#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.

[shoyoist]

── 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 : monkey d. luffy.

content: fem!reader. unprotected sεx, praise, implied virgin! luffy, inexperienced! reader, possessive behavior, a little manipulation at the beginning (reader to luffy). lots of cum. overstimulation. a mention of being used. confession at the end. note: my first one piece work! kinda nervous honestly v_v

— . ｡˚ ♡ you're hellbent on making the straw hats' captain yours.

thinking about how easy it is to just cry and sweet-talk your way into sitting on luffy's dick <3

he's already crushing on you to begin with. head over heels, almost. the moment he allowed you onto his ship, welcoming you into the crew so easily and ordering everyone to make you feel right at home — it had made his feelings obvious enough.

luffy has space for only two thoughts in that cute little head of his, and it just makes things easier for you to know that one of them is consisted of you. the other being to become the king of pirates, of course.

“how does it feel to be the captain's favourite?" zoro often remarks all sarcastic, and when you simply laugh and wave his comment away, luffy laughs right along with you. he's absolutely clueless.

to luffy, you look so innocent, and you've been so nice to him — you're just so sweet! helping him around, humouring all his jokes and stupid ideas, explaining things to him over and over with such patience when he just doesn't get it. and you even call him captain! you're just so lovely, and so pretty to look at on top of it<3

he trusts you so easily when you give him a pout, letting the tears glitter at your lashline as you ask him, “captain luffy, please?” you tell him you've never been touched like this before, that you need it, you need it so desperately — and you need it from him — to have his hands on you and to feel all full on him.

he agrees so easily, it's adorable. he's so giggly and giddy as he sits you on his lap up in his room at some nameless inn at the next island you stopped at. you'd fallen onto the rickety little couch backed up against the wall, too needy for eachother and too full of excitement to even make it to the bed.

he's so cute as he grits his teeth and groans, fingers digging into your hips as he slows the way you sink into his cock— unable to handle the way your warm, velvet walls wrap around him so well.

and once you're on his dick, it's even easier to get him addicted to having you on it.

“w—wait, wait wait wait—” his jaw hangs slack, allowing all his little gasps and whines and every little curse and word of praise that forms at his throat to freely pour out into your skin where he's latched his mouth onto.

he tries to kiss you, but he just can't focus on one thing enough when you feel so good around him, your thighs straddling his hips so well, your hands holding onto his shoulders so hard as you move up and down— so warm, so wet and so lovely, and suddenly not enough.

he needs more. he wants you to go faster. “more,” he whines, so good at telling you exactly what he wants. he's quite sure by now that you've done this before—and if you haven't, then you're damn good at it despite this being your first time— so he's unabashed. “more, faster. wanna cum.”

“mhm,” you sigh, giving him a heart-eyed look as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly and hugging him to you, giggling into the crook of his neck. “anything for my—ngh—my darling captain.”

at this point, he's in love with you.

he wraps his arms around you then, sliding his body lower in his seat, into a more comfortable position where he can set the pace himself. “careful,” he warns between clenched teeth when your hand slips from his shoulders.

letting you adjust, he grabs your waist, holding you tight in place — gives you a little “hang on, princess.” before he starts fucking up into you his own way.

it's slow at first, but you can feel the way the slap of his thighs against your ass gets harder with each thrust, how the slow, deep strokes get faster and shallower with each hit—and then he's got the tables turned on you, forcing you to grab at his nape, his hair, his arms, anything to retain your balance while he hits it as hard and deep as he likes.

“ah—ah, luffy!”

“captain luffy, princess.” he groans, voice barely there, grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze, loving how pliable you are in his hands. his pace stutters every now and then, dick slipping out to smack at your clit before he's putting it back in with a groan.

and oh, you know he's likely never done this before, but god he's making you feel so good. he's so desperate, shamelessly using you like a toy to fuck into, eyes hazy and body tensing up with each thrust. “aaah, fuck, so good … so good, so goodsogoodsogood—”

and just like that, with one last thrust into you that goes in balls deep and throws stars into your eyes, he cums into you. he cums so hard.

hot, thick ropes of milky white fill you up and drool out of you, dripping onto luffy's thighs and staining the seat below, his cute little ah—ahh!’s of uncontrollable bliss drowning out the wet sounds your body makes as his cock gets milked all up by your messy cunt.

it's enough to make you cum along with him, your walls squeezing him so impossibly tight, fluttering warm and wet around his sensitive tip as he ruts into you, so sloppy now yet still insatiable.

he has all the stamina you knew he'd have and more, fucking you through your orgasm just the way you like. just the way you wanted him to.

sitting on luffy's dick is a task easy enough to do, but getting off proves to be difficult.

“fuuuuck,” he sighs, voice going just a bit pitchier than usual as he sinks into the seat, taking your hips in his hands and nudging you back and forth on his cock, using you to carry himself through his high. the way his base drags at your clit is electrifying, and you can't help but throw your head back and moan.

the post-orgasm high is delicious.

“hah, y’like that? mhm?” he smiles up at you, giddy and dazed. “felt so good, princess. you never done this before, huh?”

“mmm,” you mumble, slumping into him and feeling the way he drinks up your scent, not really confirming or denying his statement.

“hah,” he laughs, tightening his arms around you. “can only do it with me from now on though, mkay? you okay with that?”

after that fucking? hell yes. you're so happy, so full, so warm and so content right now, with his arms around you, his lips on your skin and his dick still throbbing inside you.

you'd known luffy would be good. it's why you'd worked your way to this moment in the first place — but you didn't think he'd be this fucking good.

he'd been a little shy and unsure of himself at first, but god, when he'd finally gotten the hang of it, when he'd finally snapped, he'd fucked you so good.

”heyy,” luffy taps your head gently. “you alright? can you hear me, hm?”

“mhm.” you respond, turning your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder, giving the lobe of his ear a little nibble and making him laugh. “i can hear you, captain.”

“asked you somethin'.” he kisses the side of your head and presses a palm to your back, rubbing the expanse of skin gently for you. oh, he's so in love. “only me, mkay?”

“mkay.” you agree, a giggle slipping from you when he gives you a dopey grin and wraps his arms tighter around you, pulling you right against his warm, sticky body and going right to sleep with you in his lap. the couch is old and creaky — but luffy makes a comfortable bed, you think. you can take it, for a night at least.

because after this, you think you might be in love with him, too. and either way, you definitely don't want to get off his dick just yet.

[shoyoist]

── 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 : monkey d. luffy

content: fem!reader. unprotected & rough sεx, semi-public(?), multiple orgasms, once again a lot of cum, spitting, mean dom luffy except he's not doing it intentionally, use of the word ‘cunny’ lmao + a lil manhandling, one mention of anal. note: crawled out of hell to get this done for me & @kingofthe-egirls + the rest of us luffy lovers<3!

