doors of the large theatre stop in their tracks to take a peek or turn their heads towards the noise, some bobbing their heads to the music as others roll their eyes and continue walking to whatever class they have next.

Inside of the theatre room is a small band, two guitarists and one drummer. The three friends are on the stage, a red light illuminating their figures as they play through the loud speakers, grateful that they all have free period.

The lead guitarist, a girl with cherry dyed red hair and popping green eyes finishes the song off, her fingers aching as she throws her head back and strums the final cords.

The girl turns around to face her two friends Ivory and Thomas with a beaming smile on her face, her cherry flavoured lipgloss shining from the light on the stage. Her red hair messily frames her face as she goes to speak but is interrupted by the schools choir teacher followed by a few students walking into the theatre as the door clicks.

The band silently pack up their things, leaving the schools drums on stage as the girl puts her red and black guitar back in its case, placing it in the back rooms before smiling at the choir teacher as the trio walk out of the door.

The door closes with a loud click as the three friends strut down the hallway, squinting their eyes as they try to stop the burning sensation from the schools extremely bright lights.

Ivory turns to her friends, talking about how the choir kids are always interrupting them and cutting their playing time short. Ivory had jet black hair and deep brown eyes, she had dark skin which Athena thought went extremely well with her gold jewellery. She was the bass guitarist of their band.

Thomas immediately agrees with his friend, rolling his eyes as he exaggerates how annoying they are and how bad their singing actually is. Thomas was your basic white boy, except he was very very gay. He had light brown fluffy hair and pretty hazel eyes. He was the bands drummer.

“Speaking of singers, we seriously need one guys, I mean think of how much better our band would be!” Athena speaks up, turning around to face her friends as she walks backwards, her beat up red converse tapping as she walks along the tiled floor.

“She has a point. How many bands don’t have at least four people?” Ivory agrees, tilting her head to face Thomas as she takes her grape flavoured lollipop out of her mouth.

Thomas just stared at her blankly as he thought about his friends thoughts. “Exactly.” Ivory says, putting her lollipop back into her mouth as she tucks her free hand into the pocket of her black zip up hoodie.

Athena let’s out a stifled laugh as she turns back around to walk properly- only to bump into somebody. “Oh! I’m sorry!” She apologises, her face flushed with embarrassment, “I wasn’t really focusing on where I was walking..” she trails off as she picks up the papers that she had caused the boy to drop.

The red headed girl passes the paper back to the boy with an awkward smile, watching as the boy just stares at her with surprise. “You alright there?” She questions, her brows furrowed as she tucks some of her messied hair behind her ear.

“Oh I- um.. yeah, I’m alright” The boy replies, snatching the paper out of the girls hand and muttering a small thank you before he hurries off, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Athena and her two friends watch as the boy speeds off, Ivory and Thomas giggle a bit as they watch the boy however, Athena just stares with furrowed brows, whispering something to herself “weird…”

The trio shrug it off and continue to walk towards their next class, hoping to get there early instead of late like usual. Thomas has social studies so he departs from his friends first, giving the girls a small smile and wave before walking into the already student filled classroom.

“Hey Athena! Hi Ivory!” Comes a voice from beside them, her voice sweet and chirpy. The two friends turn to face the girl, already knowing who it was just from the sound of her voice. “Hey Valentina.” Athena says with a soft smile as Ivory just waves.

Valentina was a kind and lovely girl, she was also well known around the school so she got invited to many social gatherings and parties, that’s kind of how Athena and her friends met the schools sweetheart.

Athena and Ivory continue their walk, walking down some stairs before Athena reaches her calculus class. The girl rolls her eyes at a small joke that ivory made before pushing the doors to her classroom open.

Heads turn as they watch the girl walk through the door, some people giving her smiles and waves as others continue to mind their business. Athena sits at her assigned desk, next to one of Valentina’s friends.

Her name was Isla and her and Athena had become good friends since meeting each other in class. “Hi Athena..” The blonde girl says, smiling at the red headed girl as she does small sketches in her book.

“Hey girl, do you know why literally nobody is here today?” Athena asks as she scans the classroom, placing her books down on the table. Isla shrugs, flipping her book to a fresh page as the teacher walks in before whispering to Athena, “I heard that nobody was going to come today because of the prowler’s attack last night..”

The red haired girl turns to face her friend with a puzzled face. “Why? It’s not like the prowler is going to attack the school, especially in broad daylight.” Athena states, opening her book and grabbing a pen to copy off of the board.

Isla just lets out a small “hm” as she begins to copy the work down, listening to the teachers lecture. The teachers monotone voice in soon silenced as the door opens with a squeak, the hinges practically begging to be replaced.

The boy from earlier walks in, his books in hand as he walks towards a table at the back, awkwardly sitting down with a quiet sigh. Athena stares at the boy as she can hear the teacher let out a groan at the boys tardiness before continuing his lecture. “Hey Isla..” the red haired girl whispers, “what’s that guy’s name?”

Isla turns to face the boy who is now also rushing to copy what’s written on the board. “Him? That’s Miles Morales, he’s super smart.” The blonde girl mumbles before gurning back around to face the board.

