#he DANCES UNAPOLOGETICALLY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dabisbratz · 8 months

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𝑀𝐸𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒰𝐸 𝒟𝒪𝐿𝐿 — kento nanami x male!reader

himbo!reader , farmer!au , strangers/friends/lovers , meet - cute , inaccurate farming techniques , lawyer!nanami , slow burn , depictions of injury ( minor burns ) , check - ins , dumbification , vaguely implied age gap (~5 years) , hand kink , inexperienced reader , light feminization , blowjobs , anal , mating press , fingering , hand-holding , praise , degradation , slut - calling , dirty talk , spit / drool , under-negotiated kink , aftercare

w.c; ~ 13.8k

sonny says. . . naaamiiii !!! {cry} {cry} mbaby :c can ybelieve s’is mfirst nami fic ?!?! just tbe clear, the reader’s size or height isn’t explicitly stated, but he’s vaguely hinted toward bein/appearin physical stronger than nanami.

‘ Next stop: Sekichiku ’

When he wakes up, Kento expects sunlight peeking through greenery— warm, yellow rays of light that dance and flicker across his eyelids. Warm, yellow beams that caress his cheek like the knuckles of someone tender, the palms of someone sweeter. It’ll overwhelm him at first, so bright and unapologetic as his eyes adjust and focus, but he’ll quickly crash, pupils constricting as the disturbance dwindles. And, suddenly, the star’s saturation will be comforting. It’ll be like a second. Just slower paced, peaceful. He expects the rustle of leaves, connected to strong branches and even stronger roots that dig into deep, rich soil. He expects to roll over in his temporary bed, breathing gently beneath shade, shielding his eyes from the welcoming invasion and blanketing him in a seamless flow of cool air.

When he wakes, Kento expects to hear the chirping of birds. It’s never quite enough to hear them in Tokyo. The strum of wind as it tickles his nose and pushes him forward. The swaying of grass— the smell is still so freshly imprinted in his brain, as it makes his head swim while crystal drops glide across its surface — a coarse underfoot of greenery that prickles the souls of his feet.

Tranquility by his side, urging him to get out of bed, chirping in an excited voice as it tugs on his wrist. He expects solitude, rolling its tangerine eyes and tapping its foot impatiently, “This is the break you’ve waited twenty-seven years for.”

But, instead, he finds himself clutching his chest, his heart beating with an unfamiliar pace that isn’t so calm. His body feels cold, like he’s been submerged in the deepest part of the ocean, unrelenting and ruthless as wave after wave crashes into his ribcage. The static in his ears grows louder and louder, ready to combust and burst his eardrums. Instead of the rustle of leaves, the cruel hustle and bustle of city life storms forward against his chest, shoving him back and forth. Back and forth, to and fro, against his body as his knuckles turn white and his vision starts to spot. Back and forth, as he comes undone.

It’s been so long, he’s not quite sure just how to unwind.

He starts off slow, swallowing air in desperate heaps until his legs relax, spreading toward the cushion arms of his faux-velvet chair. Then he flexes his fingers, draws them into tight fists and releases the digits until the shaking has stopped. Sips his complimentary white-wine with newfound steadiness, and tries not to choke when the intercoms ring,

‘Now approaching: Sekichiku.’

It’s a quaint little village, your district, where everyone knows everyone and the news is always, no matter where you are, city-wide. Stone-clad pavement and moss decalled windows, there’s a small blanket of achroous fog further north of town square. Yet, despite that, there’s an ever growing city of greenery and agriculture. With a small population and himself being the only passenger to unload at the station, it seems to be a lot busier than he’d originally thought. Street-food stalls and vendors, selling freshly baked goods and syrupy, savory sweets. It’s not like Tokyo, no, there’s no rush. No pushing or shoving, no overcrowded lines, no smells of smoke and burnt coal.

In fact, the air is rather crisp— the further his legs take him, the more apparent. No longer are his lungs breathing in the stench of sickness or body odors, no longer is he pushing past the fortunate, just to shove the unfortunate. And, admittedly, it’s a bit of a culture shock— but it’s not unwelcome. Regardless, Kento keeps his suitcase close, pushes it forward, sidestepping polite smiles and local shop owners.

He basks in it. The genuine nature to it all, the healthy glow of the atmosphere despite the steam, the fog, the chill to the air. He considers this a luxury— the closest to a vacation he’ll get, even if he’s technically ‘on the clock.’ Still— he soaks in the sights of hugging trees, of mossy roads and cobblestone streets. The colorful banners that jump with life, the lanterns and yellow-lighting that illuminates the day— he’s sure at night they’re even more wondrous. And, oh, the smells. Not at all like tokyo— there isn’t an overwhelming mixture of perfumes and colognes, no fast-food chains competing through aromatic smells, no heavy scents of tobacco littering the air. It's crisp, it’s ripe.

He almost takes no offense to the collision against his side— nor the screeching sound of surfaces grinding against each other, nor the loud and abrasive cry of the man bumping into him, accompanied by the crack of an apple’s core against the ground.

“Woah,” Warm breaths pan down the base of his neck, even warmer hands wrapping around his bicep with strength Nanami is sure shouldn’t be normal for a typical, everyday civilian. He involuntarily grunts, a deep sound that rumbles in his throat and earns an eager, yet apologetic chuckle. “You alright? Y’almost went flyin’!”

His brows furrow quizzically at that. First— he’s certain it’s the latter who nearly lost an arm and a leg with his tumble. Second, he hadn’t expected such a youthful, bouncy voice from the very stature shadowing acast him. Not even a bit, it doesn’t match the muscle straining through thermal clothing at all, let alone the sheer square feet of area being taken up by one person. Blocking his vision almost completely, standing straight— at an angle— that blocks a stall for fresh produce and flaky, steaming bread. The goods speak for themselves, crusted over in golden brown mountains and cloud-like, moist cross-sections.

Swallowing, Kento nods, eyeing the poorly drawn sign for fresh bread. Drawn in sharpie, the prices are written in big, bold, red letters. Endearing, almost, the curve and loop of each letter and number— the lines of each to-scale doodle of bread. Nothing like Tokyo, not nearly as artificial, not perfectly clean-cut. Not so cookie-cutter. There’s some personality in it, as juvenile as it may be. And it’s a shame, really, how promising the stand looks. Apples that shine a golden shade of red, bread that’s glazed in a sweet, sticky layer of yellow molasses and savory honey. And though he’d love to indulge, Kento has yet to label himself as the type. “Great, thank you.” Is all he says, pulling his suitcase along the perimeter of the stand.

Some other time, then.

The days are long as they are hard. The sun has yet to fully set, and still, the Earth pulls and pulls to weigh it down onto your shoulders. The sky is painted in hues of orange and purple, strokes of tangerine and lavender roaming past your bird's eye view. Your back pops as you stretch, arms tensing against the woven basket of leftover harvest, shiny red fruits aligned with the horizon and reaching toward the tiny glimpse of departing stars.

Where blossoms grow from tiny seeds, and orchids dance in gentle breeze— beds upon beds of farmland and agriculture drape the outskirts of the farmstead. Though the weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up its seasonal chill, and the clouds have begun to dissipate into the sky. . . The well-received proof of your hard work is still something to behold.

“—ome any minute, now,” You’ve heard it all before, your mother gossiping to her farmer-wife friends as she nurses sweet teas and tangerine tiramisu under her calloused, warm hands. You’d been a mere two steps away from where she sits at the open-island kitchen, shoes tipped in the illuminated speckle of celadon clearing just adjacent to the sliding, front, cedarwood door. “Said so, at least. Did you hear. . . ” Windchimes sing in welcome, soft and mellow as the door opens and shuts behind you, socked feet slipping from boots to warm, fuzzy slippers.

“M’back, Mama,” You mumble, half-humming along to the tune of muffled windchimes the further you walk, arms hoisting the overflowing basket up to your chest. A sweet sigh, then pitter-patter of fleece against parquetry, and the discovery of a sweet, cherry-red ladybug walking along your knuckles, leads to the basket securely placed on a free countertop. There’s a quirk of her brow, something of a gentle question— more of a suggestion— not completely committed to keeping two conversations at once. How’d it go?

“No luck sellin’ today,” your voice buds, small and soft as your eyes trail the curves of a particularly large waste of an apple. An evident pout on your lips, then a quiet huff of air.

Farming has been your whole life, really. It’s what you’re best at, good at. Ever since you were young, barely tall enough to push away tall-grass— barely strong enough to pull out weeds, you knew it was yours. Something special, gravel crumbling and breaking beneath heavy, solid boots and rubber tires. The remnants of small, flying rocks, pelting into each other and leaving behind white, gray smoke as your tractor comes to a slow, gradual halt.

“But I met someone new!” That peaks her attention, nothing short of a gasp coming from a pair of lips—identical to your own— and here come the questions. Was he blond? Oh, I knew it! Did he buy anything? Well, why not? Was he tall? Thought so. . . How about handsome? Come on, now. .

“He was . . hmm, pretty.” Is how you’d like to put it, raising a finger to the air in finality. Truth be told you don’t remember much about his appearance— it was more so his demeanor. He’d bumped into you— you think— and yet, there was something so smooth about him. Not even his slicked hair, wavy at the end and curved just right to frame his face and bleed into the bristles of his blond undercut. He’d carried on like it was nothing, still polite, even admired your handiwork on your stall’s banner. A sweet thing of a stranger.

“You’re so easily impressed,” The smile dusting your lips curls into a wee, nasty little frown. That’s just not true. “A good thing, too, you’ll have to like our new neighbor.”

Her voice melting through one ear and out the other like freshly harvested honey has your throat tied into a thick knot, stuck right at the base of your neck and only growing in size. Hands thrumming against the granite countertop, your body leans inward.

“Neighbor?”

“Mm,” She hums, landline trapped between her ear and sweater-clad shoulder. You’re not entirely sure if it’s toward you or her friend, either way, her conversation stays ambiguous. “I heard he’s some fancy lawyer. You think he’s defendin’ the Hasaba girls from last year?”

That’s something to think about. Two little girls who’d been found locked away by some sort of— police officer, was he? Perhaps something more authoritative, and taken into his personal care. You wouldn’t be surprised if it became legalized— you’d only met that man (Suguru Geto, was it?) in passing, but his stature seemed dead-set on protecting those girls.

There’s a muffled gasp on the other line, crackly with static as a finger twirls around the phone’s coiled, mint wire. The rest of the conversation goes unheard, slippered feet carrying you to the large, alcove window that displays just enough equal farmland and neighborhood housing. And, sure enough, as if on cue, it’s not hard to make out the lines and shadows of the ‘ fancy ’ lawyer, his fluid silhouette effortlessly carrying luggage and— what looks to be— a box of books. Documents, perhaps.

“You didn’t— how come you didn’t say nothin’ ?!” Your excitement has you toppling over, limbs every which way as your face presses into the glass window. When you’re stuck in a place where everyone knows everyone, there’s something exhilarating about having a new neighbor. And he knows nothing.

There’s a quiet mumble that roughly translates to: ‘You didn’t ask.’, but it’s filtered out by the sound of your full-footed stomps. You opt to keep your slippers, racing toward the neglected basket, mind completely set. “I’ll be back, Ma!”

The path along your house isn’t dangerous, but it is harsh on bare feet— inured by heavy boots and pick-up trucks.. Still, it goes completely ignored as you carry the heaviest basket of goods you own, anxiety twisting and turning in your stomach— bunny hops into your chest and stomps and stomps and stomps. You’ve carried yourself past the intersection of the cobblestone path, a lot more smooth the closer it gets to the large, usually untouched, rental home. The lights are off— save for the dim, yellow glow of a small porch lamp resting above an unsullied, sleek and wooden rocking-chair. When there’s no one to inhabit the home, it’s always been comforting to look at— but now? .

Cold would be one way to put it. Your feet are cold, your arms are cold, your hands are cold, and you’re stood at his front door— frozen. Scared is another.

Even so, you’ve always been told you’re the ‘bravest boy’ in your whole district. Cry-baby habits and all.

The door opens before you can knock, and all you can register is brown. Brown wallpaper— the beige type, just barely meeting the requirement. Patterned with old, vintage looking floral prints. Brown, sleek wood of a bannister— steps that lead down into the living room, but are visible from the front door. Brown eyes, such a specific shade. When exposed to the light they almost look gray— green?— but as he stands before you, there’s nothing but molten chocolate and burnt honey-candy. A brown leather belt, securing crisp slacks and an equally crisp button up. You expect to see brown loafers, but—

Fuzzy slippers, brown and soft and cute. Little black buttons for eyes, and two floppy, fluffy ears— reminiscent of a bunny.

“Oh. . . Can I help you?” You’ve heard it before, his voice, but it’s even more striking than ever. It’s easy to forget the voice of someone you’d just met, but there’s something so. . distinct about it. He’s got a slight accent, too, something Tokyo-adjacent— you’ve always wanted to visit for longer than the feeble four hours of a busy work-trip.

“Mhm!” Pretty lips spread to their best grin, pulling at your cheeks until the babyfat wells up. “Well, no— um, actually. .” Brown eyes are expectant, but calm and patient as they watch you fumble over your words. Your fingers tremor as the basket is thrusted forward, heat blooming in your cheeks. “These— This is for you!”

“Ah. . .” Pink lips part, cupid’s bow prominent. There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of his front door closing with a slight click— right in your face. For a moment all you can do is stare, eyes boring into the dark, chestnut wood of the rustic front door. Staring until it’s gone blurry, eyes bubbling with fresh, unshed tears. And, nearly spilling over like an overflowing faucet, they gather before you can blink them away— fat and thick and embarrassing.

“Um. . I like your sli—slippers.” Fully aware you’re speaking to an unmoving door, you can’t behind yourself to walk back the moss-decalled path home. It’s not so cold anymore, your bones having rung out in the, metaphorical, hot sun until they’ve dried completely and— now it’s warm. Warmth in your nose, stinging as you sniffle and bite down a hiccup.

“Sorry for the wait,” Mahogany shifts, offset by a deep rumble of a voice, smooth like velvet in comparison to the sharp, slow creak of door hinges, “Here.”

Dam rebuilt almost immediately, your body straightens. Him again, this time his eyes trained on what he holds in his hand. Brown and gold like sweet honey and, by God, it’s the most crisp set of yen you’ve ever held in your life. His fingers dance with fluidity you’ve never seen before, counting through each slip until he’s deemed an amount satisfactory— there’s a slight patch of hair on each of his knuckles, an array of veins that cascade into his forearm. His fingertips look a bit rough, but his nails are glossy and clipped. Even his cuticles are pushed back, just enough to look healthy and natural.

“Oh! I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know it’s rude to tip, so I left the exact change,” You blink. Once, twice— again, lips parted like a fish, fresh out of water. Then he’s hoisting the basket from your trembling hands, eyes downcast. “Next time, don’t give out things you worked for, for free,” Right where his eyes dip, his monolid, there’s a small mole— cute and circular, and had you not been studying the curves of his face you wouldn’t have noticed it. “You should wear a coat, too.” And, like a schoolboy, you can’t help the flurry of butterflies catching flight in your stomach.

“Yes, Sir,” Pearly whites biting at the fleshy, pink insides of your cheek have your lips puckered, pensive and sweet as you clutch the money to your chest. “Sorry about earlier— um, if it’s okay, I could help with your boxes?”

He leans forward, careful enough to keep the respective bubble of space between the two of your bodies, glancing at heavy, book-piled boxes labeled ‘N.K.’ The woven basket creaks under the weight of his chest, but it stays in one place nonetheless. “That?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine, just mail. Must’ve arrived before I did.”

It’s a bit awkward, really. Anticipation nips at your fingertips— you’ve never really had to work so hard to continue a conversation. You’ve never had to think about it either, if the words were coming out correct, if anyone was comfortable with your presence.

“Oh,” You breathe, subconsciously leaning closer. Perhaps it’s a miracle he hasn’t actually shut the door in your face, and— right. Your hands move to wipe away any streaks from your cheeks, a small sniffle ringing in the air. “Sorry f’I bothered you. I live, um, closest to the windmill. Yknow, just up the path from here. . . ?”

You haven’t known him for long, but you just can’t consider him comparable. Maybe it’s your heart speed-running past any other rational thought, maybe it’s the blooming heat in your chest, maybe it’s the shiver of winter trailing down your spine. You find yourself desperately hanging onto his every breath, only ever beaming when he shakes his head.

“Kento Nanami,” Tense shoulders relax with a deep inhale, the sweet smell of chocolate stuffed bread filling his nostrils. All that trepidation washes away, hushed under the breeze of Kento’s slow breaths. “Did you make these yourself?”

The door creaks, quiet and welcoming as Nanami extends an arm, stepping aside. Once his eyes finally settle on you they harden, just for a moment, as if he’s finally noticed the pull of your eyes— the crystalline seam tightlined around your waterline, the bright red strain of veins peeking behind your lids. Still, he says nothing, until you’ve introduce yourself with watery tremors.

“It’s cold, and you came all this way without a jacket?” Your eyes trace the vapor floating into the air as he sighs, irises dancing along the edge of your bare forearms. “Come in.”

Your muscles straighten up under his gaze, rippling until rigid as you eagerly nod, “Y’don’t think we could share some of that bread, d’you?”

The best time to farm, you’ve learned, is just after sunrise. The sun rests her head on grassy hills, still groggy and not quite awake yet, herself. But you are, suited up in your boots and overalls, not a single lantern in hand. That’s the first plus, natural lighting of the rising sun. The sweet, dim bath of light that paints the path from your home to your plantation in molten gold.

Then there’s Kento. You’d think he never sleeps, but you’ve seen it. Ritualistic, in a way. For the last two weeks, you’ve watched him go about his day. See, the window of your bedroom leads straight into his study, where he prefers a dimly lit lamp over the bright fluorescents. It’s almost hard to tell when he comes and goes, seeing as whenever you look, there he is. Sat in a swiveling chair and hunched over his desk, writing something in a notepad and skimming through— what looks to be— more documents on his computer.

You can only tell he’s going to bed once there’s a sigh, a pinch to the bridge of his nose before smoothing out his eyebrows, then the discarding of silver-frame, rectangular reading glasses. The lamp stays on, as if he knows he’ll be back in less than seven sleeping hours— which you think, for him, translates to roughly thirty minutes.

And, though he can’t see you, you always make an extra effort to wave up at his study, just before starting up your tractor.

You never expected him to wave back. You never expect his eyes to trail from your face to your supplies. And you, most certainly, never expect him to join you. Two thermal mugs in hand as he makes it over the small hill from his home to your own, past the thorn bushes and vacant tangerine trees. Hot chocolate— piping and rich, it coats your tongue in its sweetness and splashes against your lips with comforting warmth.

“Mm!” You hum, blowing through the small gap between the thermos and its sealed lid. You’d assumed your scarf, wrapped snug around your neck, would do the trick— keep you warm enough — but this seems to actually hit the spot. Sticky accents from remnants of unmelted marshmallows, its fluff clings to the corner of your lips. And Kento, nursing his own mug— though it contains tea— looks up to watch you grin, shards of tiny sugar crystals clinging to your pouty bottom lip.

“Hold still,” all but purring, his thumb swipes at your lip, wipes away the stickiness until they’ve parted— breathless. His eyebrows furrow with concentration, as if it’s a practiced habit, absentmindedly licking his thumb clean with one smooth, quick dart of his tongue.

“Sweet.”

Your breath circulates into the air, a swirl of white that dispels almost immediately. Your thoughts are cut short, breath stuck in your throat, eyes wide and glazed over with astonishment. “It’s— huh?”

“Sweet,” he chimes, lips curling around each letter. He’s beside himself, nearly forgetting who he is until the clear of his throat and a resigned grumble. “I can’t fathom how you manage to drink. . . radioactive waste from a cup.”

