#rack and Trace

[saltycorgi]

Some WIPs of backgrounds for my Sock Opera reanimated scenes! Never draw backgrounds much, but I’m reallyyy happy with how they’re turning out so far… now onto rough animation (finally) :)

Original scenes:

[odorefal]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ he’ll never own up to it, but you know athlete!sukuna credits your kiss for his winning streak; his lucky charm since that match last season.

the habit began that time: a playful kiss on the cheek before a game. you’d dragged him aside at halftime, given him a quick peck, and said, “you’ve got this.”

from then on? he came back, racked up 30 points, carried the team to a win, and took home mvp. ever since, sukuna’s been rather fixated on the idea that your kiss gives him the edge.

his pre-match ritual’s locked in; a tradition at this point now, and today’s no exception.

you’re caught up holding seats for a friend, not even noticing sukuna taking the court. he stops short mid-step, eyes narrowing as he searches the crowd — and finds you.

"come on, lucky charm," he says with a playful pout, tipping his cheek toward you expectantly.

“what?” you blinked, confused.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. he lean down, hand resting behind your seat, and tap his lips. “you owe me, remember?”

“you’re not gonna fall apart.” you sigh, shooting a glance at the team warming up as the pieces come together. “you really think one kiss is that powerful?”

“proof’s in the scoreboard, sunshine.” he smirks, leaning in just a little.

you roll your eyes, but your body betrays you, leaning toward him like it’s second nature. your lips graze his lips, soft and warm. his hand finds your waist, fingertips pressing into your side as his thumb strokes lazily over the hem of your shirt — lingering, like he’s testing how long he can stay.

you’re breathless when you pull away from the soft to deep kiss, his gaze heavy-lidded and fixed on your lips as his thumb traces the edge of your jaw.

“perfect.”

he’s halfway across the court when he slows, turns his head, and flashes you a lazy grin. “better sit where you can see me. you won’t wanna miss this.”

and sure enough, the shot is clean; textbook perfect. his eyes meet yours across the court, his smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like, i told you, sunshine.

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄/𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You wake up early, stretching lazily before grabbing Xavier’s hoodie from where it hangs on the rack like it’s routine. He’s still sleeping soundly as you slip out of the bedroom. The hoodie envelops you completely, sleeves hanging past your wrists, carrying his distinct, comforting scent.

In the kitchen, you prepare a simple breakfast for yourself, and a plate for Xavier that you know will likely go cold. The morning news plays quietly on the TV as you settle onto the couch, legs tucked underneath you, swimming in the soft fabric of his hoodie, feeling wrapped in Xavier’s presence despite his absence.

Movement catches your eye as Xavier appears in the doorway. His eyes find you immediately, taking in the sight of you wearing his clothing.

“Good morning,” you say, offering him his plate. “I made you breakfast.”

Xavier glances at the food but doesn’t take it. Instead, he shifts closer, arm sliding around your shoulders to pull you against his side. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your arm through the fabric of his hoodie, and you can feel him breathing in deeply, as if taking in the sight of you wrapped in something that belongs to him.

You nestle closer, and within minutes, his breathing becomes more even. Looking up, you find his eyes have drifted closed, his posture completely relaxed. You smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. Even in sleep, his arm remains securely around you, keeping you close as if unwilling to let you go now that he’s found you this way—comfortable, content, and wrapped in his clothing.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The mission had been longer than expected, and you’re exhausted as you make your way back home. Zayne had returned from his shift a few hours ago, and you’ve been looking forward to seeing him after days apart. You’re wearing his jacket—the black one with the subtle white trim that you’d taken from his closet before leaving. It’s become a comfort object during your mission, the lingering scent of his cologne providing reassurance during stressful moments.

You stop at the corner store for snacks before finally unlocking the apartment door. The place is quiet but warm as you kick off your shoes and pad toward the living room.

You find Zayne on the couch with journals spread around him. He looks up as you enter, his eyes immediately locking onto his jacket draped over your frame. Given his preference for professional coats, his collection of casual jackets and hoodies is small and meticulously maintained—making the absence of even one immediately noticeable to someone as detail-oriented as him.

“So that’s where it went,” he says. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sets aside his work, creating space beside him.

You drop down next to him with a tired sigh. “Found me out.”

Zayne reaches out, fingers brushing against the collar of his jacket where it meets your neck. The touch is gentle, almost reverent. “It suits you better than me,” he murmurs.

His hand moves to your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. “Next time,” he says, voice low near your ear, “take more than one. You know I don’t mind.”

His arm remains around you, a subtle but clear indication that while you may have his jacket, he’s pleased to have you.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The gallery opening had been exhausting—too many people packed into too small a space, all of them wanting a piece of Rafayel’s attention. You’d smiled and nodded and played your part perfectly, but by the time you returned to his seaside home, you were completely drained.

Rafayel had stayed behind to handle some business with Thomas, insisting you go ahead without him. You’d grabbed one of his hoodies—the soft blue one with white pattern of waves—and changed into it the moment you got home. Now, curled up on the couch with the artsy duckie plushie he’d won for you clutched against your chest, you’d finally found peace in the quiet of the evening.

The sound of the door opening and closing barely registers as you drift between sleep and wakefulness. You vaguely hear the soft footsteps approaching, then a delighted sound that could only come from Rafayel.

“Oh, look at you,” he coos, his voice soft. “Absolutely precious.”

You hear the click of his phone camera and crack open one eye to see him standing above you, a fond expression on his face as he takes another photo to set it as his home screen later.

“Are you documenting my crime?” you mumble sleepily.

“I’m documenting perfection,” he corrects, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Move over a bit.”

You comply, and he squeezes onto the couch beside you, pulling you half onto his chest. His fingers thread through your hair, and you feel the tension in his body from the event slowly release.

“Did Thomas give you a hard time about leaving early?” you ask, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“Thomas always gives me a hard time,” Rafayel replies with a dismissive wave. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

You snuggle closer, the artsy duckie plushie squished between you, and feel him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both settle into the comfortable silence.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Snow falls in thick flakes outside the window, blanketing the forest view in pristine white. You stand before the floor-to-ceiling glass, mesmerized by the winter snow cascading from the gloomy sky. Sylus’s dark jacket envelops you like a protective shell, the sleeves long enough that you can curl your fingers into them. It smells like him—a blend of expensive cologne and something uniquely his—and wearing it feels almost like being wrapped in his embrace.

You’ve been standing there for nearly twenty minutes, lost in thought, when you hear the door to the residence open and close. You don’t turn, knowing exactly who it is from the footsteps entering the room.

“Enjoying the view?” Sylus asks, his voice closer than you expected.

You glance over your shoulder to find him watching you with an expression that makes your heart rate quicken. His eyes track from your face down to the jacket you’re wearing.

“It’s peaceful,” you reply, turning back to the window. “Everything looks so quiet from up here.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, though you can tell from his reflection in the glass that he’s not looking at the snow at all. He moves to sit behind you, close enough that you can feel his warmth. “Though I must say, my jacket looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You smile, watching his reflection. “It’s warm.”

“If it’s warmth you’re seeking,” Sylus says, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders, “perhaps I could offer something more comforting than a piece of fabric?”

You turn to face him, still wrapped in his jacket. “Is that an offer or a command?”

His lips curve into that familiar smirk as he pulls you closer. “With you? Always an offer.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The DAA jacket is practically a relic now—Caleb hasn’t worn it in years, not since he became Colonel in the Farspace Fleet. But it still hangs in the closet of your shared place, and on the nights when he’s away on missions, you find yourself reaching for it.

Tonight is one of those nights. The bed feels too big, too empty without him, and the jacket is a poor substitute but better than nothing. You’ve wrapped yourself in it, breathing in the faint traces of his scent that somehow still cling to the fabric after all this time.

You’re reading through reports on your tablet when the door slides open unexpectedly. You look up, startled, to see Caleb standing in the doorway, still in his Fleet uniform, a day earlier than scheduled.

“Caleb! You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” you say, sitting up straighter.

His eyes immediately zero in on the jacket you’re wearing, and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. What do we have here? A thief in the house?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “Hardly stealing when it’s been hanging untouched for years.”

Caleb fully enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to finger the fabric of the jacket’s collar. “I don’t know,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Looks like theft to me. I should probably report this.”

“I’ll give it back,” you offer, starting to shrug it off.

“Don’t you dare,” he says quickly, catching your hands with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.” He pauses, then adds with mischief, “In fact, I think you should raid my entire closet. Take it all. Every last shirt and sock.”

You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “Welcome home, Caleb.”

“Home is wherever you are,” he replies, pulling you closer. “Stolen jacket and all.”

Based on this request.

[humanjarvis]

whose?

synopsis: what’s his is yours.

tags: fluff, smut (handjob), kind of comfort, in a way. jealous/possessive reader, reader needs reassurance, caleb subs himself out to give it to them. reader is a bit delusional but he’s into it, of course word count: 1.4k

a/n: i have reached the point in writerdom where my “drabble ideas” exceed 600 words and must become full fics. i like this one though

“So, how was it?” 

Caleb looks up as your voice echoes from the living room, having just returned from a Fleet meeting. That afternoon, there’d been a new recruit skill showcase, and he’d been summoned to judge.

“Nothin’ special,” he calls casually, strolling into the room. “The guys at the DAA were a lot more passionate, and a lot nicer to be around. Although…I think this one girl was trying to get on my good side. Kept lookin’ over at me during her trials like she wanted to impress me. She even came up to me afterwards saying she liked my eyes—I had to turn her down. Shame you weren’t there with me, otherwise we could’ve saved her the trouble,” he ends with a sheepish chuckle. 

Unfortunately, Caleb was too wrapped up in his storytelling to notice you flinching at four particular words: “girl,” “liked,” “my eyes.”

Bristling in irritation, you shoot him a skeptical glance before turning your attention back to your phone. “Whose?” you ask, your eerily calm voice cutting through the dry air.

“Huh?” he blinks confusedly. “Whose…what? She said she liked my eyes, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he repeats.

You tut, ticking your head up to the side and raising a sloped eyebrow. “Whose?”

Caleb feels like he’s back in a college classroom, sweating with nerves as he stares at an exam question that hadn’t been on the study guide. 

What had he said wrong? He racks his brain for an answer, and then—oh. He knows what you're doing.

Lately, when other people commented on his body—the body you'd waited so long to touch without consequence—you got a bit…sensitive.

He knows what you want him to say, now. And, like always, he was happy to indulge your adorably territorial request.

“…Yours,” he swallows.

“Good.” With a haughty sniff, you click your phone off and lob it across the couch. “Come here.”

And now, Caleb feels like he’s back in high school, suddenly getting called to the principal’s office. Except this time—because it’s you—a thrill rockets down his spine, propelling him forward in long, obliging strides. 

He sits obediently when you pat the spot next to you, and you turn to face him with a light scowl on your face. An act, he thinks. You’re no more than a lion cub trying to be brave, but you need the validation, the reassurance. And he’ll gladly give it to you.

“I wasn't doing it on purpose,” he pouts. “It's not my fault. Just wanted to tell you about my day.”

“It is your fault,” you grumble, “for being so damn hot and charming all the time.” 

He uses all his effort to take you seriously. To listen solemnly instead of preen at your praise.

“But I am glad you told me, because that means I can remind you,” you add, climbing on top of him. “These,” you start, fingers tracing the outlines of his purple irises, “are mine.” He inhales sharply when you come forward, his eyes fluttering shut to let you press twin kisses to their lids.

He shivers for a moment before opening them gently, encouragement and poorly hidden delight in his gaze. “Yeah,” he rasps in agreement. “Yours.”

Humming in pretend contemplation, you trail your finger down the bridge of his nose. “This too,” you declare, tapping it lightly. 

You take his quick nods as a sign to continue. 

Just a few more centimeters, and your hand reaches his full mouth. “And these,” you start, lowering your voice as you lean in, “are definitely mine.” Claiming his lips in a searing, open-mouthed kiss, you tangle a hand in his hair as he groans into you. His large palms splay across your back, tugging you even closer, and you’re almost upset when you have to pull yourself away. But you have a point to prove. 

