#as long as he got to give will a smooch

[cringengl]

Idc I want either Will, Mike or Robin to say the words:

"I'm gay"

In s5. Enough skirting around it and being vague and sort of hinting at it, someone should actually say it. The fact that Will had to be confirmed to be gay by Noah Schnapp and the Duffers because so many people didn't understand what the van scene/pizza scene with Jonathan was about was kind of annoying.

Although I understand why these characters haven't said it before, it's the 80s and Will of course was lying to Mike in the van scene and was in the pizza parlour with other people, not just Jonathan, and Robin was half high off truth serum whilst talking to a guy from highschool that she used to dislike.

As someone who has struggled with saying their sexuality out loud and has come out many times by just confirming people's already existing ideas, I think it would be a really cool acceptance moment for the character, to actually say it out loud, and canon confirmation that no one could deny.

[wigglebox]

Destiel Pride - Day 11; Truth

[spacexseven]

merry Christmas!!!!

merry christmas to you too!! i hope the holidays are going well for you!

[houseofwolvess]

i hate how short dogs live in comparison to humans

[satorena]

( P*SSY GOT ) P☆WER !?

bad ☆ summary. converting a loser into a munch wasn’t on your yearly bingo card ( or was it ? )

content ★ warnings. explicit content. mdni. foul language. situationship!gojo. college au. cunningulus. frōtting. premature ejaculātion. fīngering. eventual smut. gojo pines for like 99% of the fic. he also studies in pornology. reader is kinda bratty. mention of death lightheartedly. a lot of italicized words. lowkey gojo centric? 6.4k words (bye).

rena’s ☆ note. SATORENA COMEBACK … sorta (・・?)

“gimme a kiss.”

your face scrunches before the words can express your distaste. with your hand on the handle of his car’s door, your fingers tighten around the metal bar, half tempted to leave the man at your left— rosy lips puckered into an obnoxious smooch.

his eyelids are shut tight as his brows furrow to the centre of his forehead, face leaned in. you chuckle at his theatrics, lifting your free hand to press your digits at his pucker. his eyelids open as his brows now loosen, “gojo, bye.”

you feel his hands wrap around your wrist, gently lifting your hand off his mouth, though your fingers hover over his lips still, “girl.” he tilts his head to the side, emitting an aura of sass you’ve yet to understand, “it’s satoru to you— i can’t even have a little one? haven’t i been good all day?”

you click your tongue, “you been runnin’ your mouth all day long actually,” and before your mind can even process your following words, you focus on the way his plump lips fall into another one of his childish pouts. cute. however he chooses to take your invitation is all up to him. your eyes dart to the rosy flesh as you hum, “mhm, if only you ate pussy as good as you talk shit.”

you feel the hold on your wrist drop, as his frown switches to a blank stare. you cock a brow, watching as the hand his steering wheel tightens.

he gulps, eyes narrowing before glancing over to the leather wheel, “i, uh, don’t eat pussy.”

oh. . . oh.

the slam of the car door speaks the rest for you.

“woah— hey!” gojo yells after you, though your figure seems to get smaller with the steps you take. in your hold is your purse, bouquet of flowers he’d bought earlier and house keys. “baby, hold on— this damn window,” he cusses, removing the barrier between you and him angrily. you hadn’t even hesitated to exit the car, as if he’d said the world’s most vile comment.

you’re not listening, and for some reason gojo feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. what the fuck had he said that made you all upset with him?

he watches helplessly as you insert your key into the hole. the chiming sounds of your keys serve as a reminder that he was definitely in trouble. that and he wasn’t getting his damn goodbye kiss.

he sighs instead, albeit defeatedly. “am i at least gonna see you soon?”

the front door opens and you look back over your shoulder, and god— he really thought he had it. his lips threaten to pull into a smile, ready for your little mood to be over with.

you grin and as does he. you even give him a cute wave, thank fuck, “have yourself a nice life, baby.”

and the front door closes. damn.

☆ ☆

“you said what?!”

gojo groans into the phone, sprawling himself on his king sized mattress that suddenly feels way to big for him alone. where were you when he needed you? oh that’s right, “she ghosted me! i’m blocked on all socials— can you believe that?”

he tried reaching out to you through texts to make sure you were feeling okay, but the shade of green told him everything he needed to know— especially as an apple user. he then proceeded to go through your social media, to double check his suspicions and there it was, user not found.

“uh, duh?” geto is as judgemental as ever, and gojo doesn’t try to suppress the roll of his eyes. “bro, you just told the girl you’re talkin’ to that you don’t give head. the fuck d’you think was gonna happen?”

“it’s not even a big deal!” he argues because his pride in on the line, and he ignores the groan geto gives him across the phone. rude. his fingers pinch at the top of his nose bridge, “was it really necessary to block me? literally just tell me to kill myself at this point.”

“pretty sure that’s what she blocked you for.” geto snickers, and gojo realizes he’s lucky they aren’t in person because he would have blocked him. instead he whines, pressing the speaker button before stuffing his face in his pillow. he’s probably insane but he swears there’s a hint of your scent there, and now he’s whining louder.

“quit bitchin’. you brought this upon yourself,” and out of spite, gojo whines louder. if his legs kick against his mattress childishly, it’s nobody’s business but his own. the love of his life just walked out of his life— give him a break. “and dude, no shade but do you really not eat pussy? are you gay or somethin’?”

“i am not—” he cuts himself off once the sound of his own voice echoes loudly in his lonely room. geto winces and gojo bites down on his tongue before sighing. “i’m not gay. i love women only. seriously. how does not eating pussy make me gay?”

the line goes quiet, and gojo can tell geto’s making that face he makes whenever he’s finding the right words to say without offending gojo. it ticks him off. “alright, lemme counter that question with one of my own. why don’t you eat pussy?”

gojo pauses. he tightens his fingers around his pillow as the question ponders. he thinks about having received head in the back of his car once, the other time in the bathroom of some frat party, and another in some girl’s bedroom. from all memories, he draws a similar conclusion— they always come onto him first.

“i dunno.” his lips fall into a pout, tracing patterns into his pillowcase with his index. “they never really ask, so i never bothered. that can’t be weird, right? all of my hookups have consisted of them pulling my pants down. why would i refuse? i get my nut and that’s that.”

and because geto is genuinely never on his side, “satoru . . . eugh.” some kind of best friend is he.

“what?!” he hisses in retaliation, glaring at his phone as if it would solve his issues. there’s nothing he hates more than feeling judged. “you fucking asked!”

“calm the fuck down,” he hears geto rolling his eyes. the white haired man huffs, the blow of air pushing his bangs up before they fall back down. okay, maybe he should calm down. whatever. “so essentially what you’re saying is you’ve never been put in a position where you could eat pussy?”

something like that, “sure.” gojo nods, and he doesn’t understand why geto sighs.

“why do i even bother?” though the answer is clear, he’s pretty sure geto was talking to himself. gojo clicks his tongue, ready to bark back but geto beats him to it. “so tell her just that— it’s not that you won’t give head, it’s just that you haven’t given head. which still blows me, but whatever.”

“how? remember she blocked me on everything?” the thought makes gojo whine again, throwing his limbs all over his bed. he hits his phone, then opts to grab it. “is that not entitlement? i have to bend my back all over the damn place just to get her to talk to me again?”

“satoru, you’ve literally done the same thing. don’t act like you’re above it,” geto chuckles and gojo hears shuffling in the background. the ravenette sighs in relief, and he assumes he’s now in his own bed. “besides, you fuckin’ love women who give you challenges.”

and fuck, he’s really not wrong. “yeahhh, you know me so well.” he wipes a fake tear from his eye. he rolls over onto his back, “welp, i’m gonna log into your insta to stalk her account. i miss her so much i’m literally gonna die.”

“satoru.” geto warns him, but gojo is quicker than that. he’s already typing your name into the search bar, username memorized as if it were his cellphone number.“i swear to god if you accidentally like her shit—”

“thanks bestie, love ya lots!” and he hangs up the phone. and with a shit eating grin, he giggles, “time to start lurking.”

☆ ☆

so it’s been months (read: four days) since he last seen you. he’s thankful you’re at least in two of his courses, so he has some sort of opportunity to reach you. he’d spent the last months (hours) stalking your page, viewing your stories to see if there’d been any indicator that you missed him as badly as he missed you.

and all he’s gotten so far is that you spent friday out to dinner (with him) (it was just a mirror pic of your outfit but an outfit you wore on a date with him) (you love him so bad), you had a girls’ night on saturday with shoko and utahime (he barely registered they were in the selfie) and sunday was a study sesh you had at the cafe across the college. he had to screenshot and zoom in to ensure there were no signs of living souls in the same booth as you.

he was still in the clear. whew.

and so monday morning falls, and he’s actually rushing to get to class for once (late but as expected). the one of two classes he shares with you. he hopes he’ll find you sitting in your habitual seat, not too far up close yet not too far back, and he might pull the fire alarm if he spots anybody next to you.

he’s a man on a mission— he’s going to talk to you today. he needs to be back in your good graces. there were many things he wanted to yap to you about, many places he thought of taking you over the weekend, many moments he wanted your soft lips back on his and your gentle hand back in his own.

he misses you, damn it.

there you sit, in all your glory, shining so bright in the middle of this depressing ass psychology course in the early hours of the butt fuck morning. he sees you twirling your pen in between your fingers, your cheek leaned into the palm of your hand— and nobody by your side.

if he rushes and trips over his feet momentarily to get to you in time, it’s nobody’s business but his own (and the girl who’s backpack laid useless on the floor. hazard much.)

he so much as plops into the seat as he does actually sit in it, and he watches as you jerk in surprise. though, the look of surprise is quickly replaced by aloofness. you feel different— not entirely closed off but not as welcoming as you usually are. you’re probably still done with him.

well it’s too damn bad he’s not done with you, “good morning, princess.”

you blink at him, before nodding your head curtly. “morning, gojo.” and you turn your focus back onto the professor. just like that, you shut down another conversation.

he doesn’t like that, and so he pokes at your side and chews at his strawberry gum. “you blocked me on everything.”

“i did.” you answer shortly, though your eyes never leave the professor. he cannot be that interesting, who actually gives a fuck about cognitive dissonance?

“seen this new bakery shop down the street.” he tries again. “wanted to take you but that was impossible because somebody blocked me.”

“i mean, you know where i live.” you shrug, writing whatever the fuck the professor had mentioned in your notebook. wait, what? you turn your head to see him gaping at you in confusion, and you smirk at his silence.

“cat got your tongue?” you quip, amused by his stillness. your eyes sparkle mischievously, though your smile isn’t entirely full. don’t tell him, you’ve been— “too bad it’s not mine, though.”

ohhh, you cheeky brat.

“so. . . you were never really mad at me?” gojo blinks, his mind running miles a second. nothing was adding up, he was positively certain you were cutting ties with him. “this whole time. you weren’t mad about the pussy eating comment?”

“don’t get it twisted,” you raise a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. you lift a finger in the air before pointing at him, “you,” and then pointing at yourself “and i are done. we can still be cool but i’m not wasting my time with no bitch—respectfully.”

“so you are mad?” he asks again, disregarding the bitch comment. he knows what he’s supposed to say— to clarify the situation, to make it known that it’s not like he’s repulsed by the idea of giving head— but you make it so hard to stay on track when you’re acting defiant.

suguru was right— he does love a challenge.

“mad?” you giggle, and gojo leans back in his seat. damn, you’re confusing. stone cold one minute but all giggly the next. it’s cool, he’ll figure you out. “i ain’t trippin’ baby— if you don’t wanna eat it then don’t. another man definitely will.”

huh, “oh?” his eyes narrow just slightly, though the smirk on his lips never falter. he ignores the way his stomach just dropped to his ass at your implication— there is no way in hell is he letting another man have you. not when he’s still alive and breathing. “if you think i’m letting that happen, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

“everything seems to be coming but me,” you bat your lashes, and damn he fell right into that one. you drop your pen down, giving him one last smile before redirecting your focus to the professor before you. “the real question is what do you plan on doing ‘bout that?”

you give him no time to respond, and it’s not like he thinks he would be able to, as you begin to pack your belongings into your tote bag. you’re leaving and he barely got to say what he’d been memorizing all weekend. oh well, at least he now knows you haven’t entirely cut him off.

if he doesn’t knows better, it feels like you want him to chase after you.

god, he thinks he’s in love.

☆ ☆

gojo satoru is amazing at everything. there truly isn’t something he can do that won’t come out spectacular. he’s gifted, that he knows much, and it’s difficult to stay humble when he’s constantly reminded of so.

“i can easily do this shit.” he mumbles to himself, cerulean eyes narrowing into focus at the bright lit screen of his ipad. his airpods are in, and he’s gonna be completely honest— the pornstar’s screaming is starting to get on his nerve. however, he’s always been an exceptional student and when it’s time to lock in, it’s time to lock in.

his legs feel as though they’ve fallen asleep in the criss-cross position he’s been sat in on his bed for the past two hours. irrelevant, he decides as he picks at his bottom lip with his fingers. his device is running hot with how long it’s been since it last caught a break, but he had bigger issues to worry about. so, basically all he has to do is spread open her lips and go to town until she squirts? sounds simple enough.

he watches as the guy begins motorboating into the girl’s pussy and— “damn, that looks like it hurts.” a grimace creeps onto his face as the guy repeatedly goes ham on swollen red lips. he’s got half a mind telling him that the moans the girl’s letting out are entirely out of agony and not pleasure.

“aaaalrighty,” gojo speaks up, though to himself. “next video, that shit was ass. pussy hurts just thinkin’ bout it, eugh.”

he finds an amateur video, and the thumbnail seemed intimate enough. after an agonizing ad of ‘want a quick break from the ads?’, the video begins. the upper half of the woman’s body is cut out of frame, but she’s laid onto her side, her backside in view. her top leg lifted just slightly, the man lays on his stomach and spreads them apart further and begins to lick.

he dives his tongue inside her cunt, not too sloppy, and gently works his way in. his thumb is caressing at her puckered forbidden zone, always gently, as his tongue glides up and down her labia.

gojo gulps. the girl makes soft sounds, hand coming down to play her the man’s hair, and he proceeds eat her out skillfully. her back arches, she whines and begs for more, and he never loses control. at some point, the hand that focused on her asshole moves up to grip at her cheeks, thus spreading her pussy lips further. she’s already wet from a mixture of fluids, and the sound it creates is so damn obscene.

gojo gulps again, and his sweats feel tight.

before his mind can even allow it, he’s thinking of you. he thinks of you on your side, legs spread open for his disposition as he brings you this same pleasure. as he lays himself on his stomach, munching at your pussy in ways that’ll have you squirming all over his bed, squeezing your plush thighs around his head and begging for him to give you more.

he thinks of how good you’d smell— how good you’d taste. he thinks of how nice you smell whenever you wrap your arms around his neck and he follows suit around your waist. he thinks of how sweet your lips taste when you’re straddling his thighs and slipping your tongue in his mouth.

pheromones are a crazy thing. your scent lingering in his car alone drives him insane. he’s so prone to boners around you, it’s like he’s a dog you’ve trained.

and now he’s thinking he wants you in this very bed at this very instance, ipad be damned, pussy spread open so he can feast. so he can relish the sounds you make as you call out his name, enamoured by the way his tongue would flick at your clit and break open that dam of water right onto his face.