— . ｡˚ ♡ luffy seems to like it a lot when your pussy talks to him.

one thing about luffy is that he likes you loud. 

he likes you loud, and he’s demanding about it. demanding, greedy, and sometimes even a little mean. it's almost an unbelievable thing. imagine — your sweet boy, empty-headed and as dumb as a nut, mean.

you don’t think he even intends to do it, but sometimes when he’s got you flat on your tummy, back arching as he fits his dick in you and slides in all the way, the way he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks together in his grip—telling you blankly, “louder. wanna hear ya.”—you can’t help but shiver a little. 

and sometimes it’s not even your mouth that he wants to hear. it’s your cunt.

“shhh,” he cups a hand over your mouth, stifling your whines as he keeps up that dizzying pace of his. “ya don’t want the others wakin’ up, princess.” 

the deck is empty and the others are all inside, and thankfully, the night is dark enough and the sea rough enough to let the two of you go about your little tryst without bothering the others. 

but he's embarrassing you with the little quips and you want to complain, tell him that with how sharp the slap of skin against skin between your bodies is, there’s no fucking way the others are still asleep. but the next knock of his cock against your favourite spot has you going mindless, the words dissolving on your tongue like sugar, his bliss being the only thing that fills your head.

your pussy squelches with each thrust of his dick inside, wet and hot and messy, but luffy seems to think it’s not enough.

he straightens up for a bit, and you want to whine again because it’s nicer when he’s all pressed up and heavy against your body—but then the glob of his spit hits your ass, the sound of him gathering it in his mouth and spitting again, again and again covering the momentary quiet—and you deliriously wonder what the hell it is that he wants. 

he’s already cum inside you, and he’s made you cum all over him twice over. it’s definitely wet enough.

but luffy spits once more before he’s satisfied, and with a little grunt he leans back over you, body hot and slick with sweat when he presses his chest to your back.

“y’re cute like this.” he comments, and it’s so silly how that’s what makes you blush. just a casual remark, when he’s literally balls-deep in you, on a bunch of messy, patchy sheets laid out on some corner of the ship. “really fuckin’ cute. do ya think i’m cute, baby?”

“mhm, i do.” you mumble, and he giggles as he grabs your hips and pulls you up into a position more comfortable for him and a little less comfortable for you—but you can’t care about that when he rolls his hips into you and has his cock pushing at the sensitive, bruised velvet of your walls all over again. 

the new slick of his spit is enough to get your pussy to make an embarrassing amount of noise as he fucks you, and luffy is laughing again like he loves how it sounds.

“cunny likes how i’m makin’ her feel, eh?” he coos, voice high and giddy with sex-induced ecstasy, loving how your walls tighten up around him when he presses the pads of his thumbs into the flesh of your ass, rubbing circles into your skin as he stretches your asshole out for his viewing pleasure.

“how about here?” he wonders almost to himself. “mmm?”

“lu—captain, no,” you moan, unsure if you’ll be able to hold back, going all dumb with the pain and pleasure so it just turns luffy on even more, if he tries to fuck your ass tonight. “n—not this time.”

“hmmm?” luffy groans, voice cracking, and you know his eyes are squeezed shut, teeth clenched, hands groping you harder as he drives himself closer to his next high. “and what if—what if captain orders it, princess? will ya defy the captain’s orders?”

“luffy—” you try to warn, but he clamps his hand back over your mouth, cutting you off as he snaps his hips into you in an especially mean thrust—and he laughs when your reprimand fluidly changes into a breathless moan right in his palm. “shhh, baby—pussy’s talkin’ to me.”

his other hand winds past your waist, fingers climbing down your inner thighs, searching for your clit through the mess he’s made between them. “she says she wan’s more.” and when he finds your clit, pearly little thing throbbing in anticipation for his touch, the cry you let out says that you want more, too. god, he just makes you feel so good without even trying.

luffy is merciless—and he doesn’t even know it. he pushes past the folds of your pussy and takes your clit between two fingers and pinches, like that isn’t going to send you to a spiritual plane that feels like both heaven and hell. your body rocks against his, but his hand is still over your mouth and you can’t do anything else but cry into it, wordless and incoherent. “mmmm!” 

and all he does in response is fucking laugh. he giggles again, playing with your clit like it's a fidget toy, the pace of his cock in your cunt getting faster and faster as he tightens you up and feels your body quiver underneath him, like a wire about to snap, the perfect thing to empty his load into. “louder, princess. y’r cunt talks better than y’r mouth—ah!”

he cums without warning. 

hot, thick and messy into you, catching even himself off guard. it was probably the way your cunt squeezed him, the relentless toying of his fingers at your clit forcing an orgasm out of you, a pulsing, continuous wave that makes you shudder and cuts luffy off and makes him choke up over you. 

you feel it fill you up and drip out, trailing down your thighs, and you feel luffy’s hot gasps at the back of your neck as he finally stops, wrapping his arms around your waist and falling on top of you like a dead weight. it would feel uncomfortable if you weren’t all tingly and numb.

there is a moment of silence, of shared breaths and body heat, before luffy giggles. “was that good, princess?”

“yeah. i—” your mumble is cut off by another “shhh!” that makes you curl up in his arms, afraid somebody was out and about to catch you both.

but then, you feel luffy’s grin against your own cheek. “quiet, ‘m talking to the cunny, not you.”

“monkey d. luffy. get your ass off me, right now.”

[shoyoist]

── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big. 

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice. 

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze— 

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more. 

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time. 

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. ��fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

[shoyoist]

having horrible horny thoughts about telling best friend hanma no guy has ever made you cum so he takes it upon himself to be the first because he deserves it and wants to be your first something :,( eats you out like a starved man and his strokes are immaculate someone help 💔💔

— 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 !! : hanma shuji.

content: f!reader. college au(?). you're inexperienced, shuji is secretly in love with you. pussy eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, he makes you call him daddy. if this makes no sense its bec i wrote the whole thing w my clit.

an: (s)creaming this turned into a full fic lmfaoo

⠀⠀ — . ｡˚ ♡ "i dare you to tell me somethin' that'll make me laugh."

“no guy’s ever made me cum.” you’d told hanma. a not so innocent answer to a rather innocent dare, you admit. but he’s your best friend, nothing less (and nothing more). it’s fine.

and there was an awkward, momentary silence for a few seconds. he’d fallen still, holding the cigarette he’d been about to take a drag from in mid air, amber eyes flickering with an emotion unreadable to you.