“Miles Morales..” Athena mutters to herself, tilting her head before she zones back into what the teacher is saying, her pen gliding along her paper as she continues to write.

❀

Miles Morales. That name has been running through the red haired girls head all day. I mean- he’s cute, shy, but very odd, not at all somebody Athena could see herself with.

The red haired girl now sat in AP English, unbothered to listen to the teachers lecture as she zones out on the boy siting in front of her, staring at his two neat braids at the back of his head. The boy must’ve felt her green eyes burning through him as he slowly turns around, looking at her over his shoulder.

They make eye contact for a solid three seconds before Athena realises that she’s been staring. The girl quickly picks her pencil back up and continues to write, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

Miles does the exact same, flustered and surprised that the girl was even staring at him in the first place. He had been watching her for weeks, well not watching watching her, just noticing her. Noticing that she dyes to roots of her hair red again every few weeks, noticing that she reapplies her cherry flavoured lipgloss on every hour or so, noticing that she wears the same necklace everyday- the silver one with the pretty red star in the middle.

Miles thought she was beautiful, from her looks to her personality. Everybody knew her and spoke of her, his friends would tell him how fun and nice she really is once you get to know her, they would tell him to just shoot his shot and talk to her because it’s not like she would laugh at him for it, or tell everyone.. would she?

Miles had many questions in his mind as he thought about the girl, not even realising that the bell had rung minutes ago until the teacher repeated his name for the third time, telling him that the lesson had ended as she wonders how the dazed boy hadn’t heard her.

The boy carry’s his belongings as he rushes out of the door, his brows furrowed as he hurriedly walks down the hall, wanting to get home as soon as possible to prevent anymore embarrassment for himself.

His wishes are soon cut short as well as his walking as his shoulder bumps into the back of somebody. Athena Blake. The boy lets out a quiet groan, just how unlucky was he today?

The red haired girl turns to face him with furrowed brows until she catches sight of his pretty braids, realising who had just bumped into her. “You sure you’re not doing it on purpose?” She chuckles as she turns to fully face the boy, forgetting about the conversation that she was having with Ivory and Valentina.

“W- what?” Miles’ nervous voice comes out as he awkwardly and apologetically smiles. “Bumping into me, are you sure you’re not doing it on purpose?” The girl repeats, her guitar slung over her back as her hands are occupied with a small knitted handbag and her phone.

“No, no! I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to bump into you earlier either.. I.. I just wasn’t-“ The flustered boys speaking was cut short as Athena lets out a loud, obnoxious laugh, causing the few people in the near empty hallway to stare.

“I’m just fucking with you, we’re cool.” The girl says, widely smiling at miles, putting her pretty little tooth gem on display. “Oh.. we’ll still I’m sorry, my bad.” Miles awkwardly apologises with a small smile on his face.

Why was he so nervous around her? He was never nervous. Not even around other girls, not even when talking with strangers and definitely not when he was getting chased by the police as the prowler.

Valentina taps the red haired girls shoulder with a smile on her face as Athena turns around to face her brunette friend. Valentina and Ivory inform Athena that they’re all about to leave to hangout at her house, laughing at her interaction with the boy that they had most definitely been listening to.

Athena puts her phone in the pocket if her hoodie, grasping her knitted bag tighter as she follows her friends out, not before turning her head to face the boy with a smile on her face, “see ya around, Miles..”

The boy just stares at her as she walks, watching the was her hips sway and her plump thighs rub against each other as she lightly jogs to catch up with her friends. He was shocked that she knew his name, knowing damn well that he had never told her.

For the rest of the day Athena’s sweet voice echoed through Miles’ head, even as he showered, even as he ate dinner with his uncle and mom, even as he blared music through his ears, music that reminded him of her. The same sentence would never leave his head,“see ya round, Miles..”

He was done for, completely infatuated with the girl and he knew it, as much as he would deny it to this friends, he knew deep down that they all knew as well. Cute scenarios played in his head from the second he fell asleep to the second he woke up, when those scenarios were replaced by her sweet voice once again.

❀

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[soracities]

Maram al-Massri, from A Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor (trans. Khaled Mattawa) [ID'd]

[geminibsworld]

R u mine?

summary: academy!coriolanus (modern day bc it’s my story) opposites attract fr

warning: cussing, corio being a dick lol, smut, fluff, angsty, uhhhh plus his chaotic

🫧

arabella’s dark curls bounced behind her as she walks up the concrete stairs, her chanel necklace pinching her skin, a cigarette sat between her dark pink lips. dark make up around her brown eyes, tan skin peaking out of her loosened school uniform shirt hanging over her short plaid skirt, her black thigh highs in her black mary jane’s. she puffed on the cigarette before stopping and dropping it carelessly, stepping smashing the burning cigarette into the concrete. other students whispering and staring, she scoffs walking inside. mahogany walls, and pale concrete steps, book shelves and pictures of dead white men surrounded her. her heels click on the tile floor, as she heads towards the golden words that say, ‘office’ , her black dress coat, also apart of the uniform hung low only showing her black thigh highs, and mary jane’s showing. she leaned on the dark shelf waiting for someone to acknowledge her.

she stared into the small office seeing no one, she sighed looking at her watch on her wrist. suddenly a lady with bright grey hair appears, her glasses hung low on her nose. she smiled at arabella, sitting down at the desk.