His humor is dry— something you have to think over for a moment before smiling against the lid of your cup. Kento notes how you smile— with your whole body— eyes closed tight and teeth on display, shoulders bunched and your stride much more bouncy. He tries not to smile when you giggle, hiding the lower half of your face behind the piping mug as your shoulders brush against his own. With each step the closer you get— to both the blond and your truck.

“It’s good,” Your voice lifts at the end of the statement, feigning offense as you lick your lips. Soft tongue against soft lips, Nanami partly wonders if you naturally taste as sweet as your preference for drinks. “M’not bein’ mean about yours!”

“I'm not being mean,” He corrects, a silent apology laced in his tone— just in case — and your knowing gaze lifts from his cup to his eyes, blazing bright and beautiful. He basks in your attention for a moment, like the gentle rays of a sun-swept island. Had this really been a vacation— no carry-on cases— he would’ve considered booking a flight to Malaysia.

First, he’s buckling you into your seat— it seems you’d forgotten, then he’s reminding you to put on your gloves, despite having bare hands of his own.

“You do this for a living,” is his justification, though you deemed it more a reason for him to wear the protective gear. “You wear them.”

And, now, he’s listening intently as you explain the mild inconvenience that is the technicalities that come with farming. He learns of your affinity to animals. Your slight, biased preference for gardening. The way your nose wrinkles when you think too hard, and the way you often forget what you were saying as you say it.

Though the scenery outside the passenger seat window is beautiful— valleys of faded green and brown, a light fog dusting the air. The symphony of crickets and cicadas, and of course, the sunset making its round up the horizon, teetering along the age of the Earth as it paints each and every blade of grass in its light.

He helps you out of the car as if you haven’t done it yourself a million times, careful not to spill your drink in his other hand. He’s awfully tender, too, his thumb absentmindedly circling the glove-clad skin of your knuckles as your hand squeezes his own. The door slams shut, and he doesn’t miss your expression twist as you whisper a small ‘oops, sorry!’ to your precious truck before unloading supplies.

Kento can’t name a thing— he’s out of his depths, here, but he helps anyway. He carries it down the never-ending row of cabbage and radish, watches his step despite nearly dismantling at least three dozen budding vegetables simultaneously. And you don’t yell at him once, instead offering words of sweet encouragement until you’ve found the place to start, dropping your assortment of tools and buckets.

“M’kay, ‘Nami,” He watches you drop to a crouch, warmth blooming in the apples of his cheeks. It’s not just the suggestive position, nor the way your pretty eyes look up at him from there— but it’s how sweet you say his name. . going as far as to give him a nickname, too.

Still, it manifests through the twitch of his eye, which you don’t catch onto, as he kneels alongside you.

“‘Nami—”

“No. It’s pronounced Nanami.” He interjects, his grip tight along the base of unsavory, frostbitten weeds— at least, that’s what he sees you doing anyway. Almost too tight, heavy and thick hands flexing, you can see the bend of his knuckles as his fingers dig into the roots.

“Na,”And, the smell of dirt, it’s so strong, the earthy undertones invade your nostrils and have no intent on stopping. . . “—na,” Raw, natural. His palms press in at the sides, thumbs stroking at the soil as he feels around for growing stems. For a moment it’s silent, save for the crackling radio beside you. Your pretty lips part, and sweetly, you’ve sounded out his name. “—mi.”

A puff of air leaves his lips, a scoff of a chuckle, and he’s giving a slight nod, quietly whispering the syllables of your name in acknowledgment. “Mhm?”

He doesn’t miss the way your lips split into a wide grin, weeds absentmindedly disregarded for a moment as you giggle, “I already knew that— I just said it!”

“Mm,” He agrees, though he’s not entirely sure you did. Then his heavy fingers tap your wrist— gentle, barely even a tap, but it gets you back on track— picking up the dead weeds. Kento watches, your hands gingerly plucking them free from the root, mastered and effortless.

Your fingertips dig into the soil, palms sticky and damp, littered with defrosting grass along each ridge and defining line. There’s so much care in your fingertips, and with every successful pull your eyes ignite. Like a cute, overgrown puppy. “Good. You’re a smart boy.”

“Y’think m’smart?” And, though your shoulders bunch up— a bit more bashful, you’re shaking your head. “I mean— I knew that already, too,” and it washes away as fast as it arrives, replaced with genuine exuberance. “I tell m’self everyday!”

The blond catches it anyway, gaze unwavering, even as your own struggles to keep contact. Nanami’s eyes are remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who’s positioned so utterly relaxed. . Crouching just as you are, but with smooth shoulders and lax biceps. Still, they’re visible through the silk fabric of his button-up, but he seems used to it. Tufts of blonde hair, slightly unruly and disheveled— swept back with gel, yet still set off in a flurry of gold by the back of his head, as if he’d rolled around in bed and decided to lounge about instead of retouching it.

Cozy.

“I do,” The sun dawns down through thick, gray clouds, framing his bronze locks— and with his lips slightly parted and his skin picking up a peachy glow, he looks almost seraphic. “What were you saying?”

“Um,” You pause to rethink through the last hour, warmth blowing past your cheeks as a particularly nippy gust of wind rushes by. “. . We sell ‘em, the weeds! That won’t be for a few days, sometimes we keep ‘em for cookin’, but . . . these aren’t any good.”

“Too many?” He asks, as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s learned in his vacation here, by far, despite having learned that just a few days ago.

“Too many!” Pretty lips part into a wide grin, and perhaps that’s the conclusion to Kento’s sightseeing.

౨ৎ

Kento tries not to lie— not unless he absolutely needs to.

With your black on black attire— a large, knitted sweater, a black bomber atop it, dark jeans to match, a hand-woven gray scarf wrapped around your neck, and white sneakers that carry a cream-colored accent in its threading— it’s hard to keep his mouth shut.

“Where are we going?” Is his first question— but there’s so much more he means to ask. Since when do you dress so nicely? Do your parents know you spent extra farm money on those shoes? Is it bad to feel the urge to hold you closer, just so no one gets any ideas?

Nonetheless, checking the silver-plated Rolex along his wrist with the slight tussle of his lapel-collared trench coat, just before popping open the passenger’s seat of your truck, he ignores the growing thought.

“You’re always locked up in your house,” Twisting your keychain covered keys into the ignition, the truck starts up with a gradual rumble. You’ve figured something was wrong with the oil for quite some time now, but it’s never been enough to start any problems. “Don’t y’wanna have fun?”

That doesn’t entirely answer his question, nor does it ease his mind— a vacation this is, yes. But it’s also paid, and he’s technically on the clock whilst being here. Still, he nods just once, the clench of his jaw apparent in the faint valleys of muscle just below his ear. Though, he supposes he could say the same about you. Every day you wake up, harvest, water crops, feed your animals, clean out troths and shovel up feces. He’s not even entirely sure if that’s your idea of fun— but he hopes not.

Kento doesn’t expect you to be such a great driver. Smooth turns and a gentle ride— even with cobblestone streets and gravel trails. You get carried away when you talk, too, hands moving about and your gaze trailing to his eyes every few seconds. He has to remind you— “Don’t take your hands off the wheel,” “Don’t look at me, look at the road,” — but Kento would be lying if he said it weren’t endearing.

It’s almost like you can barely function without basking in his presence.

“If it were warmer,” You swallow, finally stopping to catch your breath after the last fifteen minutes of rambling. The car slows down to a halt, an overhead traffic-light flashing a bright, crisp shade of red. “We could’ve went apple-pickin’ . . . or even oranges!”

You take the time to fully face him, eyes trailing up his dark trousers and gray turtleneck— it bunches at his chest, and you’re sure without his trench coat it’d be just as strained around his biceps.

“What do you do when it’s cold?” He muses, ducking his head to watch the passing of trees and inner city shops.

“Hm?” You hum, but before he can repeat the question you beat him to it. “Uh, we have this lake— it’s the first to freeze over when it’s cold. . ” So quaint, his eyes gloss over pedestrians as they live amongst themselves. Walking their dogs, sharing a drink at an outdoor bar, couples huddled close together for warmth. The sidewalks are clean and clear, there’s a polite, happy bounce to everyone’s step. Fairy lights blink in every other window, casting a sweet, bright hue along the streets below it. Kento understands it all, despite it being much more. . comfortable. . than Sendai. “And, when it’s completely frozen, we skate on it!”

It feels like home. A gentler, cozier version of it.

“I’m sorry—” The blond clears his throat as he turns to actually look at you, having fully processed your words. “Skating?”

“Are y’scared?” Nanami tries to ignore the burning of his throat when you laugh at his silence— a pretty, featherlight thing of a giggle that only progressively makes it harder for him to catch his breath.

“No,” He grumbles. He’s actually done it before— his younger, studying ‘coworkers’ had a knack for dragging him around outside of work hours— and he wasn’t free from it, even in winter. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobora, perhaps the three only people who could have him willingly risking a fractured disc.

“Don’t be scared, ‘Nami!” The car turns into a short trail, decalled in various signs and brightly colored symbols. “I can help you, m‘kay?”

Four people.

He nods anyway, save you the meltdown, and lets you drag him out the car once you’ve found a good place to park. He’d think it was illegal had there not been a sign for it, let alone communal skates in varying sizes. They’re in good condition, too. A small wooden bench— decorated with moss along its sides, he brushed his fingertips against it by accident— keeps him steady, but when he looks over to you, you’re already walking around with untied skates.

“Come here,” He beckons, voice soft and fond as he quirks a finger in your direction. He watches you fumble, nearly tripping over your own legs as opposed to your laces, but you make it over to him anyway, thigh against thigh. You brace yourself when he pulls your legs over his lap, shifts in his seat and tightens them just enough— “It’s not hurting you, is it?”— to fit comfortably.

“Thank you, ‘Nami,” He can hear the sincerity in your voice— as if he’d saved your life. Your breath pans across his face, warm and minty as you shake your head, “Doesn’t hurt. . .”

He offers a gentle pat to your knees once you’re fully set, softly dropping them back down as he leans to tie his own. It’s a quick process— not as tedious as the knotted up, tattered ones back home— a much more nice change of pace.

The ice, though, is considerably worse. He surmises it’s because it’s relatively untouched— if the whole village of Sekichiku had done two laps over it still wouldn’t have been enough to leave a noticeable dent in the ice— so his skates have nowhere to grip. You, though. . .

You’re much more graceful on ice than on land. A slow turn here, a quick twirl there, you could skate laps around him if you so choose. But you don’t, instead holding onto his wrists as he stiffly skates forward. Kento’s nose is nipped with pink, matching the particular shade of his lips as they part in concentration. The shade dispels down his cheeks, and you’ve never seen his face so. . . soft.

“Say, ‘Nami?” You huff, holding his wrists as you move in a slow, clockwise circle, turning you both. “When’re you leavin’?”

The truth bubbles in his throat, tougher to swallow than he’d originally thought it’d be. He clears his throat, avoids the question, and instead of freeing his wrists altogether, he holds your hand. You’re pouting when you slowly swivel to his side, his heart somersaulting almost painfully at the cute, wee frown to your lips. “Hey,” you whine, caught off guard but still pleasantly surprised, squeezing your palms against his own. “What’re you doin’?”

You’ve always been undeniably sweet. Kento thinks back to your basket of goods. The sweet, savory, aromatic flavors of bread, meats, cheeses, chocolates. How you have it to him so sweetly, no questions asked. There’s no ulterior motive to your demeanor, either. It’s peculiar to have someone so. . dependable. Someone to easily lean on, someone so— hospitable.

You’re perfect.

“I've never—“ He pauses, watching smoke dispel form your lips. An intimate position, he’s in— close enough to hear your breaths, holding on tight enough to feel your pulse through your fingertips. “Noone has ever done this for me. Thank you.”

“What, take you skatin’?”

“Support me unconditionally.” He pulls away before you can say anything in response, relishing in the thought of your pulse speeding against his knuckles as he stiffly skates back toward regular land.

The ride home is smooth, but quiet. And once you get there, hunger overrides your hospitality.

You like Kento’s rental— its kitchen is spacious and just big enough to support the mess of pots and pans that come with baking. It’s warm and inviting, the stove works great and the oven even better. Its heat burns a little brighter, but nothing you can’t handle.

Pain au chocolat — chocolatine — and meringue cookies; they’re a pain in Kento’s ass. Not even something he’d try to attempt without you there— he’s happy to watch you whisk away and laugh at his disgruntled faces. A “taste-tester”, you’d called him, scooping one sugary accessory after another onto the pad of your fingertip and asking him to try.

You weren’t lying. You really do know how to bake— flour dusted skin and all. Twisting raw dough into pretty sculptures of bows and braids, scored surfaces of x’s and o’s, light layers of warm butter that seep into soft, risen dough. And when it bakes, oh, how sweet the smell of aromatic bread is to Nanami’s stomach.

Studying the contours of a pretty face— baby fat rounding your cheeks as they pool into a sweet smile, pearly whites displayed brighter than the moonlight leaking through the floral curtains. Your laughter is wholehearted, hands gripping the hem of Nanami’s fleece shirt, body tipping toward his chest as your giggles dispel into the warm, brown-sugar baked air. For a moment he mentally swoons, something of a comforting coo, eyelids heavy and blanketed with the same baking powder littering your handsome face. He relishes the warmth, which leaves just as fast as it arrives, and suddenly you’re reaching into the oven without your cute, fluffy puppy-patterned mittens protecting your hands.

“Wait,” His tone is harsher than intended, solid and thick, and you— the sweet, softheaded boy that you are, don’t entirely deserve the worried look on your face that melts into sharp, hot pain.

“Ouch!” Your elbow smacks into Nanami’s calf as you flinch, fingertips raw and numb— still pulsing from the fresh burn. The man crouches down, knee to ceramic, palm to your warm shoulder, and suddenly your wide eyes are glittering and gleaming. Had the smile from your face not been growing, he’d have been appalled. “‘Nami, did you see that?!”

“Silly boy,” He sucks his teeth, pulling your clasped hands from your chest. Gingerly, he plucks out each finger one by one, runs the pad of his thumb along the burn sites. “You have to be more gentle with yourself.”

And, as if he’d declared to destroy your favorite equipment, your shoulders deflate. Hazel watches as tears well in your eyes in real time— with award winning speed, really— glassy and wet and oh, you’re so cute. It was just a small reminder, nothing too harsh— it could barely be considered scolding. Yet here you are, sniffling and averting your gaze. Eyes glossed over while your fingers instinctively curl over his own for comfort. Then a small, petulant, “M’sorry, ‘Nami.”

“None of that,” Soothing, it's gentle and soft as his thumb travels along the numb pads of your fingertips. And though it was already a faint sensation, you can tell his touches are deliberately featherlight and calculated, cautious. “Nothing to cry about.”

“I’m not crying,” You grumble, though his ears register the sound as a wet sniffle as you rub at your cheek with the back of your free hand. “I don’t do that.”

“Of course not,” The breathy lilt tongue voice gives it all away, a tiny smile dotting the man’s lips. They’re entirely too enticing, a sweet shade of pink that dispels into the milky tan of his skin. Sheen and glazed with what could be spit, your lips part to mirror the same smile. Though yours is larger, his isn’t any less exuberant— luring you in one centimeter at a time until, inevitably, his breath ghosts along the expanse of your jaw— you can almost taste him.

His voice breaks through the thickened silence, “But it’s okay if you do.”

The next two hours should go by just fine.

౨ৎ

“What does ‘default-judgment’ mean?”

Floorboards creak beneath Kento’s feet, dimly lit ambient lighting placed around the office keeps it lit just enough to see ever so clearly— a small lamp angled above an open file, then the remaining trickle of light cascading over photos. Labeled, dated, clipped, and shipped to his front door just a couple weeks ago. Soon to be released, relinquished, deadlined.

His hair drips with cold water, tiny drops dripping down to the floor while others slither down his neck, and pool where his back dips, just slightly. He doesn’t tense when he sees you— his muscles remain just as relaxed as they were in the shower— and his eyes barely widen past the tired, lidded expression that paints his face every night, before he gets his studying done. But you—

You’re the opposite. Your shoulders raise to your ears, eyes wide and unblinking as they stare at the towel wrapped around his thick, slightly hairy forearm— it’s navy blue, with a brown, horizontal stripe across its fabric, and embroidered letters you can’t quite make out. An intelligible sound, then an unexplainable expression, and— there you are, tripping over your own tongue as your hands shoot to cover your eyes. Only unclothed from the waist up, Kento can’t help the amusement blooming in his chest.

“It’s a deduction based on a defendant’s failure to answer. . or appear, in some cases, to a lawsuit or court.” Nanami’s eyes trace the part of your lips behind your palm as your brain processes (though, he doesn’t think that’d be the correct word for it) his words. They purse, quickly, tight lined, until parting again— once more, with less confidence. With each step he takes (long strides that make him appear as if he’s almost floating) he grows closer, strands of freshly washed angel hair sticking to his forehead.

“. S. . ure!” You smile and nod in faux understanding, fingers curling toward the dip of your hairline, eyes peeking through cracked fingers. From there, beneath your palms, an uncomfortable warmth blossoms from your throat up, settling in your cheeks and sprinkling across your nose— sweltering and tingly.

Kento tuts, a soft noise, and you watch as he inhales a deep breath, pine eyes perusing through the space between your fingers for eye contact. “. . . Don’t worry about all that.” And, as if he can feel the high voltages slamming against your heart, his tongue darts out to moisturize his lips, and his eyes fall to your chest. He sits aslant to you, legs spread wide with the occasional sway of his knee— but nothing too sudden. You’re made all too aware of his half-naked proximity, purportedly close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating through the room— to smell the sweet undertones of vanilla, musk, and earl gray tea residing in his skin. In a low rumble he speaks, pulling lotion free from the drawer to your left. “Silver lining is: I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Even as he leans forward, closer and closer, he doesn’t cage you in— even if your chest aches at the loss.

Your heart demands the conversation die after that. Beating so rapidly you assume it’s stopped, silence freezes the air as your hands slowly drop to your lap. Lips pulled with woe, darling eyes low and sodden in an instant. Shoulders dropped just enough to sound a sharp creak in the swiveling chair you’re sat in, your lashes clump with fresh, unshed tears. And, in a lapse moment of murkiness, Kento’s lips twitch into a frown of their own.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as if afraid your response will confirm it— he’s what’s wrong. His choice of words— wrong. Thin brows furrowed, the dip of his chin has his lips ghosting your cheek.

“. . . Nothin’.” It’s worse. He’d expected tears— maybe even an exchange of fiery words— but instead you’ve shut down, hands balled up in the fabric of your flowy pants, denim bunched up and draped over your thighs. Completely silent, staring at nothing and everything— all in between— all at once.

“Nothing?” He echoes, a silent suggestion for more. The rumble in your ear is almost too much, for a moment you assume you’d conjured it up with your imagination. Too close, too bare, too blunt, too warm— too fleeting.

“Mhm,” When your gaze meets, his heart plummets to his stomach. “Nothin’.” Words rush to his tongue before they can catch up to his brain, and. . you look so . . sad. He’s never seen you so defected— nor had he thought the concept of giving up existed for you. So headstrong, determined to make things work, gears always shifting into overdrive when you can’t make something out. You’ve gone as far as to create your own definition— this isn’t you.

“It’s. . . inevitable,” Kento’s voice softens, dropping to a quiet whisper between just the two of you. “But not for a while,” Then shifts his weight back, pulling away as he speaks in some sick sort of oxymoron, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will.” Grumbling, you’ve always been an open-book.

“Not forever.”

“. . . Ever,” You grunt, choosing to ignore the stern quirk of his thin brow. You’re a bit of a brat— Kento sees that now— behind the pouty lips and soft eyes, behind the large smiles and intimidating prowess. “When are you goin’?”