“shit.” he chucks his ipad onto the floor, cradling his head into the palms of his hands. how had he not ever wanted to do this before?

☆ ☆

he doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s far past two in the morning on a thursday night, and he’s missing you. badly. he misses you and your sweet smile. he misses you and your smart mouth. he misses you and the way your lips move so fluidly against his own, as if they were made for one another.

he really doesn’t expect you to pick up.

it’s around the fifth ring that he hears your honeyed voice, “hi.” his eyes widen as he sits up from his bed in a hurry. talk about a damn surprise.

“hey.” he says back lamely, because of course he does. he feels the corner of his lips tugging into a smile and his heart is beating wildly against his rib cage. “didn’t think you’d answer.”

“mhm. so what’d you call me for?” you sound tired, and he wonders if you’d been sleeping when he called. somehow, the thought makes his stomach churn at the implication you cut off hours of sleep for him.

“just wanted to hear your voice.” gojo answers as honestly as he can, leaning down to rest his back back into the mattress of his bed. he shuts his eyes and imagines his arm falling asleep underneath your head, using him as a pillow. “been missin’ you.”

“you literally see me every other day at school,” he’s graced with the harmonious sounds of your giggles, and he can already picture the way your shoulders shake as dimples curve into your cheeks. “y’re so fuckin’ clingy.”

he supposes he is, can’t even find it in him to disagree. you’ve been plaguing his mind since you cut him off (question mark) last week. he wasn’t sure what kind of ban you were putting on him, but he’s been tiptoeing around his relationship with you for too long. the absence of your presence in the way he craves is driving him nuts. he misses you, damn it.

a longing sigh rips from his throat, “can’t help that i miss that ass,” he jokes instead because talking about feelings and vulnerability is wrong. “you still owe me a goodbye kiss, y’know? just left a poor guy hangin’, rude.”

“hmm,” you hum lazily and he isn’t sure what to expect. he’s just talking out of his ass, wants to restore that playful banter you guys had prior to this whole pussy eating mess— which he’d gladly now get on his knees and rock your fucking world. “like i said already, you know where i live.”

“you got one more time to say that before i show up at your doorstep for real,” gojo tests the waters, and swings his legs off his bed. he’s waiting for a sign, confirmation, anything to ensure you were being serious. late night be damned, he will show up to your door and flip your shit right then and there.

“the fuck i gotta repeat myself for?” you sigh, and gojo’s slipping his shoes on. he’s wasting no more time, he wants you right now. “if you really missed me you would have been come see me. you’re all talk.”

“so when i yell at your doorstep to lemme eat it, don’t start lookin’ at me crazy—i’m warning ya.” and with that he hangs up. he’s not leaving any more room for debates, enough’s enough. and shit, when the fuck had he gotten bricked?

he grabs his keys and slams his door close.

☆ ☆

you’re looking at him like he grew an extra head on his shoulders overnight. he’s looking at you like the tee you have on your body decimated his entire bloodline. there’s a heavy silence between you both, as if either one of you are expecting the other to make the first move.

“you actually came.” you blink in mild shock, neck craning up to look him dead in the eye. he’s panting heavily, he might’ve ran here the second he could, but how could he not have?

“enough games, baby.” gojo answers instead and takes a step into your apartment. you back up in retaliation, and he takes another close step. you stay still this time. his hands sneak below the hem of your shirt and slide up to your bare waist, grabbing onto the plush flesh. you feel jolts of electricity imbedded into your skin with every lingering touch. “lemme eat it, come on. please?”

“oh?” you cock an eyebrow, raising a hand to press your palm flat against the plane of his chest. you feel his heartbeat thudding wildly. “and here i thought you were too good to stoop as low as giving women head.”

gojo clicks his tongue and tightens his hold on you. “i never said that.”

“you basically did.” you bite back, tilting your head to the side. you see his nostrils flare a bit, “or does that rule apply with just me?”

“if it did, would i be here at three in the morning begging to eat your pussy?” gojo rolls his eyes. you open your mouth but snap it back shut and gojo decides you conceded. he lifts you from the ground and places you on his shoulder, ignoring your ‘put me down!’ and opts to shut you up with a firm slap on your ass.

your cheeks jiggle from the impact, and his dick twitches in his briefs. as he suspected, you’ve got no bottoms on— just a cute pair of pink lace panties he wants to tear apart with his teeth. animalistic is what you make him.

“so. . . which one is your room?” he finds himself in the corridor, arm wrapped around the back of your knees. you fall limp in his hold, defeatedly as your arm lifts to point at the door at the end of the hall. he smirks and rubs at your booty, “atta girl. look at ya bein’ all obedient and shit.”

“shut up.” you huff, and he would bet a million dollars you’ve got that adorable pout on your lips. the one you make whenever you don’t get something done the way you planned.

your bedroom is everything he expected from you, fits your personality just about right. but—respectfully, fuck your bedroom. he’s got bigger issues to address, and that can only be done with your panties on the floor and a mouth full of your cunt. his dick is twitching uncontrollably at the thought of it alone.

“if you drop me on this bed, i swear i’m gonna kill you.” tilting your head, you warn him once he stands next to the edge of your bed frame. though a moot point, because if you know gojo as well as you think you do, you’re about to meet your duvets face first.

“mhm, what was that?” cupping a hand behind his ear, he pretends innocence then proceeds to do exactly what you warned him not to do. him and his long ass limbs, manhandling you all over the damn place as if its in his birthright. and no, it does not make your cunt clench, despite your thighs rubbing one against another. “sorry shortie, think i missed what you said.”

when you’re finally able to gain composure, you sit up on your elbows and furrow your brows in the nastiest scowl you can muster. he stands right above you, his frame so large it both annoys and turns you on. “gojo, you stupid fucking—”

you want to slap the smile off his face. “yeah, yeah.” he cuts you off, before leaning down to hover over you. his arms are pinned at your side, upper body pressing against yours. you feel the weight of his hips pressing into your legs, and so you widen the space. he fits in just as perfectly as you’d imagined he would. the tip of his nose brushes yours, biceps flexing in your peripherals. you feel his breath fanning at your cupid’s bow, warm yet it leaves shivers creeping at your spine.

“think you owe me somethin’, princess.” his voice comes out in a low growl, from the depths of his chest. his presence is so dominating— his bulge pressed right up against your aching cunt, the feel of his heartbeat right against yours. it all feels dizzying, the scent of his cologne filling up your nostrils and clouding any better sense of judgement.

he’s teasing you— leans in, brushes his soft lips against yours and watches as you lean forward to capture them but pulls away just in nick of time. he loves every one of your facial expressions, especially that adorable scowl of yours. he can’t wait to see the faces you make when you’re in absolute bliss.

he tilts his head just slightly, practically mouthing the words into your parted mouth. and with a low chuckle, he speaks, “if you want it, take it.”

you might’ve folded first, but he kisses you back just as eagerly, lips moulding into one another. you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you’d relieved him of all stresses weighing on his shoulders. you lift a hand to cup at the back of his neck, fingernails scratching at the undercut at his nape.

gojo shudders beneath your touch, rolling his hips deeper into yours and relishes in the way you moan softly into his mouth. he wants to drink up every single sound you make, wants to discover your body’s sensitive spots and maneuver them into making a mess out of you.

your neck soon begins to ache, and almost as if he can read your mind, pushing deeper into you as you fall back onto your bed. he never takes his lips off of yours— not when the hold in his hair lowers in favour to grip at his biceps or stroke his back, not even when your legs wrap tightly at his waist. at a particular grind, you moan louder than any other sound you’d made all night, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

“gojo,” you whine into his mouth, fingers clawing at his compression tee. he continues to roll his bulge into your clothed cunt, aiming at that spot that has you arching your back off the bed and into him. he grips a hand tightly at your plush thigh, his hold so hard you’re certain he’ll leave bruises. “you said y-you’d eat it. be a man of your, ngh, word.”

“yeah, that’s right,” he pulls away finally, a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips. he pecks at your kiss bitten lips, the dazed look in your eyes igniting a fire deep in his gut. “gotta keep my promise— can’t keep my baby waitin’ too long,” you feel his lips trail from the corner of your lips to the slope of your jaw, “she gets all cranky an’ pissy.” from the column on your neck to your collarbone, “starts gettin’ all mean with me.”

“oh my gosh, shut up!” you complain, though your hold on him tightens. you feel the vibrations of his chuckles at your jugular, followed by a deep plunge on his teeth at the thin layer of skin and another agonizingly slow grind against your clit. “fuckin’— shit— hurry up already!”

“tsk, see what i mean?” gojo tuts, hands sliding down the curves at your torso. you feel his large fingers play with the material of your panties, rolling the lace between forefingers. the contrast of the coolness of his rings against your heated skin adds a strange stimulation to your senses. “so mouthy, ‘m gonna have to do somethin’ about that.”

“i’m mouthy?” you squawk, watching as he lifts your tee up from your body. he taps wordlessly at your waist and you understand to remove the article of clothing. you chuck the tee across the room, before redirecting your focus on the man peppering wet kisses all over your stomach. it leaves butterflies rattling inside. “you literally cannot shut the fuck up— what’s the hold up? awe, don’t tell me you can’t walk the talk?”

he pauses for a bit. he doesn’t let himself fall bait for your words. you’re just being bratty— all hot and bothered and can’t properly ask for what you need. you don’t have to worry, he’s here entirely for your pleasure. he isn’t even thinking about the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers, doesn’t even attempt to relieve it at all.

and so, he kneels at the edge of the bed. with two large hands cupping at your hips, he pulls you closer to him and rests your thighs on his shoulders. he watches as your chest rises up and down, and you prop yourself back onto your elbows.

your eyes are misty, your lips swollen and wet, your hair a mess and your neck littered in marks that scream gojo. you already look fucked out and he hadn’t done shit. god, he can’t wait to stuff his face between your thighs.

“i got you baby,” he drags his index finger right in the center of your cunt. he can both feel and see the material dampen with your arousal, your hips squirming as you chase for more. he licks his lips as he narrows in on the treasure, he swears he hears his stomach growling. “promise i do. just relax for me, yeah?”

“whatever.” you mumble, and comply to his order. he calls you a good girl, before stroking at your clit some more. the reactions you give will forever be imprinted in his mind, fleeting touches already granting him the opportunity to hear your delicate voice once more. you may be impatient but gojo is worse, and he decides that he wants to see your cunt now. he pushes your panties to the side, and the sight he’s rewarded with nearly— nearly, had him cumming right on two knees.

gojo gulps. “holy shit,” he feels his voice waver in excitement, eyes widened as he stares dead on. your cunt clenches around nothing from the switch of temperature, oozing more of your arousal down to your sheets. your pussy lips are puffy, clit sitting atop so prettily and damn, he wants to hump something.

he isn’t sure why but you try to close your thighs together, rude much, though gojo is much stronger. he keeps them spread wide, and shoots you a look. “do not.”

“tsk.” you click your tongue, looking away. and, oh, are you shy? “stop staring, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

he’s too far enamoured by the slick dribbling from your tiny hole down the crack of your ass. it trickles so tauntingly, that he finds himself nearly jealous. he wishes he could be there— oh wait, “just appreciatin’ my meal before i eat, sue me.”

the pad of his thumb collects your juices before popping it into his mouth. “wow,” he mumbles, more so to himself, at your taste bursting onto his taste buds. it’s so undoubtedly you, a raw and truthful you, and he gives you no warning before diving right in.

“fuckkk,” you throw your head back, hand flying to grab at the nearest thing in your vicinity— which so happens to be tousled, fluffy hair.

so, first time for everything right? but gojo maneuvers his way into your pussy as if he’d done this before. he starts off with kitten licks, teasing you some more before flattening his tongue and dragging it up and down your lips. he swallows and moans into your cunt, fingers digging deep into the back of your thighs.

he’s practically making out with your pussy. he doesn’t neglect any area, not even the clit surprisingly, as he latches his lips to the bundle of nerves and lightly nibbles. now that has your back arching and pushing his head deeper into you. if there was a way to go in life, he’d gladly take this death.

he’s so painfully hard it hurts, unable to control the way his hips grind against the bed frame. your scent is driving him feral, the way you tug on his hair harshly has his balls tightening and the way you cry out his name makes him want to imprint his name inside of you.

“s-satoru!” oh god, you’ve done it. you finally said his first name and he’s this close to painting his briefs white in shame. he continues to flick his tongue inside your hole and similar strokes to his humping. “you’re doin’ s’gooddd baby, shit!”

keep praising him and he’s gonna bust. he lifts himself away from your pussy, eyeing the gooey center almost offensively, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” he lands a wad of spit down, as he brings two digits to properly rub his saliva into your essence. the sounds it produces are so wet, it’s damn near filthy. he clicks his tongue, “seriously. ‘s makin’ me mad almost.” he slaps at your cunt twice, watching how your spray down his wrist.

“you s-sure this is your first, hnng, time?” you accuse, to the best of your abilities, as you feel him slip a finger in. you’re so lubricated, the slip inside was easy. pushing past that first ring of muscle, he’s pumping in and out of your cunt with precision, curling his digit as if he’s aiming to find a specific area. “y’know too much— mmph, fuckin’ liar.”

when he thrusts into a specific angle, your thighs tremble terribly around his head. he smirks, found it. “watched a lotta porn.” and he isn’t lying, he thinks back to how he studied the arts of cunningulus, and recalls the double combo. he has to try it, so he’s back to sucking and nibbling at your clit while adding an extra finger inside.

“oh my goddd,” you whine, feeling your limbs liquify in heat from every extremity. he pushes your knee further into your chest, and so you grab ahold of both your thighs. he hums approvingly, dragging his free hand along the soft skin of your legs. “don’t— don’t stop, please don’t stop,”

your toes are curled, back off the mattress and the pain in his scalp is shooting straight down to his cock. he’s rutting and rutting into the wooden frame, the flat surface painfully teasing though it does do the job. or maybe he has you to blame.

he feels saliva dripping down his chin, the way his tongue slides into your folds and feels his knuckles in there. his fingers move in scissoring motions, rotating circles, in and out— all the while repeatedly attacking your golden spot.

you severely underestimated him, and can barely process the orgasm that rips through you when he presses a hand onto your lower belly, “‘m cumming, fuck, ngh, don’t stop—” and you wail, fingernails clawing intensely into his tresses, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in closer. he decides to make that decision for you, stuffing himself as deep as possible to not miss a single drop, and your thighs clench against his ears.

so, gojo satoru is a shameless man. as you flood into his mouth and onto his face, grinding out your orgasm and using him as nothing but a toy for your own high— somewhere along the lines, he feels his briefs are sticky. he moans sluttily into your pussy, hips twitching incessantly as his cock shoots loads of nut into his boxers.

it feels like an eternity yet simultaneously a second when you’ve come down from your high, body twitching as gojo slows down his movements, his finger pumps gradually lessening in intensity and the kitten licks on your abused clit coming to a halt.

his face is soaked. his skin feels moist and damp, a thick air of humidity beginning to grow in the room, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. his eyes are stuck on you, limbs sprawled out limply against your bed, your chest heaving, tiny breaths coming out of your mouth.

he slides out his aching fingers, and pops them back in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits so eagerly, basking in your taste once more. absolutely divine,

“christ, i’d make a nasty pornstar.”

gojo won the poll. . . everybody act surprised (°_°)

[theother-victoria]

actual footage of me after reading this

bound beyond time (i’m forever yours) ft. mr. reca ☼ honkai: star rail

selected fandom : 崩坏：星穹铁道

xoxo, ieva ✶ @theother-victoria hiii, vic! i got you for secret santa; i hope i did him justice for you 💗

syn. in the center of every stage was you, yours was a face he couldn’t and never wanted to forget. the contrary applied to you in every life you’ve lived, all except this one. to his surprise—this time, his was the face you remembered from the times he extended his hand out to you after every performance.