“say what, dollface?” he asks — using that petname with you again, that your exes always hated — and the disbelieving tone in his voice embarrasses you, brings a flush to your cheeks and ties a knot of humiliation in your guts.

you squirm on the back of his motorcycle, as he turns his head to look at you, leaning against the fence right by you, where he’d parked the vehicle. 

“i—” you stutter, flustered. “no guy’s ever made me cum before.” just something funny that’d slipped out your mouth, during a lazy game of truth or dare you’d played during his smoke break after class.

“that’s fucking funny, doll.” he does laugh, but it’s awkward. “you serious?”

“yes.” you’d answered. truthfully.

and now, you’re splayed out between hanma’s legs, on his bed in his room, his long and lithe fingers bullying their way into your cunt for the third time. “h—ah! wait!”

he’s leaning against the headboard, one arm hooked around your waist, hand firmly on your thigh and holding your legs spread apart, fingers in your pussy as he chuckles lowly at your whines.

you’d question it — question what the fuck was happening, if he just wasn’t so fucking hot and making you feel so fucking good.

“that’s it,” he smirks, as you drop your head against his chest, grabbing onto his wrist, desperately trying to close your legs as he effortlessly draws another orgasm out of you. “that’s it ... ya look fuckin’ cute when you’re cumming.”

he laughs when you try to look up at him and scowl, eyes fluttering and rolling back into your head when he uses the hand that’s not busy fucking your pussy to land a slap on your clit. 

you moan again, and he laughs. “see? atta girl, so pretty when you cum. tellin’ me nobody’s ever seen you like this?” 

you dont answer, too busy trying to blink back the wave of dizziness that’s washing over you with the bliss hanma’s giving you, on his fingers alone.

the inked kanji on the back of his hand flashes darkly, sin bobbing up and down between your legs, shiny with your slick, as hanma curls his fingers into your tight, clenching walls and rasps into the shell of your ear, “asked you a question, dollface.”

“nobody,” you gasp, for some reason so nervous yet so turned on, by the demanding, challenging edge to his tone. “nobody, hanma— ah!”

“tch, it’s shuji, sweetheart.” he pinches your clit, laughs when your knees jerk up at the sensation. 

his voice goes a little softer as he continues, thinking you wouldn’t notice the hint of jealousy and longing in his voice with the state you’re in. “gonna keep me just your friend, just your ol’ buddy hanma-kun even after i take you on my bed, fuck you on my fingers ’n make you cum over ’n over again?”

“a—mngh, ’m sorry, shuji,” you whine, too enamoured by how he feels to argue, and his heart jumps at how sweet his name sounds off your tongue. “f—fuck, feels so good!”

“would feel better if i were usin’ my tongue. or if you were on my cock.” he laughs when your expression visibly scrunches up in embarrassment, cooing at you and telling you how cute you are as he grips your waist and turns you around to straddle him, legs shaky with the effect of your previous orgasms. “want me to do it, yeah?”

“mmm,” you answer though you’re not sure what he means, holding onto his shoulders for support. he holds you steady, and slides himself down onto his back onto the mattress, pushing your legs further apart around him and cupping your ass, pulling you forward — and you realize what he’s about to do. “shuji, no, i’ve n—”

you cut yourself off, but hanma picks your sentence up anyway.

“never been eaten out before?” he asks, sounding both unconvinced and pissed off at the same time, and you sit there as he stares up at you, so fucking embarrassed—

“my doll’s been gettin’ treated like shit, huh?” he breathes, gold eyes tracing your figure down. “sweet lil’ thing, i’ll show you how y’should be treated, a’right?”

“mm,” you let out a sound, so shy when his voice goes all sympathetic. it makes your pussy go slick with want, your heart beating faster with anticipation. “mkay.”

hanma doesn’t hold back. he tightens his arms around your hips and waist in an instant, pulling your cunt down on his mouth, nose pressed just over your clit as he inhales deep into you, letting out a needy growl as he opens his mouth and takes you.

your hands scramble to find a hold on the headboard as he rocks you forward, trapping you on your knees with your thighs plush and warm around his face, drinking in your cunt — devouring you like a man starved. “fuck,” he slurs into your heat, muffled and hot. “shit, baby, s’ fuckin—good.”

his tongue grazes your clit, curls around it and sucks, and you cry out, squirming in his arms, one hand leaving the headboard to get down and curl your fingers into his hair and tug, stuttering his name out in a pleading chant. “shuji, shuji, shuji — fuck!”

the moan he lets out when you pull at his black and blonde locks thrums against your cunt, and when he sucks at your clit again, slurping loudly and grunting praise into you, it’s enough to make you cum again. “ah, shuji, cumming, cumming!”

“i know,” he hisses, and when you look down at him, the rise of his cheekbones, his nose and his mouth are soaked with your wetness— and his eyes are blown wide, the gold of them almost lost in the darkness of his want. “i know, baby. i know.”

“please,” you hiccup, tears blurring your vision, hips trembling as you try not to collapse over hanma’s face.

your cunt aches, empty despite the way he shoves his tongue up your fluttering hole, and you dont want another orgasm without it. “fuck! shuji — shuji please, need your cock.”

“mm — what’d you say, dollface?” he grunts, licking at your clit, yanking you back in when you try to lift yourself off him. “cant just get all you want like that. say it right f’me.”

“w-what?” you sob, unsure what he means but so needy to obey, because you just need him to stuff you full and fill you up already.

you dont know if it’s wrong or not, to want your best friend’s dick inside you so badly, but you’ve gone this far, havent you? he’s giving you what you want.

“you g’na do as i say?” he smirks, watching how you nod and keen when he tongues at your abused clit again. “then say ‘i love you, daddy, i only want you ‘n your cock from now on’.”

huh? — it takes a second or two, but the words put clarity in your head, somewhat, when you hear them. 

swallowing back the shaky whine of acceptance bubbling at your throat, you manage to ask instead, “you want me to tell you i love you?”

there’s a small pause, before hanma’s grip on your hips tightens again. 

but this time, he pulls you off.

it urges you back to your position straddling his hips, as he sits back up, leaning on the headboard once more — and though his hard-on brushing hot and heavy through his jeans against your messy cunt is distracting, you pay attention to his expression instead.

hanma stares at you, face wet with your slick and hair messy with your hand tangling through the dyed locks. “so you ... dont?”

it’s a sudden flipside to the multiple orgasms he’d just sent you through, and it disorients you just a little. 

but the look in his amber eyes, black and blonde hair stuck to his forehead and framing his face, the warmth in your heart as you contemplate an answer — and the desperate ache in your empty cunt, it all convinces you to say you do.