Nanami treads carefully, fingers wrapped around the closed bottle of lotion. With a snap it clicks open, and a generous amount is pumped into his palms. The smell is neutral and muted, but clean and fresh.

Kento tries not to lie— not unless he absolutely needs to. An unexplainable feeling, adjacent to panic, rises in his stomach as he lies, “Six weeks, at least.”

“Nami…” Ignoring the deadline he’d just given you, you ask, “D’you like your job?”

You watch his posture relax, as if the previous conversation was just as emotionally taxing as it was for you, for him. He sighs, pauses to think for a mere second, then shrugs. “I like its structure.”

“Oh.”

“I like helping people, too.” He adds, much more sincere. Your eyes trail the lotion as it’s rubbed into his biceps, his shoulders, his forearms. His fingers flex and muscles ripple, skin bouncing beneath his fingertips, and light traces of hair at his knuckles raising.

“Oh.” You breathe, eyes locked on his veiny hands. You suppose, in a way, your jobs are similar. You, too, help people out— you provide fresh food and crops, you herd cattle and brush the hair of healthy horses. A very hands-on job— it’s rewarding. “Me too. I— I like helping too. And. . .”

His fingers twitch, almost as if they can feel your gaze, but Kento makes no effort to move them.

Six weeks. Time is fleeting.

“I—” With trembling hands you lean forward, clasping Kento’s smooth knuckles against your palm. He’s just as warm as he looks, skin soft and sheen. His fingers flicker in your hold, straining as they tense— silently, asking, ‘what?’ as an increasingly overwhelming urge to keep Kento close washes over you.

It’s moments like these you’d wish you were better with words. To weave them together into something pretty, like a basket made for carrying fresh harvest. To pull apart and braid together an amalgamation of just the right phrases— ones that sound pretty and roll off the tongue. Some that sound soulful and genuine, yet effortless and forthwith at the same time.

Moments like these, where your breath is stuck in your throat and with every rise and fall of his chest you think you’ve lost some more— he’s taken it all from you— you wish you knew just what to say, to do, to bring that air back.

To have him melt at your words the way you do at his actions, to have him feel the same exact thing when your heart clenches in your chest like a rag that’s been wrung out to dry. Without trying, without straining. You wish you were smarter— better at this, as you lean so far from the chair it begins to squeak in protest.

You’re sure there’s better people in Tokyo. With better educational backgrounds, with cleaner jobs. People who have it all together, who have different skills and assets— who don’t stick to one thing simply because they have a natural born talent for it. People who are prettier, more handsome— perhaps more his type. People who have aligning career goals and paths— more accomplishments.

Sweeter, kinder. With softer hands and an easier understanding of city life.

People who are better with words. Who can weave them together into something pretty, like a closed case with no loose ends or dead leads. Who can pull apart and braid together an amalgamation of just the right phrases— ones that sound pretty and roll off the tongue. Who can make their confessions sound soulful and genuine, effortless and forthwith at the same time. All within the heart of Tokyo.

People who aren’t you.

Nanami stands, shuffling over to fix the documents you’d ruined— of course you did— but his face hasn’t changed from his usual tight-lipped expression. Sometimes it’s hard to read him, and it’s times like these you really wish you could.

“I like you,‘Nami.” You whisper to yourself, quietly pouring your heart out with each spoken letter.

And, with a snap, your world goes crumbling down. Increasingly silent, the world stops as you hit the floor and Kento’s chest stills— the soft, quiet beat of his breaths gone quiet, as if it were a mere memory to begin with. The backing of his swiveling chair falls with you, right to the floor, clattering much louder than the sound of your tense body, and—

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think you have the wrong idea.” His voice is strained. Uncomfortable.

You’ve never felt more humiliated.

౨ৎ

Despite your humiliating attempt to hold onto it, time flies by. Locked away in your room— your only source of comfort being an occasional knock on the door from your mother and the weight of your blanket as it remains overhead. You’ve counted the seconds— tripped over your thoughts after reaching 1,633– started over again. You’ve listened to the pitter-patter of rain against your windowsill, peeked out from your cocoon to bet on a race between the raindrops.

You’ve thought about Kento, of course. So much it plagued you, made your chest uncomfortably tight— until all you could do was let out a humiliated groan all over again. It’s a timeless cycle, and yet, it grows closer to his leaving date.

You haven’t spared a glance toward the actual outside, even when your window overlooks his own study. You’re sure everything’s out of sorts now— weeds overtaking the farm, plants dried out or overwatered, any blooming vegetation snipped at the bud before it could bloom. Tough luck, they’ll get over it.

And, God, has your family tried. Through gentle words and offers of food, through soft praises that fell on deaf ears. Through frustration, too, anger laced in the sweetest yell of ‘where’d my smart boy go?’

Your eyelids feel heavy and thick. No longer swollen with tears or bloodshot with dejection— just heavy, simply tired. Sleep is all you’ve done these days, yet it feels like your body can’t get enough. Fifteen hours a day leave you straining for more, three hours a day leave you exhausted. You can barely remember when you last left your bed— for the bathroom, never for a drink— and even when your frown deepens as you think about it, you can’t bring yourself to fix it.

You can’t bring yourself to fix anything as of late, if it can even be fixed.

You were stupid for thinking he’d feel the same, anyway. A man like ‘Nami— a man like Nanami— so smart and so distinguished. So. . opposite of you, to think you’d fall anywhere near the same line as him. . is laughable, really. Even more so when you consider his upbringing. He doesn’t mention it much, and you try not to pry, but you consider his lifestyle quite traditional and cookie-cutter. You hadn’t even asked if he liked men.

“I think you have the wrong idea.”

His rejection physically pains you, a quiet sniffle and suppressed whine straining your vocal cords. Your nails dig into the fleshy, cushiony part of your palm. You can hear the pitch of his voice — rumbling and deep, you hear the shakiness of his breath—so deeply uncomfortable, cold with disgust. “I think you have the wrong idea.”

A knock to your door startles you awake, eyes wide open as your cocooned body flops around in bed. Still, you barely make an effort to respond, dry lips parting to form a garbled groan.

“Your. . . friend was at the door,” It’s your mother’s voice, but softer and pleading. For a moment your heart twists, eyebrows pinched as you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth— you can’t remember the last time you’d seen her face without slamming a door in it. “Looked tired, so I gave him some coffee. . .”

A bitter, disconcerting ‘so?’ nearly leaves your mouth— something so unlike your usual self, it makes you want to borrow deeper into your sheets and never leave. Shame. She doesn’t expect you to crack the door open. You shake your head, even if she can’t see you, only breaking your stubborn resolve when knocks once more, and slowly, you scuttle around the mess of your bedroom to unlock the door. Your eyes carry dark circles and heavy bags as your gaze pierces straight through her. Then, a shaky breath and barely audible whisper, “. . . S’it Nanami?”

Her aged smile is soft and thoughtful as she leans into the doorframe— something you haven’t seen in a while, and your eyes prickle with warm tears once more. “Between you ‘n me, you’re in much better shape.”

Cracking a smile nearly takes all your energy from you.

You don’t bother changing from your pajamas— they’ve always been so baggy to support the muscle you’ve grown over years of lifting heavy produce and working with truckloads— and now you’re grateful for it. Something to hide behind if you need it, and your fingers subconsciously curl into the fabric of your long sleeves for comfort. Once you get downstairs the two of you depart, and a gentle rub to your shoulder blades is all your mother offers before finding solitude on her own, just a few rooms away if you need her.

And— she was wrong. Of course, he looks tired. You can see it in his shoulders— they’re all wound up and tense, like they’d been when you first met. Sure, his jaw is tightened and you can hear the grind of his teeth against one another despite keeping your distance— but he still seems put together, albeit lacking his usual combover or corporate style of clothing.

It hurts to know he does well without you, as selfish as it may sound.

“Hi,” You mumble, rubbing at your face with the palm of your hand. Your voice crackles with disuse, rumbling and garbled in your throat. “Nanami. .”

“Hi,” He echoes, your name heavy on his tongue as he stands, leveling out the shared eye contact. Just Nanami. For a moment he’s at a loss for words— and it’s odd, typically he has an answer for everything. You remember asking why he’d buckle your seatbelt before his own, and his answer was always the same. You remember asking why he likes what he does— and they’d all circle back to enjoying the small things in life. His Kento’s lips part, taken aback by the loss of his nickname, but they close into a tight line with registration. Perhaps you’re just. . too much.

“I lied to you,” He begins, and your heart leaps to your throat. He clasps his hands together, resting soundly by his thighs as his head tilts downward, a silent plea. “And, for that . . . I’m sorry,” Kento releases a breath, hands coming undone to swipe away stray, gold strands of hair. “Don’t feel obliged to accept, I just— I like y— I want to show you something.”

It’s odd. The look on your face makes him want to scoop you up, to cradle you in his arms and hold you tight. And yet, he can see the cogs turning in your brain, the gradual loss of your frown and faux steel in your eyes as you shrug— he can’t even distinguish if you’re being reluctant or stubborn. Nonetheless, Kento smoothens the fabric of his coat, and makes a small, polite gesture to the door.

“Okay.” Your fist rubs sleep from your eyes, steps heavy and dragging along the floor as you slide your feet into brown bunny slippers— the same ones he’d worn when you officially met.

Stepping into the cold, crisp winter air, you both ignore the tremor to your bottom lip, “What were you gonna. . ?”

Not at all hard to spot, set alight by the glow or orange lanterns, it’s your farm. Oh, it’s much prettier than you could’ve ever imagined it. So clean, with pristine rows and neat placements of fresh soils. You can actually walk through it, as opposed to tip-toeing around like you used to. The air is crisp and fresh, just like you’d remembered it— but it feels better than before. And, dotting the horizon, fireflies dance into the night sky and blend into the twinkling stars. You don’t remember the last time you’d seen them— vision occupied by tall grass or obstructed by rusty tools. You could almost cry. Your breath catches in your throat, a gentle breeze brushing along your forehead and digging into the fabric of your clothes— yet you feel light and warm.

He did all this for you?

“Are you cold?” You blink hard, vision blurred with tears as Kento’s hand grasps your shoulder. “You’re shivering.” He’s quick to shrug off his coat, barely even flinching when the fabric dips into fresh mud, and loops it around your form with steady hands.

“M’okay. .” He frowns, barely visible, and the slight protests of being strong enough to tough it out die on your tongue. But it’s true, you don’t feel cold— not internally, at least. You feel light yet heavy, warm and airy. Heat pokes at your skin, ignites in the apples of your cheeks and trails down your throat. “. . . Thank you, ‘Nami. . . For everythin’.”

‘Why're you saying it like that?’ He wants to ask. As if it’s some sort of sick, roundabout way of saying goodbye. His movement stutters, lips curled into a small ‘o’ before reverting back to its usual, thin line; and he speaks, “I don’t just like you.”

Your fist tightens in his coat, fabric twisting to accommodate your grip.

“I. . admire you. Your strength, your weakness. Your baking. . Your smile, too,” He sighs, quiet and cautious. “Your laugh. I regret not telling you before. At first, I thought you were impulsive, and somehow abrasive, bu—”

You’ve never been one to hide from your feelings— you laugh when you’re happy, scowl when you’re angry, mope when you’re sad. So it’s no surprise to feel you smile; wide and unapologetic. It’s no surprise to feel the tremble of your fingers as they release his coat and land on his biceps. To feel the slow, shaking breath of air he releases at your silence— hearing his own slight sniffle at the nippy, cold breeze. You’re nervous, lips twitching as his chin dips, bashful as his lips intertwine with your own.

A kiss.

"’Nami," Laughing into his mouth, it meets the sound of your lips continuously meeting in breathless, heavy harmony. His lips are plush, soft and sweet, hungry and hasty, everything and nothing and all things in between. “I like you. I like you, I like you, I like you.”

You feel it now— the warmth enveloping his chest, the hard hammering of his heart against his ribcage. "Shit," He whispers, incredulous, and before slowly pulling away, cradles your handsome face between his calloused “I like you too.”

౨ৎ

Kento owns silk pillows. You can tell they’re imported from home— as they disturb the uniform colors of the crisp, cream comforter set blanketing his bed. It’s the first thing you notice, head sinking into the fabric as your eyes flutter closed, thoughts and breaths stolen with each wet, heavy kiss being pressed against your lips. His breath is hot and heavy, small groans and grunts leaving his parted lips, and— he tastes of chocolate.

“Kenny—” You gasp, but the sound of his name on your lips only eggs him on. Hot heat blooms in your stomach, tingling down to your tummy, so deep, something you’ve never really felt before. It tingles, almost, right through your thighs and straight to your cock, plumping up with each passing second. And his hands, god, are so quick and skilled— shedding you of your clothing as if he’s done it a million times before.

“Kenny,” You repeat, much whinier than before, tiny sounds leaving your lips as you squirm in his hold. “Mm, wait,” and his response is barely committal, a low hum that melts into a breathy sigh as your bare skin is exposed and your leaking cock springs free against your tummy. He coos, peeling the sticky fabric of your underwear free. Cute.

“Use your words,” Kento mumbles against your skin, running his hands along the silky smooth skin of the back of your thighs. “I know you can, you’re a smart boy.” You squirm with every touch, plush skin bouncy as you press your thighs together, cock sliding by your navel. And, even when you hide, he can see the precum smearing against your stomach, the tightening of your balls, and, now, your exposed hole winking back at him.

Fuck.

“Mm, don’t look,” You’ve barely convinced yourself, a choked out moan leaving your lips as his big, warm hand wraps around your cock and pumps. “That’s— oh, embarrassin’!” Slow, at first, trailing up the sensitive shaft and rubbing circles into the overly-sensitive head. Until his hand is slick with precum and his own spit, until your thighs are convulsing and you’re close to covering yourself in your own cum. Until you’re sobbing, pulling at his wrist with weak, clammy hands.

“I know, sugar. I know,” And the stifled cry you've been hearing belongs to you. “Feels good, hm?” His free hand grazes down your waist, thumbing at the dip between your hip and your thigh, then cupping the soft, plush skin of your pecs. “Feels better than your own hand, doesn’t it?” Kneading until your nipples harden against his palm, soft skin swelling around his fingers. And, oh, how pretty you are when you cry, overstimulated tears rolling down your cheeks and incoherent babbles leaving your swollen lips.

“Uh— huh, yeah,” Is barely breathed out, and Kento watches pre leak over his knuckles. Creamy and thick, sticky and sweet as your hips rock back and forth, to and fro. You just can’t help yourself, greedy boy, fucking into his fist like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt and— oh.

It is.

“Messy boy,” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own— damp and sticky. Your hand, preoccupied with fisting his sheets, is grabbed, and all you can feel is slick, hot heat. “Fuck your fist for me.”

“Wh- Huh?” It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to your hands, wrapped tightly around your cock as your hips buck— whines high and loud in your throat, keening like a puppy. It’s not at all paced, not like Kento, just pure desperation and need as your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your skull. Warmth rises in your face as your legs instinctively part, tingles spreading through your body and needy moans filling the air. Wet and sloppy, your hand is slick and soaked.

He travels lower, lips trailing down your throat, your collarbones— pausing at your chest. He watches the rise and fall, the slight bounce of your pecs as you pant like a dog. Pretty buds hard and sensitive, a gentle suckle is enough to make you arch from the sheets and keen.

“Good boy, that’s it,” You have the urge to get on your knees, to present all your holes to him, to spread yourself open with your fingers- fucking them in and out, in and out, just for Kento. It’s all too much, thinking of what’s next, what’s happening now, what’ll happen later.

Nanami lifts his shirt over his chest, the fabric bunching under your armpits as he keeps it pinned between his teeth, and you have no other choice but to flutter your lashes, watching as his pants are loosened and his cock springs free. Big. Thick and long— and, it seems his tan has traveled to his cock, too. Blushing at the tip, the sweet color of mocha, it disappears the further you look down. Curved, too, slightly past his belly-button and heavy against his navel. It's humiliating, the way your mouth waters almost immediately.

It’d feel so good weighing down on your tongue, fucking your throat fast and rough, making you gag and sputter— choking on your own tears and groans.

“Wanna. . I want. . .” You squirm where you lay, whining high in your throat as you find nowhere to hide— nothing to put your face against, nowhere to bury the drunk, hazy expression on your face.

“Want what?” He murmurs, pretty eyes trailing along the curves of your face before he places a sweet, soft kiss along the edge of your jaw. You take the grip on your waist as a slight indication— Kento’s patience is slowly waning.

“V’never. .” Your lips part into a gasp, eyes fluttering closed as his large hands travel along the expanse of your chest. “I wanna. . . feel you in my throat.”

The smart man he is, Nanami, never misses a beat. Pink lips splitting into a small smile, his thumb rubs circles against your skin. Still, you can feel the throb and twitch of his cock against your thigh, hard and almost leaking. “That’s ambitious, sugar.”

You don’t register scrambling up by your elbows, nor the amount of time it takes for your fingers to fail at wrapping around his cock. Your thoughts are muffled and hazy until a quiet chuckle sounds above you— rumbly and deep, and— ah, Kento’s hand is guiding your head back as he pulls your hands free. You’re panting for it now, mouth dropped open as the slurp and slick noise of his cock tapping against your tongue drops straight to your stomach. You could cum from this alone, without even a single glance toward the ache between your thighs.

"M'gonna be so good, promise, know I can do it! Want it, Sir," A clear habit of rambling when you’re nervous, a soothing coo leaves Kento’s throat. His tip smears along your pillowy lips, sticky and salty as pre paints your chin.

“Shit,” He groans under his breath, fisting his cock to ease the ache in his balls. “Slow. I don’t want to hurt you. Gentle, remember?”

You don’t. You can barely think, let alone recall something from another day. But you nod anyway, eyes glued to his cock as it bobs to and fro— pretty and weeping. You bet it’ll feel so heavy, weighing down on your tongue and nearly crushing your throat as you gag around it. He’ll taste good, too, salty and sweet as he buries his cock down your throat. With your nose pressed into the blond of his pubes, and his balls slick against your chin as they tighten and clench.

Yeah, you want him to cum on your face.

With a whiny nod you take his tip into your mouth, pink tongue over your teeth. In your head, it’s much easier— you can sink down to the base no problem— but in practice. . . You sputter and gurgle, leaning into the gentle touch caressing your cheek as your tongue traces the pulsing, thick vein cascading down his shaft. Through your pathetic whimpers and whines he mumbles— but it falls on deaf ears.

You stick out your tongue, cute and pink, latches onto your bottom lip, slicking his slit as he blinks down at you, pupils blown and wide as he praises you, voice smooth and buttery.

Through your own jittery, inexperienced suckling, his tip is smeared along your lips, slowly tracing your cupid's bow and bottom lip until a thin layer of pre has them glazed over and sticky. Your lips part, carrying a thin trail of creamy pre between them, as his dick slides in and out your hot, wet mouth. Spreading heavy along your tongue, swallowing around the head as his thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as they strain to keep still.

“‘Nami’s dick is heavy, sweetheart,” He’s gasping before you can fully take in the stretch of his cock, hips twisting as his eyes flutter closed. It’s been a while, you can tell, with the way his balls are clenched tight, his hand morphed into a fist— careful not to grip your hair. Your spit bubbles and pools around his cock, slick and wet, sliding between the seams of your lips and dripping down your throat, down your sternum, down his thighs. “And you’re taking it so well.”

Running your tongue along his big, veiny cock, his head falls forward— adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a pleased moan. His cock fills your empty mouth, stuffing it full like a pre-lubed fleshlight, his balls slapping against your chin in sticky, wet plaps. Collecting drool, it froths between your lips and his cock, bubbly and white until your noises are sloppy and loud. “That’s it, good boy, take this load down your pretty little throat. . .”