In the center of every stage, there was you. From the cadence of your voice delivering every line to the precise movements of your hands emphasizing every emotion, you embodied perfection in his eyes. To him, you weren’t just a performer—you were the performance. The curtains couldn’t conceal your brilliance; instead, they framed it, accentuating the glow of your stardom with every rise and fall. It was every actor’s peak, one that he believed you were destined for.

Mr. Reca was an eccentric man, his reputation preceding him as one of the most celebrated filmmakers in the cosmos. His days were consumed by plotting intricate narratives, brainstorming ideas that pushed the boundaries of imagination, and nitpicking the finest details, all in pursuit of the masterpiece he dreamed of creating. Among the countless memories he had meticulously archived—keeping the vivid and discarding the uninspired—the moment he first saw you shone brightly in the former category. That meeting, etched into his mind, marked the beginning of something extraordinary. You weren’t just another actor; you had become the axis around which his creative world turned.

It amazed you how someone could devote themselves so entirely to their craft. Your perception of Mr. Reca had shifted over time, from initial awe to something more layered. If you could choose one word to describe him now, it would be finicky.

On set, Mr. Reca’s presence was undeniable. When he stepped into the center, a magnetic energy followed—commands spilled effortlessly from his lips, drawing immediate action from the actors and crew around him. His brilliance was as much a curse as it was a blessing. Inspiration often clouded his judgment, and you could see it in the furrow of his brow or the glint in his eyes, revealing whether he was boisterously elated or utterly dissatisfied with the unfolding scene. A lack of passion is discardable, while a hunger for new heights always reached the surface— it was the pinnacle for success.

As devoted as you were to your own craft, you knew you could never match his obsession. It wasn’t just passion for him—it was compulsion, a relentless pursuit of perfection that left no detail untouched. To stand in his world, under his scrutiny, was as overwhelming as it was inspiring.

Mr. Reca’s gaze lingered on you, sharp and unrelenting, as though he were dissecting every fragment of your soul. His eyes, dark and gleaming like polished obsidian, held a peculiar mix of scrutiny and reverence. It wasn’t a passing glance—it was the kind of look that peeled back layers, that saw beyond the surface, straight into the essence of who you were. It was the kind of gaze you’ve never grown accustomed to, yet were eagerly anticipating. Being valuable, being of use, it added a sense of belonging—as if you were born to be a performer.

(Deep down, you wanted that to be true too.)

Finally, he spoke, his voice low but resounding, filling the room with the weight of his words. “Do you know what you’ve done here?” He stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter. “This... this isn’t mere performance. This is art, raw and untamed. Brilliant, utterly brilliant!”

The silence stretched as if the galaxy itself held its breath. Then, his voice dropped to an almost reverent whisper. “You don’t just act—you become. It’s a skill not many possess, your ability is what I’ve been searching the cosmos for! And yet... even perfection is not enough. I need more from you. Do you understand?”

“But director—”

He raised his hand, signaling for you to wait for him to finish.

He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. “But mark my words—you are unlike any I’ve ever seen. You are the center of this world I’m building. It is your time to shine!”

You barely managed a nod, his words heavy with both expectation and strange admiration. Mr. Reca’s intensity was like a force of nature, sweeping everyone in his orbit along with it. He stepped back, his hands already sketching shapes in the air, as though he could see the entire film projected before him.

“More,” he muttered, half to himself. “More than this. This is a star’s performance, yes—but it must be a supernova. I need to see every raw nerve, every flicker of despair, every shred of hope clawing to survive. Anything less is mediocrity.”

His gaze snapped back to you. “And you are not mediocre.”

The words struck you, not for their praise but for their precision. They felt less like a compliment and more like a decree, as though failure wasn’t just unacceptable—it was unthinkable. It came off as a form of pressure, weights beginning to tower on your back as you took a deep breath.

“You ask for so much,” you replied quietly, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. “But what if I can’t give you more? What if I’m already giving you everything I have?”

He paused, visibly caught off-guard by your honesty. His hand, mid-gesture, stilled in the air. Then he laughed, a sound both unexpected and startling, sharp as glass but somehow rich with amusement.

“My star,” he said, his voice dripping with theatrical flair, “you misunderstand. It’s not that you lack—it’s that you don’t yet know how much you possess. My job is to pull it out of you, to strip away every inhibition, every doubt, until only brilliance remains.”

(I will break down the wall that is blocking your potential.)

His steps carried him closer, his figure looming as he peered at you with a ferocity that gave you goosebumps. “It’s not perfection I demand from you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. “It’s truth. And truth is messy, painful, glorious. Do you understand now?”

You held his gaze, unwilling to let him intimidate you, and yet there was a flicker of something unfamiliar in your chest. Admiration, yes—but also a strange yearning, a desire to rise to his impossible standards. Not just to meet them but to exceed them, to see that glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes again. It was almost tugging at your heart, desire overcoming your senses. Even if the slightest hint of doubt remained, you’d lift your chin to stare him in the eyes—for it was the only way you’d ever be content with yourself.

“I understand,” you said, your voice firmer now.

“Good.” He straightened, his expression shifting back to his usual manic determination. “Because the next scene must be unforgettable. The audience must feel the weight of your love, your grief, your longing. As if you’ve lived it yourself.”

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t asking for a performance anymore; he was asking for something deeply personal, something real.

Incorporate your feelings into your voice; let it be apparent what you’re trying to convey.

Don’t let the audience “guess”, let them “know”.

It was the mantra you played in your head, several minutes before the soles of your shoes collided with the wood on the stage. The straightening of your shoulders, balanced posture, and a prayer that you wouldn’t forget any of your lines. You controlled the pitch of your voice, and the rhythm of the story you were demonstrating to the crowd. It almost seemed as if you weren’t doing a good enough job at that from his critique.

“And how would you suggest I do that?” you asked, folding your arms in apparent offense. “Pluck longing and grief out of thin air? Or perhaps you think I should have lived a dozen lifetimes to understand such emotions.”

His lips curved into a smirk, sharp and knowing. “Perhaps you have.”

The comment caught you off-guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was teasing or if there was some deeper meaning hidden beneath his words. He turned abruptly, his coat swirling around him as he strode toward the edge of the stage with haste.

“Come,” he called over his shoulder, extending a hand towards you. “We’ll rehearse until the stars themselves grow envious. I won’t rest until this is the greatest scene ever captured on film.”

You followed reluctantly, the weight of his expectations pressing down on you. But even as he barked commands and paced relentlessly, there was something in the way he watched you, his gaze softer than before, tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. It caused you to allow him to take your hand, sharing the warmth and determination in his slender yet calloused fingers.

The rehearsal dragged into the late hours, the rest of the cast dismissed long ago, leaving only you and Mr. Reca under the harsh glow of the stage lights. He had become quieter as the hours passed, his energy focused entirely on you.

-

Practicing with Reca felt like an endless marathon.

“Again,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, the intensity in his eyes undiminished.

You delivered the line for what seemed like the millionth time, your voice cracking with exhaustion.

“Better,” he murmured. Then, after a pause, softer still, “You’re getting there.”

It was the closest thing to praise he’d given all night, and for reasons you couldn’t explain, it made your chest tighten.

“Do you ever stop?” you asked, half-joking but half-serious.

He looked at you sharply, as though the question had offended him, but then his expression shifted. “Stopping is for those who are satisfied,” he said, his voice unusually subdued. “And satisfaction... is for the ordinary.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “And what about happiness? Do you think that’s ordinary too?”

The question seemed to catch him by surprise. He leaned back in his chair, the shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “Happiness,” he echoed. “Perhaps. But happiness is fleeting. Creation—true creation—is eternal! Once this is ingrained into your soul, you will find what you truly desire.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by the rare moment of vulnerability. “And yet, for all your talk of eternity, you seem afraid of anything that lasts.”

His gaze snapped to yours, startled, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken. Then, slowly, he smiled—a small, sardonic thing. It annoyed you greatly, but your thoughts remained unspoken. After all, the director’s words were law in the field they were trapped in.

“You have a way of cutting to the case,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

“You make it easy,” you replied, your voice tinged with amusement.

The silence that followed was different this time, less tense and more... intimate. His gaze softened, lingering on you as if trying to unravel a mystery he hadn’t yet solved. You could sense his delight through his eyes, that shined with a lovely brilliance as though the world had revealed its most precious secret.

“You are extraordinary,” he said finally, his tone low and almost reverent. “Even if you don’t realize it yet.”

For the first time, his words didn’t feel like a critique or an expectation. They felt like something else entirely.

-

Seeing you in another lifetime was something he’d never imagined was possible. Your position on set, the props, the lines you were rehearsing, he could view them in his mind as horizontal frames. The world seemed to momentarily glitch, as if the fabric of time itself had slipped, and he was stepping through a scene he was familiarized with. Is this what Deja Vu feels like?

He’s felt as though he’s done this before, standing in front of you like this—asking a question he never thought he’d ask. It was pure, unbridled curiosity—a rush of water that needed a blockage, your answer.

“Why have you decided to become an actor?”

“It wasn’t a choice, really,” you admitted. “It was... instinctual. Like breathing. I suppose it’s where I feel most alive, where I feel like myself. The stage.. feels like my home.”

He nodded slowly, as if turning your words over in his mind. “That’s how I feel about directing,” he said. His gaze drifted upward, past you, as though seeing something far beyond the theater walls. “Just as you were born to be a star, I was born to put your abilities to use—to create a revolutionary film with you as my main character!”

He is meant to control the narrative, yet often—he’d find himself oppressing your influence of turning this into something uniquely yours.

“I feel as though this is something I've told you before,” he spoke, his eyes snapping back to you, locking onto yours with a sudden intensity. “Do you remember anything?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. There was something about his words that struck a chord deep within you. A faint memory stirred—hazy and fleeting, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. You drew a blank, leading to your next words that carried a hint of uncertainty.

“No,” you admitted, “I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve said this, Director.”

“Then the lack of rehearsals is causing me to misremember, the universe is beckoning for us to get back on stage!”

“I won’t let this masterpiece stagnate while I still have time! Tomorrow, we rehearse Act Three until it sings—or until we all drop from exhaustion!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as he stormed off, already muttering notes to himself about lighting angles and blocking. Despite his eccentricities—or perhaps because of them—he had a way of drawing you in, of making you believe you were part of something monumental.

-

Under the dim glow of the stage lights, the set was transformed into a cavernous, otherworldly temple. The scene was surreal, layered with blues and silvers that shimmered like moonlight on water. Columns twisted upward into the darkness, vanishing into a false infinity. You and Mr. Reca stood at opposite ends of the stage, the energy between you crackling with tension.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice unusually soft, almost hesitant. Something was wrong. He seemed almost fidgety and it was beginning to bother you.

You nodded, unsure why this scene felt heavier than the others. The script was straightforward—a confrontation between a prophet and a wanderer, an exploration of fate and choice. Yet something about it felt... wrong, or perhaps too right, as though it didn’t belong to the film at all but was borrowed from somewhere else.

He stepped forward, his character—the prophet—looming with an unsettling grace. His robe billowed with each step, as if a phantom wind followed him. You remained still, the wanderer, your figure clad in tattered attire, a stark contrast to his grandeur. A contrast in energies paired with it.

When he spoke, it wasn’t Reca’s voice you heard, but something older, deeper, resonating in your very bones. “You’ve come far, traveler. But tell me, what is it you seek?”

You hesitated, your lines faltering on your lips. The stage around you blurred, its edges distorting like ripples in water. The script’s dialogue faded from your memory, and instead, words spilled from you unbidden, as though summoned from a place beyond thought. You could feel your words wavering, a habit Mr. Reca had forbid you several times, but you never remembered his exact words.

“I seek... clarity,” you said, your voice trembling. “A truth that eludes me. Something I feel I’ve lost.”

Reca tilted his head, his dark eyes glittering like twin stars. “Truth,” he echoed, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips. “You ask for the impossible, for truth is fleeting. It is a reflection in shattered glass. And yet, you persist. Why?”

Your hands clenched at your sides, and without thinking, you took a step forward, emboldened by the unfolding scenario. “Because it’s all I have left! A memory I can’t place, a face I can’t name... but I know it’s there. Somewhere. I feel it.”

He froze, his gaze sharpening, and for a heartbeat, it wasn’t the prophet staring at you—it was Mr. Reca. His lips parted slightly, as though he recognized something in your words. But just as quickly, he slipped back into character, his voice cold and unyielding.

The way it should be.

(The way he needed it to be.)

“Memories are not absolutes,” he intoned. “They are fabrications of the mind, stitched together from fragments of dreams and shadows. What you seek is folly.”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising with raw emotion. “What I seek is mine! And I will tear through the heavens if I must to reclaim it!”

For a moment, he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. His hands, usually so precise in their gestures, wavered. He remembers you.

Then, breaking the tension, he closed the distance between you with sudden ferocity. He reached out and grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes bore into yours, his next words quiet but resonant.

“Do you remember me?”

(Do you remember this scene?)

The question wasn’t part of the script.

Your gaze was illusive, attempting to recall a line— even trying to conjure one from thin air. The temple around you seemed to ripple and fade, the illusion breaking apart. The stage, the lights, even the props—all felt like a thin veneer over something vast and incomprehensible. Like mesh fabric, it wasn’t difficult to see through—only if you paid close enough attention.

By now, he would’ve uttered your line to you if you’d forgotten—but that wasn’t the case. This was real.

“I...” Your voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

His grip tightened slightly, his gaze desperate now. “Think. Feel. There’s more to this than you understand. I’ve seen this before, lived it before—you’ve lived it before.”

The words struck like a bolt of lightning, leaving you breathless. A flicker of something surged through you—an image, a feeling, a name that hovered just out of reach. What was he talking about?

(Do I remember you?)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered, your voice trembling. It was like staring at a wolf who bared his fangs, where an incorrect answer could cost you your life.

He released you, stepping back, his expression unreadable. The prophet’s mask shattered completely, leaving only Mr. Reca—his vulnerability laid bare in a way you’d never seen before. “Then we’ve already lost time,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But perhaps this time, we’ll get it right.”

The moment lingered, heavy and tense. Then he shook his head, clapping his hands sharply. “Again!” he declared, his tone snapping back to its usual commanding presence. “From the top! And this time, don’t hold back.”

A scene fueled by pure, utter desperation.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that the scene was more than a rehearsal. It was a fragment of something deeper—a connection that transcended lifetimes.

-

You didn’t remember him.