“i do.”

there’s yet another damned pause, as you sit on hanma’s lap, naked and with his dick hard under your ass, your palms flat against his bare chest — if someone’d told you before that a dumb game of truth or dare after class would lead you to this situation, you’d laugh.

but — but this is shuji. he’s rough on the exterior, a major tease, a man notorious and famous on the streets; but really? he’s sweet.

he buys you coffee, takes you out shopping, takes you to the salon, pays for your takeout. he always tells you he'll fuck your exes up if they hurt you or make you cry (and they have done so, but you've never allowed him to beat them).

he goes with you to the library, even though he doesn't even care for spending hours on assignments or work. to be fair, he does leave you in there and go out to smoke after only a few minutes, but he always comes back to drop you home.

he's so nice to you, despite himself. and turns out, if you'd just ask, he'd fuck you too.

he’s your best friend. nothing less, nothing more, but you decide it now, trembling from the euphoria he’s giving you. you want more.

it’s possessive and spells desire, how he’d pulled you in here to make up for your ‘stupid shit exes’, telling you he would make you feel good if nobody else has done it before.

it’s all so sudden, but it makes sense. he’s been just your best friend this whole time, but you want more.

“i do love you, shuji.”

hanma lets out a breath, when you repeat it. “really, now?” he mutters. “not just sayin’ that so i’ll give you my cock? dont play with my heart now, doll.” he chuckles, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

“i do.” you mumble, shy again under the intensity of his piercing stare. “and i guess ... that’s why it never worked with anyone else. when you were there this whole time.”

“hah,” hanma laughs, steadying his hold on your waist before bringing one hand up to pat your cheek. ”y’ telling me no other asshole could make you cum, ‘cause you were busy wishin’ it was me?”

“no!” you blurt out, but when he grins wider, slides his hand down from your cheek to pinch the soft flesh of your tits, the electric shiver that courses down your spine says otherwise. it would be a lie, to say that you’ve never wanted him. “yeah, m-maybe.”

“fuck,” he hisses at that, eyes going even darker, like the dubious confirmation you’d given him was all he needed, like it was a love shot and a stroke of lust in one — and he yanks the buttons and zipper of his jeans open, tugging the fabric apart and pulling out his straining cock.

it’s big — unsurprising, but still a sight to take in, and you whimper tearfully when he grabs the length in his hand and taps his head to your clit, letting out a breathy chuckle. “biggest cock y’ ever seen, mhm?”

and you’d want to keep from boosting his ego, but the way you stare is answer enough. “n-need you in me, shuji.” you beg, and he just laughs again, rubbing the pearl of precum that swells at his tip across your slit, teasing. “say what i told you to say, then. if y’love me.”

call him daddy? “do i really have to?” you whine, pushing forward and grinding up on his cockhead. it ellicits a rough moan from him, that makes your clit throb when you hear it — but hanma remains adamant.

“you hafta, dollface.” he smiles, showing you teeth. “you’ll do it, if y’ really want me so bad.”

and god, the layers of pleasure he’d drowned you in are too sharp, too overwhelming for you to refuse and stop this right now — you want, need his cock. right now.

fine. “i—i love you, daddy.” you mumble, eyes skirting down because you cant bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “and i-i want only you. only your cock, and only you. i love you.”

and it’s like hanma has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“shit, baby,” he huffs, pulling your tits flush against his body as he grabs you by the waist and by the back of your neck, dragging you in and meeting your lips with his in a starved kiss — fuck, he hadn’t kissed you until now? 

you realize it, with both a pang and a fluttering in your heart, but the thought is soon knocked out of your head, as he kisses you again, tasting the lingering essence of yourself on his tongue, tasting him, catching the scent of cigarettes and men’s cologne on his mouth and neck as you lean into him, letting him savour you whole. 

“god, i love you.” he groans, as he lines his cock up at your entrance, sliding sin and punishment over to your ass again and sheathing you down on him. “loved you f’so long now, baby. d’you know how i’ve felt? ‘n now y’re fuckin’ telling me all those assholes you dated never made you cum. fuck.”

“mm, sh-shuji!” you cry, and he moans in your ear in reply. “s-slower! please, please—”

“‘m too big for you?” he rasps, voice hoarse with pleasure. god, he’s wanted this forever. your tight, velvet walls clenching around him, wet and hot and your body on him, so pretty and all his.

“cant slow down, sweetheart.” he hisses. “consider this your punishment. for playin’ with my heart like that, for so long.” you’ve got your arms wrapped around hanma’s neck, trying to control the pace at which you sink down on his cock, but he rolls his hips up and pushes all the way into you anyway.

“a—haah! shuji!” your moan is saccharine in his ear, and he swallows back a curse, knowing that it’s not going to be long before he’s cumming, filling you all up.

“say sorry, baby.” he growls, pulling out before shoving back in you again, putting stars into your eyes with the sharp slap of skin against skin, the harsh kiss of his tip against your cervix. “really didn’t think i loved you, even when i was fuckin’ knuckle deep in you? callin’ you my dollface and telling you y’re pretty ‘n driving you around, and sucking on that sweet lil clit?”

you cry out, when he bites at the side of your neck, feeling even more embarrassed, feeling stupid — because god, you were stupid to miss the signs. to think he was just like that. when he only ever was that way with you. “‘m sorry, sorry. please, i’m sorry.”

“hmm,” he lulls, kissing the marks of his teeth that he’d left on you. “cant be mean with you, can i? too fuckin’ sweet for your own good.”

your mouth is on his cheek, lips sliding down his jaw in desperate kisses, needing him more even when he’s right here, when your body’s pressed to his and his lips are on you and his cock is all the way in your cunt. “mmngh,” you try, too dizzy to answer properly.

“now let’s teach ya how it feels to cum on a big, fat cock, yeah, dollface?” he says, starting up a hasty rhythm with his cock, up and down into you as you struggle to stay sitting up on his lap. “poor lil’ doll’s never even done this before?”

“never.” you keen, lost in the way his cock is so long, so thick, reaching all the sweet spots deep in your cunt in one fucking go. “n-never came on a cock before.”

“yeah, i know.” he says, all sympathetic again, and it sends heat rushing to both your face and your core. “g’na beg daddy to let you cum all over his cock?”

“mhm,” you moan, and he smiles, brings you in for another kiss as he speeds up. “then say it, baby. say what y’need to say to have your way.”

“mm, daddy, daddy—” you sob, trying to kiss him back as he hums into your mouth, forgetting your embarrassment at having to call him that, because fuck, it was starting to feel fitting. “please let me cum on your cock, please, please—”

“only if you’ll let me fill this pretty pussy all up.” he stutters, voice turning all raspy as he goes even faster, bouncing you up and down so hard as he nears his high. 

he loves the way you beg. loves the way you call him by that name. so cute, and almost pathetic, for him. it’s a fresh change. one he wants to hold on to. “yeah? you’ll let me do that, baby? let daddy fill your cunt up with his cum?”