Gasping on his cock, Kento’s hand holds you close, until you’re buried against his pubes, until your throat is squeezing and contracting and wrapped plush around the thick shaft of his dick. You can feel it, each and every twitch and throb, each hit, sticky rope that paints your mouth as he cums down your throat, ropes shooting down your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You’ve done so good, such a good boy, marked for Sir, offering a few hollow sucks to his spasming cock before he pulls you off.

You’d rather he paint your face, but you trust him, swallowing the bitter, salty cream as he whispers gentle praises.

“You’re perfect,” Kento mumbles through heavy gasps, rubbing away the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. Such a sweet, pliant boy, leaning into his touch as he gently pushes you back down, off your knees.

Now he’s got you folded, knees bent back in such a slutty, shameless display. The blond squeezes at his cock, his large hand sliding into a fist that clamps down around his beading, shiny slit, then slowly back down to the thick, veiny shaft. Yeah, that’s good, how it slips and slides with rhythmatic pumps. You’d like to imagine that’s how it’ll be when his cock is inside, stretching past your rim and splitting you open, sliding against your velvety walls until he fills you up with his hot, sticky cum.

“Spit,” he says, gentle at first, but hardening as your poor, pitiful attempt at spitting down your own cock turns into gurgles of drool and incoherent moans. He grips your jaw, angling it just right— till you’re resting back on your elbows and have enough space to land a warm, wet glob right down the slit. “Good boy. Look at me, pretty. Like this.”

You watch as he spits down onto his own cock, runny and wet, which stands as a reminder of its own. His fist is so big, but it’s not nearly enough to swallow his cock down. You watch it pop free from his tight grip, loud squelches with each and every movement. Every time he throbs, pulses, shifts— you hear it all.

“That’s it, atta boy, my good little cocksleeve,” You— it must be you, there’s no one else he’s speaking to. Still, with your hand squeezing your throbbing shaft there’s not much you can say, airy little moans and sweet, high gasps leaving your pouty lips as you buck— up, up, up. A thin trail of drool slips down your chin, warm and wet and— oh, that’s nice— trailing down your cock. “That’s it, stick your tongue out.”

You really do play the part, tongue on display as you fuck your fist silly, bumping slits with the blond. Soft and sticky, loud and wet squelching until his own large, warm palm envelops both your cocks, bumping and grinding and sliding so messy. You nearly burst into hysterics when the warmth is gone, and Nanami’s gaze tears away from the pre oozing between your shafts. “Ask Sir for more, angel.”

“Mm, waitwaitwait, don’t— don’t stop,” You keen, stumbling over your tongue. Your brows pinch, eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “Kenny— Sir, please.”

“Good boy,” All but purring, his hands roam along the plush, round mounds of your ass. “Yeah,” His dick slips between the slick skin of your perineum, dragging along the sensitive skin— the head of his cock catching on your rim when his thrusts turn too eager. “You’re a good boy, asking like that.”

“You like grinding on Sir's cock don’t you? Getting me all wet. . .” Just as warm and wet as he’d thought, cooped up in his office and fucking into his fist, lube gushes and trickles out with every deliberate, shallow rut forward. Your balls bounce and twitch, slick and shiny with a mixture of pre. Your moans, so pretty, high and nasally— incoherent and blabbering. The slurp of his cock goes straight to your balls, tightening as you whine like a bitch for it. And his grip, once gentle and steady, leads down to your ass, keeping it spread as he slides the big head of his cock along your pretty little rim, again, and again, and again. It’s more menuevering than bouncing, through your fucked out haze you try to think; you want him to ruin you.

A knot tightens in your tummy, tingling in your balls as your thighs tighten and your legs tremble— fuck, you’re cumming, hard and all at once, it catches you off guard and a choked squeal is knocked from your throat, rope after rope spraying along your own chest.

“I—” You sob, cock convulsing against your tummy as Kento groans. “I didn’t mean to— didn’t know, m’sor—”

He hushes you, a low growl in his throat as his eyes roam up your tummy, past your hard nipples and land on the splatter of cum collecting between the plush hills of your pecs. “S’okay, it just felt too good, mhm? I bet your pussy feels so good, baby— perfect, pretty little pussy swallowing up my cock.”

You don’t expect him to say that— that’s the last thing you expect, eyes rolling back in your skull as you moan, wholehearted and slutty. With the wet squeeze of lube along your bottom half, slicker and sloppier than ever before, your hole winks back at him. Your perfect, pretty little pussy. “That okay, sweetheart? Can Sir pound this hole till it aches for him?”

Your response is barely coherent, garbled sounds and babbling that roughly translates to ‘please’ as thick fingers prod at your tight, puckered hole. Your loud moans are hushed as Kento leans down, close to your ear. His fingers slide against your entrance, sticky lube sliding along with them and connecting to your puffy rim. They feel so big, so long and thick when he taps them against your hole, barely breaching the tiny gape of your rim. “Gonna get you ready for Sir’s dick, gonna finger that cunt nice and slow, get that sweet boy-hole stretched out.”

“Kenny,” You hiccup, uncontrollable tears streaming down your face as you reach forward to press his fingers closer, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as your entrance is breached. You don’t miss the groan you earn in return, deep and shaky as the man takes the opportunity to slip his fingers right in, past the burning stretch of your fluttering ‘cunt’ that sucks the digits deeper and deeper into your gummy walls. “Can take it, pound it, Sir.”

“Look at me, watch me, sugar. Watch Sir fuck this little hole full.” You squeeze your eyes shut for as long as the reluctant, bratty little part of your brain lets you before staring down into hazel. Until his fingers have you seeing stars and rocking back into them like a cock hungry slut, you’ve never felt more full until his cock kisses your insides, leaving you sloppy and open and full.

Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the wet squelch and slap of skin against skin, his cock sliding in and out your puffy hole as lube gushes out around his dick in white ringlets. Like you’ve creamed on his cock, he can see it slip back inside with each thrust. Your knees over his shoulders, Kento hauls your body up, and with a tiny, wee and pathetic ‘ah!’ you follow suit, your cute little hole clenching and fluttering around his thick, leaking cock.

“Give me a little more, just a little more of this pussy,” You can’t contain the squeals and squeaks that leave your mouth when the blond pistons his hips, a bruising grip on your waist that only gets harder as he grinds his cock down into you. He’s filling you up so good, his balls slapping against your ass with each rushed, rough thrust that has your mind scrambled just as much as your guts. You can’t take it, hands scrambling to grab at something, anything that’ll keep you from screaming.

Pounding into you, your head falls back as you take it, nice and slow, stretching you out— fast and rough, steady and patient— Kento groans above you, bullying his cock inside, grinding while your hips squirm. Mouth open with an unending stream of moans, he breaks you in, turns you into his good boy— his perfect fleshlight. Wet little hole clenching and spasming, his weight pins you down as your greedy hole milks him for all he’s worth.

“Cummin’, Nami, s’too much— M’can’t—” Whining and crying, his touches go right to your head as much as they do your puffy hole."Kenny," you whine, long and pitiful, a pout of a noise that hits him right where you want it to, just as his cock does inside of you. You whine again when your rocking turns into frantic overstimulated grinding, reveling in the stretch of his cock and the rub of your prostate. He groans, thick and gravelly, hands coming up to squeeze at your chest.

“I’ve got you, c’mere, hold Sir’s hand,” He chokes out, feeling it too. The tightening of his balls, the way his dick aches and pulses inside you, the way his cum is starting to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are hard and deep, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. “So good for me,” You never want it to stop, not the pump of his cock, not the drag of his tip against your entrance, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move. Your grip on his knuckles is tight, nails digging into the skin of his hands. “That’s it, such a pretty boy, cumming on my cock.”

A searing knot of pressure grows in your stomach, filling as you bear down on his cock and sob on your whimpers. For a minute you think you’re going to pass out, everything going dark as you spurt all over yourself, globs of cum spraying hard onto your chin and splashing back on the blond. He makes you ride it out, offering hard, shallow thrusts to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, and places a few sweet, tender kisses to your sweaty jaw.

౨ৎ

You wake with a small moan, limbs racked in small aches as your body melts into silk sheets. It smells like him: warm, cozy, and comforting, like a hug. Grateful for the dim, ambient lighting of his bedroom, your eyelids flutter open slowly, and there’s not much to adjust to. You’re clean— its the first thing you notice, a faint scent of soap lingering on your skin as your aching body scrambles for Kento’s warmth.

“I’m here,” He says behind you, hairs on your neck standing straight as you blink at him. Carrying a glass of ice water and a plate of meringue cookies— whisked perfectly. Cute, cloud-like spirals that sit on a porcelain plate— the same ones he watched you make, a smile pulls at your cheeks. “Hungry?” The muscles of your biceps flex as you push yourself up, body subconsciously leaning toward the blond until he’s sat next to you, his touches gentle and fleeting.

He feeds you a cookie, watches your teeth sink into the sweet, then wipes away the remnants of sugar from your lips. So tender, your heart flutters when he takes a bite after you— an indirect kiss.

He swallows, throat bobbing, lashes batting against his high cheekbones, before parting his lips, “I was thinking of extending my stay.”

The room feels ten times brighter, ten times louder, and yet, your heartbeat overpowers it all.

“I like you,” The words tumble from your mouth, almost as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour taking you apart and building you back up. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. “I more-than-like you, Kenny.”

And, without missing a beat, Kento answers truthfully this time.

“I love you too.”

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bahablastplz · 7 months

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Best friend's brother: Chan x reader

Thinking about best friend's brother Chan that has always been secretly obsessed with you Content: extremely fluffy, slight hurt/comfort, smut, really vanilla smut but super sweet Warnings: Oral sex (f! receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex WC: 2000

Obviously, you and your best friend were inseparable. You grew up right next door, and her parents considered you to be another one of their children. You and Hannah were, for lack of a better word, siblings. Her older brother, however… that was a situation that you weren’t sure how to explain.

You had always harbored feelings for the older man, despite the guilt that ate away at you. You could never tell Hannah that, however. Nor would you ever tell Chan or let your desires come to fruition.

Which is why, once you came home for summer break you had no problem getting ready for your date at Hannah’s house. Though the thought of her brother being there made you gulp, you would just have to hope you wouldn’t run into him and everything would be fine–

“What’s got you dressed all up?” Of course, Chan appears from behind and makes eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. Hannah is sprawled across her bed and scrolling through her phone.

“She’s got a hot date,” Hannah replies, snarkily.

“Hot date?” Chan inquires while crossing his arms. He holds a slightly disapproving glare.

“Yeah, with some guy she met online. He’s a real smokeshow–”

“Hannah!” You say sharply, willing your best friend to somehow spare you the humility.

“Where is he taking you, hm?” Chan says with a small, teasing lilt to his voice.

“We’re going to a club…,” you whisper.

“On the first date? No no no, that’s just a recipe for disaster, Y/N.”

“It’ll be fine, Chan!” Hannah says. She doesn’t even bother to look him in the eye, so he bores holes into your own instead. He mutters out something about how he doesn’t like this and that you should really be careful before returning to his room.

As you finish getting ready, you admire yourself in the mirror. Your black dress hugs your body just right, and your makeup brings out just the right contrast to your face. Hannah says out loud exactly what you were thinking:

“You look hot.”

As you share your location with her and get ready to leave the house, it is almost 9 p.m. and your uber has arrived. Though you know the night will most likely not end up with you falling head over heels in love, you’re still hoping to have a good time and maybe get to know the guy more. However, before you step out the door you feel a hand grab your wrist.

Chan is looking at you with a look you don’t recognize in his eye and you pause, waiting for him to speak.

“Please, be careful. If anything happens, you have my number. I don’t care what time it is, you can reach out. It doesn’t matter if he’s being a creep or if you just don’t want to be there anymore, I will come and get you,” he says. He looks at you softly before adding, “And even if you don’t need me to get you, please text me when you’re home safe.” You could tell he was genuinely worried and this made your heart pang slightly, making it harder to will away the crush you have on the man.

Your date shows up late, for starters. After twenty minutes you take your first shot, and your second drink arrives when your date does. He is unapologetic and starts touching you the second he sees you–that’s when you realize he is already wasted. Letting out a groan, you humor him with one dance, but when he immediately starts grinding on you you decide you have had enough.

“I’m not really feeling it,” you say. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

The man scoffs and immediately becomes defensive. “C’mon darling, you’re not going to show up looking like that and then act like a prude, are you?” He spits out some more mean insults that you don’t hear, because you’re already out the door and dialing Chan’s number.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Are you okay–”

“I’m fine, can you please come and get me?”

“I walked out the door the second I saw your name flash on my screen,” he says. You hear his engine start and know he is telling the truth.

It’s cold outside, but Chan has the heat pumping in his car when he pulls up. You curl into yourself, feeling embarrassed at the situation you’ve found yourself in. The ride is silent, though it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s playing your favorite music.

When he pulls up to your driveway, he puts his car into park.

You start talking before he says anything, even though you know he wasn’t going to force you.

“He showed up completely trashed and started touching me before I even really talked to him,” you said. Tears start streaming down your face and you hope that Chan won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. He leans over the center console to wipe a tear away.

“He showed up drunk? Oh, I’m so sorry… you don’t deserve that,” he says. “I knew it was a bad idea.”

You know he’s trying to console you but you feel so defeated. “Why is it such a bad idea for me to want to go out and have fun?” You practically cry out. “Why does everybody else get to have a normal dating life and get to hook up with people and enjoy college, but when I try to do it it never works out?” Chan just nods along to your words.

“You just haven’t tried with the right person yet, Y/N…”

“There will never be a right person, because the one I want is you and that’s never going to happen!” You slap a hand over your mouth and stiffen when you realize what you had said, and when you meet Chan’s gaze you see that he’s staring at you with wide eyes. You’re completely sober now.

You are out of the car lightning fast, slamming the door behind you and racing to your house. You’re fully sobbing now as you unlock your door, but when you go to slam it behind you Chan sticks his foot in, holding it open. He uses the opportunity to invite himself in and immediately you’re in his arms, in a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, I–”

“Don’t say that,” he warns. “Don’t you dare take it back.”

“Chan, I–” He pulls you away to meet your gaze, placing his hands around your face and using both his thumbs to wipe your tears away.

“Y/N, I have known you for as long as I’ve remembered and I’ve never seen a part of you that I hate,” he says. “I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with you every day, so to hear you say that… Please don’t take it back. Please don’t tell me that you don’t want this,” he trails off, his eyes darting to your lips.

You crash your lips into his at full force and breathe against him, completely enamored. He picks you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist and carries you to your room, the one he had been in more times than you could count, all while keeping his lips locked against yours. He drops you onto your bed with a flop and you bounce, observing his admiring gaze. His lips are on you again, then they trail to your neck, leaving long burning kisses behind as he trails lower. His thumbs press into your waist.

“It made me sick,” he confesses. “The thought of you going to the club with some guy that was just going to use you. Some guy you had never met, someone who would never in a million years make you feel the way that I could.”

He drops to his knees at the edge of your bed, pulling you closer to his face by your hips. He pulls your legs apart, slotting his body in between them, and starts pressing soft kisses to your thighs. You watch his every move, your body relying on your elbows to keep you upright so you don’t miss a second of this.

“Say it again,” he pleads. “Tell me you want me, that you need me as bad as I need you.”

“Chan please,” you breathe out. “Wanted you for so long… Thought you’d never like me like that.”

“Are you kidding?” He chuckles. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” And with that, he lifts your dress up. It bunches against your waist messily and his nose presses into your clothed core. You groan out at the contact and he does as well, placing agonizingly slow kisses and licks against you. He grabs at your waistband and you lift your hips, allowing him to slide them off of your body. He wastes no time before diving back in and your head lolls back at the feeling.

“Look at me, please,” he begs. “Let me watch you fall apart.” Your eyes snap back to meet his gaze and you immediately feel so comforted and seen from his expression. It allows you to let yourself relax as he flicks and swirls his tongue around your clit.

He watches your every expression, every hitch of your breath and every buck of your hips, expertly making you fall apart on his tongue. One finger slides inside of your pussy, pumping in and out experimentally, and you feel yourself coming to your peak.

“God, Chan, please–”

“I gotcha, baby,” he says. “Come for me.” You fall apart for him completely knowing that he will be right there to put you back together, and he helps you ride out your high, observing the fucked-out look on your face as if it would be the only time he would ever see it.

You pant and reach for him and he interlocks his hand in yours, coming up to kiss you even more passionately than before. He presses his clothed bulge into your center and you hiss at the contact, still sensitive.

“Can I?” He asks.

“Please,” you respond. His pants are slid down and he pushes himself into you in a moment. You feel emotionally overwhelmed, looking down to see where you are completely and utterly connected. The way his breathing becomes shallow, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

He picks up one of your legs, wrapping around your shoulder and starts pistoning into you, and the change of angle makes you go utterly weak. Your back arches and his lips are against your skin, anywhere they get a chance to meet.

“All mine,” he grunts. His hips start slamming into yours faster, and one hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling any noises that might be starting to slip. “Say it… say you’re all mine and only I get to… fuck, see you like this.”

You can tell he’s close, and the hand that reaches down to start rubbing against your clit confirms your suspicions.

“Chan… so close… I’m all yours, Chan, please, please…” His name releases from your lips like a mantra, and as you feel yourself come to your high once again and clench around his length, he pulls you even closer, releasing himself into you.

Your arms wrap around him and your fingers run through his hair comfortingly as he collapses on top of you.

You and Chan have always been relatively close by association, particularly given the situation, but at the moment you and him are so intertwined you aren’t sure you can ever let go.

He holds you as you fall asleep that night.

“Do you think Hannah will be mad?” you ask.

“No way,” he mumbles against you. “She’s been trying to get us together for years.”

You laugh incredulously against the man. Though you weren’t expecting to find your true love that night, you guess life had other plans.

*** First real ff post on tumblr yay!! Welcome to my skz blog, I wanted to start off with something tame lol...I have a lot of really exciting things planned to post so stay tuned <3 Masterlist Recs

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #bang chan x you #stray kids x you #stray kids #skz #bang chan #chan #kpop #kpop smut #kpop x reader #smut

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lokisgoodgirl · 8 months

Text

Five Times [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: An evening of psychological foreplay comes to a head. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x Female Reader. Smut. Established relationship. Possessive/Soft Dom Loki. Non-toxic jealousy. Language. (w/c 1.6k)

“You look so ravishing, I can barely stand to ruin you-” Loki growls unconvincingly as he backs you against the bedpost.

The sweet tang of jealousy seeps from him, clinging to his skin and hair and wicked smile the way the black suit clings to his muscles.

“-But I will,” he promises darkly. It times perfectly to the press of his forearm against the wood above your head.

Before you can muster a response, his face is buried in your neck. Biting, pulling.

His angular jaw presses feverishly against your collarbone, licking and groaning against the skin. This is one of the ways, he has. One of the ways to be his. The deeper part of him that wants to feel he might lose you. It awakens the deepest part that knows he never could.

The sharp of his teeth graze against your pulse-point, and for a second, just a second, you think he might sink in with invisible fangs. Suck you dry, like the vampire you always suspected he might be. And what’s more, tonight you’d let him.

Five times, he'd tried to whisk you away at tonight’s event to take care of dark business in dark corners. And five times, you turned him down. Just as he had asked.

And each time, as instructed, you found one of the others to dance with. Steve, Bruce, Sam, Bucky, Scott. Winding your arms around their necks, running your hands down their chests. Five men, five dances. Pawns in you and your lover's elaborate foreplay. And each time, Loki’s cock had grown harder; concealed only by magic. Just.

His towering body is pressed flushed to yours. Every inch of your god from his dress shoes to the thick muscles straining against the collar of his shirt is in contact with your heated flesh. His stomach melds against your chest, the rise and fall of shallow breaths making you dizzy.