It was a devastating blow, one he couldn’t overlook no matter how much he tried. After so many lives together, only his memories remained intact—a cruel imbalance, as if the universe itself delighted in reminding him how fleeting your connection could be. It was like trying to hold water with your bare hands, watching it slip away no matter how tightly you clenched your fists. The offense he felt struck him like lightning, he could already imagine the dark clouds above his head—pouring heavy rains down his coat.

And yet, he clung to you, or rather, to the idea of you. To the fragments of the person you’d been in the countless lives you’d shared. Perhaps it was his curse, to be the only one who remembered, to carry the weight of your shared past while you looked at him with eyes that held no recognition. A cruel twist of fate, where you were always the star and the forgotten shadow trailing behind you.

This life, however, felt like the harshest punishment of them all.

He stood frozen on the street, staring up at the towering billboard where your face was plastered in bold, cinematic glory. You were radiant, even in stillness. The advertisement was for a new film—a blockbuster directed by someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.

The sight twisted the knife further. Out of every life you’d lived together, this one just so happened to be his least favorite. You didn’t know him. You didn’t work with him. And, worst of all, you didn’t belong to his world anymore.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he adjusted his grip on the bouquet of flowers in his hand. The bright, delicate petals felt absurd in contrast to the weight in his chest. What use were flowers when you wouldn’t pay any mind to him?

To you, in this life, he was nothing more than a stranger—a nameless admirer who might approach you after a performance with stammered praise for your acting. Not that such an assumption was false, but it was painfully incomplete. Admiration was a drop in the ocean compared to the depth of what he felt.

He wanted to be more than that.

He had been more than that.

He ran a hand through his already-disheveled hair, his fingers trembling as they brushed against his forehead. How many times had he vowed to stop chasing after you in lives like this? To let you go and trust that, somehow, fate would realign your paths? And how many times had he broken that vow the moment he saw your face again, his resolve crumbling to dust under the weight of his longing?

He couldn’t turn back now.

Not when his leather shoes had already trampled the floors of the grand theater, carrying him to the ticket booth just to be the first in line. Not when he had spent hours rehearsing how he might introduce himself to you. God, he was an utter mess—a man reduced to shambles by the memory of a love you couldn’t even recall.

The theater doors loomed before him, an entrance to a world where you shone brightest. He hesitated, clutching the bouquet tighter, the edges of the paper crinkling under his grip. What would he even say? What could he say? Should he even approach you?

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he should leave. But his feet betrayed him, dragging him inside as though the gravity of your presence was impossible to resist even in this life.

He didn’t know what he was hoping for. A spark of recognition? A fragment of the soul-deep connection you used to share? Or perhaps just a moment, however brief, where he could bask in the warmth of your light again.

As he stepped into the theater lobby, the familiar hum of anticipation filled the air. Posters of you adorned the walls, each one a reminder of how far you’d come in this life—how far from him you now stood.

The flowers in his hand suddenly felt heavier. What use were they when he was chasing a ghost of who you’d been? When the version of you he loved existed only in his memory?

And yet, he stayed.

Because no matter how many lifetimes passed, no matter how often the story ended the same way, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping that this time, it might be different. That maybe, just maybe, you’d see him.

Not as a stranger, not as a fan.

But as someone you’d once loved too.

As he embraced the role of the spectator this once, he sat in one of the seats in the front row. Each seat is typically upholstered in rich and comfortable fabric, in a deep hue of crimson. The padding is firm yet inviting, crafted to cradle the audience through long performances.

It was almost as if he were dreaming.

He’s familiar with this scene, but his role was different in this life. He’s used to the praises from the audience for his directory work, glimmering eyes with the most reverent expressions—but this work was not his. You weren’t his.

The seats were filled to the brim, and the film was nothing short of astonishing—though he couldn’t give too much credit. There were too many plot holes that contradicted earlier events, some of the injuries looked feigned, the sounds were recycled one too many times for his liking— he could continue until sunrise if that was what it would take. The only thing that saved this film was you. In his professional opinion, of course.

It wasn’t simply films that laid buried in your inventory, but plays as well. It was an opportunity he wouldn’t miss for the world. The stage was yours, and everyone else belonged in the background—that was how it’s meant to be. As your tears kissed the tiles beneath your feet, the emotion in your voice had risen. What a wonderful sight it was.

The 25th of December, a holiday of caroling and the tearing of gift-wrappings. For him, it was only a day of solemnity.

The sight of you speaking to the other director made his heart ache, a sharp and visceral pang that tightened his chest. There you were, laughing softly at something the other man said, your hands gesturing animatedly as if you were sharing a private moment of camaraderie. He hated how natural it seemed, how effortlessly you connected with someone else in a way that used to belong to him. His fingers tightened around the stems of the bouquet he carried, the soft petals brushing against his wrist, as if mocking his hesitation to go through with this.

For a moment, he considered interrupting. He could stride over, extend the bouquet with a flourish, and perhaps even say something witty enough to draw your attention away from the other man. But what would be the point? To you, he was nothing more than a fan, a stranger whose presence was as fleeting as a gust of wind. The thought stung more than he cared to admit.

Ultimately, he decided against it. It wasn’t as if he could cut into your conversation, especially not with the radiant way you were smiling. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish that expression by making things awkward. Instead, he turned toward the hallway leading to your dressing room.

The narrow corridor felt suffocating, the plush carpet muffling his hurried steps as he made his way toward the door with your name displayed elegantly in bold, golden letters. A simple yet personal marker of the star you’d become. The star he assisted you in becoming in so many lives. He cherished those memories greatly.

He hesitated as he reached the door, staring at the handle for a long moment. The bouquet in his hand suddenly felt absurdly extravagant—delicate white lilies interspersed with soft pink roses, wrapped in a sheer ribbon. Would you even appreciate it? Would you know it was from him, or would it join the countless other gifts you received daily from fans and admirers?

Still, he couldn’t leave without doing something. With a sigh, he gently placed the bouquet on the small table outside your dressing room, arranging it just so. He adjusted the ribbon one final time before taking a step back to admire his handiwork. For a fleeting moment, he imagined your reaction upon finding it—your fingers brushing over the petals, your lips curving into a small, puzzled smile as you wondered who had left it.

But even that wasn’t enough to soothe the ache in his chest. He lingered a moment longer, his hand brushing against the edge of the table as though it might tether him there, might convince him to stay. But the sound of distant laughter echoing down the hall reminded him of reality.

With a deep breath, he turned and walked away, his steps brisk but heavy. The bouquet remained behind, a silent confession he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

Little did he know, you caught a glimpse of his face before he turned on his heel.

It was a cycle. He’d leave a beautiful bouquet in your dressing room, striding off with a snarky expression as if he’d just gotten away with a crime, completely undetected. He was aware of your gaze, and the slightest glimmer of hope filled his chest at the thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d seek him out.

The sky was beginning to darken, leaving him no choice but to exit the doors of his second home—letting the snowflakes drift onto his skin.

Footsteps.

And they were yours.

“Excuse me!” you called out, rapidly moving towards him before letting out a few pants—hinting at your rushed response to him leaving.

He froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat as the sound of your voice cut through the cold evening air. The snowflakes fell in slow, lazy spirals, dusting his coat and hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to move or brush them off. His focus was on you. Come to think of it, when was it not? It almost caused him to chuckle.

His heart, however, betrayed him, hammering wildly in his chest.

You came to a halt a few steps away, clutching the bouquet of flowers he’d left in your dressing room. The sheer ribbon fluttered slightly in the winter breeze, and your cheeks were flushed—not just from the cold, he thought, but from the exertion of chasing after him.

“Are you the one who’s been leaving these?” you asked, holding the bouquet up slightly as if to emphasize your point. Your voice carried a mix of curiosity and something else—was it gratitude?

For a moment, he considered denying it. It would be so easy to shrug, to claim it wasn’t him, and slip away into the snowy night. But as his gaze met yours, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. Not when you’d gone out of your way to find him. Just as he hoped. Maybe this was the chance destiny had brought him to, would you remember him?

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice steady but quiet, the word lingering in the frosty air between you. “It was me.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting the direct confession. “But... why?”

He hesitated, the truth teetering on the edge of his tongue. How could he possibly explain it? That he remembered lives you didn’t, that he’d loved you in ways words could never encompass? Instead, he opted for something simpler, something you might actually understand.

“Do you know what you’ve done here?” He inquired, his voice filled with reverence and glee. “What you’ve conjured is no mere performance. This is art, raw and untamed.”

“These,” he pointed to the flowers that your hands clutched with the smallest amount of strength, enough to keep them from being blown away—yet not enough to dim their beauty. “Are gifts from an admirer of your craft, for you—my star, have cast your glance to even the dimmest areas in the theater!”

“Well,” you said after a beat, a kind smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “thank you. They’re beautiful.”

The silence between you was only filled with the sounds of children’s laughter as they gazed at toy trains through glass windows. This kind of atmosphere suited you, he believed.

“I never got your name,” you added, tilting your head slightly.

He hesitated, knowing that revealing too much could complicate everything. But then again, you’d sought him out—maybe, just maybe, this was a step forward.

“It’s Reca,” he said finally. “Just Reca.”

You gave him an amused look. “No last name?”

“Not one that matters,” he replied with a faint smirk, his usual snark slipping through despite himself.

You laughed softly, the sound like a melody he hadn’t realized he’d been longing to hear. “I think.. I remember you from somewhere, have we met before?”

Genuine surprise filled his features at your question, he almost felt his knees go weak at the realization that you remembered him.

“I believe we have.”

It was the only acceptable answer, every fiber of his being was begging for you to hold onto that recollection.

“I’m surprised I forgot in the first place.”

“Why, am I truly that forgettable? Let me make an impression so great to make sure that isn’t the case, hm?” He suggested, extending his hand—a gesture that you could reciprocate without hesitation.

“Coffee?”

“It’s eleven pm.”

“Please?”

(I’m glad you remembered, don’t ever forget me again.)

taglist 🔔 : @snobwhimsicality @mitsvriii @papiliotao @bladism @tragedy-of-commons @thestarswhisper @meirvelle @somatchajade @gladiolus-nyx @milk-violet

[toji-bunny-girl]

bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania. 

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them. 

15,900 yen. 

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart. 

Oh, how he would love to play saviour. 

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear. 

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar. 

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter. 

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then. 

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door. 

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home. 

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked. 

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble. 

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence. 

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league. 

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?” 

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground. 

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation. 

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face. 

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him. 

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids. 

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face. 

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb. 

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled. 

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty. 

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core. 

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch. 

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth. 

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate. 

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness. 

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence. 

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him. 

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space. 

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass. 

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle. 

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks. 

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him. 

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his. 

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness. 

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass. 

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils. 

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.” 

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting. 

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car. 

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then. 

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers. 

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief. 

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body. 

You almost fell in love. 

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips. 

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot. 

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words. 

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock. 

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[ram-bles]

Hello! Is it okay if you can write mouthwashing headcannons of how the crew members would react to the reader randomly attacking them with kisses? If you want to stick with one person, then I was thinking, Anya? (If you want someone else, then that's okay too!)

Have a great day/afternoon/night

tulpar crew x gn!reader

smooch attack headcanons.

⚠️ pushy jimmy. everything else is chill. not proof read.

[note: sorry I've been out for long everyone! I had some stuff come up but I'm doing some progress on the things you guys send! I hope you enjoy these imagines]

[ Anya ]

🟦 giggling mess if done right

🟦 if you do it, please don't jump her.

🟦 sth like swooping in first before kissing her. small signals that it's you.

Her eyes were glued onto the shelf, searching for that one book she needed. It was usually there. Did I misplace it? Her thoughts were immediately silenced by a hand taking hers, swift yet carefully. Her body tensed up by instinct but when she realized it was you, it had her giggling as you planted soft kisses on her knuckles. You raise the book that you hid from your back while you entered. "Sorry! I was reading it earlier." "I don't mind at all, don't worry." Anya shakes her head with a smile and cups your cheek and you beam. That was one of the small signals she gave that says she's fine with this. She brushes your cheek for a moment as you lean into her touch, then you feel her carefully tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. You immediately wrap your arms around her waist and lean in for a kiss- kisses. Lots of them. You start off on her cheek, then her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, then a peck to her lips and she was softly laughing the whole time, both from the affection and how ticklish it was.

[ Curly ]

🩹 Not a fan of PDA either. you gotta do it when you both get privacy.

🩹 So you do it with every chance you get.

You spot Jimmy lingering back at the lounge without your beloved Captain? You're beelining towards the cockpit. Alone in the kitchen? You're on him. Hallways? Oh, Captai—in! Even if he scolds and chastises you for it, he loves it. He does the same anyways. One time though, you were both in the lounge reading together when you eventually got bored. You peek at your partner who was heavily invested at the article when suddenly the item gets pushed away and replaced by you on his lap. Before he could even warn you, you grabbed his face and showered him with kisses. Curly gives in and hugs you, it should be alright since no one's here, right? He'll let it slide for now. When you part, he had a stupid grin on his face. "Darling, have I ever taught you how to aim?" With a chuckle, you shake your head and you both lean in for a kiss. "How does a lesson tonight in your quarters sound, Captain?" "Perhaps we could reschedule for an earlier time. How does right now sound?" "Perfect."

[ Daisuke ]

🌺 Usually, it's him who does the guerilla attacks. It's a little game you guys play. The more of a surprise kiss streak you have, the better.

🌺 So far he's on the lead, but not for long.

You had to borrow Anya's lipstick for this. Carefully planned this siege (it only took like 10 minutes). Daisuke had just finished doing inventory, Swansea's back in utility and you're by the storage closet by the hallway and you hear familiar footsteps. In approximately 5.0224 seconds, your target is going to pass by the said storage room aka your location right now. You brace for it, nervous. You push your doubts that it was another person for now and just go for it. Slamming your partner onto the wall as he squeals, you shut the door and yank on the string to turn the light on. It was dim but you could see the look on his face and you burst out laughing. "Dude, I thought we had some psycho hiding up in here! I thought I was gonna die!" "Yeah, you will." "Fuck you mean by tha— mpFfF?!" Your lips smash against his and you could tell some of the lipstick smeared. His awkward tense pose loosens up and his hands move away from the walls to your hips as he returns it and you part as he tries not to chase after you. "Got ya' good, huh?" "Whaaaaat?" He drawls out with a voice crack, looking away. "I don't know man, you gotta do that again so we can find out." With a pffsh, you start kissing him everywhere, his beauty marks, his lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, probably even on his collar. Next thing you know, you both pop out the storage room, Swansea looking like he almost had a heart attack while he stares at the both of you in judgement. Daisuke had a lovestruck expression while his face, neck, and shirt collars were filled with lipstick marks and yours were smudged on your lips.

[ Jimmy ]

🔪 he hates it. he likes it so much he hates it.

🔪 prefers doing it himself though.

Shitty day as always. He wasn't in the mood and he can't bother you which made his day a whole lot worse. It's stupid, why was he so dependent over your attention. It should be the other way around. Once you were done with your shift, you decided to find the co-pilot. At his usual thinking spot, chewing on a toothpick. God, he needs his nicotine. You were silent, only walking towards his way, too busy with his thoughts to even notice you. Not until you plant a kiss on his cheek and his head whips to your direction, almost bumping heads. You smile and peck his lips this time. "You okay?" Were you pitying him? "Fuckin' peachy." Suddenly, you were pressed up against the wall, caged in-between his arms and you look up at him confused. He flicks the toothpick somewhere and he starts peppering your face with kisses. It was all soft at first, not until he nips at your lip before kissing you roughly. Your lips would probably bruise later on.