“Am I right?” you ask through uneven breaths, and he answers you with hazy eyes and swollen lips. 

Onto the next part.

Running your hands down his bulky arms—also yours—you inch back on his lap just enough to see the full pane of his clothed abs. Like usual, he knows what you want before you even ask and swiftly tugs his shirt off, exposing himself to you with unconditional trust. 

You let a soft smile grace your lips as you count the smooth muscles, chiseled by years of hard work and restraint. “Each of these,” you begin, lightly tapping each one, “is also mine. So I certainly hope she’s never seen them,” you warn with a deceptively playful squint. 

“Nope,” he says proudly. “Nobody outside this room has for a long time. I just keep ‘em in good shape because I know their owner likes them,” he smirks and squeezes your hip gently. 

Flustered by how readily he plays along, you clear your throat bashfully. Damn him. “Y-yes. Well. I do,” you stutter, cheeks burning when his grin widens.

Alright. Evidently, he’s eager—almost too eager—to be put in his place, if you can even call this that. You have to shift the power in your favor, to get the ball back in your court. And luckily, you’re in just the right position to do that. 

Meeting his gaze defiantly—he is not in charge here—you reach between your bodies to slip your hand into his pants. As your warm fingers wrap around him, he lets out a choked whine and screws his eyes shut, only to blink them open seconds later with a pitiful stare. 

“Mhm,” you hum in approval. From Caleb, that look is a show of submission—his favorite card to play when you score the upper hand. That look—the furrowed brow, the pleading gaze, and the slightly quivering bottom lip—means he’s yours to control.

“And whose is this, Caleb?” you tease with reclaimed confidence, squeezing gently around his hardened length. 

“Yours,” he breathes shakily, the response automatic. “Only have it for you—so you can use it.” 

“That’s right,” you smile in satisfaction. Giving him a quick kiss, you lift his heavy cock out of his boxers, watching in admiration as the head glistens with growing need. “Mine to use. Why don’t I show you?” 

Reaching up, you run your thumb across his tip and down his rigid length, coating it thoroughly until he’s slick with his arousal. You figure it’s okay to reward him—that’s part of learning, right? Rewards for good behaviors, punishments for bad. And despite the small hiccups, the moments where he’d siphoned your dominance, he’d been so good for you tonight. 

So you start with slow strokes. Gentle praises and twists of your hand, up and down, down and up, until his face contorts in bliss. Frantic gasps and whimpers fill your ears, and you’re happier than ever that you’re the only one who gets to see him like this. You know there’s no one else—you’ve always known, deep down—but that doesn’t stop you from needing to hear it. From needing him to say it. So you’ve started to ask for it in…creative ways. “You’re all mine, right Caleb?” you murmur between pumps, savoring the pleas that fall from his lips. 

“Forever,” he moans, glassy eyes trying their hardest to focus on your face. “Only yours. Only want to be yours.” 

The fuzzy feeling inside you is a bit out of place in the moment, but as your heart swells, you decide not to care. Latching your lips onto his, you increase the pace of your strokes until he’s struggling to return your kiss, overwhelmed by the dual sensations. Giving him space to breathe, you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear: “Let go, Caleb. But remember, that belongs to me.” 

And as your words envelop him, he spills into your hand with a mewling groan. After two more lazy pumps, you settle yourself back in his lap, positioned right over his twitching cock. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, kissing his cheek gently. He buries his face into your shoulder in response. 

Chuckling, you ease his head back and gaze into his—your—violet eyes. “I almost forgot,” you add softly, placing a hand over the erratic thud in his chest. “This? This is mine, too.” 

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ 𝗩𝗛𝗦

WORKING OVERTIME ⭑.ᐟ.ᐣ

‘ toji fushiguro, kento nanami, sukuna x fem!reader ’

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ mild dub con ( reader gets aroused and never says no ) you better judge yourself◞ gangbang taking turns◞ inappropriate touching◞ no curses au◞ office sex ◞ stuck in a wall◞ cunilingus◞ anal fingering ◞ spit as lube◞ oral male receiving◞ creampie◞ unprotected sex ◞ cum swallow◞ reader is called dummy, princess and slut.

“c’mon pretty, I know you can get it” ever since you arrived at the company, Toji hasn’t lost a single chance to tease you, making his approach seem friendly when in reality, he just wanted to fuck you raw.

“i’m trying!” you huff in return, embarrassed by the current position that you find yourself in, stretching your hands to reach for the documents folder that fell behind large rack, and you, being the only girl working after hours was the perfect fit to help the man retreat such important material, “i can’t reach it!”

Toji is so grateful that you’re not watching him, allowing his eyes to wander through the way your round ass is up in the air, standing on tip toes while letting out huffs of exertion, sounds Toji wished to hear while being balls deep in your tight pussy. a soft yet firm slap lands on your butt cheek, not painful but making you squeal, “Toji!” you yell, ignoring the way your face burns and core throbs, denying the attraction you had to the man wouldn’t take you anywhere.

he chuckles, “you’re almost there, just a bit more... although, i’m not complaining if you take your time, the view over here is wonderful”

“you’re the worst” you mutter, used to Toji’s behavior and way too over friendly touching, the tips of your fingers brush over the hard edge of the folder, skimming in a little further to grasp it with a triumphant sound, “i got it! Toji help me out”

“of course, princess” the man smirks, holding onto your hips but instead of pulling, you feel him pushing you down and deeper into the rack, your head almost hanging from the other side of it.

“Toji you idiot! now i’m stuck, you made it worse”

“nah” he tuts, “i think I made it perfect” there’s a deep laugh coming from his chest, clearly enjoying himself, rubbing his hands across your thighs.

“what’s going on?” another voice joins, steady steps approaching your squirming form, and you can tell who it is immediately, another one of your coworkers who adores teasing you nonstop.

“dummy got stuck while trying to pick up a folder that fell” Toji’s voice is filled with humor, a bit mockingly if you had to say.

Sukuna grins, allowing his hand to rest on the small of your back, “is that so?” you hear him laugh.

“i hate you both” you bite back, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs, most likely staining your panties and dripping down your thighs.

“oh, but it seems like you’re enjoying this” the pink haired man speaks again, letting a single finger trace the contour of your pussy through the pencil skirt you wore, pushing enough for your wetness to seep through and drench the other layer of fabric.

“i’m not!” you hiss, futilely trying to kick the men only for them to grab your legs, one each.

“this sweet cunt of yours says otherwise” Toji huffs, raising your skirt until it pools around your waist, taking a teasing lick across your covered slit to which you mewl, hips wiggling against your better judgement, “don’t fight, honey, we’ll make you feel so good” Sukuna’s hands then reach forward, spreading out your pussy lips after Toji tugged your underwear down, letting it stretch around your knees.

“what a pretty thing you are” Sukuna speaks, letting his fingers caress the skin of your folds, teasingly sliding them across your wet clit just for a brief second.

by this point all rational thoughts are pretty much gone from your head, focusing on Toji’s heavy breathing straight in your core, and Sukuna’s thumbs keeping your hole spread and leaking. a loud groan resonates in the small room, followed closely by the dark haired man’s tongue plunging into your sopping cunt, so deep and so good your hands desperately try to find purchase in the smooth wall right in front of your eyes.

“she’s gorgeous” Sukuna groans, palming his bulge, “isn’t that right, Kento?” and you yelp at his words, a sound that could get easily mistaken as a pleasurable one since Toji kept on slurping loudly against your clit, sucking on your folds and swirling your slick on the tip of his tongue.

Sukuna and Toji were something, but you actually held respect towards the blonde, worried about how his opinion on you would change by watching you moan over your coworker eating you out.

“what do you think you’re doing?” his voice is deep and calm, a bit tired if you had to admit.

“Kento!” you gasp and kick, earning a pinch in your ass and Toji’s muffled voice vibrating against your pussy, “if you’re going to moan someone’s name so prettily it better be mine”

“oh, c’mon, join the fun, she’s enjoying the attention, like a little greedy slut” this time is Sukuna’a turn to speak, returning to his place by hunching next to your hips, his face hovering over where Toji continues his assault and letting a glob of spit to fall in the crack of your ass, using the thick substance to rub on your puckered hole.

“n-not there! i can’t—” you whine, thighs shaking from the double stimulation.

“you say that but your pussy is fluttering like crazy” Toji chuckles, now using two of his fingers to penetrate your hole, going at such a fast pace that you’re unable to speak and just moan, “cum, I know you’re close” he rasps, his fingers not flattering until liquid gushes out of your cunt and soaks his fingers at the same time as Sukuna’s finger dips in your asshole.

“o-oh, my god—!”

“fuck yes, you’re so goddamn sexy” they half praise, half groan, both men digits still buried inside your holes and moving in sync, slowly driving you insane.

a second finger joins the one in your ass and the ones in your pussy disappear, replaced by a sticky trail that left on your thigh, up and across your asscheeks where Toji glides his cockhead against, tapping on your clit a couple of times for his own selfish enjoyment in hearing you beg.

“please...” you whine, not certain of what but the emptiness of your cunt brought tears to your eyes, twitching in aftershocks of your previous orgasm.

“you better be on birth control, baby, because i’m fuckin’ you raw”

“elders first” Sukuna chuckles, observing intensely how Toji’s cock slowly disappears into your wet hole, ripping whines out of your mouth and forcing your ass to squeeze Sukuna’s fingers, biting back a groan of satisfaction at the idea of how tight you might feel inside.

“fuck me! f-feels so good!” you scream, attempting to dig your nails in the wall as a shiver runs down your spine once Toji’s cock is deeply buried inside your pussy, drooling precum inside your slippery walls.

“so fuckin’ hot, i’m going to enjoy breeding this tiny pussy” you mewl while the man starts to pound into you, slapping Sukuna’s hand away and replacing it with his thumb, fingering your tight hole as his cock stretches your cunt, groaning deeply at the tight squeeze of your walls, sucking him deeper with each thrust.

“i’m cumming again” you cry out, embarrassingly sooner than expected, unable to stop the sudden wave of pleasure surging through your body and forcing your walls to clamp down on the cock ruining your insides. he continues to fuck you through your orgasm until his own high gets triggered, cumming hard with a deep growl, halfway pulling out to spray your folds and lower back with cum.

“prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucked” Toji says, stepping aside to allow Sukuna to pull your thighs back, forcing you to take his cock in one swift motion, filling every inch of your pussy.

“you love this, don’t you, a perfect fuckhole, letting us take turns in fucking this tight pussy” Sykuna growls, moving in slow but hard thrusts that knock the air out of your lungs, bringing tears to your eyes and you slick to drip down on the floor.

“y-yes, Kuna! my pussy feels so good” you babble delirious, thighs shaking under the intense and hard pounding into your hot cunt, overstimulated but feeling impossibly good.

“fuuck, you’ll make me cum soon, better stretch this pussy nicely for Kento, hm? he acts all serious but has been jerking off for the past hour” Sukuna’s last words come quietly, almost like a secret you pretty much enjoy considering the sudden tightness in your walls, squeezing tightly around his cock while his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you still as his balls slap against your clit.

“f-fill me up, please” you beg, eyes crossing as your pussy cums around him, taking Sukuna with you as his hips speed up, groans turning into growls while he fills you with his hot cum, pumping into you with tiny thrusts, more like humping your ass.

you breathe heavily, trying to compose your erratic heartbeat as Sukuna pulls out, cum oozing out of your hole and dripping down your thighs.

an unconscious yelp gets ripped out of your throat at the sudden pull of your legs, unstuck and landing on the floor with a dull thud where your knees hit.

“open your mouth” Kento growls, tugging your head back slightly enough to guide the dripping tip of his cock into your mouth, a bit of consideration to your abused cunt.