“how may i help you?” the lady asks, opening up her macbook, typing and clicking a few buttons. she looks up at arabella through the top of her glasses.

“arabella lopez,” arabella only says, staring at her long red nails. admiring how perfect they looked, she pulled out her phone turning on the camera, looking at herself before pulling out a cherry red lip gloss applying it.

“are you new?” the woman asks her, arabella doesn’t answer at first. she rubs her lips together before pulling apart, a pop sound erupts from her plump lips. she shoves her phone in her bag, along with her lipstick.

“yeah,” arabella says, nodding, staring a head as she leans on one arm. her nails tapping impatiently, the lady nods at her words. she heard more typing before the printer started printing something. arabella sighs, annoyed.

“here you go sweetie,” the lady says, sliding arabella her schedule along with two other papers. one being her locker information and her room number this place being a boarding school and another being phone numbers and emails of all of her teachers.

arabella nods walking away, her heels clicking on the floor. as she steps up the stairs, she feels eyes on her. she turns and sees a blonde boy, staring at her from afar, and a girl with brown hair she looked like she was trying to pry his eyes away. arabella and the boys blue eyes met, she winked and smirked, before continuing her descent up the stairs. as she makes her way around the corner, she sees the boy and girl walking hand in hand towards her.

as arabella climbs the last few steps, the boy and girl not far from arabella, she gets to the top of the stairs. arabella looks at the paper looking around before spotting the class two doors away. just as she’s about to reach the door, the blonde boy reaches in front of her pulling the door open.

she jumps slightly, before turning and looking at him. he smiles at her, before arabella was about to walk through the brown hair girl pushed past her, practically stomping into the classroom. arabella laughs to herself.

“what’s so funny?” the boy asks, brows furrowed his pale blue eyes meeting her dark brown ones he noticed amusement twinkled in her eyes.

“nothing, she just seems like a lot of fun,” she says, her voice soft and smooth with a slight spanish accent. his brows raise, a laugh escape his lips. he shakes his blonde curls following after arabella.

he couldn’t help but watch her. she was mesmerizing, so different from everyone here. arabella smirks as she can feel his eyes before walking up the steps finding a seat in the back. she sits down her bag, pulling out her macbook, notebook, and a purple pen. coriolanus sits down on the other side of the room, sitting next to emma his girlfriend for the last year, her almond brown straight down her back, neat. he liked neat forsure, but that girl with the wild curls? she was new to coriolanus. he was interested forsure.

as class drones on, coriolanus showing off proceeded to answer as much questions as the professor would allow. arabella typed away, while noting things down. her nails tapping against, her keyboard. coriolanus answered questions left and right with ease, peaking at arabella every once in awhile hoping she’d take notice. oh she took notice, every time he would peak, she looked more obviously, just fucking with his girlfriend though.

as the class ended, arabella looked at her schedule heading to her next class. she walked into the room, coriolanus already there. he stand up walking to her, his face hard and his body stern and tight.

“who are you? where did you come?” he asks, his voice confused, his blues searching her face. she rolls her eyes shoving past him, coriolanus had never experienced such disrespect. he made a face, following her.

“hello? im talking to you?” he says like she should be obviously should be responding to him, she pulls out a chair throwing her bag into the empty chair next to her. she opens her bag pulling out her macbook, opening and logging in.

coriolanus couldn’t believe this, he was never ignored nor disrespected. he slams his hands down on the table, leaning down her height. she ignores him, reaching for other things.

“why are you being a bitch to me?” he asks, arabella can’t help but laugh. a melodic laugh escapes her dark red lips, she shakes her head her curls bouncing. tom scoffed, sitting up standing up straight adjusting his tie pulling at the bottom of his shirt. arabella finally looks him, their eyes meet and she has this twinkle in her eye again, his face relaxed for just a second before returning to look frustrated and confused.

“i don’t have to talk to you, i especially won’t talk to you if you’re an asshole and to answer your questions from earlier. im arabella, and im from none of your fucking business,” her accent coated her words in honey. they rolled smoothly off her tongue, too smooth. her words confident yet so honest.

“that’s not a real place,” coriolanus says, his brows furrowed. she rolls her eyes, sighing. coriolanus, scoffs folding his arms over his chest.

“for someone who’s highest in their class, you sure are dumb,” she laughs, biting her lip grinning. coriolanus unfolds his arms, before laughing rather dryly. he didn’t like how she was treating him, didn’t he know who he exactly was. the top of the class was just a mere accomplishment to him.

just as coriolanus is about to respond, the professor walks in. coriolanus returns to his seat which isn’t far from arabella. he liked her name, that would suit someone like his girlfriend. small, timid, frail girl. but her? she seemed tougher, rough around the edges, no control.

🫧

arabella walks down the student hallway approaching her room, the door says 326 printed in gold just like the office up front. arabella pulls out her keys, sliding the key in. she opens the door, and see that coriolanus from earlier sitting reading a book on the other bed. she rolls her eyes as he looks up at her, arabella slams the door shut.