[ Swansea ]

���� this can be interpreted as romantic/familial honestly

🦢 he seems annoyed by it but in reality, he thinks it's sweet. never admitting it though.

Wake rock was softly playing in the background. You were busy cleaning up in the utility room while Swansea was repairing some wires when he suddenly flinches and cusses loudly, shaking his hand. He got grounded. Now he's grumbling over where Daisuke was when he needed him to do the work. Probably needed to release his frustrations elsewhere by light-heartedly shit talking his intern. You knew he didn't mean it. Tilting your head curiously, you moved closer, peeking over his shoulder to watch him work for a moment. And just when he moves his hands away from the box, you hug him from the side and kiss his cheek repeatedly. "Jesus! Warn a man will ya'?!" "I'm done cleaning! I'll go on break now, boss!" "Yeah, yeah." He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he had a small smile on his face as he continued working. Seriously, who does this to their mentor? Kids these days.

[jifloulette]

just with you around, i'll do it . . .

the things blue lock men will and try to do whenever the two of you are the only ones around !

who . . ? i. rin, n. seishiro, y. kenyu heads up . . ! rin's one feels a bit suggestive but i swear it's all romantic, established relationship, just fluff *does a cartwheel* (may be a two part typa shit i dunno)

જ ｡˚ itoshi rin absolutely loves peppering your face with kisses (but will he ever admit it? nope)

it's what he yearns for after an intense and long day of passing and shooting. rin may be tired after all that vigorous, tiring training but he will always have enough energy stored just for this. he'll never ever get too tired just to make sure you know how much he loves you!

he doesn't even know how he got into the idea of just having to smother your oh so beautiful face with kisses! but he can't help it because he literally found out how clingy and touch starved he gets the second you introduced him to this profound feeling. he just needs it every single day, it almost becomes something he looks forward to the second he wakes up. it relieves rin when he knows that you enjoy him peppering your face up, you won't see it on his face externally but inside? he's basically doing backflips and summersaults when you squeal to his proposal! this sweet activity becomes a routine for the two of you. rin make sures that his schedule is free for the rest of the night while you do the same. you make sure to bring snacks too! it's mostly your favorites but he doesn't really mind because he'd grown to enjoy munching on them with you as well. then, rin would put on music that two of you both like in the background. the two of you would snuggle up with each other comfortably on either the couch or bed, excited for your boyfriend to start smothering your face up with pecks all over your beaming face. you swear you could see hearts in rin's eyes the second he kisses you, though you could never tease that to him about him, he'll just probably get flustered and get too shy to continue. The first spot on your face rin kisses would be your lips, he says it's the most appropriate part to kiss first but really, all he wants is to taste your sweet, strawberry lipgloss on his own lips. then, he'd go all the way up to your forehead, only initiating it when you break the first kiss. rin wants what's best for you, he wants to make you feel like you're the only one for him even if it doesn't really look like it. when he kisses your forehead, he holds you close to him, needing for you to feel as close as he does. then, rin kisses the spot next to your eyes, the one close to your temples. he really only does it just to see the glimmer in your eyes, he adores seeing you so lovestruck. rin follows it up with a peck on your cheek, nose, and jaw. then once all those three are done, the cycle repeats, kiss on the lips -> forehead -> beside your eye -> cheeks -> nose -> jaw! usually, rin stays quiet during these tender moments. you could see in his eyes how focused he is in just making sure you feel so loved and cared for! rin wasn't the verbal lover, you couldn't always hear him say he loves you but his actions will say otherwise. you don't always ask for reassurance and affirmations for him because he'll do it in his own way! either by helping you pick clothes to wear on a date, giving you the bigger half of his snacks, and his personal favorite, this, smooching you all up with his kisses! in the rare moments he does say something in this routine, he would say one of the most endearing arrangement of words. full of words even you didn't understand! but when you ask him to speak up, rin's already shutting you up with another kiss on the lips!

rin really is in love with you a lot, he wouldn't trade moments like this with the one person he adores and cherishes most for the world. oh, his assistant just chatted him? who careeess, all he's focused on right now is you and only you.

જ ｡˚ nagi seishiro will always wake up early before you just to try and cook you breakfast (it's always a 50/50 chance of having burnt pancakes though)

nagi's never felt like this to anyone to be honest, he always thought it was a hassle to wake up so so early, especially in the weekends! but for you? he's somehow trying his best to wake up before you. he treats it as a challenge, a race of some sort. he wants to try and cook you some breakfast just so he could see your smile beam up and your eyes lighten when he brings the tray inside your shared bedroom. the first time he did it, he really just woke himself up due to hunger. normally he'd go back to sleep, snuggle himself up close to you buuut this time was different. he was craving pancakes! nagi got the motivation because he wanted to try something different for once. sooo, he got up and drank some water from the bedside table before going to the kitchen. he just went through the pantry for some boxed pancake mix before following the instructions on the box, getting a pan and cooking it. he was honestly proud of himself, he had managed to cook 6 pancakes, only having one of them burnt! so he ate two of them because he wanted you to get most of it, he plated your pancakes as pretty as he could. stacking them up, getting frozen blueberries and put them on it, drizzled some syrup and before he knew it, it was already what, 7 am?? he had just finished in time because the second he went inside your shared bedroom, you were grabbing your glasses. it took a few seconds before you could see the surprising sight in front of you. because firstly, the nagi seishiro waking up before you?! second, the nagi seishiro cooked you breakfast for the first time?! it was a sight to see really, usually you would be the one to cook breakfast for the two of you. nagi never really minded that, the same went for you. i mean, having to wake your boyfriend up with a kiss to tell him breakfast was ready is one of the things you genuinely loved doing every now and then. you give nagi a quick peck on the cheek as your way of giving thanks before he asks you if he could go to sleep again. you agreed of course! your big baby of a boyfriend already did so much this morning, you ate your pancakes in silence while admiring the scene of nagi already fast asleep beside you.

the second time nagi did this, it was totally on purpose! you had told him that you loved his pancakes so that became his entire motivation to start this in the first place! he couldn't stop waking up at night, he really wanted to make you breakfast in bed. it was the fifth time he woke up that early morning when he finally got up to cook breakfast. all was going well.. until he had fallen asleep for a quick 10 minutes on the counter.. he hadn't even noticed the burning happening when he heard the fire alarm go off! he was flabbergasted, he really wanted to make these pancakes as amazing as the last ones. so he just threw the burnt one away, and plated your pancakes the same as before. except, it looked rushed, i mean he did just burn the last one and made a huge mess so i guess it was bound to happen? unfortunately for nagi, you had woken up due to both the fire alarm and the smell of something burning! your boyfriend saw you and quickly pushed you back to the bedroom, picking you up bridal style before telling you to wait for him. you had kind of figure him out by now, so when nagi went inside the room, you were already so cheery! giving him another quick peck on the cheek and eating the food immediately. you thought he would've asked if he could go back to sleep but no, he just kneeled in front of you and stuck his tongue out like a dog. pointing to his mouth, clearly wanting some of the pancakes he made. and as the good partner you are, you obviously gave him some. nagi nodded as a way to give thanks as you gave him a few pats on his head. now recently, you had been seeing a looot more boxed pancake mix in the pantry, knowing your boyfriend, you were really going to look forward to when he was going to make breakfast for you again! you thought he was going to only do it on the weekends? nahh, he's doing it every day he gets!!

this was a routine that you and nagi were always going to be looking forward to, not just to be able to taste his pancakes but to spend time with him. besides, he doesn't really care if it ruins his "sleep schedule", all he wants is to see you smile and make you spoon feed him!

જ ｡˚ yukimiya kenyu always sings the two of you to sleep every night (don't tell him how much you love because he'll melt)

kenyu has a lot of talents and passions, soccer and modeling being two of the ones he was really proud of. but unbeknownst, singing was the third on the list! he never really knew when he started to love singing, it just happened. he did know that it all started with you on a random tuesday night. you had randomly asked him to sing you to slumberland. it was rather an odd request but he did it nonetheless, you were the one asking after all, no way was he going to deny something you wanted. he questioned you on what song he should sing, you thought for a few seconds and answered, kenyu should sing "i think they call this love" his eyes lit up, he loved that song! he dedicated that song to you on his first listen, it was his top song on wrapped too (he has a playlist heavily dedicated to you because ugh he is so head over heels for you.) he zoned out for a bit, he was nervous..? he was scared to what you were going to think of his singing voice. he felt tense, you felt it as well. you reminded him that it's alright if he doesn't want to do it, you wouldn't mind it. but suddenly he started singing

♫ all i dream of is your eyes, all i long for is your touch and darling, something tells me that's enough ♫

when you said you were surprised was an understatement, you were beyond shocked because of your boyfriend's amazing singing voice! no words could describe how amazing he sounded, it was ineffable. the first lyric of the chorus kenyu sang already made you feel so sleepy, how dare he hide this amazing talent of his from his s/o?! but you were too astonished to say anything, the way his voice hit your ears so tenderly, so full of love, it was enough for you to just lay on his chest quietly, listening to the angel-like voice of your boyfriend. you were trying your best to battle the sudden closing of your eyelids, you wanted to listen to kenyu sing more. it was so perfect, "how could someone be so perfect?" was the only thing in your mind during this moment. you could tell that kenyu genuinely had fun singing, it was in his tone and the way he was caressing your hair while he was doing so. you were rubbing circles with your thumb on his other hand, implying that you were enjoying his singing.

♫ you can say that I'm a fool and i don't know very much but i think they call this love ♫

it was when kenyu sang this part of the song that you were snuggling up closer to him, a sign that to your boyfriend that you were about close your eyes and dream your way to tomorrow's sunrise. though you were about to fall asleep, he never stopped singing. he was proud of himself that he had managed to make doze off with his voice! he never really thought that he had a good singing voice, he had sung before, but it was when he was younger; in his school choirs, talent shows in middle school, and in front of his parents. he continued to sing himself to sleep, until every ounce of energy he had in his body was gone. it was right before the second chorus of the song that he took off his glasses, closed the lamp, and gave you a sweet goodnight kiss that kenyu too snoozed away. the following night, you once again asked if he could sing you to sleep again. it didn't take much asking though because he already said yes even before you could ask the full question. this time, you wanted him to sing keshi's "understand", another song you knew he loved. his eyes lit up once again, this time with a beaming smile plastered on his gorgeous face. he sang with his honey-like voice again, making you sleep a few minutes after to which he soon followed as well. this became a part of your shared night routine with each other! wearing matching pj's -> brushing your teeth -> doing each other's skincare -> cuddling with each other on bed -> kenyu singing you to sleep. the two of you even made a playlist on spotify on what song he should lull you with each night, it consisted of laufey, wave to earth, keshi, and much much more.

now because of you, he finally grows to love singing. hell, he could even sing as a career too! though he might never singing in front of a huge crowd, not even in front of his own parents, he will only sing in front and for you because kenyu knows you love it, and it makes him love it too! this side of him is only for you to see and for you to hear

note ; this was a request!! this was rotting in my drafts for a while so argh i needed to post it before i get so busy with school </3

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[affableramen]

when they finish earlier than you

mature content including sexual themes; established relationships

Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Baizhu

Wriothesley

He groans with emotion but it’s only a few seconds after he realises that you’re still beneath him, still haven't come. Wriothesley looks at your widened, surprised eyes and agape mouth. 

“Bloody hell—”, he spits with a shaky voice. “I’m so sorry, we haven't seen each other for a while and I—”

Wriothesley gently caresses your hip, while chuckling and looking at you half-blushing. “Shit, I must have missed you too much.”

It’s not a problem for him to bring you to the peak with his mouth or hands. 

Tartaglia

He squirts his release with a loud moan, pressing you close to his chest, his face buried into your neck. Those little bites shall leave radiant marks.

“Oh my god…” Ajax moans into your neck. “Oh f-fuck—I—”, he pats your back, “Fuck, I have never come so fast before. It’s not my fault, peanut, you’re too gorgeous for your own good.” He jokingly says, hiding his blush into your neck so you have no idea of it. Ajax is incredibly embarrassed and frustrated with his manhood that got too sensitive too soon.

Neuvillette

Neuvillette feels embarrassed and upset over losing his composure so quickly. He usually lasts long, and finding himself in such predicament gives way to the feeling of guilt and frustration.

“Darling, we can go one more round to get you satisfied. Please forgive me, my love.”

“No need to, Neuvillette, the both of us are tired. We can do it anytime during the week.”

“But I feel so guilty for coming first and not giving you the release you deserved. Let me at least satisfy you with my hands.”

“I don’t mind that, but please don't stress yourself out too much. It’s just sex, we can do many times better later. Nothing changes between us if you simply came early.”

Neuvillette caresses your face softly and speaks with emotion.

“You know that I usually last. I feel so defeated right now.”

To comfort your husband you place a kiss on the centre of his palm.

“Cumming early doesn't make my love to you fade, Neuvillette. In all honesty, I’m glad if I make you so excited that you can barely hold it together.” You give one other awkward but loving smiles. 

Pantalone

“I—I apologise. I did not foresee that, darling”, with a perplexed, disoriented look Pantalone pulls away. He gets purchase on the clean towel and covers his body in shame. A terrific sight, so rare for the Ninth Harbinger who is usually unabashed, especially in intimacy. 

“Oh my—how pathetic!”

You try to comfort him, saying that he must have been both too excited and tired after work, which ended up in premature peak, but Pantalone seems too distressed and angry at his inability to control himself as he quickly vanishes from the bedroom. 

Ayato

With a stiffled moan Ayato finishes, but somehow it feels so wrong - releasing much earlier than you, when his significant other’s orgasm is in question. 

Ayato grabs the towel and wipes himself clean, while looking down at you, your legs still thrown on his shoulders. 

“Oh my goodness”, he laughs at himself, but the laugh is nervous, not cocky or proud as it usually is. The man’s ego seems to die out ridiculously soon, as quickly as he finishes this time.

“We’ll have to go one more round after that…” he hisses, his member still very sensitive. “Once I get ready again.”

Capitano

“Hngghh—” 

Capitano pulls out with a well-heard grunt and pulls you closer to his chest. You are lying on top of him, your bodies are slightly wet when he makes a remark:

“I apologise, wife. It seems my stamina betrayed me tonight”, he gives a smooch to your cheek, brief but filled with devoted emotion. “Maybe if you stay a while like this, I can satisfy you longer. What do you think?” He delivers yet another kiss, this time to your neck. His voice sounds much quieter and he gently runs his hand through your hair.

“We should really stay together tonight. I feel like I need you more than ever. And not a word about this to anyone.”

Dottore

“Dottore, get out of the bathroom, immediately.”

“No!” A grunt and a curse escape from the inside of the bathroom. “I must learn what caused the fail in performance.”

“Dottore, I’m happy either way. Besides you looked quite funny.”

“FUNNY—she thinks I’m funny”, he utters to himself under his breath. “I’m going to check this little idiot for ruining our bedtime.”

Your amused laugh can be heard from the bedroom, as Dottore’s anger at his own manhood looks funny.