“wettest cunt, wettest mouth” Sukuna whistles next to the blonde, watching how his length comes out of your mouth glistening and soaked with your saliva, “aren’t you perfect everywhere?”

ignoring the other men in the room, Kento starts to use your throat back and forth, careful but firm enough to bring tears to your eyes, adoring how there's drool slipping from the corners of your lips, eyes glossy and almost rolled to the back of your skull with how good you feel. it doesn’t take much time for the man to approach his orgasm, rubbing your tongue with his cock head and slapping your cheeks before plunging it inside once again, his groans only increasing with the subtle buck of his hips against your mouth.

“i’m cumming, you swallow it all” he huffs, pressing into your mouth as deep as possible, making your nose rub on the peach fuzz above his cock, choking and moaning as cum fills your warm mouth. “next time I’ll be cumming in your pussy, since you love slutting yourself out”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 24: Somnophilia

Summary: Silco pushed open the creaking door of his apartment, the familiar scent of damp wood and laundry powder mingling with the faint aroma of your perfume.There you lay, a soft silhouette against the rumpled sheets. Your night gown rode high on your thighs, highlighting your soft and supple body to his vision. The material did little to hide anything from his gaze, you had been waiting his return. It was not lost on him that his lifestyle led to a lack of moments for intimacy, and yet here you were, pliant and pretty all for him. How tempting… Warnings: P in V sex, fingering, somnophilia, reader has a vagina, cum, etc. MNDI, 18+. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.  Kinktober Mention of the Day: @ivyunleashed This story was inspired by their artwork, linked here

Silco pushed open the creaking door of his apartment, the familiar scent of damp wood and laundry powder mingling with the faint aroma of your perfume. The night had been long, filled with whispered deals and the ever-looming shadows of Zaun’s underbelly. He stepped inside, the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders, bi-colored eyes revealing the true depth of his emotions. Always the strong leader, the iron fist that ruled the Undercity, now stood a bare and broken man worked over by the waves of the world. 

Discarding his coat on the rack by the door, the house was clean. You always made sure it was for when he arrived home, nothing to worry over in this place you had crafted into a safe haven. A note stuck to the fridge annoucing leftovers for him to consume was ignored in favor for trudging into the master bedroom a few doors away. Silent as ever, as not to disturb anything you may be doing, Silco was met with a sight that never failed to stir emotions within his hardened heart. 

There you lay, a soft silhouette against the rumpled sheets, bathed in the pale moonlight that streamed through the cracked window. Hair cascaded over the pillow, framing your serene face. For a moment, Silco felt the chaos of his life fade away. You were everything he wasn't: kind, gentle, a soothing balm against the harshness of your surroundings. He truly did not know how he deserved you. 

He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb you. The sight of your sleeping peacefully made his heart swell. In a world filled with betrayal and violence, you was a beacon of warmth, a reminder that there was still a little beauty to be found. When he had met you a few years ago, a florist on the edge of the Piltover/Zaun border, his mind could have never conjured the heavenly scene that lay before him. He could hardly fathom how someone like you could exist amidst the grime and despair of Zaun, yet here you were, a perfect contrast to the life he led. For all his machinations and ruthless ambition, Silco found himself captivated by the quiet strength you brought into his life. He remembered your laughter shared over late-night meals and whispered secrets under the stars—moments that felt like stolen treasures in a world that sought to take everything from him.

Silco sat on the edge of the bed, studying your features. Your brows were slightly furrowed, as if lost in dreams, and a soft smile played on your lips. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, watching as you stirred slightly but didn’t wake. He leaned closer, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m home, darling.” he murmured, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. But the words felt necessary, a promise he held deep within his heart. Your night gown rode high on your thighs, highlighting your soft and supple body to his vision. The material did little to hide anything from his gaze, you had been waiting his return. Expecting him, ready for him. It was not lost on him that his lifestyle led to a lack of moments for intimacy, and yet here you were, pliant and pretty all for him. 

Taking a calloused hand, he traced the outline of your curves. Admiring how the moonlight accuntuated all your features, casting an etheral glow about the room. You were his angel, there was no doubt. Yet as he sat here thoughts of corrupting your innocence filled his head. You had always expressed the idea of him taking you while sleeping was attractive, the conversation had occured no less than two weeks ago. He remembered it vividly, how shy you looked, the way your eyes glistened with lust. 

“You never have to ask, Sil. My body and heart are all yours, anytime you need me.”

Oh, how sweetly you had asked. How tempting the thought was then and especially now. He shouldn’t. A perveted old man such as him had no business in corrupting your body in this way. But you had given him permission, commanded his desires to unfurl even in the darkness of night. So, it was no issue, when his hands trailed up to cup the fullness of your breasts or when his lips came to kiss up the valley of your thighs; face coming to view your pantiless cunt. The smell alone was divine, you had worked yourself before his arrival. Slick still shone on your clit, pussy open and willing to indulge his every whim and wish. The ease with which two of his long fingers came to enter you was a small surprise but a welcome one. Taking his time to scissor you open and prepare you for his cock, paying special attention to that soft and gummy spot on your front wall that had you moaning in your sleep. 

His ministrations did not wake you but added to the growing wetness between your legs, thighs spreading unconsciouly to allow him room to work. Even in sleep, your body complied, loved his every touch and begged for it. Working his fingers up into you, allowing himself the pleasure to watch how you fluttered around him. Silco swore that there was no prettier a sight than the one in front of him. You shifted, mumbling inchoherently. He paused. He shouldn’t wake you, disturb you from your peaceful slumber. But everything in his body screamed at him to continue, to make you cum and moan on his fingers till pleasure rocked your body so much it awoke in a blissful state. 

Removing his fingers to unbutton his trousers, Silco used the slick that remained on his digits to prepare himself. Adjusting so he lined up with your entrance, he sunk slolwy into you. Inch by inch, letting out a gravely moan at the feeling of your warm and tight cunt. So inviting, practically made for him. You laid still, body adjusting to his length with ease, so used to taking him so well. Beginning to thrust in and out with delibarte motion, Silco soon found himself approaching his orgasm faster than expected. 

Unbeknownst to him, your eyes fluttered open, body finally recognizing the intrustion. Suprise spread across your feature, though your boyfriend’s actions were not unwelcome. Every plunge of his member caused jolts of arousal to shake your body through the core, illiciting a pornographic moan to annouce your awakening. 

“Feel so good my darling, always been so good for me. You like it when I fuck you like this, nice and slow? Use you for my own pleasure?”

You couldn’t help but nod, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your own orgasm rapidly approached. Silco’s thrusts started to become sloppy and heated, eyes closing and hair disheveled from the intensity. Soft grunts left his lips and with one final stroke, he spilled hot ropes of cum into you; spurring you into your own orgasm at the feeling of his hot seed within you. Calming down from your high, you brought you hand to caress his cheek gently. Admiring the way his chest heaved with each breath, how dialted his eyes were. 

“Welcome home, love.”

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru with a correction kink <3

you’re just an intern.

at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself each time you’re summoned—again—to satoru gojo’s office. third time this week. fourth if you count that humiliating run-in by the printer, where he leaned in just to correct your grammar mid-sentence. he even laughed—low and warm in your ear—when you said “further” instead of “farther.” like he’d been lying in wait all day, just to pounce.

he doesn’t look up when you enter. fluorescent lights buzz faintly above, casting sterile halos on the ceiling. the air smells like bergamot, printer toner, and something deeper—woodsy, masculine, sharp. he’s reclined in his chair like a man with nothing but time—sleeves rolled to the elbow, wristwatch catching the light as he lazily spins a pen between his fingers. his shirt’s unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of collarbone, pale and smooth. a vein pulses faintly along his forearm. black-rimmed glasses frame half-lidded eyes, unreadable as they skim the report in his lap.

it’s bleeding red.

circles. slashes. smug little arrows dissecting your sentences like they’re cadavers.

“close the door,” he says, without looking up.

you do. the click sounds too loud in the hush of his private office. a wilted ficus slouches in the corner. a coffee mug on the desk reads “grammar daddy” in fading blue marker.

“you used ‘effect’ instead of ‘affect.’ again.”

his tone is light. amused. bordering on cruel.

“it’s a common mistake,” you mutter, setting your bag by the coat rack, heart thudding too fast.

he finally looks up. something sharp flashes behind his lenses—a glint that twists in your gut. his mouth twitches. not a smirk. the prelude to one.

“sure,” he murmurs, nudging his glasses higher with one long finger. “but you’re not common, are you?”

he crooks his finger, beckoning. wrist limp, pen still spinning. he doesn't blink.

you walk over before you can stop yourself, heels muted against the polished floor.

“come here. i’ll walk you through it.”

you hesitate.

his head tilts. that almost-smile widens. but it doesn’t soften.

“don’t worry,” he says, voice dipping lower. “i like correcting you.”

he flips to the next page. red ink streaks through your argument like blood in water.

“this paragraph meanders. no clarity. cute, though.” his eyes lift to yours, then trail—slowly—from your mouth to your neck. “watching you try so hard.”

“i’m not cute,” you snap, too fast.

he hums. not disagreeing. just watching. one finger taps the desk like a metronome.

“sure you are. especially when you’re wrong.”

you stiffen. his hand catches your wrist before you can retreat. his grip is light. firm. he guides you around the desk like you’re a slide under his lens. your hips nudge the edge. he shifts forward slightly—knees brushing yours—as he settles you between his legs.

he smells like cedar and clean linen and something darker underneath—like heat. he’s still holding the pen, and now it traces a slow, teasing line up the inside of your thigh. right over your skirt.

“do you know why i keep correcting you?”

your voice catches. “because i make mistakes.”

his grin sharpens. “no,” he says. “because you want to learn. because you’re mine to improve.”

his free hand slips beneath your skirt—knuckles brushing hot against your thigh—finding the edge of your underwear. then past it, peeling the soaked lace aside. like he owns you. slow. deliberate. dragging fingers down your dripping slit, slick with your arousal, before sliding in with a wet squelch.

you gasp—your knees buckling as he steadies you with his other hand on your lower back. his fingers are long, thick, moving with lazy confidence as they breach your tight cunt, stretching you open.

“don’t look so surprised,” he whispers, breath brushing your cheek. “good girls get rewards.”

his fingers curl inside you, coaxing, exploring your pulsing walls. his thumb brushes your perspective, finding your swollen clit in slow, insistent circles—rhythmic and unrelenting, making you clench around him.

“god, you’re already wet. soaking.” he chuckles, low and rough. “what’d i say? you like being corrected.”

your head drops back, hips twitching into his hand. your breathing’s ragged, lashes fluttering as you try to keep quiet. one of his hands slides up your spine, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades to pin you in place. firm but possessive.

he watches you—pupils blown wide behind his glasses, jaw tensing slightly as he adjusts the angle of his wrist. his knuckles press deeper, grinding against your sensitive walls. his fingers scissor, spreading your slick folds with a lewd, wet sound. and when your thighs start to shake, he grins like he’s just won something.

“look at me,” he says.

you try. your vision’s a blur, but you meet his gaze, only to find him watching you with that precise, clinical hunger. his tongue traces the inside of his cheek. he tilts his head slightly, almost as if studying the way your lip trembles.

“see?” he murmurs, fucking you open with steady thrusts, his fingers drenched in your juices. “you fall apart so pretty. i haven’t even gotten serious yet.”

you whimper. the sound makes his eyes darken.

“say ‘please,’” he says. “beg for your next mistake.”

your pride sours in your throat, but you’re too close—too far gone.

“please,” you breathe. “satoru…”

his name sounds ruined in your mouth. broken. desperate.

he presses a kiss to your temple. too gentle. a contrast to the vicious curl of his fingers inside your throbbing pussy.

“good girl,” he says, lips brushing your skin. “you learn fast.”

and then he adds a third finger, forcing your tight walls to stretch around the thick intrusion with a slick, burning stretch.

it burns. stretches. your hips jerk and he groans, deep in his chest, like he’s feeling it too.

you clutch the desk. your breath comes in sobs now—hot, unsteady.

“you want to cum?” he asks. “you want to drip all over my hand like the dumb little slut you are when i correct you?”

his words shouldn’t make your cunt clench this hard. but they do.