“yeah, men aren’t supposed to be in here,” arabella speaks, setting down her things as she sits on the bed. she pulls off her coat first, coriolanus sits up on the edge of the bed, a smirk on his lips.

“im waiting for someone,” he says, his eyes bluer than ever from the window being opened, arabella starts her fingers at her buttons. one by one she goes down, coriolanus’ eyes widen as she’s looking down at her shirt, her red nails finishing off her shirt. his eyes totally ogling her tan chest, a white lacy bra finally show pushing up her cleavage. he bites his lips, arabella snaps her head up, their eyes meeting before coriolanus pulls his book up to cover his face. arabella smirks to her, pulling the shirt off her shoulders standing her, pulling down her skirt slowly. coriolanus’ eyes watched, he licked his lips watching as she pulls the skirt over her hips turning around and slowly bending over, she was putting on a show he thinks. for him. the skirt drops, and he catches her white lacy panties, before she stands up straight walking over to her closet opening the door standing there.

coriolanus knew he was getting hard, he couldn’t look away. she had an actual body, more meat on her bones, he thought. she had actual curves, coriolanus had only seen these girls on the internet. he places his book on his lap, pulling out his phone. her curls reached half down her back, the white contrasting with her tan skin. she pulled out a hoodie and a pair of sweat pants, she throws them on her bed. the sun lighting up the room completely, she reaches around her back trying to reach around to unhook her bra, she struggles before coriolanus suddenly decides to speak up.

“need help? i’ll be a gentleman,” he says, already standing up. she turns to look at him, before pulling her long hair over her shoulder, nodding. he walks over to her, adjusting himself in his pants hating his big dick because every time he was hard in these tight ass pants it was painfully obvious. he stands behind her, her ass so fat almost touching his crotch. he was nervous, his hands feeling clammy. he had never been so close to a girl with such a body. he cleared his throat careful not to poke her, his hands softly touching her golden skin. she so soft, he almost came right there. he couldn’t believe the affect she had on him, they had only just met. all he knew was her name, and that she was gorgeous. his fingers pulling the fabric disconnecting the hooks, the straps loose, she made no movement as he takes his calloused fingers pushing the straps off her shoulders. she shakes her arms slightly, before turning around.

coriolanus’ eyes widened, his eyes making immediate movements towards her breast. they were medium sized, dark pink colored nipples. they hardened as the cool air touched them, he sucks in a breath feeling his cock throb in his pants.

“thanks, snowball,” she smirks at him, he feels like a weak child right now, he wants to grab her and just have his way with her. make her scream and beg for more, but his girlfriend wouldn’t like that very much.

her brown eyes darker than normal, brushing past him, her ass touching his crotch, he breathes out a quiet, ‘fuck’ as he stands there dumb folded. she slides the hoodie on over her chest before sliding the sweatpants up her long tan legs.

“hi baby,” emma’s voice snaps him out his thoughts, he turns to face her caught off guard. his cheeks pink, obviously flushed, and his very hard dick trying not to burst through the seems of his pants. he quickly grins pulling her into a hug. she presses a small kiss on his cheek, she had only agreed to date him if they could only have sex on their wedding night. occasionally she did things for him, but he loved doing things for her. she hated to be touched though, plus he could only eat her out.

“hi emma,” he breathes, his voice hoarse and rough as he rubs her shoulders. she grins at him, pulling away grabbing her louis vuitton purse off her desk.

“are you ready to go?” she asks, her perfect brows arched at him. he grins, nodding then clearing his throat. he quickly looks back at arabella, who had airpods in her eyes her eyes pouring into macbook.

🫧

coriolanus was throwing a party at his frat, everyone was there, pretty or ugly, rich or poor, everyone was here. he hoped arabella would show up, he had people watching for her. he was paying them of course so they’d actually do it. he sat with his frat brothers and their girlfriends, playing poker. the room thumped with artic monkeys playing, red and blue lights lit up the room. coriolanus could never imagine acting like these fools, but his frat brother loves parties like these. he looks up, not seeing messy curls, but yet seeing straightened hair, well kind of it had more body to it. she wore a short bra long sleeve dress, black pumps on her feet, she walked in already a drink in her hand. he noticed her red nails, he loved that. most girls he was around had french tips, the classic short look. arabella’s nails were long and dark. the dress fit her curves perfectly, her small waist connecting to her perfect sized hips. he kissed emma on the cheek, whispering, ‘be right back,’ giving her his cards as she takes over. coriolanus approaches arabella, she was flirting with a man. he could tell, her eyes giving a more siren look and her dark lips into a mischief smirk. coriolanus knew the boy, he wouldn’t satisfy her like he could.

coriolanus places a hand on her shoulder, clearing his throat. she snaps at him, rolling her eyes.

“dude! have you met miss arabella?” the drunk boy, sejanus laughs, slurring his words slightly. he stumbles into her slightly, arabella grabs his arms stealing him laughing.

“yeah, i have actually. we talked a few times today, actually,” coriolanus gives him a knowing look. sejanus rolls his eyes, before hiccuping and replying.

“not all the pretty girls are yours, corio,” he slurs, coriolanus scoffs furrowing his brows. arabella giggles, coriolanus’ ears perk up at that sound.