Alhaitham

“Oh, Y/N—f-fuck!” Alhaitham certainly does not expect himself to cum prematurely. His face looks red and his expression radiates emotion. You swear you have never seen a face sexier than this. You didn't know that he could ever be able to cum so hard (and so soon). 

Alhaitham scowls, looking at you. “What? You think this is funny? It’s just a one time occurrence.” Another moan escapes his mouth and he covers his face with his hand. “You shouldn't see me like this—”

Dainsleif

Dainsleif falls onto the bed, utterly defeated and pulls you with him. You notice how heavily he is breathing and judging by the perplexed look on his face, never he did expect rushing his own release. He was shocked, to say in the least.

“Don’t look at me like that. You think you’ve defeated me?” Dainsleif groans when you move to his chest. “I will make you finish twice next time, and believe me—much earlier than me.”

Baizhu

Baizhu lets out a moan he did not expect coming and immediately covers his mouth. His face is red and silly when he looks down at you. He is blushing extraordinarily, and the buds of sweat roll over his chest as he towers over you. 

“Let’s pretend this did not happen, my dear”, he runs his hand down your lips and onto your neck. “Oh my goodness, how embarrassing.”

Yet you just give him a sincere laugh. “Baizhu, it’s alright. I enjoyed it immensely.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve and Eddie work together in an aquarium, and Eddie is losing his mind. He's in love, he's got the most embarrassing crush, but Steve doesn't even notice him.

They barely interact, and Eddie only knows Steve's first name. He doubts Steve knows he exists, he's just one of many tour guides (but he's amazing with kids and especially teenagers, so he's actually a great tour guide, thank you very much!)

Back to Steve. Steve, with his lean muscles, easy smile, thick hair and beautiful, but somehow sad eyes. That Steve.

The Steve who works in the aquarium as a merman.

Eddie could watch him for hours, floating in the tank with grace Eddie didn't know existed, with his sparkly yellow mermaid tail, flowing hair and chest hair, and that man can hold his breath for so long? Think of the options, the possibilities!

The mermaid show is insanely popular among all the kids and teens, even adults. His best friend Chrissy was the one who recommended Eddie to the aquarium, she's the main mermaid, and god, if Eddie wasn't gay, she'd have him at her feet. She always looks so effortless, twirling underwater in her emerald green mermaid tail, spinning around Steve. They make such a beautiful pair, it makes Eddie want to weep.

Fortunately, she's already in a happy relationship, so Steve is reportedly still single. Chrissy makes Eddie massage her feet in the evenings - he offered, they're cramping from a bad fit of the tail - and graciously answers all Eddie's reasonable questions, such as "how do his hands feel?" ("Wet. We're swimming, remember?").

She keeps telling Eddie to ask Steve out, but Eddie isn't stupid. That man is the god Poseidon himself, and Eddie is but a humble crab in his kingdom. So he admires him from afar, longing, pining and making Chrissy's head hurt.

But Steve's just so good with kids, Eddie can't keep his mouth shut. He always mutters something to Steve as he's ushering the kids away. "Great show, sweetheart," or "I love that smile, Stevie," or "need help getting that tail off?" He's only a man, and no one can hear him.

Except for a nosy tour coordinator listening in through his earpiece, Robin Buckley. She also happens to be Steve's best friend, Chrissy's girlfriend, and a menace to society.

And maybe one day she tells Steve to just smooch the tour guide, maybe she spills a few of the longing whispers and wishful stares, but she's only human too. A human who's had to listen to Steve's ramblings about the cute guy who always pulls the kids' attention like a magnet, who even through the blurry glass tank seems to be having an amazing time. Steve sometimes asks Robin for an extra earpiece and listens to the rest of Eddie's tour after the show. He loves his enthusiasm. Once Eddie even drew a heart on Steve's tank, can you imagine that, Rob?!

Maybe Robin and Chrissy have to work together to give the two idiots what they need, because Eddie considers himself too nerdy and plain for Steve, ans Steve thinks he's too dumb and shallow for Eddie.

Maybe Chrissy fakes slipping into the mermaid tank and drags Eddie with her. Maybe Robin is there and quickly gets Steve to jump after him. Maybe she makes the innocent mistake of insuating that Eddie can't swim.

And maybe, when Steve and Eddie are back on firm ground, confused and wet, Chrissy splashes them with water and asks if pretending that it's mouth to mouth resuscitation would help, or if they can finally kiss and stop pining for each other.

And one more maybe...maybe in a few weeks, when Eddie ushers the children away after the show, he kisses his palm and presses it against the tank, and watches Steve do the same, before he can give him a proper kiss after their shift.

[suhtorus]

mama's day. gojo satoru

fluff. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ parents au, non sorcerer au, mom!reader, family fluff, two unnamed sons and one baby girl. a little gift for myself ! ᡣ𐭩

little sunshines au

satoru has a plan for your birthday—a very detailed one.

step one. wake up the nuggets

it takes him less than two minutes to get the oldest out of bed, and there's really no point in waking up his baby girl since there's not much an eight-month-old can do.

the problem is your toddler.

"c'moooon, don't you wanna give mama her gifts?"

satoru's tone grows exasperated the longer his son refuses to cooperate, kicking his legs and throwing his nemo plushie at his face.

"no!"

the five-year-old immediately shushes his baby brother, only making the latter whine even more, tears now running down his chubby cheeks.

satoru feels his face fall upon seeing his son so upset, he should've expected the little ones not to take it too well to be woken up at six in the morning.

"hey," he tries softly this time, caressing the soft blond hairs of his toddler, "I'm sorry, mochi. can you forgive papa? go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when breakfast is ready, okay?"

the sobs end and now there's only small sniffles coming from the sleepy kid.

"oki."

step two. make breakfast

"like this?"

satoru leans down to inspect his son's work, brows furrowing as he tries, and fails, to read whatever gibberish his son tried to spell on top of the freshly made waffles.

with a loud smooch on the kid's cheek, satoru squeezes him in a tight hug, grinning proudly the way a father would. "a masterpiece. mama's gonna love it."

dad and son work surprisingly silent, focused on their own tasks. it doesn't take them long to have plates full of food and fruits, as well as freshly made juice.

"why don't you grab these," satoru hands his son two bags with the names of expensive brands on them, "while I go get your siblings. okay?"

"on it!"

step three. gifts

"happy birthday, mama~"

"ma-ma!"

you wake up with a start, surrounded by four pairs of blue eyes staring down at you.

"happy birthday, love of my life, mother of my kids, my one and only!"

satoru pecks your mouth as your brain processes the beaming faces of your three nuggets. your boys sit next to you, one on each side, while satoru holds the baby in the air right above your face.

your confused face finally eases into one of happiness (and relief).

"thank you, my little babies!" you smile drowsily, urging yourself to blink the sleep away as you smooch the faces of all three of your children. "mwah, mwah, mwahhh–"

your husband can't help but smile upon seeing you smothering the kids with kisses. and with his hold still on his baby girl, satoru tugs her away from you and nods at your lap.

"open your gifts, baby. we got you aaaall of your favorites." he winks at his son and the little one covers his mouth behind his tiny hand, giggling. "and we also made breakfast for mama, right?"

with a pointed look from satoru, your toddler remembers the plate of food on his lap.

"eat waffu, baby." your two-year-old offers you the plate full of waffles, pushing it towards your mouth, insistent. "eat it."

step four. spoil her rotten

your two boys happily run across the gardens while your baby girl crawls on the grass, squealing right behind her brothers.

"liked the surprise?"

your husband's arms wrap around your middle from behind. his hold is the greatest comfort you could've asked for.

"you mean waking up with three of your clones staring down at me while I sleep?" you snort, but there's no real bite in your tone. "I loved it. especially their drawing of me surrounded by blue-eyed mochi."

your eldest had insisted on drawing their little family—with you right in the center—and satoru thought it'd be funny to add the mochi instead of the kids.

"oh, but I'm not done yet, sweetheart." he spins you around in his arms, now grinning at you. "an entire weekend. you and me. what do you say?"

a groan slips past your lips and he immediately frowns, indignation clear on his face.

"c'mon, pretty. it's been a while since it was just the two of us." satoru goes for the puppy eyes, knowing that by doing so he already has a fifty percent of chance of winning. "you're not only a mother, but also a wife. let your doting husband pamper you."

"and who's watching over the kids? the baby??" you try to reason, glancing at your nuggets as they giggle their little hearts out as they play together. "satoru, we can't just leave."

"sweetheart, relaaaaax. ijichi got us covered."

oh, that poor man.

you make a mental note to give nanami a call.

[k9wa]

⠀ — boothill thoughts that have been in my brain.

boothill who is so fond of cheek kisses and fingers on his jaw and nudging his face against yours— it’s the only way he’s able to feel how warm or cold you are, a thumb smoothing over your cheek is useless when he can’t feel your skin. he’d much rather press his to yours like a cat and leave a quick smooch or a playful bite to the soft skin there.

boothill who always puts his hands over yours when you cup his cheeks, leaving a kiss or two and a harmless nibble on your palms and holding them there for as long as he can. it reminds him of when his own cheeks were able to warm— but having you around to simulate it and gently squeeze at his face isn’t so bad.

boothill who is the kind of guy to pull your legs up over his lap, idly drum on your legs and give your thigh the occasional squeeze while he listens to you talk.

boothill who most definitely throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to take you places— when you’re up too late and need to get to bed or procrastinating something he knows you have to start on. he gives you the chance to go yourself now and again, but 9/10 times you’re swept up out of your seat and hanging over his shoulders.

boothill who gets too into his own head every here and there and relies on the sound of your voice to pull his focus away from the whirring of his own internals.

boothill who really isn’t as tough and gruff as he’s chalked up to be— not with you, at least. he’s got a special little sweet spot for when it’s just the two of you.

[obae-me]

How many kisses I think it would take before he turns to mush

My creativity has been stuck in essentially a rush hour traffic jam for like weeks, so let's write something silly for practice, shall we?

Lucifer

Definitely ten or more. He tries to keep his composure, to focus on the task at hand, scold you for coddling him and distracting him, but if you hold onto your stubbornness and see it through to the end, he will be putty in your hands soon after you reach double digits. He might even fall faster if you give him little bits of praise after every kiss.

Mammon

Three MAX. One to catch him off guard, one to make it really sink in, and then the third to land the final blow. No amount of tsundere will outlast the triple attack. He'll be following you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the day, almost demanding more. He's greed after all, three might've broken him, but he'll be damned if he doesn't get more.

Levi

I would be tempted to say just one is enough, but we want a soft boy, not a vibrating, anxious mess. He gets tense at first, and he needs some reassurance and some time to understand that he likes and is okay what is happening. So I'm going to say five or more kisses. The first few he's just stuttering and blushing, but soon after, he can put that aside and just allow himself to relax a bit.

Satan

He acts like it takes him just as long as Lucifer, reaching double digits, when in reality he gave in internally much much earlier than that. Four is when his heart is melting and his mind is screaming, but around eight is when his body starts to unwind, almost curling around you like a cat.

Asmo

Much higher than you would expect. One must bridge the initial flirting phase before he becomes a puddle. I'm going to say probably six kisses. The first three he'll be giddy, but if you get softer with each kiss, he'll slowly start to become speechless.

Beel

As long as there isn't food in the way, just one. One kiss is all it takes. This demon has just so much love in him, you hardly need to kiss him for him to be soft for you. He doesn't need to put up an act. Just give him a single smooch and he'll drop whatever he's doing to cuddle into you.

Belphie

So many kisses. Probably even more than Lucifer. He feels like he deserves your kisses anyway, so it's hard to get him flustered about it, especially when he's so spoiled. Besides, you have to hope your affection won't lull him to sleep. Over ten for sure. Just keep going. Eventually, he'll be overwhelmed and give up his sleepy smug nature and transform into fluff.

Diavolo

Look me in the eyes and tell me this touch starved man will not cave after like two or three. He's not used to kisses, so the first kiss has his brain lagging. Hit him with the double combo and he's gone. Wasted. Fatality. Although please just kiss him more than twice. He really likes it.

Barbatos

Too many to count, unfortunately. He likes it, don't get him wrong, he's just tough to break. But there must be a breaking point somewhere. Keep attacking him with kisses and surely he must give in eventually, although most likely by his own will, giving in just so you can catch a proper breath. A win is a win.

Simeon

Probably no more than four, although it seems like more than that because he'll often return to sender and kiss you back. Don't give in, you must stay strong before he makes you melt first. Hum as you kiss him and he'll fall faster, almost cooing.

Solomon

He's got a stronger will than most, almost as good as Barbatos, but he will melt in due time. He'll treat it like a game at first, which it almost is to you, but he doesn't have to know that. It takes a while, but when he melts, he melts fast. He'll be trying to chuckle and make light of it one moment, and then be a completely speechless mess the next.

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss him with chocolate lips

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @biillys

word count: 1,837

warnings: swearing, some sexual references/themes, allusions to sexy adult things, play-fighting, reader and billy being in love and that love language is being little shits to each other (also acts of service), smooching and one use of the word saliva

synopsis: you decide to bake cookies, and billy decides he must be included, but you’d never let your cookies perish in return for an insatiable man.

a/n: hii!! i came up with a few lines of dialogue for billy a little bit ago, and then they just sat in my notes app because i couldn’t think of what to do with them. halfway through writing this, something i wanted to be sweet and silly, i felt lost and didn’t know how to end it or where to go with it, and started looking for inspiration. but then it came to me! and i’m very happy with how this turned out. i hope you like it! happy reading <33

————

Your hands are buried wrist deep in cookie dough, because you got sick of the shitty spatula not doing its job. 

You keep folding it in and over itself, trying to get all the chocolate chips and dry ingredients properly combined. You feel like the cookies just don’t turn out right if you don’t get in there and make sure it’s the way it’s meant to be. 

You reach over and grab a handful of mini chips to toss in your mouth. You have this mixture of regular size ones, minis, and chunks that you swear by. 

“You missed the bowl.”

A pair of large, warm hands slide over your waist, pinkies grazing over that spot where your pelvis dips because they know that’s your ticklish spot and just want to see you squirm. 

“Fuck off, prick.”

Billy smiles into the soft and slightly sweaty skin of your neck, peppering kisses in a trail from your collarbone to your earlobe. You nudge him with your shoulder, trying to ward him off. 

He licks a stripe up the back of your neck. And if you weren’t making an effort to look annoyed by his presence, your eyes might’ve just rolled back into your head. 

Instead you let out a sort of strangled howl to emphasize your agony. You are busy, after all. Making cookies you know he’ll eat before you can have any for yourself. You’ll have to hide some this time. 

You elbow Billy in the stomach, but his hands never leave your hips. He’s chuckling lightly, enjoying every minute of teasing you and being the biggest nuisance he can be.

“I should castrate you,” you say, rubbing your nose with your forearm to avoid spreading cookie dough all over your face. 

Billy laughs into your neck, the tip of his nose cold against your warm skin. “Oh, but you like that part of me too much, baby.”

You scoff. “Dick.”

He places a finger on your chin so that you’ll meet his gaze. “Exactly.” 

“I hate you,” you say, your eyes boring into his and saying anything but. They’re practically twinkling just looking at him. 

He hooks another finger under your chin and coaxes you closer, “I know,” he smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that tastes like chocolate chips. 