Loki’s hair falls like a veil, shielding you from a reality where anything exists but him. As if you could ever need anything else.

Hot breath and the settled musk of his cologne floods your nostrils in ragged, heavy pants. Possession soaks the hungry pull of his mouth over yours. The god’s lips are wet, a mix of his frantic kisses and the saliva welling in his mouth at the scent of you. The feel of you. The loss of you, if only for a moment.

No. Five moments. Frantically wandering hands find their way up your back, fingers digging beneath the tight back of your sultry gown. This dress cost a month’s salary, and he’s about to tear it right- -riiiiip Ruined fabric skates over your hips, fluttering to rest by your ankles. “Apologies,” he mutters unapologetically.

The god’s hands run up your waist, palming your breasts upwards. He stares at them, mouth hanging open. There’s a noise in his throat that’s an inhuman frequency. That could wake the dead and call them to his will. “Loki,” you whine needily, batting your lashes as his darkened eyes rise to meet your own. There is little of your sentimental lover in those eyes tonight. Tonight, he wants to fuck.

He growls again. It grows louder behind the clench of his teeth as his hands fly to his belt, undoing the buckle with uncharacteristic sloppiness. You begin to yank at his tie, loosening his collar and pulling it free. Loki smiles. It’s a cruel, close-lipped smile he saves for very special occasions these days. But his eyes sparkle.

In a flash, you are airborne. Loki has tossed you over the thick wooden end of the bedstead, and you land with a bounce on the mattress.

He chuckles darkly, pacing with aching slowness around the side. Long fingers toy with the porcelain buttons of his shirt. He un-pops one. And then two.

You shiver, the tension building in your body making you shake. “Lokiiii,” you whine again.

He looks through half-lidded eyes, the outline of his thick cock protruding against black suit trousers that are just a touch too tight. As always. You extend one leg, tracing his hard-on with your toes. The god tilts his head, releasing an impatient sigh. “Do not toy with me, woman” he breathes, sucking in air as you push your foot hard against the solid mass. “You’re toying with me, Laufeyson” you coo. It lights a fire behind his eyes. His chin lowers, dark tendrils falling sluttishly over the blades of his cheekbones. “Present yourself, then” he utters, laden with ceremony.

Holding eye-contact for as long as you can, you arrange yourself as instructed. On all fours. Loki groans behind you as you push your ass up, the inevitable slide of his palms over the round, soft flesh making you tremble. He squeezes firmly, and you feel his breath on your skin just for a moment, before his tongue traces the base of your spine. “My woman,” he murmurs against the curve. You hear the hum of a zipper, the gentle clink of metal as he brushes the buckle from its path. A moan of his name ruts from your throat, and the air in front of you shimmers. An ornate mirror melts into existence. It reveals your spread thighs, your breasts heaving and face inches from the mattress as you await Loki's reckoning.

He looms behind you, pushing his hair back with a rake of his fingers. It piles to one side, errant strands hanging and jutting from wild angles.

His shirt hangs open, exposing a sliver of taut milky skin. The bottom is untucked at the front, the back still holding its shape despite the splayed zipper exposing a flash of densely muscled hips.

In his hand he pumps his cock slowly. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip. He looks fucking devastating. And in the mirror, his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Say it, darling kvinne.” he orders quietly. “Fuck me, Loki...” you manage breathlessly. Wetness slips between your legs, and you realise with a shameful thrill that you’re humping air. “Fuck you?” he goads. He tuts. The god bites his lip, releasing it slowly with a slurping groan, pleasuring himself leisurely to the image of your desperation. “Not make love to you?” One brow cocks, awaiting your response. Your forehead dips to the mattress, sobbing in frustration as you gather silken bedsheets in your fists. The cool of his belt buckle presses to your ass, fingers curling around the base of your neck. He urges your face gently upwards, meeting your own eyes in the mirror. “Very well." he purrs. "Then fuck...we shall.” The fat head of Loki’s cock nudges against your sopping entrance, squelching. His ragged moan rips air as he squeezes inside, a thick vein which runs from the root of his manhood up the shaft dragging against your plump walls. “F-fuck. ” he curses as you cling on for dear life.

The joy of him filling you is instant, an utter satisfaction the like of which you’ve never known. Loki seats himself to the hilt, the dual sensation of his pubic hair and the leather belt slung around his hips making you clench.

“I warn you,” he gasps on the exhale, “I am unlikely to last. Not after tonight.” All you can managed is garbled praises as he begins to thrust.

Again and again, he bottoms out. His cock pulls against the lip of your pussy, nudging against the sticky entrance before sheathing tight once more. The gratuitously filthy words dripping from his tongue made even filthier by the rich velvet of his voice.

You can’t take your eyes off him in the mirror, chin tipped to the ceiling as he loses himself in your heavenly cunt. Loki’s fingertips dig into your hips, trembling with the effort of containing his strength.

He delves deeper, disgustingly sensual moans and whines escaping his throat as your arousal slips and slides against his cock. His thrusts are sloppy, desperate. The hard mass of his thighs slaps against the back of your own as he bucks, gyrates, consumes you from the centre of his masculinity.

He’s transfixed, staring down as he watches his slippery, throbbing member disappear inside you again and again. A delicate dangle of drool lands on the base of your spine. Loki is so close already. He won't last, he said. And he meant it. Strands of hair stick against his forehead, buffeting against the pants from his lips as he takes you over the side of his bed.

You grip the bedsheets tighter, losing yourself in his lust. The vein in his neck throbs, pulsing with the need to empty himself inside you. “No one,” he gasps as his hips shake at your back end. “No one, f-ucks you-” He lets out a strangled moan, moist cotton-clad stomach moulding to your back, “no-one fucks you but me. ” “N-no-one,” you cry, voice shaking as climax begins to rattle through your core. “Loki...oh, f-fuck, Loki yes..uhh-god, f-fuckk-” You look up, just as his eyes close to the world and his face flushes pink. The god’s neck is straining, the clench of his jaw and the bulge of his throat pushing you over the edge. He straightens, fingertips digging into your hips as climax thunders through him.

Loki’s jaw hangs, brows peaked as you feel the force of his load explode deep inside your cunt. A roar of your name fills the air. Erratic thrusts continue in the mess, milking himself inside your ripe heat that blossoms only for him. “Only for me...” he rumbles breathlessly as your eyes meet in the mirror.

His stomach curls against your back again, one hand sliding up the curve of your breasts, fingers curling around your jaw. A digit slips into your mouth. You suck.

“Only for you.” you echo, muffled against the finger resting on your tongue. And behind you, Loki smiles.

"One down, four to go." he whispers.

Tags (contd in comments) @wavyhairedvixen @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x you #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki odinson smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #loki laufesyon x reader #loki gif #lokismut #loki x female reader #loki x f!reader

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goldsbitch · 5 months

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can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

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spncvr · 6 months

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hi! i love your writing!! wanted to ask if i could request a small blurb or sth of reader and spencer waking up in the morning?? really cute and fluffy hahah... take your time! :DD

mornings | s.reid

summary: waking up with spencer

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: um it's not smut ?? as in not, "he trhusted into her and growled when she called him daddy"-smut. but. like. u can tell they fucked. i think. kissing and my bad english ANYWAYS

a/n: hi pookie sprry it took me forever to answer this,, i spent the entire day soing math today this is my break. so its not that great pls bear w me crying emoji

masterlist

THE SUN ROSE behind the leaves that hung lazily on the branches. Through the voile curtains, tendrils of the sun rays bled against your skin, that brushed against his. The voile, no longer as pure and lush as it once was, twists and turns against the wind like a dance. The low hum of the city’s heartbeat echoes around the room in a chaotic symphony—and within the room was calm. You smile because for once, he was not somehow tied within this chaos.

Then, a whisper of a touch—his fingers were grazing your hips, uttering a verse only you’d understand.

Last night, he had kissed you—and maybe, because you thought he wouldn’t stop, because you thought he’d disappear, you pulled him closer, and closer; unwanting to let go. His whispers, pliant to your ears, had never been so soft. He held you; fingers against your waist and skin. His fingers had burned like wildfire; you felt it first against your cheek, your arms, then your hips. He held your heart by his soft fingertips, unscarred and gentle; his words were sugar-coated, leaving teeth rotting and hearts yearning. He kissed you, kissed you and kissed you. And the entire time, you were kissing him back.

You feel his smile against your shoulder, slightly dragging your shirt upwards, and you only hum in acknowledgement, too tired to reply with words. You feel your name against your skin.

“Hi,” he says, lips kissing your shoulder.

“Hey,” you manage to reply, and you turn your body so you’re facing him fully—and, when he pries the strands of hair out of your face you smile. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he replies. Then, “you’re beautiful.”

You bury your face in his chest, groaning quietly, he laughs. “What?”

“You can’t just say things like that,” you protest, your voice a whisper against his warmth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he says, entirely unapologetic.

You take it though, slowly sneaking a glance at him as you lift your head, to see him smiling down at you (a kind, lazy thing). His hand cups your cheek and he’s kissing you again. There are so many things you need to do today, you think; the paperwork at your desk, and the errands lined up on your to-do list in your phone that you never bother to update. But you were so tired, and Spencer’s lips were so soft. When his nose nudges against yours, your mouth lazily falls open. His fingers are on your waist, his thumbs painting shapes against your skin.

When he pulls away you tell him you love him, and you don’t need to wait for him to tell you that he loves you too.

guys reqs r open but its gonna take me a decade to actually write them so be warned LMAOOO (+ for the people asking for pt.2 to waiting room ITS BEING MADE!!! so excited to share sakjnskfjb)

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 2 months

Text

Stuck In The Elevator

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: smut

It's not often that when you're out at the club you can't wait to go home. You like to go out, party and have fun with your closest circle of best friends. It is something that gives you energy and fills you with life from time to time.

But this time you had anything but fun going out.

Charles was celebrating his birthday at the club in Italy and you, as his two years younger sister, were there too as well.

Being Charles’ little sister meant all of his friends were your friends too including his F1 friends. Him being overly protective of you, meant that none of his friends were good enough for you and that they must not even think about flirting with you. Although most of them respected Charles's "rule" to some extent, one driver completely broke that same rule.

When the news broke that Lewis was taking Carlos' place at Ferrari next year, Charles and Lewis began hanging out more. They started bonding and became much closer than before. This meant that you also saw a lot of Lewis and were in his company more often than before.

Lewis could not resist your beauty, your positive and playful spirit, nor your youth. When Charles wasn't looking, he was openly flirting with you. He would constantly long for a moment alone with you, give you compliments, look for excuses to be close to you. Since he was Lewis Hamilton, you couldn't resist him either. And so one thing led to another and the two of you ended up in bed together quite a few times.

It was all a big secret because Lewis knew that Charles would go crazy if he found out that he was sleeping with his younger sister. And to make matters better, 14 years younger than Lewis.

That's why you decided to leave things as they are between you. Just secretly fucking without emotional attachment. You would accompany Charles to the races during the day, and at night Lewis would come to your hotel room and fuck you into the mattress until the early hours of the morning.

You were fine with it and it worked for both of you, well, up until this celebration of Charles's birthday.

Of course Lewis was also in the club and that's exactly why you wanted to leave the birthday party as soon as possible. But this time not because he would come to your room and satisfy you in a way that only he knows how, but because Lewis allowed other girls to crawl all over him and dance with him right in front of your eyes.

That made you so angry that you didn't feel like having fun anymore. A feeling of jealousy prevailed and you realized that the agreement "without emotional attachment" went right out the window after this scene.

You began to imagine his lips on other women, the images of him touching them the way he touches you couldn't leave your mind and they almost made you sick so you decided to leave the party earlier than you had planned.

You lied to your brother that you didn't feel well and that you wanted to go to the hotel to rest, so you headed out of the club and called yourself an Uber.

You were scrolling through your phone while waiting for the car to arrive when you heard nothing less than Lewis's voice calling after you. You turned your head to the side to look at him rolling your eyes.

“Where are you going?” He asked as he approached you.

“To the hotel.” You answered briefly, not wanting to communicate with him any further.

“And why is that?”

“The sight of those girls drooling over you and you willingly allowing it made me sick.” You say unapologetically.

The smug smirk on his face was indescribable when he found out that it made you jealous. It's an understatement to say that he loved it.

“Aw, sweetheart are you jelaous?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” You said through gritted teeth. “And jelaous of what? There was nothing to be jelaous of. It was actually embarrassing to see whatever that was.”

“You are jelaous.” He put one of his hands on your cheek and with the other he pinched your waist. “Why don’t you save yourself from explaining and just admit it?”

Luckily, your Uber arrived just in time, so you slipped out of Lewis's touch and headed for the car.

“My ride is here. Goodbye.”

what you didn't expect after you got into the car and slammed the door, was that Lewis quickly followed you and hopped into the back seat.

“What..? What are you doing?” You glared at him.

“Oh, baby, I’m not gonna leave you alone until you admit you're jealous.” He says.

“You will never hear that from my mouth.” You say confidently.

He leans closer to you and whispers into your ear “Then I’ll just have to fuck it out of you”

“I wouldn't bet on that” You say making him chuckle and shake his head.

The drive to the hotel went quickly and without much talk. While Lewis stayed to pay for the ride, you already entered the hotel and called the elevator.

“What floor are you on?” He asked walking up to you.

“Second.”

“Why don't we take the stairs? We'll get there faster than the elevator.” He says looking that the elevator is only on the 5th floor and goes up instead of down.

“Because my feet hurt and I really don’t know where you’re going”

“Such a brat..” He mutters and you give him another well deserved glare.

After a minute, the elevator bell finally rings and both of you step inside. The doors close and the floor numbers start changing. Once you reached the second floor the elevator beeps, but the door refuses to open. You wait for a second before clicking on the button that opens the door.

“What the fuck?” You look confused and try to press that same button again and again.

“Wait, stop pressing it, you will block the door” Lewis says.

“Why won't the door open?” You ask in disbelief and hit that same button with your hand and the beeping sound goes off again, but the doors stay closed.

“Good, now we’re stuck”

“Oh you gotta be kidding me” You sigh pushing your hair out of your face. “What the fuck are we going to do now?” You start banging against the door and Lewis remains too calm considering the situation.

“Remember how I asked if we should take the stairs?” He mocked.

“Ugh” You sighed annoyed that he was enjoying himself. “Remember how you’re so old?” It was quite childish of you, but you wanted to somehow "offend" him. It only pushed his buttons with you though.

He’s had enough of your brattiness tonight so he roughly pushed you and pressed your back against the blocked elevator door making your breath get caught in your throat.

“What did you just say to me?” He asked looking down at you his grip on your hips only tightening making you wince in pain. "You're so unnecessarily rude, I'm getting kinda sick of it." He said looking straight into your eyes. His right hand moved down under your ass and slipped under your flowy short dress which didn't leave much to the imagination.

"You need to be taught some manners, sweetheart" His hand tightly gripped your butt before harshly slapping it leaving a red handprint.

"Fuck, Lew" You whimpered putting your hands against his chest and throwing your head back.

"It's Sir, for you" He said cockily taking the opportunity of your exposed neck to start hungrily kissing it with his tongue. "Was I so old when you were begging for my cock, begging me to cum inside you? Hm? When you were gripping the sheets screaming out my name?"

You leaned your head against his chest holding onto him speechless when he moved his hand from your ass to your panties and without any warning slid two fingers inside you.

"Oh, fuck, baby.." You moaned rocking your hips against his fingers. You awakened the animal in him and neither you nor he could think clearly anymore. He barely moved his fingers inside you yet you were drenching them with how wet you already were.

"No, no. We won't be sweet-talking now, you had your chance, baby. Told you to call me Sir or I'll stop right now." He threatened. "Okay?" You nodded, but he raised his eyebrows at you and you knew what it meant.

"Okay, Sir."

He continued to work his magic with his fingers, curling and fucking them in and out of you while holding you against the door he knew he had you weak in his grip.

He loved the sight of you in front of him, looking at you with so much desire as you savored his touch knowing that no one knew how to satisfy you like he did.

If you had treated him a little better tonight, he would've loved nothing more than for you to cum on his fingers while he held your trembling body, but your brattiness changed his mind. "Are you close, baby?" He murmured against your neck.

"Yes, yes, I'm so close" You moaned yearning for release.

Suddenly, Lewis stopped the movements of his fingers and pulled them out of you making you cry out and clench your thighs only to have them spread by him again "no, no, please"

"Shh," He cooed you leaving kisses along your jaw and the side of your face.

"Why..why would you do that?"

"That's so you know who you're talking to next time" He said unzipping his pants and taking out his big, painfully hard veiny cock. He groaned stroking his cock before pulling your dress up and panties to the side aligning it with your entrance. "You wanna cum, baby?" He asked lifting you up making you wrap your legs around his waist as he slid you down on his cock. You nodded putting your arms around his neck and connecting your lips together.

"You're gonna have to ask nicely for it."

"Please, sir, make me cum." You moaned at the feeling of his thick member stretching you out. He started bouncing you up and down on him cursing under his breath seeing how hot you looked like that.

"You gonna be a good girl?" He asked nibbling at the skin above your nipple.

"Yes, your good girl, ah"

Once he was satisfied with your answer, he pressed you against the wall and started thrusting himself inside you at a fast pace. "C'mon, baby, come, come all over my cock" He grunted looking up at you as your boobs bounced in his face. Your eyes darted to the mirror behind Lewis where you saw the scene of him fucking you and that sent you over the edge. Your body shivered and your head fell onto his shoulder as you came undone.

You were sensitive, but Lewis didn't stop, he kept going until he was about to come. It didn't take long for him to start twitching after you clenched around him.

"Fuck, I wanna cum in your mouth" He hissed putting you down on your feet and pumping his cock. You dropped down to your knees in front of him and stuck out your tongue looking at him with your innocent eyes through your long eyelashes. "Oh, fuuck, baby" He put his hand against your cheek pulling your face closer to him before spilling his cum against your tongue. You kept sucking him until the last drop making his knees shake.

You stood up and pressed your lips against his, pushing your tongue inside his mouth wanting him to taste himself.

"You're so dirty" He smiled into the kiss, but didn't refuse it.

"After we get out of this elevator, I'm going to make you feel so good, you'll never think of another woman again." You say tugging his bottom lip with your teeth.

You stood there kissing for a while before you actually decided to call someone for help.

#lewis hamilton x you #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 #f1 scenario #f1 smut #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 imagine

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transform4u · 3 months

Text

Success comes with a Price

Andy’s journey into the digital cosmos began with a fascination for pixels and a love affair with pop divas. His YouTube channel, a kaleidoscope of colorful thumbnails and clickbaity titles, became his virtual playground where creativity knew no bounds. Whether he was unboxing the latest gaming console with theatrical flair or choreographing a new TikTok dance routine that could rival any K-pop star, Andy’s videos were a testament to his infectious energy and unapologetic zest for life.

In his studio – a snug corner of his apartment adorned with LED lights and posters of Lady Gaga's most iconic moments – Andy scripted his online persona. His audience adored his playful banter and irreverent humor, which seamlessly blended with his genuine passion for queer advocacy and social justice.

Behind the scenes, Andy was a meticulous curator of content. His mornings were often spent scouring the web for Gaga news and fashion trends, transforming his findings into engaging narratives that captivated his Little Monsters community. Each video was a carefully crafted homage, where Andy dissected Gaga’s every artistic choice with the precision of a critic and the adoration of a devoted fan.

As the digital sun set on another day in Andy’s universe, he prepared for his next adventure. With a wink and a click of the upload button, he invited the world to join him – not just as viewers, but as co-conspirators in a journey where pixels and pop divas intersected with laughter, love, and the occasional dose of internet-induced chaos.