“we all know you just want to use her and dump her afterwards sejanus, now let arabella and i talk,” coriolanus finally snaps, “now go,” sejanus scoffs, walking away heading towards their group of friends. arabella laughs, bitter lacing her voice. she turns around facing him. he looks down at her, before noting how actually short she is. coriolanus is six ft tall, yet she seems barely five ft. he smirks down at her, her thick brows furrowed at him.

“what if that’s what i want?” she challenges him, coriolanus laughs. he couldn’t satisfy that type of girl if he tried, but coriolanus? he could, he knows he could.

“please, he wouldn’t know how to work it or please you enough. you’d be extremely disappointed,” he laughs, so confidently. she shakes her head, scoffing at him.

“how do you know? huh? what would satisfy me?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. he smirks leaning down to her ear, his lips breath in her ear. she swallows dryly feeling nervous, remaining calm as her heart thumped in her head.

“let’s see, look at you. you need to be treated like a whore, a toy, someone who could control you and your body, because no offense, look at you. you’re a wild animal, you just need to be tamed,” his breath fanning her ear. he brushes her hair behind her ears before standing up straight, his hand fall to his sides smirking down at her. her dark brown eyes, narrowing at him once more except different. she bit her lip, before nodding at him.

“you’re right. i love to be fucked like a whore, corio,” she says, her thick brow arched at him. he smirks, leaning down his lips on her ear.

“yeah?” he asks, his hand sliding behind her back gently tugging on her hair.

“yeah,” she says smirking at him.

🫧

her hands tugged on his curls hard, he groans into her mouth. his hands cupping her jaw, kissing her with such passion and hunger. his hands go for her dress hiking it up her hips, as his fingers teased her wet heat as they make out.

somehow they ended up in coriolanus’ room, but this was his plan. have her in the palm of his hand. he was obsessed with her confidence and power. she was so different than anyone he had ever met. he couldn’t date her not yet, but he could have his way with her. if he makes her cum tonight more than once, she’ll be his forsure.

his fingers rubbed her clit, feeling her juices soak through her thin panties. she moans into his moan, her nails digging into coriolanus’ shoulders leaving marks. he pulls away from her, sliding her panties down her legs. as he pulls his belt off he gets an idea.

“turn over, baby,” he rasps, “arch,” his voice is stern. he loves to be in control.

she rolls over, on her hands and knees, arabella lays her cheek on the bed arching her back. coriolanus groans, rubbing and gripping her fat soft flesh. he moans, palming himself in his pants, before unbuttoning his pants and unzipping. he pulls himself out of his boxers, spitting in his hand stroking himself a few times moaning. arabella lay there in anticipation as his tips rubs between her folds, they both moan out, his tip rubbing her clit as he holds himself rubbing his cock against her.

“fuck,” she moans out, coriolanus places a hand on her hip, spreading her cheeks as he places his tip at her small hole. she heard rumors of the coriolanus being big, but she figured it was gossip.

he slides in slow, arabella starts panting slightly, little whimpers escaping her lips. her eyes screwed shut, as he enters her. coriolanus throws his head back, groaning loudly before pulling himself then reentering with no warning. his hips slam into her ass, her fist grip the sheets. he starts going at a steady pace as she soaks his cock, he’d never felt anyone so wet for him before. coriolanus was in heaven, groaning so loudly he didn’t care. he slams into her, her ass jiggling with each thrust. arabella lets out a loud screaming, clenching around him once again soaking him as her juices dripped down his cock.

“so wet for me, such a good girl,” he moans, slapping her ass. she cries out, before adjusting her positing now just on her hands and knees.

coriolanus places a hand on her hip before grabbing her hair, yanking it around his large hand. his hand fisting her hair, she whimpers. coriolanus shows no mercy, pounding into her. arabella’s moans not slowing down, as he finds her g spot. her moans becoming more high pitched, he relentlessly pounds her feeling her clench and cream all over him again.

“yeah, take it. cum all over my cock, baby,” he grumbles, she cries out cumming again, she soaked his cock so much. his thrusts sounded so wet, he closed his eyes moaning before slamming into her more becoming slightly more sloppy just as he’s about to cum, he pulls out stroking himself twice before shooting his cum all over her ass. he smirks at her, before slapping her ass again.

he goes and grabs a towel for her tossing it on the bed. arabella grabs the towel, crawling and standing up. she wipes her ass off seeing a hand print. she listens to the rustling of coriolanus getting dressed, she turns around pulling her dress.

“im keeping your panties,” coriolanus’ voice snapping her out of her dizzy haze, her legs shake quivering slightly. she furrows her brows, laughing ever so slightly. he looks at her, confused.

“so, how’d i do? miss arabella,” he asks, smirking at her, eyes narrowing at her. his hands on her small waist, pulling her chest into his. she places her hands on his chest, making a face.

“i guess you did okay,” she says, before a grin comes creeping up. she felt embarrassed, he really did fuck her the way she likes. plus he knew how to make her cum.

“more than okay, you came on my cock five times,” he laughs, cocky but teasing lacing his voice.

“yeah, i did didn’t i?” she asks, looking up at him through her lashes.