“you’re lucky i like you messy,” he growls. “you’ll thank me when i fuck that attitude out of you for good.”

your orgasm hits like a storm—fast, loud, humiliating. your body locks up, thighs trembling around his wrist as your juices gush, coating his fingers in sticky, wet spurts. he keeps pumping through it, relentless.

“shhh,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “still got one more draft to go.”

he doesn’t pull out. not yet. just slows. dragging his fingers against your pulsing, cum-slick walls like he’s etching you into memory.

and then you hear it.

the click of his pen again.

this time, he caps it with one hand, fingers still buried inside you, and writes in neat red ink across your inner thigh.

mine.

not just an intern anymore. you’re his unfinished draft. and he’ll spend all night perfecting you.

a/n: i had way too much fun writing this for someone who will absolutely throw hands if you try to correct my grammar. it’s called range. thank you for reading and remember—only hot men with red pens are allowed to bully you 😛

[paulyenvol6]

'I'm a pleaser'

Pedro x female reader

So.... about the interview... It was so hot hearing him say this phrase, so I thought I'm gonna write something about Pedro being down bad for reader and always wanting to please her and be good to her. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, fluff, dirty talk, praise, Pedro being the sweetest and best and kindest husband in the world, Pedro having both sub and dom vibes, Pedro is a pleaser, established relationship (they're married), nicknames like baby and honey and babygirl

Wordcount: 4,031

Masterlist

"Hi baby," you shouted, the weight of the bag on your arm making your wrist hurt and you groaned as you stepped through the door.

"Fuck!" you cursed, feeling it dangle against you. With much effort, you turned around and pushed the door shut. You were still trying to carry the two bags across the hallway and into the kitchen when the door to the living room opened.

"Honey. Lemme help you with that."

Pedro rushed toward you, taking the bags from you without waiting for your reply and brought them into the kitchen while you exhaled and wiped with the back of your hand over your brow to remove the drops of sweat pooling on your skin.

"Thank you, Pedro!" you shouted as you took off your jacket and hung it on the coat rack before following him.

"No worries. How was your day?" he said over his shoulder and then started to unpack the groceries, but stopped when you hugged him from behind.

"Good," you mumbled against his nape, your arms tightly wrapped around his waist. "Work was fine and then I met with Sarah in café and on the way home I went to the grocery store. Did you know that Sarah and Mike are gonna get a dog?"

Pedro's hand came down to rest on top of yours and you smiled as he started to trace your knuckles.

"Oh really? Aren't they stressed out enough?"

"Yeah, but they think it would be nice for the kids… How was your day?"

You nudged your chin against his shoulder, admiring his profile and then kissing him right next to his ear while Pedro cleared his throat.

"A little exhausting from time to time. But good. I mostly shot with Joseph and Vanessa today which was nice."

You closed your eyes, lazily tracing his abs with your fingers while softly purring. "That's good…"

Pedro's lips curled which you couldn't see and then carefully turned in your hold so he could stand in front of you and cradle the back of your head while you gave him a gentle smile.

"Let me unpack this stuff, okay? You go in the living room, sit down and then I'll be right there and we're gonna have a nice evening. How does that sound?" Pedro whispered, pursing his lips and then grabbing your hand to press a kiss on your palm.

"You sure?" you asked, your voice equally quiet and your eyes flickering uncertainly between your husband and the bags. "You had an exhausting day and I – "

"Yes. I'm sure," Pedro interrupted you before you were able to finish the sentence and pulled your head toward him to tenderly kiss your hairline.

"You can relax. I'm good, I promise. In fact, thank you for going to the grocery store. I already feel awful for letting you do that after work."

"Pedro. C'mon," you frowned, but couldn't maintain the facade when he grimaced and then singlehandedly turned you around so you faced the kitchen door.

"Go on, now. Rest on the couch and I'll be there in a minute."

"Alright, alright," you murmured, lifting your hands and unwillingly following his demand.

The smile was glued to your lips, your face still glowing with love and affection for your perfect, caring husband as you sank down on the couch with a sigh and dropped your head back so it could finally rest. Truthfully, your day had been tough, but the prospect of rounding off the evening snuggled up with Pedro was too tempting to waste time feeling sorry for yourself. Therefore you waited with closed eyes and a slight curve on your lips while listening to the noises in the kitchen. Pedro quietly hummed a familiar tune to himself that you couldn't name though and then finally, when he had put the last can of chickpeas away in the cupboard, you could hear his feet dragging across the kitchen floor as he headed to the door.

"I'm done, baby," he shouted while shoving the bags into a drawer and despite your heavy limbs, you turned in your seat to watch him walk through the door.

"C'mere," you said, your voice thin and quiet, your weakness visible, but your desire to finally have him close to you loud and clear. He grinned wryly, running a hand through his hair before lowering himself right next to you, the couch mellifluously grunting under his weight. You instantly enguled Pedro in a tight embrace and let out a high-pitched noise of approval when he pressed your face to his chest, all of your senses consumed by his typical scent of cinnamon.

"I missed you, baby. Missed you all day…," he growled, tenderly stroking up and down your back while your fingers played with the babyhair in his neck.

"I missed you, too. Is there anything on your schedule for tomorrow?" you whispered, your face tense with the fear of him telling you that he wouldn't have time for you, but to your fortune, you felt him shake his head.

"No. I have the day free. It's a Saturday, c'mon. Disney's not that tough on me."

He chuckled, the vibrations feeling magical in your chest and you noticed your stomach clench with sheer adoration for the man holding you so gently and firmly, representing just what you were feeling. You were yearning for him, desiring to spend the rest of your life cuddled up against his chest if it only was possible.

"Okay. Can we do something then?" you asked, lifting your head to dart up to him and feeling your heartrate pick up at the softness surrounding his brown puppy eyes.

"Of course. You wanna do something special?"

You nodded, the thought only having flickered in your head just now, but it sounded heavenly in your mind.

"Can we go on a picknick? We could go to Hampstead Heath or – or OmVed gardens, it's not that busy there. We surely would have our privacy if we find ourselves a nice corner."

Pedro pursed his lips like he was thinking, but quickly softened his expression and nodded.

"That sounds good. Although… You sure it's not a bit too cold for that? I don't want you to get sick, you know?"

"I'm sure it's gonna be fine. We can take blankets with us. And hot tea. I mean, we're in London, right?"

He scoffed and then lowered your head to his collarbone again while giving your waist a squeeze.

"Okay. Let's do it then. But… in the evening I'd like to be back in the city."

Your head shot up again, your eyes small as you suspiciously observed his wrinkled forehead and the faint smirk playing around his lips.

"Why?"

"That's a surprise."

Your eyebrows drew together, your hands leaving the back of his neck so you could cross your arms in front of your chest.

"No," you complained, well-aware of the fact that Pedro knew how much you hated surprises. You were much too unpatient to even just wait for a day to find out what he had planned.

"Yes," Pedro said, remaining unwavering as he put his hands on your hips. "You'll have to wait to find out."

"Baby, you know that I can't wait 24 hours. That's cruel."

He chuckled and then glared at the watch around his wrist.

"Mhmm… not 24 hours. Let's say… 22 and 30 minutes. You got this."

A dramatic whine left your throat as you threw your head back and pretended to sob into your hands.

"You really gonna do this to me? Even though you know that I don't like secrets. Are you gonna do that to your wife? You're a bad husband, you know that, right?"

Obviously Pedro couldn't just let that go, so he tightened his grip on your hips and pulled you up onto his lap until you were straddling him.

"You know, there are a lot of things you could hold over my head. Like… okay, maybe not a lot of things. But I'm not an awesome singer… I'm not a good cook. Definitely not. And I… I force you to watch bad movies with me without telling you what they're about so you can't back out. BUT… Don't you ever say again that I'm a bad husband."

He smiled cockily, narrowing his eyes while you thoughtfully twisted your lips. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Or you think you would find someone else who'd give you a trip to Paris just so you can visit an exhibition about your favorite director? Because I listen to you, I'm attentive and so I know what makes you happy. And wait… it wasn't even your birthday."

You rolled your eyes, tilting your head, but a telling smile had crept up on your face that you were unable to supress.

"Oh come on. You don't have to be a genius to know that I love Wes Anderson. When do I ever stop talking about him?"

Your hands came up to cradle his face and although you were still pretending to sulk you briefly brushed with your lips over his temple. Pedro wouldn't have it though, he withdrew, raised his brows and then shook his head.

"I want you to take it back."

His eyes were sparkling with a mischievous amusement, but there was also something determined. Nevertheless, you bit your lip like you still weren't sure and then were about to say something – admit that he actually was more than a good husband (the perfect husband) – when he suddenly pulled you in close and crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was heated and intense, so hot that the air between your faces seemed to crackle and before you could process what was happening, you desperately grinded your core against the bulge beneath his pants. Pedro had his hands situated on your waist, palming and squeezing whenever your clothed pussy nudged against the tip of his dick, but then sooner than you wanted it to end, he stopped the kiss and looked you up and down.

"Okay, baby. Lemme show you then. Maybe I have to remind you of how good I am to you."

Your body shivered at the words or maybe it was his low husky voice that sent goosebumps all over your arms, but either way it worked perfectly on you and you gulped while Pedro secured his hold around your torso and picked you up. One arm was around your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, watching you with dark and flashing eyes while he rose to his feet to carry you away from the living room and to the bedroom.

"I wanna make you feel so good, babygirl. I want you to cum so hard, you forget your own name. I always want you to be happy and – and I wanna be the reason for your happiness…," he raspily whispered, covering your neck and cleavage with wet kisses that produced a smacking sound.

"Pedro…," you whimpered, your core helplessly rocking forward to somehow find any friction, but you would have been unsuccessful, hadn't he assisted you and brought his right hand between your legs. You rejoiced, your breath catching in your throat as you finally had the opportunity to grind against something and achieve at least a little bit of stimulation on your throbbing clit.

"Yeah… Say my name, I wanna hear how good I make you feel."

The next moan was swallowed as Pedro suddenly threw you onto the bed, but was so careful about it, a hand at the back of your head so that you couldn't bump it against anything. He didn't hesitate and followed, crawling to lay on top of you and propping himself on his knees and elbow so he didn't bury you under his weight.

"I want you to feel perfect, honey… You want me to go down on you? Just need you to… need you to cum for me… need you to be happy."

"I always am with you, Pedro," you whispered, but then whimpered as he cupped your breasts through your blouse, precisely searching for your nipple and then circling it with his thumb.

"Y-Yes," you ended up stuttering in regards to his ealier question and pressed your legs together to forget the pulsing heat between them.

"Please do something… I need it bad."

Judging by the look of sheer joy on his face, it was exactly what he had wanted to hear. Pedro lived to please you; lived to see you smile or moan or laugh or sigh in relief and what he loved even more was when he was the one making you feel that way. Therefore the prospect of going down on you and gifting you unimaginable pleasure was the perfect opportunity for him to feed this side of him and please you in ways that were purely enthralling and sensational for the both of you.

"Okay, babygirl. I want you to relax and enjoy it and tell me if you don't like anything, alright?" he whispered while opening the first few buttons of your blouse, his fingers so trained and skillful that he did it while maintaining eye contact.

"Yes, Pedro. Please, just – I need it."

"I know, I know," he cooed, slightly pushing the fabric of your shirt over your shoulders to reveal more skin and then crawling down your body in one go so his head was on the same level as your stomach.

The softness of his eyes, the big brown irises and the slightly parted lips were ravishing, your heart racing although Pedro hadn't even started yet. He didn't tease and edge you, but still you needed him go 10 times faster when he opened the button of your pants and shoved them down your legs until they dangled around your knees, your underwear following soon. He chuckled at your trembling legs and the way your heels dug into the mattress in search of release, but was quick to press a warm hand on the inside of your knees. All that reached your ears before his words were drowned by your pussy was a quiet 'Jesus…' and then your back arched off the bed as Pedro pressed a bold kiss right onto your clitoris, a gesture that was both welcoming and frustrating. You yearned for friction, for something to rub against to ease the coiling ache in your clit, but you felt that the more he gave you, the more you needed.