As Andy scrolled through his inbox, a subject line caught his eye: "Unlock the Ultimate Viral Video Strategy!" Intrigued, he clicked on the email. The message promised insider tips and a surefire method to skyrocket his views to unprecedented heights, but with a cryptic warning: "There will be a price."

Skeptical yet enticed by the possibility of fame and fortune, Andy hesitated. Could this be his big break? He weighed the risks and benefits before shrugging, thinking, "What harm could it do?"

With a decisive click, he followed the link provided. Instantly, his computer screen flickered, and a strange, pulsating virus icon appeared. Lines of code scrolled rapidly, overwhelming the display with neon colors and glitched patterns. Andy's heart raced as he reached for the power button, trying to shut down the system. But it was too late.

The screen went black, and Andy cursed under his breath. Anxiety crept over him as he restarted the computer, hoping against hope that he hadn't just compromised his entire setup.

Minutes later, the familiar desktop greeted him, but something felt off. Before he could fully process the relief, a notification pinged on his phone – a message on Instagram from @ CaliDude34 "That tan is looking great Andy, been spending time in the sun?" it read.

Confusion knitted Andy's brow. He hadn't been outside all day, let alone under the sun. As he puzzled over the message, a peculiar warmth enveloped him. It started as a gentle sensation, but soon intensified, spreading like a slow-burning ember through his limbs. His mind felt foggy, thoughts muddled.

Panic set in as Andy realized something was terribly wrong. He staggered to the bathroom mirror, his reflection revealing a subtle bronzed glow on his usually fair skin. "No... no, this can't be happening," he muttered, touching his cheek in disbelief.

Just then, a wave of lethargy washed over him, dulling his senses and clouding his thoughts. The warmth persisted, almost comforting now, but Andy knew it wasn't natural. His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone again, the screen lighting up with another message, this time from an unfamiliar handle: "You wanted views, Andy. We delivered."

Fear gripped Andy's chest as he realized the price he had unknowingly paid. The virus had infiltrated not just his computer, but seemingly his very body, altering him in ways he couldn't comprehend. His once-sharp mind felt slower, his once-pure skin now tinged with an unnatural hue.

Andy sat at his desk, still reeling from the strange messages and the unsettling transformation that had begun moments ago. As he tried to make sense of it all, a notification popped up on his screen. It was a direct message on Twitter from @Brospeh69.

"Damn, dude. Those gains are looking sick," the message read.

Confusion mixed with disbelief as Andy read the words. He glanced down at himself, half-expecting to see the familiar figure he had always known, but instead, he noticed a subtle tightness in his clothes. It was as if his body was subtly shifting, muscles awakening from a slumber he didn't know they had.

The first sensation was warmth, spreading from his core like a gentle wildfire. It felt comforting at first, a subtle embrace that soon intensified into a pulsating surge of energy. Andy's heart pounded in his chest as he lifted his shirt, revealing a midsection that had transformed before his eyes. What once was a soft, nondescript stomach now boasted defined, chiseled abs, each muscle etched with a clarity that seemed unreal.

His hands trembled as he tentatively touched the firm ridges of muscle, marveling at the solidity beneath his fingertips. The rush of power coursing through him was undeniable, exhilarating yet tinged with a creeping sense of uncertainty.

As he continued to watch, mesmerized, Andy's biceps began to swell, expanding beyond their previous limits. They bulged out, initially the size of baseballs and then growing larger, resembling small softballs. Panic threatened to overtake him as his arms involuntarily flexed, veins pulsing beneath skin that stretched to accommodate the burgeoning muscle mass.

But fear quickly gave way to a surge of confidence. A cocky grin spread across Andy's face as his pecs followed suit, thrusting forward with newfound definition and strength. His shirt strained against the expanding contours of his chest, a testament to the physical transformation unfolding before his eyes. Without thinking, Andy began to flex his pecs, performing a playful dance that showcased his newfound power and control.

Andy felt his quads and calves swell with unprecedented mass, the fabric of his jeans protesting as muscles expanded with every movement. He flexed his legs, reveling in the sensation of strength surging through them, every fiber alive with newfound vitality.

In the reflection of the computer screen, Andy saw a version of himself that seemed larger than life – a figure of raw power and sculpted perfection. Each flex, each movement of his transformed physique, was met with a rush of euphoria that bordered on intoxicating.

Yet, amidst the thrill, a nagging doubt lingered in Andy's mind. What had triggered this astonishing change? The mysterious messages, the inexplicable physical enhancements – they raised more questions than answers. But for now, Andy couldn't resist the allure of his newfound strength. He leaned into the sensation, embracing the rush of becoming something more than he had ever imagined possible, even as uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his exhilaration.

As Andy basked in the surreal glow of his transformed physique, a notification interrupted his reverie. It was another message on Instagram, this time from @HNYGRL6789. He read the words, a furrow forming on his newly defined brow.

"Like, you can totally tell he's a douchebag from that cocky, dumb face and look at what he wears."

Andy's initial reaction was confusion. He furrowed his brow deeper, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in tone. But as he did, a strange sensation gripped his mind – a dense fog that seemed to seep into his thoughts, clouding his once-sharp intellect.

He blinked, feeling disoriented as his college degree, once a source of pride and accomplishment, slipped further from his grasp. Concepts that had been second nature now eluded him, and simple arithmetic felt like a distant memory. Andy struggled to add two and two together, his mental faculties sluggish and unresponsive.

Meanwhile, his reflection in the computer screen began to change. What had been a face characterized by boyish charm and a touch of quirky charisma now morphed before his eyes. His features took on a more rugged, masculine appearance, as if sculpted by some unseen force into the archetype of a fratbro douchebag.

Andy's nose widened, his lips thickened, and his eyebrows grew denser, framing eyes that seemed to glint with a newfound aggression. A beard sprouted across his jawline, thick and unkempt, completing the transformation from clean-cut to ruggedly unkempt.

Even his attire underwent a bizarre metamorphosis. The trendy, fashion-forward clothes he had worn moments ago now shifted into gaudy, garish garments more suited to a frat house party. A loud, oversized T-shirt adorned with neon graphics stretched across his broadened chest, while flashy, designer sneakers adorned his feet. A gaudy gold cross hung prominently around his neck, a stark contrast to the subtle accessories he had once preferred.

Andy's mind reeled as he struggled to reconcile these physical and mental changes. The fog in his brain seemed to deepen, dulling his thoughts and replacing his once-articulate speech with a more brash, simplistic vernacular. His movements became more assertive, his gestures broader and more exaggerated, mirroring the confidence of his newfound persona.

Deep down, a flicker of awareness fought against the fog. Andy sensed that something was terribly wrong, that this transformation was not of his own making. But the allure of this altered state, coupled with the intoxicating rush of power it brought, threatened to override his growing unease.

As he stood there, grappling with the conflicting sensations of euphoria and confusion, Andy wondered how far this bizarre journey would take him. What had begun as a quest for viral fame and physical prowess had spiraled into a surreal odyssey, where every click and message seemed to lead him further down a path he couldn't fully comprehend.

As the gaudy gold cross hung heavily around his neck, Andy watched in a trance-like state as his follower count on Instagram began to climb steadily. Each new notification sent a thrill through his altered mind, a rush of validation that overshadowed the growing ache in his head. The fog thickened, clouding his thoughts further, as if a veil was descending over his memories and beliefs.

Liberal views that had once defined Andy's online presence began to fade like distant echoes. He struggled to recall the passionate discussions on social justice, the advocacy for equality, and the fervent admiration for Lady Gaga. Instead, his mind buzzed with unfamiliar tunes – hip hop beats and twangy country melodies that etched themselves into his consciousness with surprising clarity.

A comment on his latest YouTube video caught his attention, posted by @JesusBroFitness: "Love to get my fitness tips from a God-loving manly man like A." The words hit Andy like a truck, resonating in ways he couldn't fully comprehend. His gaze shifted to his reflection, now bearing the visage of a man transformed not just physically but ideologically.

The memory of Lady Gaga's songs slipped away, replaced by mental images of gym routines and workout regimens. Protein drinks and fitness gear dominated his thoughts, as if they had always been there, waiting to take center stage. Above all else, a newfound devotion to faith crept into his consciousness, shaping his beliefs and actions with a certainty that felt foreign yet oddly comforting.

Andy's mind wandered, memories shifting like sand in an hourglass. He recalled a childhood in a deeply conservative, entitled household where money and privilege oozed from every corner. The echoes of parental expectations and societal norms resonated within him, shaping his worldview into something more traditional, more conforming to expectations that had once seemed distant and irrelevant.

In his altered state, Andy found himself embracing this new identity with a mix of confusion and acceptance. The allure of likes and followers blurred the lines between authenticity and performance, nudging him further down a path that promised validation and recognition. The ache in his head dulled as he leaned into the role, crafting a persona that resonated with his growing audience – a blend of physical prowess, traditional values, and a devout reverence for God.

As he navigated this strange new reality, Andy couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted within him. His liberal past seemed like a distant dream, replaced by a present that glittered with social media success and the intoxicating rush of conformity. Whether it was for the likes or a genuine transformation, Andy couldn't say for certain. But as his follower count soared and his online persona solidified, one thing became clear – he was no longer the person he once knew, and the journey he had embarked upon was far from over.

The Snapchat notification from @StaceyGirl69 popped up, "I can't wait to see you tonight, stud ; I'm going to ride my Italian stallion A---A----Anthony---Tony. Can't wait to see that 10 inch cock of yours tonight" on Tony's phone, and a smirk spread across his newly transformed face. As he read the message, everything clicked into place with startling clarity. Tony – formerly Andy – was no longer the quirky, liberal-minded YouTuber and Gaga fan. He was now a straight-up douchebag, reveling in his newfound identity as a fitness guru and conservative influencer. Stacey was just some bimbo bitch he had been hooking up on the side between Amy, Samantha and Kelsey.

As Tony's thoughts turned to Stacey and Amy, his cock began to stir within his pants. He couldn't help but imagine the two women together, their voluptuous bodies pressed against each other as they eagerly awaited his arrival. The image of Stacey's large breasts and Amy's perfect ass filled his mind, causing a surge of blood to rush towards his groin.

His cock grew thick and hard under the influence of these erotic thoughts. It strained against the fabric of his pants, demanding release as he continued working out at the gym. Tony found himself flexing not just for show but also for pleasure; every time he moved a muscle or clenched a fist, it sent waves of pleasure through him that only served to intensify the growing erection in his pants.

Tony's mind, once clouded with confusion and doubt, now brimmed with self-assured confidence. He glanced around his lavish apartment, the walls adorned with gym posters and religious iconography. His social media accounts, from TikTok to Twitter, were a testament to his ego – a million followers hanging on his every word, idolizing him as the epitome of physical perfection and traditional values.

With a cocky swagger, Tony aged back to his prime at 25. His once-boyish charm had given way to a rugged, chiseled appearance that exuded arrogance. His face, now angular and defined, bore the unmistakable stamp of entitlement. His eyes sparkled with a mix of vanity and pride as he flicked on his camera, the screen reflecting his transformed physique.

Tony stood before the camera, shirtless and unapologetically narcissistic. He ran his hands over his sculpted chest, each movement a deliberate display of muscle and power. His biceps bulged as he flexed, veins popping with every movement. A smirk played on his lips as he angled his body to highlight every ridge and contour, reveling in the attention and admiration he knew would flood his social media feeds.

"Hey, fam," Tony's voice oozed with a blend of confidence and arrogance, "Today's workout was killer. Just smashed those gains, you know? Stay tuned for more fitness tips and life advice from your boy, Tony."

He turned to the side, showcasing his profile with a self-satisfied grin. His newly grown beard added to the rugged charm he now embraced fully. The camera captured his transformation from every angle, emphasizing his toned abs and powerful physique.

As Tony continued to flex and pose, a sense of fulfillment washed over him. This was who he was now – a poster boy for fitness, conservative values, and unabashed self-promotion. The likes and comments would pour in, validating his existence and feeding his insatiable ego.

Social media had become Tony's kingdom, where he reigned as a self-made influencer and icon. His Instagram and TikTok accounts boasted millions of followers who hung on his every word and admired his lifestyle. Comments lavished praise on his physique, his style, and his apparent success, feeding his ego and reinforcing his belief in his own superiority.

But beneath the veneer of confidence and bravado, Tony's personality had become shallow and self-centered. He had little patience for dissent or criticism, dismissing opposing viewpoints with a condescending smirk or a dismissive wave of his hand. Empathy and humility had been replaced by a sense of entitlement and a craving for validation, driving him to constantly seek attention and admiration from his online audience.

Tony stood in front of the camera, flexing his muscles and admiring his reflection. His body was a testament to years of hard work at the gym, dedication to a strict diet, and an unwavering belief in himself. As he posed for the camera on his phone, capturing every angle of his massive biceps and chiseled abs, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

"Big Tony," he said aloud with a smirk as he struck another pose, "fucking aces. fucking king of the fucking world." He snapped another photo before checking his social media notifications yet again. There were hundreds more comments praising him for being an inspiration or asking for advice on how they could achieve similar results. It was all too easy to get lost in this world where everyone seemed to be cheering him on and validating everything he did.

"Keep those likes coming," Tony muttered under his breath as he scrolled through endless streams of compliments and admiration from strangers across the globe. He knew deep down that there was more to life than just being famous or having big muscles but sometimes it felt like that was all anyone cared about anymore.

In the background, Tony's room slowly began to show signs of neglect as he became more consumed by his online presence. Beer cans littered the floor around him, their contents long since gone flat or warm depending on how long they had been sitting there. Posters featuring scantily clad women with large breasts hung on every available surface while sports posters adorned others - remnants from a time when Tony actually cared about something other than himself.

The air in the room reeked of musk, sweat, beer and sex; an intoxicating mix that seemed both familiar yet foreign at once. It was as if these smells were emanating directly from within Tony himself – a testament not only to his physical prowess but also hinting at deeper desires left unfulfilled beneath all those layers of bravado and ego.

#gay to straight #male tf #transformation #douchebag tf

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boydepartment · 6 months

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nishimura riki - boyfriend headcanons °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

gn reader- 10 headcanons - masterlist :)

⋆˙⟡ if you work at a job where you use your hands a lot and end up getting cuts or slivers on your nail beds when you both are alone he will kiss the cuts and small damages on your fingers. you don’t have to always have your nails done or things like that bc he genuinely doesn’t care

⋆˙⟡ if you do have your nails done or like to get them done he likes to be able to customize one nail himself. he thinks it’s fun

⋆˙⟡ the on melancholy hill gorillaz trend - you and him are BODYING…. can you imagine riki’s cute little eyebrow quirks and pouting while the camera pans to him. i’ve been thinking abt this one for a few days- same w the kisses on the fingers

⋆˙⟡ if you leave early in the mornings for whatever reason he will wake up till you leave. even if he has to day off or can sleep in, if you leave early he will get up just so he can say goodbye to you

⋆˙⟡ riki loves dancing, obviously, but sometimes he just wants to be goofy and dance without thinking. so little dance parties where you both are uncoordinated are very common.

⋆˙⟡ when traveling if you can’t go, he will bring you stuff home. like a simpsons plush or whatever you wanted from universal studios when he went

⋆˙⟡ if you do go, he’s definitely giving you those staff uniforms and concealing you. he thinks it’s funny (if you have long hair) to tuck all your hair in the hybe hats and have you record vlogs. (he pays you under the table in kisses for helping)

⋆˙⟡ if you get hurt, whether you’re younger or older than him, he likes to take care of you. everyone is always taking care of him and sometimes he feels guilty about that, so he goes the extra mile to take care of you.

⋆˙⟡ matching clothes, he loves it. he loves to match and take photos. especially candid photos of you. even if they come off goofy, to him it’s the memory of the moment not the contents of the photo.

⋆˙⟡ genuinely a really good boyfriend and tries his best to make time for you. he can get snappy sometimes and tired but he doesn’t outwardly take it out on you unapologetically. he makes sure to be there and present and kind.

⟡ one extra head canon- he prefers you calling him riki over his stage name bc it’s more sentimental to him (real quote 💪 i pinky promise i have the video)

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karinab00bs · 5 months

Text

The Plan (requested)

Karina x Tiffany x Named reader

tags: smut, threesome (F/F/M), cheating, mistress, blowjobs, dirty talk

Karina paced behind her hotel room door wearing nothing underneath her bathrobe.

She was unsure if he was coming but she hoped he would.

She needed to get laid tonight. She was so damn horny that she started touching herself a few minutes ago. She stopped short of her orgasm when she realized she wanted to cum with his dick inside her.

Soon enough, there was a soft knock on the door. Karina quickly opened it and her heart quickly leapt in joy as the handsome face of her boss greeted her.

He quickly entered her room and captured her lips. Karina pushed the door closed and returned his kisses with equal fervor.

He slightly pulled away as he eyed her hungrily from the toes up to meet her eyes. "Did you wait long?"

"I almost came without you." She unapologetically stated.

He smirked. "I'm sure you realized that it's better to come with my cock buried deep inside you."

She nodded fervently as her gazes sought him. He saw her desperate need for him that he couldn't help but feel his cock twitch. He looked down at her body and saw her cleavage that was beckoning him to go ahead and reveal them.

He untied the knot that was barely holding together her bathrobe. The drapes dropped and displayed her nakedness in full view. His mouth watered upon seeing her brown, perky nipples as well as her huge breasts. His palm quickly grabbed her mound, massaging it softly and slowly.

His mouth gaped as his other hand touched the other mound, focusing on her perky nipples instead. He rolled her nipple between his index finger and thumb.

She took in a sharp intake of breath as his fingers pulled, rolled and flicked her nipples. "You love my breasts, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry. I love your ass and pussy just the same." He sneered as he once again felt his cock go harder.

She smirked. "You don't love your cock in my mouth?"

He laughed. "I like it. You're damn good at giving a head."

He once again kissed her, this time exerting more force and pushing his tongue inside her mouth where her tongue waited and danced with his. They hummed in delight as their kisses turned wilder. He stopped playing with her breasts and grabbed her face instead.

He thrusted his tongue up the roof of her mouth, then swirled it around, occasionally wrestling with hers. He then stopped with his tongue action and instead focused on her lips.

He tenderly nibbled her lips, pulling on them occasionally then softly pecking them. His switch from rough to tender left Karina's knees weak. He always knew what her body wanted.

Once they pulled away, he reached for his belt. She watched him carefully as he unbuckled his belt then threw it on her bed. His fingers unbuttoned his pants then unzipped it after. Once his pants hit the floor, he got out of it on one foot then lifted the other to remove the pants and throw it over to where his belt was.

Karina wasted no time and removed her robe as well. She then sat naked on the end of the bed. She hooked her finger inside his boxers' and pulled him closer. She held her breath as she slowly pulled his boxers down to reveal his big, hard, and erect cock.

Karina’s pussy throbbed at the sight of it.

His cock always did wonders inside her mouth and pussy. His cock always left her body a quivering mess and each time they fucked, Karina couldn't help but keep on wanting him again and again.

In fact just seeing him in the office wearing a sleek suit paired with his well groomed hair and his handsomeness was enough for Karina to be turned on.

She wrapped her fingers against his erection and aligned it with her awaiting mouth. He grunted as his cock felt the wet sensation of her mouth and tongue.

He continued removing his jacket, tie and undershirt as Karina’s mouth pleased him. Karina is good at giving blowjobs and she has a damn good gag reflex.

Karina is the junior assistant of his executive assistant so she often sees her boss, interacts with him and sees him in action. He was a fascinating man - that wasn't who she was expecting. She thought he was callous, controlling and mean but he wasn't totally like that.

He was kind and encouraging to his employees. He is demanding and bossy but what type of boss isn't? Maybe it has something to do with age - he might have realized that degrading employees yields no result. However, incentivizing and encouraging them boosts their morale and performance.