“yes,” you gasp, vision going cloudy with both tears and pleasure as you feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter all over again. “fuck, anything! anything, daddy, just please.”

“please what?” his laugh is now hoarse, as he looks at your blissed out face from under his lashes, eyes lidded and heavy with lust and pleasure.

the bedsheets under you are soaked, but neither of you can care — you moan again, sucking in a breath and falling into hanma’s chest, tired but so, so desperate to cum again. “please, shuji. please. need to cum on your cock. need you to cum in me.”

and he does. 

hanma watches, vision hazy as his cock slides out of your cunt milky and drooling, and pushes back in — pushes in so deep he hits your cervix again and he cums, leaking hot, white ropes of seed into your tight, wet cunt — and it makes you cum, too.

“fuck, tryna milk me all up, huh?” he heaves as he maintains his pace, gritting his teeth and grabbing your hips when you try to meet the rhythm, pussy fluttering and sucking him in like you’ve needed him as much as he’s needed you. “pretty, pretty lil’ pussy — all mine, yeah?”

“all yours, shuji.” you sob, and he stares as your head tilts up, eyes rolling back in your head as they fall shut, drowning in the pure heaven of cumming while stuffed full of his big, big cock. “a-hnngh, all yours.”

“yeah, that’s right.” he growls, wrapping punishment around your throat, hauling you back in to kiss you, sloppy and open mouthed, as sin slips down between your bodies — pressing into your pulsing clit with his thumb as he continues fucking up into you, pace relaxing slowly. “that’s right. y’re all mine now. forever.”

[shoyoist]

Can i ask for ego smut😳 i feel like he'd be really into bondage and choking. Imagine him just talking to someone on the phone and his other hand's just wrapped around y/n's neck and fucking her dumb then if she ever makes a noise he'd just insert his index and ring finger in her mouth to shut her up aaaaa

content: f!reader. unprotected sεx, light bondage, a little choking, gagging, edging, fucking while on a call. slight dumbification. an: you're so right nonnie!! except instead of his fingers in your mouth, he got a pretty present to help you stay quiet instead.

— . ｡˚ ♡ ego enjoys testing your limits and seeing if you break.

you're starting to feel dizzy.

ego leans back in his chair, letting out an irritated sigh into his phone as the JFC head on the other end of the line continues to blabber.

he talks casually, sounding bored as he rolls his eyes while going “yeah, yeah” like he's annoyed by whatever they're saying to him. “sure, i don't care. just get the system installed before the end of the week.”

he doesn't bat an eye, doesn't even let out a hitched breath — to give away the fact that he's got you sitting pretty in his lap, your cunt wrapped around his cock. it's like you're not even there.

but you are. you've got a cute little heart shaped ball gag in your mouth, and his free hand is lazily wrapped around your throat.

every now and then, he'll nudge his cock deeper into you, and you whine pitifully, teary eyed and impatient because he's been on that call for twenty minutes now, having picked it up right after he'd pulled you into his lap and got you to sit on his cock.

he's not taking care of you, even after he promised he would.

and he's even got your hands tied behind your back. you can't even help yourself. your clit's aching, begging to be touched — but his hand has remained around your throat the entire time, only once skirting downwards just to give your hip an absentminded squeeze before going back up.

“mmh,” he hears all your little whimpers and whines, but he pays zero attention. the only give-away that he's enjoying this so very much is that his cock throbs inside you with every pathetic flutter of your walls around him.

“mm, ego-san.” your words are barely coherent, tongue held down by the gag, and your voice is all pitched and slurred anyway, but he knows you're saying his name. he knows exactly what you want.

and he's not going to give it to you. not until he's done with this call that he's purposefully dragging out as long as he can, asking the JFC guy for more stuff to spark more protests and arguments from him so that he could stay on the phone longer.

will you be good for him? will you be his good, pretty little cockslut and sit on his dick and behave for him until he's done? he knows you will.

you're a good girl <3 that's why he likes you. because he can push at your limits, play around with you and toy with you as much as he likes — and you'll take it.

his eyes flash behind his glasses as you slump forward, lashes fluttering as you try to remain focused, doing your best to be patient. you twist your wrists behind your back a little, letting out a little, helpless sigh as the rope chafes at your skin.

sweet, pliant little thing.

he knows you won't cum until he tells you to. he knows you'll drive yourself to tears and sob, getting all hot and messy on his cock as you try to control yourself, as you try to shift into a less stimulating position. he knows you'll do your best and follow all the rules he's laid out for you.

which is why once he's finished with this call (in ten more minutes? fifteen minutes? twenty?) he'll untie you, admire the rope marks around your wrists and arms for a bit — and then bend you over his desk and fuck you dumb.

it's what you deserve <3

he plays a fair game, after all. if you do as you're told and give him what he wants, he'll reward you with what you want — to cum and make a mess all over his cock as he fucks you and fills you all up.

[shoyoist]

ushijima loves to look at you,, during random times like you're just eating or doing the laundry and hes looking at you with the SOFTEST eyes,,

but it applies in bed too 👀

he loves seeing how you lose it, the way your brows furrow as you try to take his cock, the way your eyes flutter when you get close, how you throw your head back when he fucks u into oblivion ❤️

content: gn!reader, established relationship, unprotected + soft sex, size kink, body marking, slight breeding kink (thoughts), implied multiple rounds. note: thank you so much for sending this in hehe<3

— . ｡˚ ♡ wakatoshi just adores you so much, no matter what you're doing.

sometimes, ushijima can't fathom it. he thinks about it all the time — how someone so pretty, so sweet, so gentle and soft and perfect, can belong to him. and sometimes, he just can't believe it.

he takes his seat at the table every morning, waiting for you to walk over and give him his morning kiss before you go back to fixing him his breakfast, and he just watches you the entire time, enamoured.

you hum under your breath sometimes, a song you'd been playing on the radio the other day. squinting at labels on bottles and smiling in satisfaction at the warm, delicious smell of your cooking as you breathe it in. dressed in the little apron he'd picked out for you in your favourite colour, a splotch of syrup on it from when you'd done a taste test and dripped a little onto your chest.

he wants you to take another taste and go “mmm~” again because it was so incredibly adorable how you did it. he wants you to turn around and give him a smile, ask him if he'd like to test the taste for you. because he knows you'll giggle and tell him ‘you always say that, toshi!’ when he simply tells you that it tastes good.

you're just so cute, ushijima can barely handle it sometimes.

and his innocent thoughts about how pretty you are, how cute your voice is, how soft your hips and waist are as he pulls you in for a kiss, how slender and small your fingers are, how dewy your lips are and how lovely your eyes are—

they build up throughout the day, filling him to the brim and pulsating inside him, turning him into a ravenous, needy, love-filled force of nature by the end of the day. which is why he's so glad you help him let it all out when you go to bed for the night.