"Fuck. Fuck, Pedro, oh god…," you whimpered, biting down on your own hand while bending your neck so you could look down at him. And the image was more than worth it.

His puppy eyes looked even more tempting and sultry, his locks gleaming beautifully in the dim light and his lips glistening deliciously every time he withdrew for a moment to lick over them. One of the things you loved the most was the way he seemed to savour and adore every drop of your wetness that he got to taste on his tongue because it not only gave you confidence, but made you feel desirable. Beautiful and torrid.

His left hand had wandered to your breasts, kneading and tracing the swell as if he didn't want to neglect any part of your body while his right kept your legs wide open for him.

"So good Pedro… Fuck, please – please, I…"

It was all mindless stuttering, just some way to get rid of the accumulated tightness in your thighs and belly, but Pedro was listening precisely to everything leaving your mouth.

"Yes, baby… Talk to me. What do you need?"

He trailed down the front of your body, drawing a few soothing circles on top of your lower belly before grabbing your hand that was pressed to the side of your body.

"Just – Just you… Fuck, right there."

The tip of his tongue was drawing random patterns over your clit, lines and circles and triangles and you seemed to lose your mind over and over again every time his heavy, warm, rough tongue grazed the sensitive nub. At some point you couldn't help yourself, your free hand grabbing his locks and gently tugging at it while you started to roll your hips against his face, which caused Pedro to growl deeply.

"Yes, honey… Take from me what you need… S'right…"

The vibrations transferred right to your body, prickling against your swollen clit and you threw your head back, your lids fluttering and your mouth agape. You were speechless and restricted in your ability to move apart from the shifting of your hips, but Pedro seemed to know exactly what you needed and acted accordingly. This wasn't him teasing or edging you, graciously giving before drawing back just to hear you beg, no, he intended to please you in every way possible and give you what you desired before you could even express your demand.

"Yes…. Pedro, please. Need your fingers too," you pressed, slamming your hand, that had been in his hair, down on the bed next to you as he kitten-licked your clit, the tip of his tongue precise and accurate like a laser pointer. He obliged as soon as the words had left your mouth and brought two fingers to your hole, prodding and tracing your entrance before easing them inside of your drenched pussy. The gasp you let out made his heart skip a beat or two and he testingly curled his two digits, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins at your whimpering.

"Y-Yes. Right there Pedro, please. Please don't stop."

"Not going to, honey."

The combination truly was electrifying. The dance of his tongue over your clit was your main source of stimulation, the tight circles proof of how well he knew your body by now, but his thick curled fingers, repeatedly brushing over your sweet spot hidden deep inside of you only added to the ecstasy of it all.

"It's right there, huh?" he murmured, the wet sound of his tongue lapping up the juices he had spread all over your pussy almost overcasting his words.

"It's itching right there, isn't that right? Lemme make it better."

The heat in your belly became almost unbearable, your pelvis tremoring with the need to finally crossing that bridge and letting all of the tension in your body go, but at the same time his mouth and hands on you felt so good that a part of you wished it could just go on like this for all time.

You brought a hand to his head again, combing through the silky stunning locks, but holding on to him at the same time which surely stung in his scalp, but he took it with a deep groan.

"Jesus fucking christ… You taste so perfect. You're gonna cum for me?"

You wriggled, the hand that was still clasped by Pedro's squeezing him tightly and wrapping the whole of your hand around his thumb.

"Yes. Yes, I wanna cum, Pedro, please…"

You didn't even know what you were begging for because he was right here and you knew he would tease as many orgasm out of you as you wished, make you cum over and over again if you liked it and find pleasure in it as well. It was just so much. There were so many things you were feeling and you believed that if you didn't vocally express the pleasure you were receiving, you would burst.

He slowly, but forcefully moved the two fingers inside of you, relentlessly tapping against your inner walls and the precious sweet spot that was so sensitive and delicate under his touch. Meanwhile, the pace of his tongue picked up and Pedro moved the hand that had previously rested on your hip bone to your pussy to get the protective hood out of the way and brush over the very responsive underside of the bundle of nerves.

"Pedro, I'm gonna – I – "

You stopped mid-sentence, your jaw dropping and your view becoming blurry while a sticky, warm liquid seemed to tide through your limbs and first and foremost, your thighs. It pulsed and saturated your already mushy brain to a point where you couldn't even pay attention to your husband between your legs anymore although it was such a pretty picture. Your hand squeezed his thumb firmly, almost bending his hand in an unnatural angle, but your head was too high up in the clouds to question it and Pedro once again took it all without drawing his face.

"There you go, yes… God, I love seeing you fall apart for me, it's such a beautiful fucking sight…"

He helped you ride out your orgasm, his fingers carefully thrusting in you and his tongue glued to your clit until he noticed the way you squirmed and stopped to check on you.

"My perfect baby…," he whispered full of admiration and glanced up to you, grinning at your half-lidded eyes that tiredly tried to keep their focus on his face. You were wrecked and exhausted, but seemed very satisfied and Pedro could proudly say that it was his doing.

"That was so good," your airy voice reached his head, quiet like you didn't have the strength to speak louder. Pedro's insides twisted and turned pirouettes, his eyes on your slightly parted lips while he slowly withdrew his fingers from your pussy, licked them clean in relish and then glided his tongue through your folds one last time to slurp up your arousal before wiping over his lips with the back of his hand. At this point your eyes were completely shut and the steady heaving of your chest suggested that you were asleep. But when Pedro moved up the bed, the mattress jiggling and the silk sheets rustling your lashes fluttered and you softly moaned.

"Pedro," you murmurated and flexed your toes when he lay down beside you and was quick to pull you closer, a hand brushing the sweaty hair out of you face and another caressing your cheek.

"I love you so much, honey… Are you all good?"

If you hadn't been so tired, you would have widened your eyes at the question, your heart pounding with an infinte love and adoration for your husband. You were not only in awe of his beauty in this light, the things he had made you feel, but also just of him. The way he had just made you feel dreamlike things and now asked you if you were good.

"Yes. More than good, Pedro," you stated and leaned into the touch of his hand on your face.

"But I – I wanna make you feel good, too," you said, your voice wishful and reverant, but the way you could barely keep your eyes open very telling. Pedro chuckled lowly and kissed you right between your brows.

"We're gonna do that another time. You're tired and need some rest. Don't you worry about me, I got everything I wanted tonight."

He took your hand again, vaguely trailing along your fingers with his thumb and shook his head in amusement when you hummed in dissatisfaction.

"But, no… You need to cum too."

"Shhhh, baby…," Pedro soothed you, tugging you snug against his broad body until all you could see and hear and smell was him. The grey fabric of his hoodie, his heartbeat and the familiar sweet cinnamon.

"I got everything I wanted… Got to have a taste of you and listen to your pretty noises… And see you cum for me… It's all I'm ever gonna need in my life. I just always want you to be satisfied and happy."

Pedro exhaled, peacefully kissing you on top of your head as if he was blind to how messy your hair was.

"I love you, Pedro," you whispered, about to drift off to sleep, but before you could do that you had to say one more thing.

"You're the sweetest and best husband in the world."

He smirked broadly, his already soft eyes relaxing further and then he carefully and without moving too much, reached for the blanket and pulled it over both of your bodies.

"I love you, too," he whispered, not being certain that you were still awake, but it felt good saying it nonetheless.

It always felt good with you.

[jinusajas]

05/16/25; 12:15am

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you manhandle them to get their reaction ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb

notes: inspired by that tiktok meme where the girlfriend / wife is able to pick up their man and set them on the counter (⺣◡⺣)♡

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus’s back was facing you, since he was preoccupied with making dinner. while he continued to hum a familiar tune, you felt a smile slowly forming against your lips-

for you had an idea brewing within your mind.

knowing you had to act fast, you lunged toward him, hands wrapped around his waist. nearly dropping the knife he held in response, sylus calls out your name, only to have his eyes go wide when you manage to pick him up with a strength that surprises even him. still caught in a daze, sylus watches you successfully turn him around before settling him on top of the marble counters.

you stand in front of him then, keeping him steady while resting the palm of your hand above his kneecaps. once the momentary shock passes, a dark look takes over his expression, “that was by far one of the hottest things you have ever done to me, sweetie.”

your grin grows into something more deviant, with your fingertips gently ghosting across the front of his pants, gently palming his clothed erection. a low hiss escapes from sylus’s parted lips, “you think that was hot? well, things are about to get much hotter.”

spreading his legs, you manage to pull down the zipper of his pants, seeing the tent within his boxers before carefully freeing his cock. practically salivating at the sheer size of him, you brace yourself on the counter before leaning down. kissing the mushroom tip of his cock, you licked away at the beads of precum that escapes, basking in the musky taste of him before putting him fully into your mouth.

the onychinus leader was already weak to your heated touches, with his eyes clenched shut as his large hand grips at your hair, moving your head back and forth on his shaft while you cupped at his balls. the sensation of your tongue tracing at the veins that pulsates around his erection was enough to have his cock twitching with need for you. and with one final suck, sylus releases himself into your awaiting mouth, feeling almost dizzy with pleasure when you manage to take him down your throat.

he shoots his seed deep inside of your wet mouth, certain that he had coated it white while you let out a soft mewl of satisfaction. only when you swallowed all that he had to offer did you remove yourself from his softening cock, a devilish smile painting your features when you purposely meet his gaze.

then, without saying another word, you stand back to your full height. after wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you turn your attention back to the bowl of salad and began cutting up even more vegetables before adding the dressing. while you went on with preparing dinner (acting like nothing fucking sinful had just transpired between you and him) sylus shakes his head while letting out a shaky laugh. he gets off the counter, adjusting his pants so he was fully dressed once more (ignoring how the remnants of his cum stained at his clothes.)

noticing the cheshire cat grin that graces your expression, sylus knew that he had to get his revenge soon.

it starts out innocent enough-

you were on a rather popular social media app, and there was a viral prank going around that had women picking up their beloved boyfriends before setting them on the counter-

and you desperately wanted to try this new trend with zayne.

you had finished eating your meal, with zayne’s back facing you while he worked on washing the dishes. you wait for him to finish, placing the last plate on the drying rack before facing you. he sees you and smiles, ready to say your name when you suddenly lunged at him.

with your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, you turn him around and manage to set him on top of your kitchen counter. zayne was silent throughout the entire ordeal, all while you had a smug expression on your face.

“not so bad, right zaynie?”

yet he doesn’t answer you with words, choosing instead to lift your chin up before pressing a searing kiss against your lips. wrapping his arms around your back, zayne brings you up to the counter with him, eyes burning with desire for you when he hoarsely calls out your name, “you never cease to surprise me.”

settling you on his lap, your eyes went wide upon feeling his cock straining against his dress pants. keeping a vice grip on your hips, he forces you to place your legs on either side of him, grinding his clothed erection against your center. feeling the moisture pool between your legs, you steady yourself on his shoulder, humping him with a neediness you hadn’t felt for him in a long time.

“you’re mine…” zayne hotly whispers into your ear, hands already working on pulling down your shorts. once you were left in your panties did he move the flimsy fabric to the side, plunging two of his fingers within your heat as he worked on pumping them in and out of you. by now, you became a mess of sobs, your walls already clinging to zayne’s fingers while yearning for something much bigger-

something that was able to reach into you so deeply that all you could think of was him-

your beloved zayne.

you had wanted to try this trend out for a while now, but knew that you couldn’t strike until xavier was completely caught off guard-

and what better way to surprise your boyfriend than when he first wakes up in the morning?

with your sole mission in mind, you purposefully woke up an hour early, knowing that your sudden absence from bed would manage to rouse xavier from his slumber. as you busied yourself with your usual morning routine, you hear the bathroom door open coupled along with xavier’s sleepy voice calling out to you.

finished with brushing your teeth and washing your face, you wait for xavier to approach you. he calls out your name once more, but instead of answering, you manage to wrap your arms around his waist. you see his eyes go wide momentarily, yet manage to pick him up and place him on top of the bathroom counter.

with your prank accomplished, you finally meet his gaze and began giggling. his blond hair was still a tangled mess due to how he had just woken up, and his true blue eyes still had a drowsy quality to them-

yet perhaps what was most shocking was the noticeable tent seen against the front of his boxers.