“yeah, baby, “ he murmurs next to her ear, “stay the night, just me and you,” his hands rubbing her back, ever so slightly giving her goosebumps.

“we could fuck more,” he says, she hums in response.

“that’s not a bad idea,” she smirks, her nails trailing around his waist band. he bites his lip, watching her finger, smirking at her.

coriolanus and arabella agreed to keep things physical, and not emotional. no strings attached she says, coriolanus was fine with that. they were opposites yet, so connected physically he couldn’t say no. plus he still had emma.

🫧

[sulrae]

Megatron likes Hip-hop

Megatron never really understood the Lost Light's love for human media. In part because of his...negative impact on earth. Therefore, he's left out of the several conversations and references that some (Rodimus and Swerve) bots tend to make.

He does eventually find interest in human poetry after receiving a datapad of earth's greatest literature, courtesy of Minimus. He goes through the likes of Emily Dickinson and Lewis Carroll with a fine tooth comb. He ends up learning a bit about earth history and culture as he attempts to interpret context and meaning. Arabic poetry leaves a tingle in his spark as the words of Maram al-Marsi's A Red Cherry on a White-tiled Floor has him enamored with human's relationship with love.

He pours over Maya Angelou's I Know Why The Cage Bird Sings several times that he has it memorized. He even finds video clippings of her performing the poem over the years.

Megatron ends up stumbling into Hip-hop through human forums.

A decacycle habit to observe discourse and theories gave insight to much of the works he had read. Perspectives surrounding word choice he never considered. There were times in which he wanted to take part. The lack of mechs interested in poetry left him itching for conversation. However, the concept of Megatron, former Decepticon warlord arguing about stanzas with humans would be frowned upon by many. So he was content with reading and mumbling to himself about his own opinions.

And then one of his forums becomes rife with discussion after someone posts a wall of text, filled with anger and passion on the disrespect of the music genre of hip-hop. A response that came from someone else's thinly veiled contempt towards an artist receiving a Pulitzer for his work. The poster goes in detail of how this form of rhythm and poetry combine in ways the require skill. How the stories of oppression and love are spoken with such intensity in one moment, and a quiet calm in the next. "You clutch pearls at the sight of it as if you don't rip them from the clams you so greatly detest". The scathing remarks provides enough intrigue for Megatron to finally look into music on earth.

He pulls up the Trapped by 2pac. It rattles the bones of his past. The words lingers in his processor for cycles after.

It takes no time at all for Megatron to dive into the rest of Tupac's discography. Once he's done with that, he takes in more. N.W.A lights embers that was similar to the early days of the war. Mobb Deep brings him back to the streets of Kaon. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill centers him a bit; allows him to simply sit with the album's beauty over a cube of energon one evening.

He picks through the more modern hip-hop and rap. Megatron can't seem to let go of the sound of the artists before, his expectations set unbelievably high. Very few could provide the same captivation of hearing Trapped for the first time.

Which was why it was fitting when Megatron finally reaches the artist that was so ardently defended.

Kendrick's music surprised Megatron at every turn. There was serenity in one verse that would build into a maelstrom of vigor and fervor. He was playful with intonation that any form of monotone required stillness. His lyrics melded with melody and the quick change of beats felt as though Megatron was listening to master craftsmen. To Pimp A Butterfly pushed Megatron to fill datapad after datapad with his own analysis and excitement. He gets through the DAMN. album and sits in silence after Duckworth finishes playing. Megatron almost misses his shift due to filling over 4 datapads worth of thoughts. One of them being that the album- while phenomenal- comes second to Pimp A Butterfly (The sampling of the interview with Tupac certainly adds to the bias).

It comes to the point where Megatron has to find someone to talk to about the genre. Minimus will spend too long on the vulgarity of lyrics. While Megatron thinks that while Drift would take delight in some of the music, there's still an air of tension whenever the two are around one another that suggests their relationship should stay professional. Megatron's at a loss with all of his thoughts when Grimlock of all bots catches him humming and goes, "Is that Outkast?"

It's a strange comradery they build, yet one that Megatron's delighted to take part in over energon at Swerve's. They've gotten a few stares that intensify anytime they have any arguments on which region's produces the best rappers.

("You can't deny the impact of west coast rap." Megatron had threw his hands up.

"And I refuse to let you consider southern rap artists as a 'paltry attempt' of emulating New York!" Grimlock pointed at Megatron.)

Magnus gently asked them to have their conversations somewhere else.

The Lost Light ends up encountering a human ship that isn't thrilled to see Megatron (even in a parallel universe, Megatron still finds a way to cause fear), but doesn't outright attack him on the account of the autobot badge on his chasis. They give him a wide berth while on the Lost Light. That is until him and Grimlock play Juvenile (at Grimlock's request), and have two human's peaking around the corner with shock and judgement. They ask both of them their thoughts on the genre that has Megatron stand a bit straighter as he talks for joors about his descend into hip-hop. One of the humans nod- still wary of Megatron but regards him with the respect. The other (Jeremiah) revels in this fact and is brought into the fold. The three meet every so often, discussing the state of music.

Then one day, Jeremiah rushes to Megatron with the rap battle of the generation.