“hn—ngh! toshi, toshi!” his name rolls so pretty off your tongue, so soothing in his ear as you moan, your legs kicking out around his waist as he folds you in half, your knees to your chest as he slowly, steadily slides his thick, angry cock into you in one go.

you wrap around him so tight, the sticky warmth of you so good ushijima thinks he might go insane— but he holds steady, rolling his hips gently into you and holding back the heavy groan that wells at his throat when you clamp up around him, and you dig your nails into his muscled back. “toshi, so big!”

you tell him that every time. the same way he tells you every time that your cooking tastes good.

and just the same way he knows you love it each time he tells you that, he loves it when you whine so sweetly into his ear each time, that he's so big you can hardly take him.

“hah—” he grunts hoarsely through gritted teeth, meeting his hips to your ass with a little slap! that makes you throw your head back and moan. “take it, darling. you can take it.”

you're so full — so full and so stretched out, his cock pushing at every throbbing, tingling part of you, making you go dumb and dizzy just by bottoming out into you.

he moves back a little, a shiver coursing up his spine as he hears the wet, sloppy sound of his cock sliding out of your entrance, before thrusting back in— and your legs jerk up again, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his face closer to yours as you cry out his name.

he wants to be patient with you and let you adjust before he quickens his pace — but oh, he just can't wait. he wants to fuck you to bits, fill you all up.

the only warning you get is the way he adjusts his hold on your body, wrapping those big, beefy arms around your thighs and pushing you into the mattress with his weight as he towers over you—

and with the next snap of his heavy hips against yours, you're sent to the edge almost immediately. “ah! toshi—”

“good, good little thing for me,” he hisses, eyes narrowing as he fucks into you and the pleasure seeps into his bones, cockhead kissing your sweetest spots just right, making you spasm around him so fucking well.

he watches as your eyes lose focus, face flushed and body coiling up around his strength and girth as he fucks you into a mindless mess without even trying. oh, he loves you so much.

he kisses you, a touch of his lips to your skin for each thrust and your mouth falls open, lashes fluttering as you cry his name out, squeaky little toshi! toshi! toshi!’s spilling from your parted lips as he fucks his cock deeper and deeper into you, wanting you to feel so, so good as he makes you cum before filling you up.

“close, aren't you?” he mutters hazily, groaning as you drag your nails down his sweat-slicked back, the sharpness of them sure to leave marks on him. he can feel your orgasm coming. sees it on your pretty little face, the way your brows furrow and your eyes roll back into your head, full of anticipation.

“mmm,” you moan, arching your back and meeting the thrust of his cock as he pushes into you, letting out another pitchy “ah!” as he hits just fucking right — and the pressure, the stretch of his cock, the stars in your eyes, it all overwhelms you and pushes you over the edge.

”toshi!” you gasp, and ushijima knows your vision is going white. he loves what he's doing to you. “don't stop, toshi, ‘m cumming, god—”

and before you can even finish your sentence, he gives you one last thrust and lets out a hoarse, barely audible curse— and gives you a stuttered confession of his love before he comes to a stop and empties his hot, thick load into your hole. “fuck.”

there's another sharp, wet sound of skin hitting skin as he falls into your warm embrace, and he breathes in, smelling himself on you as he kisses you, feeling his cum fill you up and spill out, making a mess between your bodies and on the sheets. “hnngh, toshiiii,” you whine his name, fucked out just by the first round.

he kisses you again and again, loving how pretty you are and how pretty the space where his body connects to yours looks all messy with your cum and his, loving how you tangle your arms and legs around him, whining his name over and over like a precious little toy.

oh, how ushijima loves looking at you. you're just so lovely to him. especially when you're under him like this.

[shoyoist]

.˚⊹ ꔫ — 𝐓𝐑. 𝐌𝐄𝐍 + 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !!

content: gn!reader. fluff. perhaps slightly suggestive. established relationship / implied marriage if you squint. characters are written as adults. hinted final timeline but not explicitly! ... note: so glad this one's done lmaoo i hope you like it! squeezed in all my faves hehehe<3

— ⊹˚. ♡ his voice always goes soft when he calls your name.

° 𐐒𐐚 . HANMA SHUJI. BAJI KEISUKE. SANO SHINICHIRO.

"babydoll," he hums, voice low and saccharine as he slides over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back to his chest. his voice is husky with sleep, hair messy and eyes lidded, as he hums a good mornin' into your ear and kisses the back of your neck.

you're in the cute little apron he'd got for you, fixing him a breakfast of waffles and coffee, currently in the middle of making the homemade jam you once came up with that he likes so much. "'s breakfast for me?" he asks, repeating the little petname, leaning down and pooling his weight onto your back as he rests his chin on the crook of your neck.

his shirtless chest is warm, and he smells good — sleepy, smoky and of fresh sheets because you'd both changed the bedsheets last night before tucking in. "it is for you, baby." you say, grinding berries into the little bowl you've got your hand around. "go brush your teeth and take a shower, m'kay? so you can have a nice morning meal before you leave for work."

"ain't it the weekend?" he sighs, not wanting to move off you. you're so soft, so sweet-smelling and so comforting to the touch. "fuck work. i'll stay home with you t'day."

"you can't, it's not the weekend. and it's not like you have weekends off anyway." you laugh, dropping the little glass pestle down and taking hold of his chin, tilting his face so you can kiss him on the cheek. "go on. and if you woke up earlier, you'd have more time to cuddle me before you leave."

he smiles at your little chide, and the lines of his cheek press into your lips. "what if we just cuddled now, hm?" his grip around your waist tightens. "right here, on the kitchen counter. prop you up like this, 'n kiss you here, there—"

he pushes the plates and bowls aside and lifts you up onto the counter easily, but just as he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss, there's a clink! and before either of you can react, the little bowl in which you'd been preparing his jam for him rolls off the counter and shatters onto the floor.

"fuck—" you exclaim, trying to jump down but he pushes you back and skirts some of the porcelain away with the bottom of his slipper, looking sheepishly down at the mess. "look what you did now!"

"uh," he runs a hand through his hair, stepping back and glancing at the broom before he looks back at you — teeth flashing as his lips pull into an apologetic grin. "sorry."

"no cuddles for you. and no nice morning meal of jammy waffles and hot coffee either, it seems." your own lips draw themselves into a tight line, unimpressed as he makes a big show of getting the broom and wet rag to clean up the berry goop and broken glass.