“that was really damn hot, starlight.” his raspy voice breaks you out of your reveries, making you smile when you spread his legs before settling yourself between them. “is that so?”

a tinge of pink was seen on xavier’s cheeks, making your smile widen when you ask in a sultry voice, “want me to make things even hotter?”

not even waiting for a response, you slowly take off your shirt, revealing your naked chest to him. the sight of your nakedness was enough to cause a surge of heat to course through him, making his cock twitch within the confines of his boxers.

placing both hands on the waistband of his boxers, you pull them down to free his cock before leaning forward. putting your breasts together against his shaft, you slowly moved your soft mounds against his velvety hard cock, earning a grunt from your beloved hunter. “ngh! fuck!”

you were all too eager to stroke his cock using the softness of your breasts, basking in his every moan and desperate grunt of your name while thinking to yourself-

i could get used to this.

rafayel was currently distracted, looking at all the unfinished sketches within his sketchbook. in a rare moment, he seemed uncertain of what to make for his next piece, and admittedly, it was stressing him out a bit.

wanting to cheer him up and bring him out of his slump, you had a rather silly idea. sneaking up on him, you call out his name while wrapping your arms around his front.

“whoa! princess?!”

ignoring his outburst, you manage to carry the lemurian out of his studio and into the kitchen, successfully placing him on top of the counter all while giggling.

“i didn’t think i could do this trend!” you continue to laugh, leaning against him as you cling to the front of his shirt. while you were basking in your hidden strength, rafayel had legitimate heart in his eyes for you, suddenly clinging to you when he demands that you carry him back to your shared bedroom.

you meet his gaze, shivering when you saw that they looked like endless voids filled with lust for you. acting on pure instinct and need alone, you proceed to carry rafayel all the way back to your bedroom.

and just moments later, when his luxurious mattress was in sight, rafayel has you utterly naked, with his hands tightly gripping your waist as he eagerly bounces you up and down his cock.

“you drive me crazy, princess. everything you do makes me so damn needy for you.” he punctuates his words with another powerful thrust, making you see stars as you continue to brace yourself on his chest, sloppily riding him as you chased your high.

coming home from work, you announced your return home and waited for caleb to acknowledge you-

but only heard silence in response.

frowning slightly, you toss your bag to the side, already making the trek toward your shared bedroom to find caleb still asleep.

he probably took a nap. you think to yourself before shutting the door, giving him some peace and quiet as you made your way back into the kitchen. deciding to make yourself a simple meal consisting of a toasted sandwich and some soup, you worked on getting out the ingredients. as you were assembling your sandwich, you heard the sound of steady footsteps joining you in the kitchen.

“mmm, watcha doin’ pips?” you slowly meet caleb’s gaze, seeing his sleepy expression as an idea struck you. he comes closer to you, ready to take you within his embrace-

but you manage to beat him, catching him off guard when you wrap your arms around his back, picking him up completely before setting him on the kitchen counter. your name falls from his lips in a series of stutters, clearly caught of guard by what you had just done all while you were left smirking at him.

he sees your smirk, eyes now darkening considerably when grips at your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “oh, so you think you’re stronger than me now just because you pulled off a few tricks?”

not even giving you a chance to respond, the colonel manages to pick you up, shoving aside all the food to make room for you. your breathing hitches in response to his sudden actions, with your heart racing in anticipation when he manages to slip his large hand beneath the waistband of your pants and panties.

teasing your center, his fingertips trail down the fabric of your panties, feeling how damp the fabric had become just seconds after he began touching you. “so you need me too…” he whispers harshly against your ear before biting down on it, “and don’t you dare try to deny it either.”

freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants, caleb gently traces at your ass, admiring its curve before giving it an audible smack!

unable to contain yourself, you allow caleb to take off your pants, shoving aside the gusset of your panties before slamming you down on his cock. your reaction was immediate, tossing your head back while your back arched against him. you proceed to wildly bounce up and down his cock, not caring about all of the spilled vegetables and deli meats that had landed on your kitchen floors-

not when caleb was doing such a phenomenal job fucking your brains out.

end notes: unedited af, but i’m just too oh so thirsty and needy to care 🤤

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[rissouu]

no contact with gojo never really meant no contact. he’d still be at your apartment, waiting for you in his favorite bean bag that you’d bought just for him. you were sure you took his key away during the very first break up. how the hell did he keep getting in?

“satoru..?” you shook your head as soon as you walked in the door. of course he’s here, you should’ve known. if only you’d stayed at shoko’s for the night like you were planning to. the white-haired bastard sat in his usual spot, eyes shut, legs spread, and head leaned back on a pillow. almost as if he was sleeping and you were interrupting him, like he wasn’t the one breaking and entering.

the man perked up from his seat at the sound of your voice, finally you were back. he was waiting here for hours, it even crossed his mind to go track you down. he let out a low chuckle that eventually turned into a fit of laughter.

“you’ve got some nerve y’know?” he took one glance at you before licking his lips and running his hands through his hair. you were driving him crazy, dressed in that tiny little dress that barely covered anything. who knows how many creeps were staring at you while he wasn’t there, staring at what’s his.

“why’re you coming home this late (y/n)?” you scrunched your face at his question, resisting the urge to laugh in his face. no way he was really asking you this?

you shrugged your shoulders while throwing your purse on a random coat rack. “we’re not together anymore.. it doesn’t concern you,”

there he goes again. the burst of laughter, and random claps that went along with it. he made you feel like every word that came out of your mouth was a joke and you hated it. one of the very reasons you both weren’t together now.

he tapped his lap, signaling he wanted you there and now. the look on his face had an edge to it— showing he was clearly done playing games, though that still didn’t make you move an inch.

“nuh uh,” he kissed his teeth when you crossed your arms. “none of that shit. c’mere mama, don’t make me say it again okay?”

you didn’t know why, you didn’t even have time to register it but your body was moving on it’s own. it must’ve recognized the tone of his voice, and you didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.

rough hands gripped your waist and pushed you down until your chest was hitting his. the two of you sat in silence as you nuzzled your head into his neck, the ink behind his ear catching your attention.

he had your name branded on his skin in a gorgeous red, big enough for all eyes to see. and you had his.. right on the lower part of your back, sitting pretty between your back dermals.

a hand wrapped around your neck and forced you to meet his icy glare. gojo smiled that beautiful smile before leaning to your ear, “ill kill anyone that tries to take you from me. y’know that, yeah?”

you knew better than to ignore him, causing you to give him a small nod. the hand on your neck shifted to your waist, then down to your ass where he ripped that fucking dress straight down the middle.

his thumb ran across the healed ink on your skin, a sense of pride filling him. “never forget what this means (y/n). you’re mine ‘til we both die, it’s too late to back out now.” he trailed off, tracing his name over all parts of your body.

“and get rid of these fuckin’ dresses too. only want you wearin’ them for me.” a chuckle fell from his lips, but you knew he wasn’t joking and you couldn’t help but to laugh along with him.

yeah.. maybe you were just as bad at no contact as him.

©rissouu 2024 (idk im jus in my toxic gojo era rn)..

[seumyo]

will bakugou choose seoul, korea or your wedding anniversary?

Bakugou had turned the damn house upside down three times.

“Where the hell is it?” He hissed under his breath, storming through the hallway closet for the third time in two days. He’d torn apart the shoe rack, the document folders, and even flipped through the cookbooks in the kitchen, just in case he’d used it as a bookmark. No dice. The damn passport was still missing.

His hair was sticking up more than usual—half from stress, half from the static of the hoodie he’d thrown on that morning in frustration. They were supposed to leave for Korea in three days. Three. It was the biggest pro-hero conference he’d ever been invited to—panel talks, interviews, awards. Best Jeanist, Lemillion, and even Halfie had their confirmations sent in already.

And what did he have?

An expired copy of his license (he got a new one; the expired one’s just in his drawer), a half-crushed protein bar, and a very pouty, very pregnant wife in the living room.

You had your feet up on the couch, ankles slightly swollen beneath the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from his wardrobe. You were scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other resting on your baby bump, lazily tracing circles. When Bakugou stomped past, you looked up with the slow blink of a cat.

“Still lost?” you asked, not bothering to hide your amusement. Even laughed under your breath.

The audacity, he thinks, though it wasn’t frustration. He could never be mad at you.

Because he knows you’ll get mad at him, too.

Bakugou didn’t answer. He grunted instead, pulling out another drawer in the cabinet near the TV.

“Maybe it grew legs and walked off,” you teased. “Or maybe your big fat ego swallowed it.”

He shot you a look. “Not helping.”

You hummed. “Not trying to.”

Your pout had gotten more dramatic since hitting six months. Bakugou noticed it more these days, how you’d stare down your food like it personally offended you, or how you’d sigh theatrically every time the topic of even him leaving the house came up. At first, you’d been supportive—even joked that you’d video call him during the conference and heckle him from the screen. But once you found out the biggest day of the event landed on your wedding anniversary, the whole game changed.

Suddenly he feels like he’s on house arrest.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you murmured, taking a sip of the juice he made you this morning. “Maybe you’re meant to stay home this time.”

Bakugou scoffed. As if.

“Ain’t no damn sign. It’s just misplacin’ shit.”

“You don’t have to go,” you said again. “You could stay. Cuddle me. Eat cake. Listen to me cry about clouds.”

“You said I could go if I find my passport,” he pouts, brows furrowed, and his lips jutted slightly.

“I did, and don’t be mad,” you replied. “I want you to go. Really. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Then why do you look like you wanna punch me in the throat?”

You blinked at him. “Because it’s our anniversary and I’m hormonal. Sue me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I hope you don’t find it.”

That was the end of that conversation.

-

The night before their anniversary came sooner than expected.

Bakugou had made a reservation at one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the city. Private booth, soft fairy lights, cityscape twinkling behind them. The host even laid a small bouquet of lavender on the table when he told them it was for a special occasion. He hadn’t told you where you were going, only grunted, “Wear that dress you like—that comfy one. You know the one.”

He hadn’t mentioned anything new about the passport ordeal. You, who figured he’d either given up or accepted fate, were mostly content to enjoy the evening.

You looked like a dream, so his focus was entirely on you. Someone who he somehow managed to have (maybe his bond with his guardian angels came in clutch and even contacted Cupid himself to arrange an arrow for you two).

You waddled into the restaurant, cheeks a little fuller, eyes glowing. He still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got so lucky. He thinks it makes you shy, how intense his gaze got, even after everything—the morning sickness, the mood swings, the late-night hospital runs due to paranoia.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked in.

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning into his touch. You could barely hide your smile at this point. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t even deny it. “I am? So what? Can’t a man just appreciate his wife?”

Dinner went well, for the most part.

You had one hand on your belly, the other wrapped around his fingers on the table. You were halfway through your chocolate mousse when Bakugou reached into his jacket pocket and slid something across the table.

“No,” you said slowly, setting your spoon down. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

He didn’t look smug at all, more like... hopeful.

Your brows furrowed. You reached for the passport, flipping it open.

There it was. His damn passport. Found. Intact. Stamped. His most recent picture was taken only a few months ago.

Yoh stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it again.

“…You found it?”

“Yup.”

“Where was it?”

He cleared his throat, gaze shifting to the side.

“…Behind the dresser in the guest room. Stuffed in that red envelope labeled ‘Important Shit,’ which you labeled in your handwriting, by the way.”

You paused. Your cheeks puffed again as your lips turned downward in the softest pout he’d ever seen. You looked down at your half-eaten dessert, spoon idle.

“You’re really gonna go?”

“I want to,” he admitted. “But I don’t wanna leave you pissed off and lonely, either.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just poked at your mousse with your spoon. Your lashes were low, and he could tell you were struggling. Not angry, just…sad.

Finally, you said, “It’s just one. It’s just one anniversary. We’ll have dozens more, right?”

“We will. We’ll have centuries more.”