The flavor being on his mouth makes you pull away in shock. You put your hands on your hips and feign being absolutely appalled and ashamed.

“You come in here, on my ass, when yours has been fillin’ up on chocolate for how long?” You raise up on your tippy toes, trying your best to get in his face. He bends slightly to make it easier for you. 

His gaze drags over each of your pretty features in that way he knows gives you goosebumps. “You think you just get to eat ‘em all or something?”

You press your hand to his chest. “I bought the damn things, Hargrove. And I think, as the woman making the cookies, I’m entitled to eat as many chocolate chips as I want.” 

Billy leans in again and kisses you, but this time it’s slow, too slow, and sensual. The kind that feels like it lasts forever but in reality was a few seconds. One that really should last forever. It makes your brain go all fuzzy.

He drags his hand up your spine and pulls back. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Your stomach flips, your blood rushing to all the important parts of your body because he knows just what buttons to push and you despise him for it. Cocky little shit. 

“Now look who can use his manners,” you say, your voice taking on a sing-songy lilt. Billy grins at you, biting his lip, and then returns to his place behind you. 

You both settle down, quieting and melting into each other's presence. Billy watches over your shoulder as you pour in more chocolate chips. He knows you always hate it when people cheat you out of your chocolate. 

“I need a tray, B, can you get one for me?”

He pats your ass and moves to the designated cabinet without answering. He rips out a sheet of parchment paper without you having to ask. You always say that the bottoms don’t burn as easily that way, or you quote something from a cooking show you watched on tv that morning. 

He brings the cookie sheet back to you and then pushes up so he’s sitting on the counter next to you, bare thighs pressing into the cold stone. 

You pass him the rest of the chocolate chips to snack on and bend to kiss his knee. He blushes. You’ve been together for a few years now, but each time you give him affection in small, uncommon ways, it makes him feel like teenage boy. 

Billy watches you separate the dough into even-ish chunks before sliding it all into the oven. He tilts his head back and tosses the rest of the chocolate chips into his mouth before hopping down from the counter. 

He grabs your hips when he sees you move toward the sink. “Uh, uh. Go sit, mama. I’ll take care of it.” He knows you’re going to push back, and before you can he picks you up and places you in the living room. 

You let out a small huff and walk right back to your starting point. There aren’t even that many dishes to wash anyway, but what’s the fun in cooperating with him?

“Billy.”

“Hm?” He’s squeezing soap all over the dishes you’d already pre-rinsed. 

“Go sit your pretty ass down and let me do this.” You hear him laugh over the sound of the tap running and roll your eyes. He feels it. And he ignores you, squeezing out a sponge. 

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull, trying to lift him up the way he had with you just moments before. You manage to heave him up just enough that his toes leave the tile and he cackles at your effort to be such an adorable irritant.

He looks at you over his shoulder, your brow creased in concentration, the tip of your tongue sticking out just slightly. “How’s that workin’ out for ya, princess?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so big and heavy and strong.”

His ego practically skyrockets, his brain picking out any bit of flattery you’ll offer him. 

“Big and strong, huh?”

You cross your arms and spin around, hiding your wide smile before he can catch a glimpse at it. At how pleased you are to have riled him up. You let out a little petulant “Hmph!” and start to pad away. You know what’s coming though, and you try to pick up speed before you can be captured. 

Billy’s arms are around your thighs in seconds. He’s managed to turn you around and lift you up, throwing you over your shoulder like it’s nothing, like this is a normal daily task. “I’ll show you big and strong, pretty baby.”

You beat playfully on his lower back, fighting off a fit of giggles. “Billy! Put me down motherfucker!” He’s laughing too, all too pleased with himself for being able to get you like this. 

He pulls you down so you’re hanging onto his front and starts maneuvering you onto the couch. Your every nerve ending lights up when you feel Billy’s hand at the crown of your head, cradling you as he sets you down. 

The gentle manner in which he handles you does not correlate to the way he kisses you. 

Billy settles between your legs, grabbing your arms and coaxing them around his neck. He’s giving you a job, giving you instructions, and it makes your brain go quiet. Honing in on him, and nothing else. He’s all you can see, all you can smell, all you’re capable of thinking about. 

One of his hands slips beneath your t-shirt and settles against the dip of your spine, allowing him to pull you upward, allowing him to mold your body to his without you even having to put in the effort to arch your back and meet him. 

The other slips into the hair at the base of your neck, fingernails scratching over your scalp to get the goosebumps going, the heel of his hand rubbing determinedly at your skin, massaging it and reveling in the heat radiating off of you. 

Each time you try to say something, Billy kisses you harder, laughing into your mouth. He’s getting sloppy, losing himself in the taste of chocolate and lip balm and you. 

He sucks on your bottom lip, nips at it with his teeth, and it makes you let out a small, quiet moan. Billy slaps your thigh and you pull his hair. He groans, loud and unashamed. He shoves his knee in between your legs, meets the hottest, softest part of you and—

The timer on the microwave goes off.

Your cookies are finished. 

You pull back from Billy’s warm mouth, because you can’t let your cookies burn. What kind of monster would you be, letting cookies perish for a man? Absolutely not. 

His lips are still in a pout and there’s a string of saliva connecting the both of you. 

Instead of laughing like you want, you groan, “Oh dear Christ, ew, Billy.”

While he’s processing that you just said “ew” to him, you slide out from underneath his arms and race to pull the finished cookies from the oven. 

You’re carefully picking each cookie up and setting them on a cooling rack so they’ll become edible—without burning the skin off the roof of your mouth—sooner rather than later. 

Billy finally appears in the kitchen and puts a hand against the counter. His brow creases like he’s just been told something very serious, though his mussed hair and flushed cheeks say otherwise. 

“Did you just say ew to me, baby?” An evil smirk starts to appear on his face and he closes in on you. “You definitely don’t think it’s gross when I spit on your—” 

You shove a warm cookie into his mouth before he can finish that sentence. His face takes on a comical expression of his surprise, but he happily chews on the melting chocolate chips you’ve provided him with. He does like the warm cookies the best. 

You reach for a towel to clean off his face, but he moves too fast. 

Billy is kissing you all over, your neck, your collarbones, your cheeks and forehead. He’s doing his damndest to get chocolate all over you as payback for your teasing little attitude. 

“Billy!” you squeal, giggling and shrieking with joy. 

“Take it back! Take back that fucking ew, princess, and you can go!” He’s cackling, tickling your sides. 

“Okay, okay! I love your nasty ass, I do! Let me go!”

He removes his fingers from your hips and starts to wipe off your face with a wet cloth while you both catch your breath. 

“Damn right you do.”

————

tagging: @clovermunson (i got you bestie)

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠—𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You and your hubby Hyunjin go out shopping when he sees a cute toddler running around the mall laughing and giggling. The little human catches your husband's attention, sparking an enormous baby fever, so now he wants a kid with you...

Content Warnings: Pregnancy. Smut 🔞, Unprotected sex, baby making, soft Hyunjin, fluff, pet names (use of mama (only twice)), oral (f.recieving), very brief mention of lactation, reader is called darling.

Note: I know not many enjoy the pregnancy trope but I really really wanted to write this. I just love husband/dad!SKZ. (I definitely am not going through insane baby fever rn). This is so fucking sweet my teeth might fall off.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.1k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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“Darling, don't you want to go?” Hyunin cooed, his words vibrating on your skin, his eyes admiring you cutely being adamant to get up.

Your eyes were half lidded, your head against his chest, feeling the soothing heartbeats under your ear. Hyunjin woke you up with kisses and an amazing orgasm, with his face buried in your heat in the morning.

He couldn't believe that it's almost going to be a year since you got married.

Hyunjin and you planned to go shopping for the day, get some donuts and perhaps watch a newly released movie. You loved such cute dates with him even though he loves spoiling you with extravagant trips like a dinner in the Eiffel Tower or a week long vacation in Maldives.

But the simplicity of these outings was what you cherished most.

“I’m getting up,” you mumbled sleepily, though you made no effort to move.

Hyunjin chuckled, the warm melody of his voice that only deepened your reluctance to leave the cocoon of his arms. His fingers brushed over your hair as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Take your time,” he said softly, his breath tickling your skin. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

You smiled, your eyes still closed, nuzzling to him, cheek pressed against his bare chest and his embrace tightening around your body.

After some coaxing and spending a long time in the shower together, you both managed to get ready.

You got dressed in a cute flowy dress that you knew Hyunjin loved. You stepped out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of bed, his grin widened when he saw you spinning once to show off the outfit.

“Gorgeous as ever,” he murmured, reaching out to take your hand. You slipped your hand in his and went downstairs, giving a quick smooch to your pet golden who was sleeping soundly on his bed and left your mansion, off to the mall.

***

The mall was bustling with life, the sound of laughter, chatter, and soft music blending into a lively hum. Hyunjin held your hand firmly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as you walked past various stores.

You bought a lot of things from new ornaments for your home, snacks, clothes, Hyunjin immediately bought you with a new Versace handbag you were curiously eyeing while window shopping and grabbed lunch in the restaurant on the top floor.

The day went amazing. Once you were done, Hyunjin called his driver to help with the bags while you both got some donuts like he promised.

As you walked over to the bakery, Hyunjin’s attention was caught by a high-pitched giggle. He turned his head, his eyes landing on a tiny toddler, no older than two, stumbling through the crowd, his chubby legs moving as fast as he could.

“Careful!” a frazzled mother called out, chasing after the little one, but the toddler was too busy enjoying his newfound freedom. He bumped into Hyunjin’s leg, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Hello there,” Hyunjin said softly, crouching to the toddler's level. His long fingers reached out hesitantly, offering a small wave. The toddler giggled again, reaching for his hand as if he just made a new best friend.

Your heart swelled at the sight. Hyunjin had always been good with kids, but seeing him interact with this tiny human stirred something deeper in you. The mother finally caught up, her chest heaving, but not disturbing the interaction with Hyunjin.

“Sorry about that,” the mother apologized, “He just loves to run around.”

“Please don't worry. He's so cute,” your smile reached your ears, watching how the toddler was laughing and playing peekaboo with Hyunjin.

You and the mother conversed for a minute before she scooped her child into her arms. Hyunjin stood up, watching them with a wistful expression as they walked away. The kid smiled wide and waved goodbye to him.

“You’re staring,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still lingering as the mother disappeared into the crowd. When he finally turned to you, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen, his lips curling into a small, almost shy smile.

“Gosh, how freaking cute. I think my heart burst inside me.” He dramatically touched his chest that made you chuckle and shake your head.

“I think you're the cutie here,” you flirted with your husband that made his cheeks bloom in a bright shade of pink.

You grabbed your donuts and walked another round in the mall, before you hopped in the car going back home. Hyunjin didn't speak a word, just stared outside the window holding your hand tightly, your head rested on his shoulder.

Once you reached home, the driver unloaded the bags from the car into the living room, you and Hyunjin went upstairs to your bedroom.

Closing the door, you walked towards your dressing table, removing your earrings, hairpins and fixing your hair loose.

Hyunjin, who was still lost in his own world, walked towards you and slipped his hands on your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You were pretty quiet on the way back home. Everything okay?” You asked, turning towards him, your gaze fixed on his eyes.

“Yeah…” He mumbled softly and you tilted your head curiously, your brows knitted together.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible, he felt his heart pound in his chest like a drum. It was unusual for Hyunjin to feel nervous but he was feeling a bit nervous today.

“Think about what?” you asked, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Having one of our own,” he said, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “A little one… running around and giggling. Someone who’s a part of both of us.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze.

“Hyunne,” you began, your voice faltering.

“I know,” he said quickly, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“I know we’ve never talked about it seriously. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just… I can’t stop thinking about it and seeing that kid at the mall...His small hands and legs, chubby and so cute. I don't want to pressure you, let's—”

“I…I want that too.” you whispered, interrupting him, reaching to hold his hand against your cheek. “I want to have a baby with you…to start a family with you.”

You’d always known Hyunjin would make an amazing father, but hearing him voice his desire so openly, so vulnerably—it left you speechless.

Hyunjin stared at you without saying a word, his gaze softening and sparkling, almost as if he was about to cry.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple flexing, a dimple making an appearance as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You'd be an amazing mom.” He said, his voice full with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest. "And you’d be the best dad," you replied, a small laugh escaping you as you imagined him doting on a child the same way he doted on you.

"You think you're ready for this darling?" Hyunjin’s question lingered in the air, his voice low and husky, filled with a mix of tenderness and curiosity.

You nodded slowly. "I do," you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

It was a huge step but it was with Hyunjin and you couldn't have asked for more.

His thumb touched your chin, gently pulling you in for a long, searing kiss. His mouth moved over yours, tongue slipping in, you let him take the lead like you always did, your fingers running through the silk stands of his hair.

His fingers toyed with the strap of your dress, you walked backwards, pulling him and unbuttoning his shirt till you reached the end of the bed and fell softly on the mattress.

It didn't take long for him to remove the dress off of you, you pushed the shirt off his shoulder and played with his belt to unbuckle it, and soon enough it was skin to skin contact.

Hyunjin’s lips met your jaw, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, his fingertips stroking your nipple that hardened instantly under his touch. His trail reached your neck when he nipped your sensitive skin, leaving marks on your neck to remind you that you were his.

You moaned softly, moving your head slightly to give him better access, his hand continued to explore every dip of your body. His other hand intertwined with yours, the heat building slowly, the desire to have him inside you fueling with every passing second.

When his fingertips brushed over your clit, you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips. The slow exploration continued till he touched your slick folds, you felt him smirking against your skin knowing how wet you were.

“Hyun…” you pleaded, your fingers tangling his hair, growing impatient but wanting him to keep going.

Hyunjin was dragging it for as long as he could, his touch being so gentle, caressing your body like you were a goddess, his fingers circled your clit with a tantalizing rhythm, his movements precise and slow. Your body reacted instinctively, hips arching to meet his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“Patience baby okay…?” He murmured, his voice low but soothing. “I want you to feel everything tonight.” His breath was warm against your ear, and the rasp in his tone made your stomach clench with anticipation.

You nodded, your body already surrendering to his every touch. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice laced with awe.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking over the hardened peak as his fingers worked their magic below, dipping inside your folds. The combination had your head spinning, the pleasure building steadily, consuming you.

“Hyunjin please,” you begged, your voice breathy and desperate.

“Not yet,” he whispered, releasing the slick nub with a pop, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach.

His mouth replaced his fingers, tongue slipping between your folds, tasting you with deliberate slowness.

You gasped, your hands snaking his hair as his tongue worked its way around your clit, the sensation sending sparks through your body. He alternated between gentle flicks and firm pressure, his pace maddeningly perfect.

You squirmed and he scooped his arms under your thighs to hold you in place. Wetness coated his face, the scent of your arousal making him dizzy and groan into your sensitive flesh, his hands kneading your pretty mounds.

When his mouth left your dripping core, you mourned at the loss of it, but the anticipation built in a flash when he positioned himself between your legs.

You watched him stroke himself a few times with the essence of your arousal still coating his fingers.

His gaze locked with yours as he slid inside you slowly, both of you moaning at the feeling. His cock stretching your walls was delicious, you eagerly welcomed his length inch by inch, his movements deliberate and controlled as he filled you completely.