"aw, babydoll. don't be so fuckin' mean." he grumbles, jutting his bottom lip out in a fake pout. but as he finishes sweeping and clears the spill, his expression softens again — and he walks over to you, placing a gentle hand on your knee as he leans in for a make-up kiss.

"g'nna get you a real grinder, a'right? one of the fancy fuckin' ones from the department store. 's what my babydoll deserves." he mumbles against your lips, and you can't help but relieve your frown and smile. "in my favourite colour?"

"mhm," his voice cracks just a little as he hums, smiling back into the kiss. "in your favourite colour."

° 𐐒𐐚 . KISAKI TETTA. KAKUCHO. HAITANI RAN.

"honey," he calls, shutting the door behind him and waiting for the beep of the automatic lock before he lets go of the knob and walks into the house. "i'm home."

for a moment, there's no answer and only a serene sort of quiet emanates from beyond the front hall — and he wonders if you aren't home. but then, he makes his way upstairs and hears the sound of your voice, muffled by a closed door that stands between him and you. you're in the bath, he realizes, a little wave of relief washing over him.

"honey," he knocks on the bathroom door before opening it a crack and peeking in. "i'm home."

"sweetheart!" you look up and see him at the door, and he has to pause and stare for a moment because you're so lovely, covered in soap suds and with your wet hair slicked back, the pretty silver lights he'd got for you hung up on the ceiling and bathing you in a dim, ethereal glow. "you're home!<3 come here, baby."

you pat the edge of the bath tub, and though he's in a suit because he'd had to attend an event (a tiring one) today, he takes his socks off and walks into the bathroom, sitting on the edge as you'd asked him to before leaning in and sliding a hand into your wet hair, pulling you in for a soft, lingering kiss. "missed you today."

"hmm," you muse, tilting your head to a side and reaching up to cup his cheek in a wet palm. "more than usual?"

"more than usual," he agrees, and you notice the wear in his eyes, in his expression. your thumb caresses the lift of his cheekbone for a moment, before your hand slides down to his shoulder and presses against his chest. "come join me in the bath, baby."

"hm?" he mutters, having nearly dozed off sitting in the bathroom, your hand gentle and comforting on his person and the warm air of the bathroom that was so unexpectedly nice after the heavily air conditioned meeting room he'd been sitting in for hours and hours on end. "what did you say, honey?"

"come join me in the bath." you say, reaching out with your other hand to hook a finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it and letting him breathe a little. he frowns a little, as if hesitant to agree, and you jump back in — "it'll be good for you to relax, baby. i'll wash your back 'n your hair. please?"

and it's not that he doesn't want to get in the bath with you, it's that the tub isn't really big enough for the two of you— but the pleading look you give him and the weariness in his body that lulls him downwards along with the insistent tug you give to his elbow, is all enough to convince him.

"alright," he sighs, standing back up and sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders with a shrug, slipping his arms out the sleeves and hanging it on the hook meant for his towel. you watch as he undresses, welcoming him into the tub with a kiss to his shoulder when he squeezes in.

you end up seated on the edge of the tub yourself, letting him relax in the soapy water as you use the showerhead to run water through his hair and over his back. he sighs, shutting his eyes and feeling so thankful as a wave of relaxation washes over him via your gentle hands and the warm, fragrant water.

“thank you, honey.” he mumbles, voice low with wear.

you give him a smile and kiss his wet hair. “it's no problem, baby. i love taking care of you.”

° 𐐒𐐚 . RYUGUJI KEN. HAITANI RINDOU. KUROKAWA IZANA.

“princess,” he waves to you from across the street, seated on his motorcycle and leaning on the handlebars. your friends start giggling as you jump and spin around to look for him, fighting your blush.

his eyes are droopy as he meets your eyes from the distance, and he'd look bored if you didn't know him better. but you know he's just taking his time checking you out. and he's looking so good but also being so embarrassing, calling you cutesy names like that in public.

you nod to your friends, cheeks hot because they're winking at you and swooning over how perfect of a boyfriend your man is, and with a quick good-bye you hurry to the other side of the street.

he leans in and waits expectantly, and you give him a kiss on the cheek before climbing onto the back of his motorcycle. he takes your helmet from where he'd slung it on one of the handlebars, and you stand beside him feeling all pampered while he fits it carefully over your head and fastens the strap under your chin for you.

“you're embarrassing, baby.” you chide, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek on his shoulder as he drives off.

“me? embarrassing?” he scoffs. “and how am i embarrassing? don't want me to come pick you up from work anymore?”

“no, it's not that!” you protest, and you see the grin that flits to his lips from the motorcycle mirror. rolling your eyes, you give him a pout that he won't see but knows is there on your pretty little mouth.

“then what is it, princess?” he chuckles fondly, and you twist your lips indignation before you continue.

“it just makes me shy when you call me that in public.” you confess, the heat returning to your cheeks again as you think about it. his voice just sounds so nice in your ear, and it reminds you of something else sometimes, when he calls you those names.

hearing it makes you feel hot in your cheeks and in your chest and in your stomach all in one go. “when i call you what in public, huh?” he asks, the smile on his face once more. you punch his shoulder gently, leaning back and shaking your head a little to free as much of your hair in the wind as you can with the helmet on. “that.”

“i don't know, princess, i'm not a mind reader.” he shrugs his shoulders, teasing, knowing exactly what you mean.

“you just said it again!” you cry out, as he starts to laugh. “when you call me princess! it makes me shy!”

he chuckles again, relaxing around your hold as you wrap your arms around him again, letting out a little hmph! that hits the back of his neck and sends a shiver down his spine.

“now princess,” he deadpans, slowing down and looking to the side as he makes a turn. “don't make a fuss.”

and ugh, it's just too easy for him to tease you. “baby!”

[shoyoist]

ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒 + 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 !!

content: gn!reader. sfw — fluff. slightly suggestive in shidou's part. featuring: bachira meguru, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, michael kaiser. some of these hcs were suggested to me by other tumblr users! they are credited separately under each part<3

— . ｡˚ ♡ he thinks of these special moments whenever he's feeling down, and it helps him get right back up.

° 𐐒𐐚 . bachira meguru + painting date!

credit to @katasstrophy for the idea! the bachira family has a little art studio built in their house, owned by bachira's mom. he takes you there one time, and though you'd been doing your best to keep things clean for his mother's sake, the two of you end up making a huge mess.

you're intently dabbing brown and yellow paint on your little canvas, looking back at the mental image you've conjured of your boyfriend sitting in a field of flowers and smiling at you, when you hear shuffling behind you.