“…And you’ll video call me. Every day.”

“Morning and night.”

“And text me when you land. And when you eat. And when you leave the venue. And—”

Bakugou reached across the table and tugged gently at your hand. His hands are rough against yours, but they’re filled with sincerity and utmost love that a man could give to his wife.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

His voice softened.

“Seriously, d’ya think I’d leave you without a plan?”

You blinked.

“I’m leavin’ you flowers and your cake. I told Kirishima to drop off that spa basket thing you said you wanted last month. And your mom’s stayin’ over the night of. I made sure. I even stocked the fridge.”

Your mouth parted slightly, tilting your head to the side. “You…did all that?”

“Yeah.” He looked almost bashful now, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t want you to think I forgot. Even if I ain’t here physically. I’m still here.”

Your eyes shimmered just a bit. A good sign, Bakugou notes.

Then you smiled—soft and tired and affectionate.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Tch. Don’t cry. I’ll look like an asshole.”

You laughed then, nose crinkling. “You are an asshole. But a sweet one.”

“Yeah, you love me.”

“I do.”

You two didn’t talk about the passport again that night. Not after that.

Instead, you finished dessert. Slowly. Your hand stayed in his the whole time.

When you walked out of the restaurant, he kept his arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully down the steps like you were made of glass. You leaned into him, soft and warm, your belly pressing into his side.

And when they got home, you told him, “Let’s open the anniversary cake early.”

He didn’t say no. Not when you looked that happy. It doesn’t matter that he’s already full from the chocolate mousse you two had earlier.

When night finally settled, and Bakugou’s wiping the excess frosting off the corners of your lips with a napkin, he hears you say, “Come home soon, okay?”

He nodded, then softly kissed the crown of your head.

“Always.”

Always come home to you.

-

The morning of Bakugou’s flight started earlier than usual.

He had been up before the alarm even went off, brushing his teeth with the kind of intensity that only came from years of military-grade discipline… or nerves (also because he wants all bad germs on his mouth to die). Not that he’d ever admit to the latter. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling from the hot shower as he stared at his reflection.

This was it. The day he was supposed to fly out to Korea.

Except—he wasn’t going.

Not really.

He’d made his decision last night, somewhere between the weight of your hug and the feel of your heartbeat against his body when you fell asleep on his chest. The moment you started snoring softly, your nose slightly buried in his shirt, he realized there was no way in hell he was getting on that plane.

Not this time.

But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

Because if there was one thing Bakugou knew about his wife, it was that you’d throw a fit if he skipped a life-changing professional opportunity just to spend your anniversary folding baby laundry and rubbing your swollen ankles. Plus, he knew you’d never allow him to stay. And if you knew he was lying about leaving, you’d huff and puff until he actually made him go.

So, he planned ahead. Like a goddamn mastermind.

By the time you woke up—slightly groggy with pillow lines on your cheek—he had already “packed.” His suitcase was zipped shut and positioned neatly by the door. His travel duffle bag sat upright next to it. His travel documents were tucked inside an envelope labeled “Do Not Open Unless Emergency.” (Totally blank inside.)

You blinked at him sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you waddled into the living room in his oversized T-shirt. One of the many shirts he was sure was missing from his closet.

“You already packed?” you murmured, voice small and pouty.

He turned from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. Acting too nonchalant to not give anything away.

“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t wanna rush.”

You crossed your arms over your bump. “It’s only a three-hour flight, Katsuki. Not an expedition to the Arctic.”

“Still gotta prep,” he said, biting back a grin.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but the smell of something sweet distracted you. Bingo.

He stepped aside, revealing a neatly arranged dessert box sitting on the counter. Inside: four of your favorites—strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream, a slice of creamy Basque burnt cheesecake, a generous portion of tiramisu, and your current obsession: mango sticky rice.

“You bought me desserts?” you awed.

“I bought you a stack,” he corrected. “Don’t think I don’t know you get all sad and start craving sugar when I leave.”

You scoffed. “I do not.”

“You do,” he said, crossing his arms smugly. “You pouted so hard last time I left, I came back to find the fridge empty and you passed out with a half-eaten ice cream tub on the couch.”

“That was one time!”

“And I’m not takin’ chances.”

He bent forward, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to your rounded belly. “Eat well. Don’t lift anything heavy. Text me when you’re sleepy. I’ll land by lunch. Kirishima’s already on the way, but it’ll take a while because of traffic since the bridge is getting repaired.”

“You’re acting suspicious,” you said, frowning as you clung to his shirt. “You never say goodbye this… nicely.”

“That’s rude,” he muttered. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re normally grumpy and say something like, ‘Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.’”

He smirked. You weren’t wrong entirely.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna come back to find out you’ve cried over an empty dessert box.”

Your lip wobbled, and he kissed you again—softly this time, with an extra squeeze to your waist.

“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just for two nights.”

-

He left around nine. Or at least, pretended to.

Instead of heading to the airport, he drove straight to his agency, parked in the underground garage, and holed up in his office. There was a bottle of juice in the mini fridge, emergency snacks in the bottom drawer, and an absurd number of congratulatory emails flooding his inbox that he ignored.

The hours ticked by slowly.

He checked his phone a dozen times. No calls. No texts. Just one blurry photo from you of the dessert box with the caption: You’re lucky I’m in a sugar coma right now. Or I’d be mad you left without triple kissing me goodbye.

He snorted.

Around lunchtime, he got restless. Then irritated.

Then, at exactly 1:00 P.M., he got in the car and drove home.

No warning.

No heads-up.

He half-expected you to be lounging in the living room, watching drama reruns and fanning yourself while complaining about heartburn. But when he pulled up the driveway and unlocked the front door—

The house was suspiciously quiet.

His brows pulled together.

“[Name]?” he called out, stepping in.

Nothing.

He frowned and shut the door behind him, stepping out of his boots. He heard a thud from the back hallway. Then a low grunt. A shuffle.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he heard you muttering.

“Come on, come on, I’m not that heavy—”

He rounded the corner—and stopped cold.

There you were.

Standing in the hallway. Sweaty. Red-faced. Holding a large box half your size with both hands, your bump barely giving you enough room to balance it. Your lip was caught between your teeth as you struggled to carry what was definitely one of the boxes he had explicitly labeled: Do Not Touch.

“…What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You screamed.

You literally screamed—jumping nearly out of your skin, eyes wide like you saw a ghost.

Or a burglar.

Or both, at this point.

“—Katsuki! I thought you were in Korea—what the hell—”

“Put the box down.”

“You can’t just walk in like that, I thought—I—”

“Put it down, [Name].”

You dropped it with a loud thunk, wobbling backward and grabbing your shoulders.

“Oh my god, I thought you were a home invader! I was ready to throw a candle at you—why are you back?!”

Bakugou marched toward you, still wide-eyed with a mixture of rage and pure panic. He can’t believe this at all. “More importantly, why the fuck are you lifting boxes?!”

“I was bored!”

“Bored? So you decided to tear a disc and pop a blood vessel?!”

“I didn’t tear anything! And it wasn’t heavy; it’s mostly baby blankets!”

He crouched down instantly to pick it up—still heavy, despite your excuses—and carried it to the nursery, grumbling the entire way. “Goddamn woman’s gonna give me a stroke,” he muttered, though there was never any heat in his words.

You waddled after him, still stunned.

“Wait. Why are you here?!”

“I never left.”

“You… what?”

“I stayed at the agency. Figured I’d come back after you thought I was gone. Catch you red-handed.”

“You liar!”

He turned toward you, his frustration subsiding.

“You’re not even a good liar! You went full fake goodbye mode this morning! You even left me mango sticky rice!”

“Yeah. ��Cause I knew you’d snoop around and start being reckless the second you thought no one was watching.”

Your cheeks puffed up again. That damn pout.

“I was just nesting,” you mumbled.

“Nesting doesn’t involve deadlifting half a closet,” he shot back. “You promised you’d take it easy.”

“…I thought you were in Korea.”

“Yeah, well, again, surprise.”

You blinked up at him again, eyes soft now, overwhelmed. “…You really stayed just for me?”

When he sets the boxes down, he exhaled and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. “You really thought I’d leave you alone on our anniversary? Pregnant? Carrying boxes? Eating dessert by yourself? What do you take me for? A shitty husband?”

You hit his chest weakly.

“You’re so unfair,” you muttered.

“I know,” he grinned. “And I love you.”

You melted then. Completely.

Wrapping your arms around him, your bump pressing into his stomach, you buried your face in his chest and whispered: “I love you too, you dramatic maniac.”

That night, there was no flight. No press. No conference.

Just takeout on the couch, your feet in his lap, mango sticky rice on your plate, and his hand splayed across your belly like a homecoming gift.

Bakugou may have missed a headline.

But he made the right choice.

And that mattered more.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[ariichive]

MALFUNCTIONᯓ ⋆°•

moving in with caleb was bound to have its ups and downs... but did he have to modify everything in his home to keep track of you? cw: fem. reader, caleb being overprotective and borderline insane, lowkey stalking, cameras, established relationship, reader can be mc or not, #ilovecaleb, mullet caleb yummy, wrote this listening to my 2020 playlist...

everything in caleb's space was so very... you. the foods in the fridge, the furniture, the tidiness of it all. there was so much of you, and it was quickly becoming a safe haven.

it seemed everything caleb owned was carefully picked out with your interests and not his.

you remember asking him about it, if he was truly okay with you taking over his space like this; especially since you never spent a dime while with him.

his answer still fresh in your mind.

"trust me honey, this is all i've ever wanted." he said with a sincere smile and a pat to your head, "besides, there's still a lot of me around, you just gotta find it."

back then, you weren't sure what he meant exactly and seen it as a way of him comforting you.

now, however, as the microwave locked your frozen dinner in there you realized what he meant.

caleb always cooked for you, he knew your desired calorie intake, allergies, and all the foods you didn't like.

you never had to lift a finger in the kitchen when he was around, because he had already taken care of everything before you even had the chance to think about it.

but now, standing in the quiet hum of the microwave, the absence of his presence was deafening. he was on a rather long mission with the fleet. he did prepackage all your meals, labeled and all, but admittedly... being bored with nothing to do except eat made the meals go quicker than expected. surprisingly, there was a frozen pasta dinner shoved in the back of the freezer. it wasn't the most ideal, but it was the best you could do without your personal chef and boyfriend.

it was a little embarrassing how dependent you became on him. you knew if he were here, he'd kiss your head and tell you he'll make those nasty thoughts go away.

there were still traces of him all around you, in the way the spice rack was arranged just so, the way the couch cushions bore the slightest indent from where he always sat, and even the basket of apples on the counter.

you sighed, leaning against the counter as the microwave beeped, signaling your sad little dinner was ready.

there was a small problem though.

the microwave wasn't opening.

no matter how much strength you used, the door just wasn't opening. you felt your eyebrow twitch; did you somehow manage to break his microwave? there was no way; sure, you relied on him a bit, but you definitely remembered the basics in the kitchen.

before you could get more frustrated, your phone dinged.

caleb <3: where did u even find that lol? thought i threw those all out :,)

you stared at your phone in deadpan before glancing back at the microwave, quickly texting back.

[name]: how did you even...?

caleb <3: baby, i got eyes everywhere

you huffed, shaking your head. of course he somehow knew you were about to eat the one frozen dinner he swore he got rid of.

[name]: okay, stalker. but actually, i think ur microwave is broken??? it won’t open.

the typing bubble appeared instantly.

caleb <3: yeah, ik... had some free time, messed around with a few things :p

another message came through right after.

caleb <3: say, what happened to the meals i prepared for you?

then another...

caleb <3: did you not like them? let me know so i know for the future if your tastes changed, sorry pretty girl

you were quick to type out a response, seeing as his typing bubble didn't disappear.

[name]: no!! i loved them all, just... they're gone :(

the message was marked as read immediately as he your phone began to ring.

you sighed, but your lips curled into a small smile as you answered.

“hi, caleb.”