Megatron smiles so hard at Kendrick's responses that it scares the whole Lost Light.

[grimst4rs]

prongsfoot apartment headcanons:

entrance corridor: a short hallway, a wooden clotheshanger and another hanger for their keys.

kitchen: rectangular shaped. the walls are a very light beige, and the floors are made out of ebony wood. on one side of the kitchen, the one with the entrence door (a cherry wood one), there’s the cabinets, sink, under sink cabinets (cherry wood), over and stove, and a white fridge. the other side has a two-people round table. a window’s covered by orange blinds, casting a glow through the haze of smoke. there’s an ashtray on the table and discarded cups of coffee. the walls are covered in covered of pictures of them and their friends. two animals bowls are on the floor, too.

living room: it’s separated from the kitchen by a singular wall. there’s a telly perched up on a small, ebony wood commode, and the couch is a washed down, red-brown, whereas the rug is a lighter shade. there are paintings and drawings on the wall, as well as a few other pictures. the windows are covered by mustard yellow curtains. the lamps and lightbulb emit a warm light, and there’s a record player on a chair tucked into the corner of the room. above the telly, there are shelves stacked with books, and there are soft, cushioned chairs on the floor, too.

bedroom: the floors are covered by a brown rug, and over that is thrown a smaller, dark red one. the walls are beige, but covered by band and quidditch (sports) posters. there’s a smaller clotheshanger on the wall. their bed is close to the wall, parted by only a nightstand, on which there’s a lamp and a few books haphazardly thrown. still, next to the bed, there are more books, and their old rucksacks, and whatever is related to that moment’s hobbies. in their bedroom, there are also their animals’ beds.

bathroom: attached to the bedroom. the tiles there, too, are a very light beige, but the tiles on the floor are dark red. there’s a dark orange carpet in front of the bathtub, shielded by a shower curtain. on the washbasin is the small cup in which their toothbrushes are, and above it is a small cabinet, in which there is medicine, toothpaste and anything of that sort. the toilet is right on the left, and behind it is something small, resembling a stair, where are magazines and newspapers. towels are hung, but they usually shower together, so reach for them or give them to each other.

[kakusu-shipping]

Me? Writing my Balan Wonderworld: Maestro of Mystery, Theatre of Wonders Self Insert chapter? Yeah why not. The tag's already full of OCs and S/Is, might as well add mine into the ring.

Bookworm

Balan Wonderworld Self Insert fic based on the novelization

Streetbeat ran his hand along the brick walls of the town around the Checkered King's castle as they walked, staring at his shoes as he pictured the girl, Fighter, and the man in the hat in his mind.

Who were they? What did they want? Why was he the only one who didn't see anything else...?

The texture along Streetbeat's fingers pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to the wall to see no longer medieval stone work, but books lined perfectly on a shelf that seemed to stretch up into forever.

The floor beneath his feet was no longer black and white tiles, but deep, chocolate brown wood. The narrow alley replaced with tall, cherry red wood stained bookshelves nearly over flowing with thickly bound novels.

Clocktower Kid and Pensive Pierrot turned a corner, with Streetbeat close on their tail, and came out to a skylighted library lobby. Plush seats, couches, pillows, and reading nooks filled every space that wasn't occupied by tables with piles upon piles of books. Transparent residents sat scattered around the area. There was a hush of chatter that never grew loud enough to make out words, like a soft static.

Clocktower kid made her way easily though the maze of plush chairs and towering book stacks to the front desk, which was just as over run by books as every other flat surface. She knocked politely on the large oak desk and called out into the room behind

"Helloooo? Bookworm, are you in?"

From around the corner came a puff of white hair, followed by the face of a young man. His bright red eyes looked almost unnaturally large behind a pair of oversized golden glasses.

"Ooooh! Clocktower kid! Pensive! Hello hello! One moment please!" The man called Bookworm called excitedly before disappearing back into the room behind the desk.

Streetbeat navigated the maze of chairs with the help of Pensive Pierrot and found himself glancing around the building he'd found himself in.

The walls were tall, and while in the stacks the bookshelves seemed to stretch indefinitely, from where he stood now they seemed completely reasonably sized, though he couldn't see the end of alleyways they made. On the ceiling was a large pane of glass in the shape of a tear drop, like the strange crystals that appeared in everyone's stage. Evening sunlight poured in and made the library almost seem to glow with warmth.

Finally, Bookworm stepped out of the backroom, placing a pile of books taller than himself on his desk, "Sorry for the wait." He spoke, pushing the books off to one side, "Shelving."

Bookworm's eyes fell on Streetbeat and lit up in realization.

"Oh! You're Streetbeat! It's so nice to finally meet you." He smiled and reached out a hand, Streetbeat assumed for a handshake and met him half way

"Yeah, likewise-" He began, only to stare in wonder as Bookworm placed a novel in his out stretched hand.

The book was wine red with golden lettering, the word Waltz was written in cursive at the top. There was no author or any sort of cover photo, just the title.

"what's...?" Streetbeat was so caught off guard he couldn't form a full question, he just looked quizzically up at Bookworm, who beamed back at him, seemingly proud of himself.