Hyunjin leaned down, his lips brushing against yours as he began to move, his rhythm slow and sensual. Every thrust was measured, his hips rolling against yours as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

His hand intertwined with yours, pinning them above your head and the other cupped your breast, kneading it and flicking the peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “So beyond perfect.”

Moan after moan poured out of your lips, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sinking deep into your hearts.

He made love to you so wondrously that your body went lithe beneath him, the pleasure built high, Hyunjin’s pace quickened slightly, his movements still controlled but more urgent.

He placed his palm over your lower tummy, gently pressing and circling it to stimulate you more.

“Let go with me,” he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

He was drenched in sweat, the intense throbbing of his cock making him feel like he might explode any second.

It only took his words to undo you as you surrendered to the pleasure, body seizing up, the wave of your orgasm crashing over you. The sensation consumed you both as he followed close behind, hot cum filling you, his groan of pleasure muffled against your neck.

Hyunjin held you close as you both came down in a toe curling climax, your bodies tangled together, hearts racing in unison.

He gently lowered himself down, careful not to crush you with his weight, his softening cock and warm cum still buried inside you.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his lips meeting yours.

You looked at him, chest still heaving, and smiled softly when he pulled back. “I love you,” you said, your voice full of certainty.

“I love you more,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours.

~

The afternoon sun crept through the windows of your living room windows, you sat on the couch with your ankles crossed on the coffee table, reading a book when suddenly your golden retriever came up in front of you wagging his tail.

“Hey baby,” you stroked his head, he began leaning up to your touch instantly that made you smile.

You continued petting him when he leaned forward and rested his head against your stomach, his eyes closing and tail still wagging.

“Aren't you being clingy today?” You said jokingly, he blinked lazily at you, his breathing like a soft motor vibrating against you. You chuckled, setting your book aside to give him your full attention.

But as you absentmindedly stroked his fur, you noticed something unusual. Your stomach felt… different. Not painful, but there was a faint flutter, a sensation so subtle that it could easily be dismissed.

You frowned slightly, brushing it off as your imagination or maybe just a quirk of digestion.

Your mind did keep wandering over the fact that you couldn't sleep well for the past week and you kept feeling more tired than usual, without even doing anything.

Now, as you sat there with your dog contentedly laying against your stomach, you couldn’t help but wonder something.

Right as you were about to get back to your book to stop overthinking, you heard the familiar sound of an engine pulling up at the entrance. The door opened followed by Hyunjin, stepping in, his hair slightly tousled.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted, his eyes instantly finding yours. A smile spread across his face when he saw the dog sleeping on your lap. “Looks like someone beat me to cuddling you.”

You laughed, gesturing toward the furry intruder. “He’s been glued to me all afternoon. I think he knows I was planning to get up and clean.”

“Guess he’s trying to keep you in one spot. Smart guy.” Hyunjin leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stroking the dog’s head.

The dog let out a low bark in protest when Hyunjin’s hand brushed yours, as if annoyed at being interrupted. Hyunjin laughed, his dimple making an appearance. “Alright, alright. I’ll share,” he teased, sliding onto the couch beside you.

You rested your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, locking fingers with him, asking about his day. He went on to talk about things happening at work which you never get tired of listening to and the afternoon went on yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.

Could it really be? But you dismissed it as wishful thinking.

~

Two lines. On one test.

Pregnant. On another test.

Your heart was in your throat. Hand covering your mouth as you stared at the test in front of you, you couldn't believe it. A tidal wave of happiness and disbelief washed over you, both the tests screaming at you about the happiest news of your life.

You grabbed the test with the two red lines on it, holding it in your fist and walked out of the bathroom, spotting Hyunjin who was sitting on the bed with his laptop open.

“Hyunne,” you called out and walked towards him, kneeling down on the floor and hiding your hands behind you.

“Yes baby?” He asked curiously and you pulled your hand from your back, revealing the test to him.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, closing his laptop shut and tossing it next to him, a smile resembling shock and joy plastered across his face.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice shaking with excitement and disbelief.

You nodded eagerly, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. “We're pregnant Hyunne! You're going to be a dad!”

As soon as the words left your lips, a wave of pure, uncontainable happiness surged through you. You shot up from your kneeling position, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning, laughter spilling from you uncontrollably.

Hyunjin stood quickly, grabbing your hands to stop your excited bouncing. “Darling, wait!” he said with a laugh, his tone laced with affection and concern. He caught you effortlessly, his arm locking around your shoulders, pulling you in a tight embrace, his palm pressing and circling your stomach.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “We’re going to be parents,” he said, his voice trembling.

You felt him shake slightly, and when he pulled back, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. His hands instantly chipped your face as he kissed you passionately, soft and full of promises, you couldn't help the tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes.

Hyunjin knelt down pulling apart and his arms snaking around your waist, his lips pressing on your stomach before looking up at you with a smile so radiant it took your breath away. Your fingers ran through his hair, holding him in place as he bonded with his baby.

It was the most beautiful thing you ever witnessed.

~

Five beautiful months passed and your love for your baby grew stronger each day. Hyunjin was so supportive, from helping you with your awful morning sicknesses to putting your shoes on.

He provided you with an infinite amount of love, snacks, cuddles and of course sex. Your hormones were all over the place, and Hyunjin made sure to meet your every need, no matter how big or small.

He was always attentive, patient, and there to remind you just how much he loved you.

Even when you felt bloated, cranky, or unattractive, he’d look at you as though you were the most beautiful woman in the world. “You’re glowing,” he would say, his hands resting gently on your growing belly as he admired you.

Evenings became your favourite part of the day as Hyunjin and you took a daily walk with your golden. He insisted on carrying a water bottle and a jacket for you, just in case you needed it. His hand never left yours, as you strolled through the neighborhood.

Everyday he would talk to the baby, about his day or anything that came to his mind, rubbing smooth circles on your swollen belly, his voice soft and full of excitement.

“I’ll teach you how to draw like me, and maybe we can even paint murals together someday,” your heart melted every time at how sweet he was.

Just like Hyunjin, your dog was also extra, extra clingy, always walking around the house with you as if he was protecting you or curling up beside you on the couch, his head resting on your tummy as if he could sense the tiny life growing inside you.

Hyunjin would chuckle every time he caught the sight, teasing, “Looks like someone’s trying to win the ‘favorite sibling’ title already.”

You’d laugh, gently scratching behind your dog’s ears. “He’s just protective, like you,” you say, smiling at how your little family was already bonding in its own unique way.

Your doctor’s appointment was this morning, you were laying on your back on the hospital bed as she spread the cool gel on your belly, the sensation making you shiver slightly.

Hyunjin stood by your side, holding your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles to calm you. His face was a mix of excitement and nerves, his eyes fixed on the screen as the doctor prepared the ultrasound.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the machine, and then it happened, a rhythmic, steady sound filled the air. Your baby’s heartbeat.

The doctor smiled, pointing at the screen. “There’s your little one. Everything looks perfect. Nice strong heartbeat, healthy growth. Congratulations.”

The grainy black-and-white image showed the tiny life growing inside you. “It’s real,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.” His voice was thick with love and emotion.

“You need a lot of care darling, we should go home soon.” He said concerned.

You turned from the screen and looked at him shaking your head. “Nope. I want to go on a honeymoon.” You said trying to sound serious which made Hyunjin chuckle.

“Honeymoon? Baby, that's for newly married couples.” He said brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

“Newly pregnant couples can go as well,” you said. “I want to go on a honeymoon and then go home.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin.

Once the ultrasound was over, the doctor printed out the pictures and handed them to you, Hyunjin held them like they were the most precious treasure.

As you left the appointment, Hyunjin was on his phone, booking days at a beautiful resort on the same day for one week; a private villa with a serene spa, and cozy restaurants with candlelit dinners.

Your face bloomed with excitement as the two of you drove home and packed your essentials for your one amazing “honeymoon”.

~

After a whole day of sun bathing, a relaxing spa and an amazing dinner, Hyunjin and you were back in your bedroom in the cozy villa.

He was massaging your swollen feet after a lot of walking, you sat on the bed, your back pressed against the headboard.

Watching Hyunjin be so patient with you, made your heart swell with adoration and your hormones kicking back in again, making you feel needy.

“Hyunne,” you called him, who was rubbing gentle circles on your ankles, your voice low and soft.

“Yeah darling?” His expression softened further when he noticed the way your cheeks flushed and your lips parted slightly, like you were searching for the right words.

“Come here,” you murmured, your voice carrying a mix of longing.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding as you searched his gaze, pecking his lips. “I just… I want you,” you admitted softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his black tank top.

“You have me,” he replied, his voice a gentle caress. “Always.”

“No,” you said with a soft laugh, shaking your head as your hands slid up to his chest, fingers tracing over the top. “I mean, I need you. Right now.”

“Are you sure, baby?” He was concerned but it also sparked excitement within him at the same time, he stroked your tinted cheek smiling warmly.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his. “I want to feel close to you.”

Hyunjin didn’t need any more convincing. He kissed you deeply, his lips moving over yours with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your toes curl.

His hands slipped up your waist under his hoodie you were wearing, stroking your skin lightly before it traveled downwards, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You shifted, letting him slide it off you, his hand squeezing your thigh that made you moan into his mouth. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your thigh before it continued moving, he pulled back, his eyes sparkling with nothing but love.

“You’re so beautiful mama,” velvet laced his voice, the new nickname made your cheeks flush in heat.

Hyunjin removed his tank top and held the hem of his hoodie, you nodded, letting him remove it off your head, leaving you bare in front of him.

His eyes drank the sight before him. Your swollen and sensitive breasts, glowing belly that’s carrying your child, something dangerously possessive consumed him but he mentally promised himself to be gentle.

He laid your back on the mattress, his mouth meeting yours, long, sweet and tenderly, swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips that sent a jolting sensation through his veins.

His hand circled your belly and massaged your swollen breasts making you moan, feeling relieved as your fingers immediately tugged his hair.

A thumb brushed over the sensitive bud, a wet droplet soaked his fingetip and heat pooled between your legs, your thighs squeezed together. You pulled apart and looked down at his finger stroking your leaky nipple, he couldn't help but smile at your flushing face.

He found that more sexier than anything.

His face dipped in your chest, lips meeting your warm skin, it was addicting. You were addicting to him. Your hands roamed over his back, as his kisses trailed lower, following the curve of your body like a path only he knew.

Hyunjin felt your fingers press on his shoulders, guiding him, urging him forward with a silent plea that he was more than willing to answer.

The sight of you lying beneath him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, your breath catching in your throat, it was like witnessing heaven.

He spread your legs apart, his lips finding the soft skin of your thigh. He pressed a lingering kiss there, feeling the muscles beneath your skin tense and then relaxed as he made his way closer to your centre.

The sight of your pussy so slick and swollen with arousal stirred something primal inside him. His fingers gently spread your wet folds, revealing your beautiful core, a hiss escaped your lips at the contact.

"Do you want my mouth darling? Hmm?" He coaxed, teasing you, placing a feather light on your clit.

"Want me to eat your pretty pussy and make you come?" The raspiness coating his voice made a shiver run down your spine, you nodded, chest heaving.

"Please— please Hyun... I need you on me." You pleaded which also sounded like a command that made him chuckle lowly.

His breath fanned over your sensitive skin and when his mouth met where you needed him the most, your back arched ever so slightly off the bed, a whimper escaping from you.

"Hyunjin..." You gasped, your voice trembling with need, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging lightly as though you couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or keep him there, teasing you forever.

He didn't respond. Instead he smirked against you, his tongue flicked your folds and sucked on your clit that had you squirming. His tongue circled the bud in almost lazy strokes that had you sighing his name like a prayer.

He let his hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider as he went, giving himself more room to work and taste. His left hand rested on your belly, his thumb brushing back and forth, the cold wedding band on his ring finger touching your heated skin.

His cock twitched and strained his pants, begging for his attention and dive inside you, but he shoved it aside even though the throbbing felt painful. He wouldn't do that.

He loved bringing you to the edge and tease you till you were a squirming mess.

Your breaths turned erratic when his tongue moved faster, you were lost in your haze of pleasure and whimpers growing louder, hips jerking as you clung onto Hyunjin like he was your lifeline.

The tingles built up way faster than it would normally, you would have found it embarrassing if you weren't pregnant.

Hyunjin's eyes were glued on you, knowing that you were only a few seconds away from snapping, his hands slid up to cup and knead your breasts, causing liquid to leak out of your peaking sensitive nipples.

"I'm close... I'm so close please..." You breathed.

With one last languid lick on your pulsing bud, you crashed down, only his name pouring out of your lips, your orgasm flooding in his mouth. Hyunjin lapped up every single drop, helping you ride out your pleasure until you were gasping and trembling from the aftershocks.

Once your climax subsided, Hyunjin trailed his way up, kissing every part of your body, your thighs, your belly and the swell of your breasts that were soaked with leaked milk.

Right this moment you looked way more gorgeous than you ever did before to his eyes. He had put a baby in you, his pride was uncontrollable.

"You okay darling?" He asked, brushing away the strands of hair sticking on your face and kissing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks that were flushed pink.

You nodded breathlessly, pulling him so your mouth met his. You could taste yourself off his lips.

Hyunjin smiled, “Come on mama, let's get you cleaned up.” And he gently scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

~

4 months later

“SHE'S HERE!”

The wailing protest of cries of your newborn echoed, bouncing off the walls of the labour room. Tears had run down your cheeks, Hyunjin’s eyes were wide with disbelief, a hand covering his mouth as you both welcomed your baby to the world.

The nurse quickly cleaned and handed your baby girl over to you, wrapped in a neat towel, the bundle of joy snuggling and sleeping soundly against your chest.

“Hello baby,” you said softly, your pinkie finger stroking her cheek. “I'm your mom.”

Tears kept rolling down your face, Hyunjin was there by your side the entire time, his heart clenching with an unbearable amount of love and awe as he watched his wife and his baby.

You looked up at him, seeing his eyes swelled with unshed tears, he leaned down to press his lips on yours, his breath hitching.

“Thank you for this baby,” his voice cracked as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple, his lips trembling against your skin. “Thank you for being so brave darling. You're incredible.”

Your smile widened despite the exhaustion, and you reached up to wipe away the tear that slipped down Hyunjin’s cheek. “We did this together,” you whispered. “She’s a part of us, Hyunne.”

Hyunjin nodded, his fingers shaking as he gently caressed the tiny hand that peeked out of the blanket. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like her mom.”

The baby stirred slightly, her tiny lips parting as she let out a soft, content sigh. Hyunjin chuckled softly, his eyes glued to her delicate features—her button nose, rosy cheeks, the faint wisps of hair on her head.

You scooted a bit so that Hyunjin could sit next to you, you gently handed him your baby, he carefully held her in his arms, his heart thundering behind his ribcage.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy. And I promise to protect you and your mama with everything I have.”

Tears welled in your eyes again at his words, and you reached and kissed him on the cheek, watching him already become the best father in the world.

“We’re a family now,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

Hyunjin smiled nodding, his gaze never leaving your daughter. “The best family.” He said looking at you, his voice unwavering.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the hospital window, painting the room in soft gold, this was the beginning of the most beautiful chapter of your lives.

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xx,

Ivyy