“hi,” he echoed, his voice warm despite the slight scolding tone. “now, tell me, honey—how are they already gone? i made sure they’d last until i got back.”

you pouted, sinking further into the couch. “i got bored… and they were really good.”

caleb chuckled, and you could just picture the way he’d be shaking his head if he were here. “i swear, you’re gonna make me start rationing your meals.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“would i?”

you frowned. “…would you?”

his laugh came through the speaker, low and sweet. “nah, i could never say no to you. but seriously, baby, if you need more food, i'll order something. don’t go eating those frozen meals, they’re so bad for you.”

“it’s just one,” you mumbled.

“still. i don’t like the thought of you eating that while i’m gone.”

you sighed, tugging at the microwave one more time. “well, maybe if you weren’t so far away…”

“aw, do you miss me, pretty girl?”

you refused to answer that; he already knew the answer.

caleb hummed. “yeah… i miss you too.”

his voice was softer now, and your chest ached at how much you just wanted him here.

“i’ll be back soon,” he promised. “then i’ll make you something actually edible, alright?”

you smiled. “alright.”

“good girl.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, and caleb laughed again, as if he knew. (which he did).

“love you, honey.”

“love you too,” you murmured, holding the phone a little tighter. "why exactly is the microwave locked?" you decided to question one more time.

caleb chuckled, "i know you, [name]. even if i wasn't watching you, you'd open it and still eat the pasta. better to take... precautionary measures for my pipsqueak. did you even check the expiration date?"

ignoring his question, you did a quick lookover of the room, looking for the camera he had somewhere as he only laughed. "maybe instead of looking for the cameras, find what else i modified in the house, it'll keep you occupied. i'll order you food in the meantime."

you groaned, flopping back against the couch. “caleb, i swear, if you messed with anything else—”

“if? honey, i definitely did.”

your eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“mmm, can’t say. that’d ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “you are a menace.”

“and you love me for it.”

unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

you stood up, glancing around the apartment, suddenly suspicious of everything. you had no idea when he found the time to do all this, but knowing caleb, he planned ahead weeks in advance, just for moments like these.

the phone call was cut short as commotion started on his mission, leading you to sadly have to hang up.

you sighed, setting your phone down and eyeing the apartment with renewed suspicion.

as if on cue, you heard a soft click.

you turned your head slowly.

the front door.

more specifically, the new deadbolt that you definitely hadn’t installed.

your stomach dropped. oh, no.

another quick text from caleb.

caleb <3: your food is outside, i unlocked the door for you to grab it <3 be quick.

you did as he said, quickly grabbing the food delivery from outside, the door locking as soon as you got back in.

[name]: caleb. why is the door locked from the outside?

it took him a moment to reply, likely caught up with work, but when his name finally popped up on your screen, you already knew you wouldn’t like his answer.

caleb <3: oh, that? safety measures, honey. u can unlock it, but only through the app i installed on ur phone :)

you blinked. what app?

as soon as you asked, a new icon appeared on your screen—a sleek little security app with a familiar-looking otto icon.

caleb <3: just in case u ever get any funny ideas about leaving late at night alone.

your jaw dropped.

[name]: caleb. you remote locked me inside our home.

caleb <3: our very safe home! where nothing bad can happen to u!! :D i'll text u when i get to safety, enjoy ur food pipsqueak!

i love caleb btw

[dreaamdiary]

CHRIS X READER QUICKIE IN THE SHOWER BLURB (18+)

you should’ve know better then expecting to take a normal shower when staying over at chris’ because of fucking course they have an ongoing war over who takes a shower and timing it at that.

you stood in the middle of his bathroom, maxed out with the eucalyptus scent of his body wash and steam curled around the edges of the foggy glass blurring your vision of chris, who stood beneath the shower, head tilted back allowing water to run throughout his body.

he cracked an eye open and turned down his music, noticing you in nothing but a towel and your usual annoyed expression.

“um, yeah?” his voice was lazy like he was seconds away from falling asleep mid-shower. “ya don’t fuck with knocking no more?”

“chris when am i taking my shower?” you asked, arms crossed over your chest, holding the towel in place.

“relax ma, you just gotta’ wait.”

“no, i’ve already been waiting for two hours, im tired n’ i wanna’ shower before i knock out.”

chris exhaled dramatically but not budging from his spot, “guess you should’ve went when i told you right?” he said in a teasing tone, you could detect his low laugh through his breath.

“chris. shut the fuck up, being sassy and shit.” you rolled your eyes at his remark, actually starting to regret not taking him up on his offer to shower earlier.

he grinned, running a hand over his wet hair, “you tryna’ fight me over the shower right now?”

“i didn’t think i’d have to wait on matt too, get your shit fixed,” you groaned and rubbed your temple.

a beat passed before chris huffed and sticks his head out the glass door, hand out and waiting for you to jump in, “fuck it, get in.”

“no,” you shrug simply.

“no? s’not like i haven’t been inside you or anything” he absentmindedly joked, not caring how agitated you were at the moment.

you narrow your eyes at him, “i want to actually shower, chris.”

“and you can do it now or in bout’ a hour, which one baby?”

you hesitated.

then sighed in defeat, unwrapping yourself from the towel and throwing it on the rack. chris watched with a satisfied expression and a smug smirk, knowing he would get his way regardless.

taking your hand, he pulled you in, hot water immediately hitting your skin, welcoming relief and relaxing your muscles after the long day y’all had.

chris stood close behind, his body heat mixing with the steam of the water and his gaze fixed on you.

“stop lookin’ at me” you pointed out, reaching for your vanilla body wash.

“you in my shower, ma”

you rolled your eyes again, but felt the way your stomach flipped. the tension was so sexual and thick, undeniably built up in the small space.

your tried to ignore it, bending over, minding your business and scrubbing suds all over your lower half.

chris shuffled closer, his breath heavy and fingers trailing down your sides and resting low on your hips, slow and deliberate. “since y’already here…” his voice dripped with lust, low and raspy whispering in your ear.

“move, babe—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence, he was already gliding his tip between your folds, teasing you slowly. your now pressed against the cool tile, chris turning your head to his and connecting your lips. the water ran between you, but neither cared to move.

your body felt like it was on fire as chris’ hands mapped their way around it not missing an inch of you and finally slipping his full length into your sopping cunt, eager to suck him in all while maintaining the sloppy kiss.

“ohhh, fuuuck” chris groaned out, his head thrown back to the ceiling and mouth hung open while your gummy walls clenched around him, squeezing him in so tight like you were perfectly made for him.

“mmh, chris” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling his tip kiss your cervix over and over again. your shower sponge was long forgotten as chris held you up by your neck, leaving traces of saliva as he kissed it and fucked into you at the same time.

you looked down at your bodies colliding, water droplets bouncing off your pelvis’s and splashing you in the faces while your overwhelmed with pleasure. your whole body is leaning on chris, allowing him to plow as deep and fast as he needed.

growing worn out you laid your head on his shoulder and panted out, barley audible, “you’re.. sucha’ liar…”

you gasped feeling your arousal build up in your stomach and moans bubbling in your throat.

“i didn’t lie baby, jus’ tricked ya” chris grunted lowly and moved his hand from your jaw to your mouth, attempting to muffle your outburst of moans. he brung the other hand down to your clit, messaging quick circles causing you to shake in his arms.

“cum—cumming”

“shh…that’s my good girl, you gonna’ squirt f’me baby?”

chris choked out groans as he thrusted his cum deep inside, stopping and releasing your juices with each movement while you creamed all over his dick, leaving strings and streaks of your cum as he fucked you both through your orgasms. “fuck, fuck, fuck..”

“ugh, chrisss,” you whined out his name as you felt yourself come down from your high. chris began to loose his rhythm, the constant slapping noise fading out and revealing loud thuds followed by nicks voice echoing from upstairs.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

you froze like a deer in head lights as chris sighed against your neck, “awe shit.”

“YOU TWO ARE ACTUALLY RIDICULOUS, GET THE FUCK OUT THE SHOWER,” the hollering got even louder, honestly impressing you, so loud that it sounded like he was right outside the door.

chris carefully slipped out of you, legs still twitching and pussy so sensitive to the touch.

“he’s so dramatic.” chris muttered behind your neck, using his hands to stabilize you on the floor.

“chris, you could’ve just gotten out the shower and we wouldn’t be in this situation”

he glared at you for a second before sending a slap to your ass while you climbed out the shower, “nah, don’t start complaining now, y’know what you were doin’.”

𓂃⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝒯𝒜𝒢𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅

[seishroo]

cw: suggestive, mdni

thinking abt going shopping with clingybf!nagi, who literally cannot keep his hands off of u ..

carefully searching through the racks of clothing? he’s right there, hugging you from behind while he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “sei! we’re in public”, you whisper-yell. “smells.. so good..”, he says in return. kudos to that new perfume you chose to wear today.

deciding to try some of the pieces on? you can’t leave him behind! you'll just have to sneak the both of you into the dressing room so you don’t get kicked out the store..

honestly, who thought this was a good idea? the moment you’re standing in nothing but your cutesi undergarments, his hands find purchase on your waist again. “seiii”, you scold onto deaf ears. “can’t wait till we get home, baby..”, he mutters as he begins tracing every inch of your skin with a slow sense of desperation, “ ‘s too much of a hassle being patient”.

well, guess your only option is to be quiet then! and maybe don’t bring clingybf!nagi on any more shopping sprees.

you 100% will.

an: ugh im sick asf and i can't sleep so little drabble of bf yay :p

© seishroo | much love ꨄ

[geneviveleocardius]

you ask them to wait for you out the fitting room

and you came out in lingerie, their favorite color

price

you tell him to wait outside the fitting room, and he does so without complaint, standing with his arms crossed and his hat low over his eyes. when you step out in a navy blue lingerie, his brows raise slightly, but he quickly schools his expression.

“bloody hell…” he mutters, looking you up and down with that steely gaze of his. he clears his throat and takes off his hat, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “looks… good on you, love.”

he’s trying to play it cool, but the tips of his ears go red, and he can’t seem to look anywhere else but you.

soap

“aye, you’re takin’ forever in there,” soap calls out impatiently, pacing outside the fitting room like he’s guarding a high-value target. when you step out in a red lingerie set, he freezes mid-step, his mouth hanging open.

“bloody hell, lass,” he exclaims, grinning like a kid who just got his favorite candy. “you’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?”

he makes no effort to hide the fact he’s staring, his blue eyes practically sparkling. “c’mere, let me get a proper look,” he teases, winking.

ghost

ghost is leaning against the wall outside the fitting room, his arms crossed, and his mask firmly in place. he doesn’t say much when you tell him to wait, just nods slightly. but when you step out in a black lingerie, his head tilts just a fraction, and his gaze lingers on you.

“…not bad,” he says, his voice low and steady. but the way his eyes trace your figure says much more than his words.

he doesn’t move, just watches you with that intense, unreadable expression. after a moment, he finally adds, “you’re lucky there’s people around.”

gaz

“you better not keep me waiting all day,” gaz jokes, leaning against a rack of clothes and checking his phone. when you step out in a white lingerie, he nearly drops it.

“oh, damn,” he says, blinking a few times as if to make sure he’s seeing this right. “you look… incredible.”

his easygoing demeanor shifts slightly as he steps closer, his brown eyes full of admiration. “you sure you’re not trying to give me a heart attack? because it’s working.”

alejandro

alejandro leans casually against the fitting room door, a smirk playing on his lips. “you need me to come in there and help?” he teases. when you step out in a deep red lingerie, that confident smirk falters for a split second.

“mi amor… you’re stunning,” he says, his voice softening. he moves closer, his hand brushing your arm as his eyes roam over you appreciatively.

“you wear it better than i ever imagined,” he adds with a grin, his tone full of charm.

rudy

rudy is patiently waiting outside, his hands in his pockets, ever the gentleman. when you step out in a white lingerie, his jaw drops slightly, but he quickly catches himself.

“wow…” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. “you look… beautiful.”

his cheeks flush as he averts his gaze for a moment, trying to give you some semblance of privacy, but his eyes can’t help but wander back to you. “you… uh… definitely picked the right color.”