Speaking of age, the man Karina is giving a blowjob is more than a decade older than her. She is currently twenty-nine and he is forty-two. He is also married but despite his age, the man's build and looks were clearly younger for his age.

Her head bobbed as her mouth and tongue slid up and down his full erection which is now wet with her saliva and his pre-cum. She licked his cock after pulling away then grasped the hilt of his cock with her hand, stroking up and down his thick and long erection.

Karina wondered whatever possessed her to be the fuck buddy of her boss. But it was definitely the mind-blowing sex that made her stay and continue this affair.

Karina was not new to sex. She has been sexually active since her first boyfriend after college. But out of all her ex-boyfriends, no one was able to pleasure her as good as Sam.

Sam.

That is the name of her boss, the man she is having an affair with.

Maybe the fact that he's older and much experienced than her ex-boyfriends who were more or less close in age and are not experimental when it came to sex.

"Karina.." He called her name softly like a whisper as he cupped her cheek. "I want to be inside you."

Karina stopped her hand job and nodded her head. She wanted him inside her too. She wanted to be fucked so bad, writhe and scream in pleasure, and feel his hands and lips all over her body.

Karina positioned herself on the right side of the queen size bed. His belongings were on the other side but it would probably end up on the floor sooner or later.

Sam kneeled facing her open thighs. He grabbed his cock and stroked himself for a while as he bent down to lick her wet and dripping pussy. His other hand reached for her slit and coated his fingers with her wetness. He rubbed her clit with his thumb in circular motions. Slowly, his tongue licked her slit up to her clit.

"Fuck." She gasped as his tongue descended her slit and made its way to her hole. Then he brought his tongue back to her clit, suckling on it lightly. "Shit.. Stop it or else I'm gonna-"

He listened to her plea and stopped licking her pussy. He didn't need to perform much foreplay because she was already dripping wet and ready for the taking.

Sam continued stroking his cock as his eyes feasted on the young, attractive woman underneath with her legs wide open and pussy awaiting his cock.

Karina is damn beautiful. He was attracted to her the moment she entered the company. It didn't help that she was always by his side as his assistant's aide.

This affair started during a party that their company organized. Karina was instructed by her other boss, Sam's EA, to assist him to his car since he was drunk while he went to search and call for a driver.

She did as told. She brought him to his car and had him sit at the back. She was about to leave but he drunkenly asked her to accompany him for a while.

So she did. They both sat at the back seat waiting for the on-call-driver to arrive. Sam then admitted to her that she's very beautiful, sexy and that he's attracted to her very badly.

He wasn't able to hold back so he kissed her. Then she kissed him back. Then before they knew it, Karina was giving him a blowjob.

The next day, Sam offered to drive her home. They ended up fucking inside her apartment.

That was how it started. They were so sexually and physically attracted to one another that they couldn't end their affair. It continued on despite Karina having a new boyfriend and of course despite Sam's happy marriage.

He told Karina he often fuck his wife too which made her jealous because she told him she broke up with her boyfriend because he sucked at sex.

In other words, Karina became a full time mistress and she didn't care.

"Fuck me, baby." Karina called as she parted her pussy lips with her fingers. "I'm ready for you."

Sam aligned the pink tip of his throbbing dick into her hole before sliding inside easily. She was so wet for him that he didn't have a hard time getting inside her.

The moment he moved his hips and thrusted his cock in and out of her pussy, Karina's moans began to fill the room.

"You love my pussy, baby?" Karina pursed her lips together as her body jiggled every time he thrusted into her. Her breasts bounced along with her body, much to his pleasure.

"You know that I do." Sam grunted, increasing his pace.

Karina's cries grew louder as Sam's thrusts became more powerful. The tip was reaching her sweet spot and her walls were clenching around his dick tightly.

"That feels so good, baby." Karina whispered as her hand slithered down until she reached her pussy.

Her fingers found her aching clit and started rubbing it. Waves of pleasure filled her senses as Sam's penetrating game continued in a slow and deep pace while her fingers flicked and rubbed her clit in circular motions.

Sam's dick always left her craving for more. Sex with him is fun, pleasurable and addicting. If it wasn't so damn addicting in the first place, Karina would never have an affair with a married man.

Not only is sex with Sam awesome, he is also sweet, tender and caring. He always looked out for her in the workplace. He defended her whenever male colleagues tried to make a move on her or put her down with misogynistic remarks.

He had bouquets of flowers anonymously sent to her in the office and her apartment during her birthday a few months ago along with a sweet birthday greeting card where he expressed his gratitude and love for her.

Yes, he loves her even though Karina knows he loves his wife too. Tiffany, his wife, is everything to him. She remembered that time when Tiffany got in a slight fender-bender, Sam freaked out in the office after hearing the news then quickly left to check on her.

Karina also remembered that time she saw them made out inside his office when she accidentally opened the door thinking no one was there.

Sam is very vocal about his love for Tiffany. She overheard him talk to his EA, Karina's other superior, that they had a slight fight so he would take her out to dinner that night to apologize and then have a hot make up sex.

Or those times when she just waited for him to finish signing the papers with one hand while the other held his phone as he talked sweetly to his wife.

However, Sam's love for his wife did not deter Karina's feelings for him. She didn't care what would happen. All that mattered for her was the sex and his affection. Even if she didn’t have his heart, she had the rest of him.

Sam's arms hooked the underside of her legs to lift and spread it even wider. He momentarily stopped moving his hips although he remained buried inside her as he grinded his hips in a circular motion.

"Yes.." Karina breathed out as his buried dick hit against her sweet spot. "Don't stop. Keep on doing that. I'm so close, baby."

Sam grunted as he continued grinding into her slowly and passionately. He lowered his torso so he could capture her open mouth. He slipped his tongue inside to meet hers.

They were momentarily interrupted when his phone's ringtone was heard. His lips remained on hers and his dick remained buried inside her pussy but his hand reached for his pants to fish out his phone.

He broke the kiss and looked at Karina tenderly. "It's Tiffany. Can you promise to be quiet?"

"What will you give me in return if I do what you ask?" Karina dared him with the sultry look in her eyes.

"What do you want?" Sam conceded.

Karina pondered for a while before looking at him full of lust and desire. "I want you to fuck my other hole and I want you to stay with me tonight. Cuddle me to sleep."

Sam smiled tenderly at her before nodding. He never spent the night at her place because he had to go home to his wife so cuddling with Sam is very limited.

Thank goodness they are on a business trip in Thailand. It just so happened their rooms are connected unbeknownst to Sam's EA who is in the other room. Their first business trip had Karina booked in a connecting room with Sam by accident. They had no knowledge it was a connecting room but it turned out well since they managed to slip inside the other's room without prying eyes.

Karina bit her lips as a signal that she will be silent. Sam answered the phone after.

"Hey, sweetie." Sam greeted his wife sweetly.

Despite talking to his wife, Sam slowly moved his hips and resumed fucking Karina in a slow pace.

Karina covered her mouth with both hands as she struggled to remain quiet. She isn't the silent type during sex so she is definitely struggling right now.

Sam's thrust is slow yet deep. He slid out right at the tip then slipped back in until he was fully inside her. Sam loved the way Karina's pussy walls often tightened around his cock. It was as if she never wanted him to pull out and remain buried inside her.

"Yeah, the party just ended. I just got back to my room." He told his wife as he continued his slow thrusts.

"I told Eric and Karina to rest an hour ago. I just needed to socialize with the prospect. I think he liked our proposal." Sam recalled with a pleased expression.

His free hand roamed and found Karina's breast. He cradled it with his palm at first before his fingers slowly rubbed her nipple.

"I miss you too, baby." He replied to his wife. "I really wish you were here."

To be with his wife at this very moment is indeed his wish. His mind couldn't help but imagine fucking Karina while Tiffany watches. Then she would touch herself while listening to Karina's moans and watch Sam's cock ravage her pussy.

He and Tiffany has done many and different kinds of things during sex. Toys? They have utilized it often. Rough foreplay and sex? They often did that. Sex in public? They did that too. Anal and fisting? Oh. That's their favorite.

The only thing they have yet to try was a threesome which Tiffany often suggested.

A threesome with Karina would be great. To fuck his wife, the love of his life, and his mistress, his current obsession, would mean the world to him.

"Tiffany.." He whispered. "I really miss you."

Karina buried her feet against the mattress to anchor her body against his increasing pace. His dick was filling her to the brim while his fingers were pulling her nipples which drove her closer to the edge. Sam knew how to please her despite his mind currently somewhere else.

"I know you're tired so I'll call you tomorrow morning. I know you need to rest." Sam said tenderly. He knows his wife is stressed because earlier tonight she called him with a problem in the company since she's looking after it while he's away.

"Yes, I understand." He automatically smiled as he listened to her sweet talk. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hummed as he listened to her I love you. "I love you too, baby. Good night. Dream of me."

He threw his phone on top of his clothes once their conversation was over as he lowered his face towards Karina's.

"You were a very good girl." He sneered, impressed that she didn't make a noise.

"I wanted that cuddle." Karina revealed.

Sam grinned. "Let me reward you with your first orgasm for tonight."

Sam kissed her tenderly before his hips increased its pace. His thrusts became faster as his cock penetrated deeper inside her pussy.

"Sam!" She exclaimed his name many times as each of his thrusts repeatedly hit her sweet spot.

She could feel her climax happening as her walls clenched around his cock. "I'm coming!"

Sam hastened his pace as her moans got louder and louder. Her shrill cry echoed in the room as she came messily across the sheets.

"Oh, Karina." Sam mumbled as he buried himself inside her, exploding his seeds into her womb. "That was wonderful, baby."

"You came a lot." Karina muttered. "Your seeds are inside me. It's so hot."

Sam kissed her lips yet again as he came down from his climax. "I want to fuck you again."

Karina cupped his face and kissed him fully on the lips. "I'm yours."

Sam smiled happily as he flipped her so she's now positioned on all fours. He stared at her pussy glistening with his cum and hummed in delight.

He aligned his cock against her entrance yet again then slipped back inside as he started their second round.

Next day

Karina woke from her sleep with a slight pain in her sex and her ass. She and Sam went for more rounds last night which left her a mess. Then they went to sleep with Sam cuddling her from behind. She always loved being the small spoon because the big spoon makes her feel protected.

Karina smiled as she felt the arm draping over her tummy. She moaned a little when he stirred in his sleep and pulled her closer to him which sent her butt pressing against his hard dick.

Karina smiled even though her eyes remained close, loving the way his body molded with hers. She once again closed her eyes to resume her sleep because her body was still sore and she was still tired after everything they did last night.

A few minutes later, Karina went back to dreamland. Sam, however, stirred awake the moment he heard his phone dinged. He probably got a text message.

He opened his eyes fully and smiled at the sight of Karina next to him. Her left breast and left thigh were exposed since the sheets covering her body fell as she laid on her side.

Sam slightly hovered his fingers on top of her exposed boob then gave it a little squeeze. Karina moaned in her sleep, instinctively reacting to his touch despite being unconscious.

"You just woke up and the first thing you do is touch her."

Sam followed the soft voice and saw his wife Tiffany sitting at a stool that faced their sleeping figures. She was holding a business magazine in her hands.

He smiled tenderly at her as he released his hold on Karina's boob. "Do you want to see me touch myself then? Just a word of warning, I'm hard as fuck."

Tiffany rose from where she sat and plopped down the magazine on the table. "Are you?"

Sam's breath was caught in his throat as Tiffany walked toward him in an alluring manner. Her hips swayed side to side, leaving her loose but short skirt fluttering about and displaying a lot of skin. It was partnered with a tube top that hugged her body perfectly, showcasing her curves and her breasts.

She looked like a woman in her early twenties with the way she dressed today although she is in her forties like Sam already.

The young look is probably derived from an inside joke amongst the two of them– that he likes younger women. This was proven when he started his affair with Karina.

She stopped her step until she reached the side of the bed. Sam removed the sheets covering him and sat properly in order to face Tiffany. His nakedness is displayed in full glory that Tiffany's gaze immediately noticed his hard cock.

He wore a lovesick expression, eyes staring at Tiffany. "You look beautiful, baby."

Tiffany placed her palms on top of his shoulder. Slowly, she carefully slid her hands up his neck until she cupped his face. "Did you miss me, baby?"

"I did." He slightly turned his face to place a soft kiss on her hand. "I missed you so much." He put his hands behind her ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I was thinking of you last night while I was fucking Karina."

"I'm sure you were." Tiffany smirked as she bent down to peck his lips. "I heard everything last night."

He nodded while sporting a devilish grin. "I intentionally didn't drop the call last night."

"Yes. I enjoyed touching myself last night. Too bad you weren't there to see me cum." She did play with herself last night.

After she put the phone on loudspeaker, Tiffany immediately discarded her clothes. She took a few sextoys from the bedside drawer namely a vibrator, a butt plug and a lubricant. She first lubricated her ass hole which made inserting the butt plug easier. Then she fingered herself as she listened to Karina's moans and squeals.

Every time Sam would compliment Karina or talk dirty, Tiffany would imagine him talking to her instead. She pictured him on top of her, fucking her ass with ferocity. Unable to hold back and craving her first release, Tiffany turned the vibrator on and inserted it inside her wet pussy. She muffled her noise initially but as the vibration rocked her walls and her fingers rubbed her clit, Tiffany came with so much power.

She realized that she needed Sam. Doing it alone is not the same. And so she ordered her secretary to book her the earliest flight to Bangkok.

Tiffany peared over Sam to check out Karina's sleeping figure. "She's young, pretty and hot. She's perfect for you."

Sam hummed. "I agree. But I think she's perfect for the both of us."

The corners of her lips curled up as her dream was finally realized. She planned for this to happen. She deliberately asked Hyunmin, Sam's EA to hire his own assistant to lighten his load.

She then handed him a portfolio who turned out to be Karina. Tiffany met her during their company's hiring process and immediately noticed her beauty. When she whispered to Sam who was sitting next to her praises about Karina's beauty, he agreed and even admitted she looked hot and attractive.

That was when Tiffany got the idea. Sam never really found any other woman attractive beside Tiffany so hearing his admission made Tiffany conceive a crazy plan.

She wanted Sam to seduce Karina and make her fall in love with him to the point that she will listen to whatever he wishes. Like for example, having a threesome.

At first Sam didn't like that idea. He loved Tiffany and he found it distasteful to have sex with someone else other than his wife. But Tiffany convinced him by saying that they have tried everything they wanted and dreamed of during sex except having a threesome.

Tiffany assured him that she won't be mad because she wanted this. She also ordered him that whatever he did with Karina, he had to do it with Tiffany as well to make it fair.

So that night when Sam and Karina first hooked up inside the car while he was drunk and he received a blowjob from her, he went home and Tiffany gave him a mind shattering orgasm using her lovely mouth.

Every time he went home after his sexual encounter with Karina, Tiffany waited for him to fuck her too.

"She loves me, Tiffany." He whispered in a soft tone. "I.. I don't want to hurt her."

Tiffany looked at him warmly as she cupped his face. "I know. Then let's make her our permanent third wheel."

Sam finally smiled as a big worry was taken off his shoulders. He got up as he tenderly cupped her small face with his big hands. Tiffany gazed at him passionately as her desire threatened to boil over.

He kissed her fully on the lips while her fingers automatically combed through his hair. Her lips moved in unison with his as she swiped her tongue across his lower lip. She then pushed it inside his mouth until it wrestled against him for power.

Sam gracefully submitted to his wife, letting her dominate him albeit only for today. Tiffany smiled, loving the way he succumbed to her ministrations. It was his signal that he would let her order him around.

Her hand guided his head down so he peppered wet kisses along her skin from her jaw to her neck until he reached her shoulder blades.

"Take my clothes off, baby." Tiffany whispered.

Sam pulled away and grabbed the ends of her top and removed it without difficulty. He threw it on the floor as his fingers found the back of her skirt. He unhooked it expertly without looking and Tiffany shimmied it off her body.

Down in her underwear, Sam ogled her with burning desire. Her milky white skin sparkled due to a thin layer of perspiration. Sam watched as Tiffany removed her bra. His eyes feasted on her breast immediately, earning a satisfied smirk from Tiffany.

As soon as Tiffany removed her satin panties, Sam pounced on her and the momentum sent her standing near the chair she occupied earlier. Sam greedily cupped each of her breasts, eliciting a surprised moan from her.

"I'm not in the mood for foreplay, baby." She told him with bated breath. "I'm fucking horny. I need you inside me."

"What do you want me to do?" He asked in a gentle tone.

Tiffany let out a small smile, liking how Sam is letting her lead him. "Take a seat and let me ride you."

Sam obeyed, sitting on the love seat. He liked it better than the other seat with the backrest because he can move more freely. He looked at his wife who stood in between his legs. He unwittingly held his breath as she slowly lowered her body. She held his cock upright and aligned it perfectly at her entrance. Using her other hand, she spread her folds with her fingers before lowering herself entirely on his dick.

Sam groaned in pleasure the moment they were joined. Tiffany arched her back and threw her head to the side as she closed her eyes to savor his entire length. Compared to Karina who had her fair share of lovers, Tiffany's first love was Sam and he was also her sole sexual partner. Her sexual awakening happened when her then boyfriend Sam accidentally touched her chest when they were playing during one of their college incursions.

Ever since then, whenever they made out, Tiffany's body would feel like it's been set on fire. Eventually, her desire could no longer be contained so she invited Sam for a vacation once their sophomore term ended. Tiffany gave her virginity to Sam during that break which eventually started their active sexual life.

"Fuck, Tiffany.." He cooed as she slowly rocked her body. His gaze found her tits that bounced each time she moved up and down. One of his hands reached for her left breast while the other held her hips, guiding her movements.

He squeezed her breast, eliciting a sensual moan from his wife. He leaned forward to pepper kisses along her collarbone, pausing at the base of her neck to suckle some skin. The pulsating point he licked and sucked made Tiffany's inside churn since he knew perfectly well where to pleasure her.

He trapped her nippled in between her thumb and forefinger. He would tug or pinch it then would just rub it teasingly. He groaned in pleasure when Tiffany stopped moving, burying his entire length inside her. She started gyrating her hips instead, earning throaty moans from him.

"Tiffany.." He called as she expertly rocked her pelvis. She moved her hips in circles as her walls clenched his dick tightly. "Fuck. Your pussy's squeezing me so tightly, baby."

Tiffany smirked as she met his burning gaze. She opened her mouth and he quickly covered it with his. Lips tugged her bottom lip then shifted on the upper one. He then pushed his tongue inside, fighting a dangerous battle with her own. His teeth nipped her bottom lips, biting her with slight pressure.

"Ahh.. Sam.." She moaned as he swiped his tongue over the lip he bit. Then he pushed his tongue inside her mouth again, swirling and twirling it around the hot cavern. Their kiss was sloppy but needy, both of them longing for each other despite being in each other's presence.

They just couldn't get enough of each other.

"Fuck me, baby." Sam broke the kiss as he breathed on her face. "I'm very close. I want to cum inside you."

Tiffany nodded. She slowly moved her hips up then slammed back down. Her pace increased as the slapping of skin slowly filled the room. He looked down and watched as her pussy took his entire length. She would raise her hips until the tip of his dick remained then would slam her hips down until she was riding all of him.

Sam bent his head to capture her other nipple as his fingers busied itself with her other nub. He swirled his tongue around the erect nub before sucking it with passion. He then trapped the bud in between his teeth then slowly nipped and pulled.

"Fuck!" Tiffany cooed, throwing her head back as she hastened her pace, riding him up and down. "That felt so good, baby."

Sam smiled against her skin as he resumed sucking her nub. He once again nipped and pulled it with his teeth, earning another moan from Tiffany. His hand that was playing with her other nipple slowly descended down her pussy. Tiffany's body shivered as his thumb started rubbing circles around her clit.