"Ah, that's how Bookworm welcomes people, he liked to recommend us all novels in his collection. I still haven't finished the one he loaned me..." Pensive explained, scratching the back of his head with a shy smile.

"I finished mine!" Clockwork Kid bragged, "And it was sooooo good I started reading it AGAIN!"

"Oooh, I'm so glad you liked it~" Bookworm cooed, resting his elbows on the desk, leaning closer to Clocktower Kid, "You know when the Prince stole poor Mary away-"

"Aaaaah I read all night to get past that part! I couldn't imagine Mary with anyone other than Atticus!!" Clocktower Kid squealed, pacing a bit in place.

Bookworm nodded, "They get there in the end of course but that carriage accident, oh and the poor bunny, it's just all too stressful!" The short man sighed, then sat up straight and clapped his hands, "But enough about that! Are you three here to peruse the stacks?"

"Actually," Pensive spoke, "we came to talk to you. We think something bad might be happening in Wonderworld."

As Pensive Pierrot explained the visions everyone had been having of the girl and the man in the hat, Streetbeat took a moment again to look around the library.

Every stage so far had been missing something, something obvious to everyone but the stage's inhabitant. He thought it was weird the novel Bookworm had given him didn't have an author on it, but it wasn't unheard of, so he decided to do a little snooping, just to be sure.

Streetbeat picked up a random book from one of the stacks on a nearby low table, it was a deep forest green with the word Nightfall written in bold golden lettering. The one under it was a soft baby pink, the word Daybreak was seemingly stamped on in a deep blue simple font.

The one under than and the one under that followed suit, a single color cover with a one word title and no author.

Streetbeat put all the books back where he'd gotten them and turned back to the group, where Bookworm was now standing with his arms crossed, biting the tip of his thumb.

"I... I have... seen them..." He admitted hesitantly, glancing at the stack he'd pushed to the side before, which seemed now unbalanced and ready to topple at any moment.

"Did you see anything else?" Pensive asked as Streetbeat came to his side again.

Bookworm seemed to hesitate, biting harder at the tip of his thumb as he glanced around the library lobby.

"I saw a monster," Clocktower Kid admitted, putting her hand on the desk in front of Bookworm, "it was scary.. I didn't wanna talk about it either.."

Bookworm released a sigh he'd been holding at Clocktower Kid's confession and placed his hand on hers, holding it. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath, the tower of books next to him stopped swaying.

"I saw a building... It was huge, and the doors were open like I was supposed to go in but I... I felt like going in would be my doom... Like I'd be trapped there forever..."

Clocktower Kid held Bookworm's hand tightly in her own, a look of sympathy on her face.

Bookworm took another deep breath, "Who is he? The man in the hat?"

"We don't know," Streetbeat placed his hand on the desk, "But we think something bad's going to happen."

Bookworm looked between the three of them, then squarely at Pensive, "Have you spoken to Lance?"

Pensive winced at the question, glancing first to Streetbeat, then Clocktower kid, before sighing, "Yeah... He warned us to stay out of it..."

Bookworm released Clocktower Kid's hands and stood up straight, "Then that's what I'll do." He turned and picked up half the books from the stack beside him, then walked off into the bookselves.

"Wait!" Streetbeat followed quick on his heels, Pensive hesitating only to follow as Clocktower Kid raced after the two of them.

"Aren't you worried? Somethings happening, these visions, they're not nothing!" Streetbeat argued when he caught up to Bookworm, who shelved books without so much as looking.

"If Lance says it's better to stay out of it, I trust him." Bookworm spoke matter-of-factly, pushing along a large latter on wheels.

"But what if something happens to Wonderworld?"

"Lance will take care of it, he takes care of us."

"But-"

Pensive Pierrot put his hand on Streetbeat's shoulder to stop him, he and Clocktower kid both shook their heads.

Streetbeat sighed and nodded, admitting defeat. He looked down at the Waltz book in his hand before setting in on a nearby self.

He followed the two down the seemingly never ending rows of books until they found themselves standing amidst ancient ruins, the stage of a man called Invisible Custodian.

[roseverie]

do you have any poetry/anthology book recommendations? 🤍

- Les Fleurs du Mal (The Flowers of Evil) by Charles Baudelaire

- Poems 1962-2012 by Louise Glück

- Averno by Louise Glück

- Certain Magical Acts by Alice Notely

- The Carrying: Poems by Ada Limon

- Selected Poems 1: 1965-1975 by Margaret Atwood

- Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson

- The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova

- The Moon Is Always Female: Poems by Marge Piercy

- Extracting the Stone of Madness by Alejandra Pizarnik

- Cherry Blossom Epiphany: the poetry and philosophy of a flowering tree by Robin D. Gill

- I Always Carry My Bones by Felicia Zamora

- Howling at the Moon by Darshana Suresh

- The Black Unicorn: Poems by Audre Lorde

- Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda

- Haruko: Love Poems by June Jordan

- The Ink Dark Moon: Love Poems by Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu

- Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

- Orpheus & Eurydice: A Lyric Sequence by Gregory Orr

- Crush by Richard Siken

- Rose by Li-Young Lee

- A Red Cherry on a White-tiled Floor: Selected Poems by Maram al-Massri