"Tiffany. I have been fucking you for almost two decades and you're still tight as fuck." He groaned as his dick slammed in and out her tight hole.

Tiffany placed her hands on his broad shoulders as her fingernails dug into his skin. "I'm close, Sam."

He nodded as he rubbed her clit more with his thumb. His insides churned as he felt his incoming release ready to explode. His hand supporting her hips now framed her face as he beckoned her to face him.

"I'm cumming, Tiff." He said as he gazed into her eyes.

She nodded, feeling her orgasm coming too. With just a few more moves, they both came undone as their gazes remained glued to one another.

"Shit, you made me cum, baby." Sam purred as he pecked her lips.

"I love you, baby." Tiffany said as her chest heaved while catching her breath. "I love you so much, Sam."

"I know. And you know that I love you too. I'll do anything for you." Sam placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Tiffany knew that. He loved her so much that he couldn't refuse her request to seduce Karina. He always wanted to make her happy so if getting a threesome would make her happy then Sam would gladly do it no matter how much he found it distasteful.

And so today, he's making her wishes come true. She'll finally get that threesome.

Sam got off the seat, temporarily pulling his dick out of her pussy. He then asked Tiffany to lay down on the mattress next to a sleeping Karina. He then stood at the foot of the bed then climbed up, crawling in between their bodies.

He pecked Tiffany's lips. "You're getting that threesome now, baby." She giggled excitedly.

Sam then turned to Karina. He slowly lowered the sheets covering her naked chest. Once her tits sprang into view, he peppered soft kisses around her mound.

"Hngg.." Karina moaned in her sleep.

"Wake up, sweetheart." Sam whispered against her now perky nub. He enveloped it with his mouth as his hand grabbed the other mound and gave it a soft squeeze.

"Sam.." She breathed with her eyes closed as she savored his tongue circling her nipple.

"Karina.. Let me introduce you to someone." He called gently as his ministrations continued. But Karina was way too turned on to speak.

Sam stopped playing with her mounds knowing it would get her fired up and it did because she finally opened her eyes and bolted upright to give him a glare.

"You're such a tease, Sam!" She groaned.

He just chuckled. He then pulled Tiffany up so that she was sitting like Karina. "This is my wife, Tiffany."

Karina gasped as she quickly covered her chest with the sheets. "M-Ms Tiffany! I-I... This... ummm-"

"It's okay, Karina." Tiffany cupped her face. "I know what my husband was doing to you."

Karina's eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock. "Y-You do?"

"I was the one who asked him to get closer to you." Tiffany explained in simple terms. "I always wanted to experience a threesome, you know. And you were the perfect woman for that. You are, after all, the only woman my husband and I both find attractive."

Karina was confused with what was happening. Hearing that from Tiffany surprised her, especially knowing that she planned for her husband to seduce Karina. But it's not like Karina can be mad at her because Sam meant a lot to her.

Karina would even dare say she loved him. And she does. Ever since that fateful night inside his car, the night she first gave him oral sex, she started craving for him.

Whenever he secretly touched her ass as she waited beside him to sign the documents, a pool of wetness developed between her legs. Whenever he intentionally rubbed or accidentally brush arms with her, Karina felt heat all over her body. Whenever he whispered flirty words into her ear while wearing a poker face, Karina got those urges to drag him into a closet and just get naked with him.

Then when she was home alone in the arms of her then ex-boyfriend, Karina was left thinking about Sam. She was missing his warm touches, his deep voice, his captivating gaze and his tender loving care. She just missed his presence alone.

Eventually, Karina ended up breaking up with her boyfriend because he was bad at sex. He was becoming more irate and often said hurtful words and he also lost his temper and slapped her hard. She didn't tolerate his mistakes and violence so she broke up with him and told him to never show his face again.

Then Sam comforted him without the sex. He took her out to dinner and movies, sent her bouquets of flowers, left her love notes on her desk and gave her comfort inducing hugs. She initially wanted him for the sex but eventually fell in love with him.

"Is that true?" Karina asked as confusion remained written on her face.

Sam nodded. "You're the only woman I ever found attractive aside from Tiffany." He then cupped her face. "I don't want to hurt you, Karina. I don't want to lose you too."

"Stay with us, Karina." Tiffany added with a soft smile. "Stay with Sam."

As if Karina will say no to that. This was unexpected. She thought if his wife discovered their affair, she would order her to leave him. But instead of that, Tiffany asked her to stay.

"Are you fine sharing your husband?" Karina sounded doubtful.

Tiffany chuckled. She moved her naked body closer to Sam and gave his cheek a peck. "We can both have him, you both can have me and the two of us can have you."

Karina felt electricity run through her spine as it dawned to her what she meant.

"Well, this is going to be my first time doing it with a woman but I think I'll love it since it's you." Tiffany added with a seductive wink. "Sam did say you taste amazing."

"She does." Sam agreed. He leaned forward to plant a kiss at the base of Karina's neck. His tongue poked her flesh before sliding it up her neck. He nibbled and sucked her neck, knowing perfectly well that it was her weak spot. "What do you say, Karina?"

"Well, it's either we share you and you get to stay in my life or we don't share you and you leave my life." Karina summarized the gist of it. She then put her hands on his neck and gazed into his clear orbs. "The choice is obvious. I want you in my life, Sam."

Sam wore that handsome grin of his, leaving Karina's heart skipping a beat. She pulled his face towards her and kissed him tenderly. She slowly lowered her body when he started pushing her down. He supported himself by leaning on his elbow as his other hand trailed down her torso. The pads of his fingers trailed on her navel down to her womanhood. His fingers traced her slit as he teased a digit by her entrance.

Karina gasped for air once he ended the kiss to capture one of her nipples. "Shit. Bite it harder."

Tiffany watched with heightened arousal as her husband feasted on Karina's nipple and pussy. She felt wetness beginning to pool between her legs again. Watching Sam fuck Karina made Tiffany horny beyond reason.

"How does she feel, baby?" Tiffany breathed out as her fingers started rubbing her clit in circles.

Sam released Karina's nipples with a pop as he looked at his wife. "She feels so good, Tiffany. She tastes sweet too."

Tiffany leaned forward to kiss his lips. "Put your finger in, baby. I wanna hear Karina moan." She breathed against his lips.

Sam turned to Karina while wearing his handsome grin. "I'm sticking it in." She nodded her head as her stomach twisted in anticipation.

Sam slipped a finger inside her slick hole. Karina arched her back as Sam slid his finger in and out of her. A second digit was added, making her groan in pure delight. She pulled her legs up as she bent her knees, trapping his body in between her thighs.

"I want to cum, Sam." Karina croaked out as Sam added a third finger. She saw Tiffany's gaze shift between her jiggling mounds and her pussy which Sam was violating rather roughly.

"Make her cum, baby." Tiffany encouraged with a trembling voice. Her fingers are now rubbing her slit as she inserted two fingers inside her.

Sam rubbed his thumb against Karina's clit as he kept on thrusting his three fingers inside Karina's wet hole. Sam lowered his body so he could use his mouth to suck her clit.

"Fuck! Don't stop, please. I'm so close!" Karina cussed as one hand pressed Sam's face closer against her pussy while her other hand reached for Tiffany's breast.

"Oh, Karina." Tiffany moaned as the girl started playing with her nipple. "You're doing great."

Tiffany rolled to her side in order to get closer to Karina's face. She flashed the girl a warm smile before finally capturing her lips. Karina responded to her kiss rather well, nibbling her lips and sucking her tongue. Tiffany pulled away to plant a kiss on the girl's jaw before trailing kisses down her neck, collarbone, mound then captured her nipple.

Karina felt like she was going crazy with the way the married couple was screwing her. Tiffany was switching between sucking the flesh around her nub or nibbling her nipple while Sam kept on pumping his fingers inside her pussy.

Karina knew she was going to explode soon so she braced herself for an earth shattering orgasm.

"Cum for me, sweetheart." Sam cooed airily against her heat.

That proved to be the key to her release. Karina let a piercing cry as she came hard. She panted for air as her body shuddered in the aftermath of their first round.

"Baby.." Sam purred to Tiffany. "Why don't you do Karina a favor and clean her up?"

Tiffany stopped touching herself and Karina and immediately switched positions with Sam. She kneeled in between Karina's thighs then lowered her torso until her face was close to Karina's pussy. She took a long lick of her slit, earning shivers from Karina.

"You're right, baby." Tiffany looked at Sam with twinkling eyes. "She does taste amazing."

"I told you so." Sam looked proud. He crawled next to Karina and kissed her fully on the mouth. "Karina.. You're so fucking hot."

Karina's dark with desire eyes bore into his. "Your wife's damn hot, too."

He wore a smug grin. "I know."

Tiffany lapped up Karina's juices, licking her pussy and inner thighs clean. Seeing his wife was done with Karina, he sat against the headboard and sprawled his legs outward. He beckoned Karina to take the space between his thighs. Lying prone and facing his hard erection, Karina wrapped her fingers around it and slowly gave it a stroke.

"Fuck." He groaned.

Tiffany lifted Karina's hips so that she's now kneeling on all fours. Her tongue found Karina's slit, giving it a long lick. She then parted the swollen lips and poked her tongue inside her hole.

Karina moaned as Tiffany ate her pussy. Her grip on his dick tightened as she continued to stroke him. Her other hand held his balls, playing with it and squeezing it a little.

"I'd much prefer your mouth be wrapped around my dick, Karina." He growled in desperation.

Unable to prolong his wait since she wanted to take his cock inside her mouth too, Karina took a lick of his head. Sam's dick wasn't long but it was definitely big and thick. It always made her pussy full as if it was being stretched to its limits.

She licked his length from its head to its base. She noticed how swollen it was given how red it was and the veins popping in sight. She smirked upon hearing his desperate groan and feeling his hand push the back of her head.

"Karina. If you won't use your mouth, I will definitely punish you." His threat didn't sound like one when he kept on making sexy faces every time she squeezed his dick.

"I prefer that, you know?" She looked up at him, teasing him by putting his tip near her lips but never actually putting it in her mouth.

He held her face and bent down so he could kiss her. "You wouldn't want me to deny you of your pleasure too, would you?"

Karina's face soured upon hearing that. Sam would sometimes be a bad tease that he would prolong Karina's agony by denying her a release. Just when she was on the brink of reaching an orgasm, Sam would pull out and leave her frustrated.

Karina doesn't want that to happen again.

Deciding that she hated his punishment, Karina took his tip inside her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip before taking the entirety of his erection with her hot mouth. Sam watched as she bobbed her head repeatedly. She took him until the base then stopped until his tip. Then she released him with a pop as her tongue slid the underside of his cock.

"Ahh.. Karina. Your mouth is incredible." Sam groaned as she took his whole dick into her mouth yet again.

He gazed at his wife who was busy eating Karina and the latter was jutting her ass into the former's face for deeper reach. He found that view so arousing that he felt like he would reach his orgasm soon.

Tiffany licked two of her fingers then slowly inserted them inside Karina's swollen pussy. Karina groaned at the intrusion but she didn't bother releasing Sam's cock that was inside her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down as she took his whole length each time. She had better gag reflex than Tiffany which is why when she took his erection deep into her throat, she didn’t gag despite poking the back of her throat for more than ten seconds.

"Fuck.. You're doing an amazing job fucking me with your mouth." He sounded so pleased and close to the edge. "Keep doing that and I'll cum inside your mouth."

Karina looked up at him through her heavily lidded eyes, mouth and tongue busy sucking, blowing and licking his dick. She bobbed her head as she hastened her pace, taking him until the base of his dick then pulling away until the tip. Every time she took him fully, the tip of his dick would hit the back of her throat which gave her a little bit of discomfort but it wasn't the kind that she hated.

She wrapped her fingers around the base and stroked him slowly as her tongue and mouth played with the head. She could feel his body starting to stiffen as she prepared her mouth for his impending release.

"Shittt.. I'm cumming!" He threaded his fingers along her hair as he held her steady while he shot his load inside her awaiting mouth.

Karina waited until his release subsided before pulling away to swallow his cum. She thought she was getting a short rest but when he laid down instead of sitting against the headboard, she knew he was up to no good.

"Is she ready for me, baby?" Sam called to Tiffany who finally stopped eating Karina's pussy.

Tiffany nodded at him with a proud grin. "She's very wet now, baby. I think I did a fantastic job."

"I agree. You did fantastic, baby." Sam returned her smile. He then pulled Karina's wrist and made her straddle his hips. He grabbed his still hard cock and aligned it against her leaking pussy. "Sweetheart, will you ride me?"

Karina nodded as she lowered her body against his dick. She let a soft purr as her pussy adjusted to his size so she only took half of him. Then when her body started to relax, she lowered her hip completely to take all of him. Karina moaned as she slowly moved her hips, bouncing up and down and twirling her hips around.

Sam reached for his wife who was watching Karina ride him. "Baby, I want to taste you."

Tiffany beamed at him as she straddled his upper chest, facing Karina. Sam grinned at the sight of her glistening pussy that sent blood rushing to his dick. He heard Karina groan, probably surprised by the increase in his size and hardness.

"Sam.. How does Karina feel?" Tiffany asked curiously as her gaze fell on his cock slipping smoothly inside Karina's pussy.

"She feels so good, Tiffany. She's so fucking tight." He growled as Karina increased her pace.

"As tight as my pussy?" Tiffany batted her eyelashes playfully.

Sam thrusted his hips upward to meet Karina's pace. "Yeah, definitely."

Karina felt her walls clamp around his length, loving the way he filled her up and drove her crazy. Then, her gaze fell on Tiffany who looked to be enjoying her ride Sam masterfully. She leaned forward, with Tiffany meeting her halfway, and gave the older woman a hot kiss. Tiffany was very good at kissing, probably since she has more experience than Karina. Tiffany's kissing habit was the same as Sam's so Karina didn't have a hard time responding to her kisses.

Tiffany nipped her bottom lip so when Karina moaned in pain, the former slipped her tongue inside, dominating Karina's. Tiffany kissed her hungrily, needily, just like how Sam would kiss Karina after being away from each other for some time.

Karina gyrated her hips, eliciting a moan from Sam whose tongue was busy pleasuring Tiffany's leaking folds. Tiffany wrapped an arm around Karina's waist while the other caressed her cheek, deepening their kiss.

Tiffany broke the kiss in order to place open-mouthed kisses along Karina's jaw. She then descended downwards, trailing wet kisses along Karina's neck, collarbone, shoulder until her lips eventually reached Karina's nipple.

"Shit." Karina threw her head back as Sam thrusted up with more ferocity and as Tiffany started nibbling her nipples.

This couple knew how to fuck and they have chosen Karina as their playmate. With the tremendous pleasure her body is receiving and knowing her body will keep on craving for this kind of pleasure in the future, Karina knows there is no escape from the both of them.

Tiffany turned to the other nipple as her tongue poked and flicked the erect nub. Karina looked so hot and sexy as she rode Sam. It totally turned Tiffany on as the squelching sound of Karina's pussy being pounded by Sam's dick echoed around the room.

Tiffany felt her insides churn as Sam's tongue penetrated her folds. She squirmed, bucking her hips as he dragged his tongue along her swollen flesh. His fingers then parted her wet folds so he could thrust his tongue into her hole. Tiffany held Karina by the waist as she clamped her lips around her nipples. She reached below as her fingers found Karina's clit, rubbing it in circles.

"Hng.. That feels so good." Karina moaned as she bucked her hips at a faster pace. "Your dick feels amazing, Sam. And Tiff.. Your fingers– ahh!" She wasn't able to finish what she was going to say because he thrusted his hips harder and deeper, hitting her sweet spot.

It didn't help that Tiffany kept on rubbing her clit while her mouth was busy sucking the younger woman's nipple. Tiffany nipped the bud with her teeth, tugging it playfully before sucking it again.

Karina felt her release coming and she knew it was coming to her hard and violent. She hastened her pace, moaning each time Sam's hips met her movements, reaching her sweet spot. Her moans kept getting louder as the tip of his dick repeatedly hit her sweet spot. Her walls started clamping around his member as her release came like a tidal wave, sending her mind and body floating in cloud nine.

"Sam!" She shrieked as she once again came violently. She stopped riding him to take a breather. Once she got off him, his member was covered in her essence from the tip down to his balls and her pussy was dripping with her cum.

Tired and exhausted because of the pleasure she received from Sam and Tiffany, Karina plopped down face first beside Sam. She gazed intently as Sam's tongue flicked in and out of Tiffany's hole.

"Baby.. I need to cum." Sam whispered against Tiffany's swollen flesh.

Nodding her head, Tiffany got off him. Sam sat up and crawled in the middle of the bed. He grinned proudly as Tiffany laid on her back, taking the spot where he laid earlier and caressed Karina's face. He watched with a lustful gaze as Tiffany and Karina kissed tenderly.

He moved in between Tiffany's legs as his hand stroked his member slowly and painstakingly. He was still hard and he was desperate for a release. Without any warning, he slipped his thick member inside of Tiffany's leaking pussy, causing her to break her kiss with Karina in order to moan at the tremendous amount of pleasure that engulfed her body.

Tiffany opened her arms and Sam automatically leaned into her embrace. He propped his body with his elbows to prevent himself from crushing his wife with his weight. Because he lowered his body, Tiffany's perky nipples were pressed hard against his chest. Sam captured her lips as his hips hastened its pace.

Tiffany groaned each time his tip would hit her walls or her sweet spot. He would sometimes decrease his pace so he could grind his hips around much to Tiffany's delight because the pleasure it was giving her was insane.

"I want more of you, baby." She muttered. "I want you to fuck me harder and deeper. I want you to fuck me until I can't take it anymore."

"Your wish is my command." He spread her legs wider as he hooked his arms behind her knees. He pulled all the away until the tip before slamming back inside her with more force.

Tiffany was a quivering mess as Sam fucked her like there was no tomorrow. Her moans grew incessantly louder with each thrust he made. He was making her go crazy with his ministrations. Her entire body was feeling so good that she found it difficult to even raise her arms.

She grabbed the sheets into fists as she held on for dear life. Sam was like a machine, pulling out then slamming back in, filling her whole with his thick member and leaving her pussy wet beyond normal. He was an expert at making her feel so good. Twenty years into their relationship and he remains to be the only person she ever wanted with the addition of Karina now.

"Sam.. I'm fucking close." Tiffany uttered as he roughly slammed into her. Her back arched when he repeatedly hit her sweet spot, driving her to the edge. "There! Fuck me there!"

His lips found the base of her neck as he suckled on her skin, making sure that he would leave a mark that people will see. Tiffany is his and nobody else can have her. The same goes for Karina. Sam has become greedy and wanted the both of them all for himself because he loved them.

He may have just started loving Karina but he is sure that feeling and sentiment will develop as much as he loves Tiffany in due time.

He moved his hips as fast as he could muster as his thick cock penetrated Tiffany with power. She was a moaning mess, squirming in pain and pleasure as her impending release threatened to explode. Sam felt blood rushing to his dick as he also went closer to the edge of his orgasm.

"Tiffany.." He called her name as an invitation to cum with him and she grabbed his face in response to kiss his now chapped lips.

She screamed into his mouth as she came violently while he let out a throaty groan as he came inside her. His load shot into her womb yet again as he slowly rode down from the high of his orgasm. He slowly pumped into her until he came to a perfect still, withdrawing his dick from her pussy– wet with both their juices.

With a groan, he fell in between Karina and Tiffany as he tried catching his breath. He wore a big, contented smile on his face. A curtain of peaceful silence enveloped the three of them as they recuperated from the tiring sexual activity.

Soon, his eyelids closed shut due to the exhaustion. Tiffany and Karina placed their heads on top of his steady heaving chest as they cuddled him.

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