"baby, baby," is all bachira says in warning. "look this way!" and you turn around, wide-eyed and inquiring as you finally look away from the canvas on which you've been meticulously painting a picture of your rogueishly adorable boyfriend—

only to be met with a splat of bright pink paint across your face. "m—meguru? what the hell?" it's on your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth that had been open in question to bachira's urgent request for you to turn around, and it's nearly in your eye. "god i could've eaten that shit!"

the sound of bachira's unapologetic giggling fills the quiet studio as you get up and pluck a wad of tissues from the box on the table nearby, wiping your face off with it. while your back is turned, he flicks his paint-sopped brush at you again, and you feel the paint hit the back of your neck. "don't do that!"

you stand up straight and turn your back to your easel, squaring your shoulders and doing your best to protect the painting.

"it's—" bachira's laughing so hard now, he snorts in between his words. "it's even worse now, baby — it's all over your face!" and you know that. because you can feel the paint smear down to your chin as you wipe. oh, you think, he's so fucking cute right now, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkly as he giggles.

but that's not going to stop you from retaliating. meguru, you're about to get it.

his mother chewed him out and made him clean the place up afterwards, but bachira would do it again and again and again, just to see your pretty smile and hear your pretty laugh, your eyes lit up as you tried to stay angry with him while the two of you made a mess of yourselves and the studio once more.

° 𐐒𐐚 . hyoma chigiri + poetry analysis date!

credit to @yakshasslut for the idea! chigiri gives you a book of his favourite love poems to read while he's away, and by the time he comes back home, you're brimming with tender feelings for him and he flusters so sweetly when you express it. ever since, it's been a tradition to share and mull over novels and poems together.

not many of chigiri's friends or teammates are well-versed in poetry or literature in general, but there is one novel of prose that each and every one of them can name and recognize within an instant — and it's a book that you gave your boyfriend as a gift, years ago.

it doesn't have much of you in it — it's a collection of poems that express the joys and pains of long distance love, and the only hint of you in it is the lipstick kiss on the front page, with a "for hyoma, my one and only<3" written on it in your handwriting.

he takes it everywhere. flicks through the pages while he's on the plane, while he's resting in his hotel room, and sometimes even takes it with him to games.

he takes so much care to keep it safe and in good condition, but it's quite worn now— he can't bring himself to shelf it, though. it's his most prized posession, almost.

he reads it and keeps in mind that while he's away, you're reading the new book that he had gifted you before he left, and he smiles to himself, imagining how you underline and draw hearts around your favourite lines and write little pencil notes about how "this is you @ me!"

don't get it wrong, chigiri loves being on the field. he loves the glamour, the adrenaline, the fire of scoring a goal — but at his heart, he's soft. domestic.

he hopes fondly for the day he'll get to lay in bed with you again (he's only going to be away for two weeks. but it feels like two months, or even years, sometimes) and have a cozy little date where you just sip on warm coffee and share sweet cakes while mulling over poems together.

it's comforting. it's home.

he thinks about the worn book of poems that sits on your shelf, back at your place. the one he gave you.

the one you read all the time, leaving new annotations bookmarked for him to find each time he picks the book up for a read.

if he ever actually tired of football, chigiri thinks he might just become a poet. for you.

° 𐐒𐐚 . mikage reo + picnic date at the beach!

credit to anonymous! reo is a rich man, and he's so used to fancy dinner dates, luxury trips, first class service, all that. so when you take him on a cute little beach date, getting him to help you cut sandwiches and bake brownies and cookies earlier in the day, it was a new experience for him. and he loves it.

“reo, what about here?” you ask, turning around to look at him as you hop in your cute little sandals on the sand. he's carrying the picnic basket and you have the blanket folded under your arms — and he's been following you across the pretty beach for about fifteen minutes now.

though you ask him if he likes the spot, he knows from the look in your eyes that you actually like this place, and it's nice! the sand is soft and there's not a lot of rocks or seaweed under foot, the shore is a short walk away, and the sunset spills so pretty onto your skin and into your eyes.

he's almost lost in the sight — but when you call his name again, sounding a little concerned as you ask, “reo? you okay?” he snaps out of it and gives you one of his signature, wide and adorable grins. “yeah! here is fine, baby.”

he doesn't know but even his eyes are lit up, the violet of them beautiful and tinted gold in the light of the setting sun, and you can't help but cup his face and kiss him as he puts the basket down and sits on the blanket beside you.

“isn't this fun?” you giggle against his lips, and he hums in agreement, taking your waist in his hands and pulling you in for another kiss. the evening has just started, but he already knows that he'll remember this moment fondly, forever. “mhm, it is fun.”

“you sure?” you ask, tracing his cheek with your thumb, and it's almost a softer, warmer feeling than that of the sun kissing his face. “it's not your usual scene, i know. we can always go to a—”

”no,” reo cuts you off, taking your hand. the smile he gives you is prettier, brighter than any he's ever given you before. it takes your breath away. “it's not my usual scene, yeah.” he chuckles. “in fact, i've never had a picnic on the beach in my life until now. but it's... nice. i love it.”

he says it so softly, and it's rare, coming from your bubbly, bright and ever-so-forward lover. and that's how you know he's telling you the truth.

“alright then.” you kiss his cheek, pulling away and sitting back, dragging the basket closer so you can take the food out. it's just a little kiss, the same as any other kiss you've given his cheek — but somehow, it holds a different sort of warmth, and it comforts him. makes him feel so softly, gently beloved.

and he swears he'll hold this warmth to his cheek, to his chest, to his heart — forever.

° 𐐒𐐚 . michael kaiser + homemade spa date!

credit to anonymous! off days with kaiser are the nicest spent indoors. you go on outdoor dates (and on dates overseas) so often, that it's a nice change to stay at home once in a while and spend some sweet, domestic time with him instead.

“mikka,” your tone is scolding as you cradle his face in your palms, stopping him from wiggling around as you try to stay balanced in his lap. “can you stop moving? the serum is getting in your hair!”

kaiser laughs, the lift of his lips making him look all the more prettier, and hence all the more fucking distracting, as you try to wipe the residual bits of the face mask you'd just peeled off your boyfriend's face, replacing the thick, opaque cleanser with softly translucent moisturizer.

he taps your palmful of moisturizer with an index finger, and with a quick move of the digit he swipes the blob on your nose, making you flinch back and blink in surprise.

“mikka!”

ah, there it is. mission successful. kaiser almost wishes he could go to sleep forever and in his dreams, listen to you calling him by that sweet little petname for the rest of his life. almost.

because he wishes more than that to kiss you all the time. like right now. he leans forward, the smile stretching his mouth giving away his intention to you, but not in time for you to escape. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in, kissing you with soft, sweet and swollen lips that you'd just finished exfoliating with sugar and honey.

“baby,” your eyebrows furrow, but you still kiss him back and it makes him chuckle because oh, for all the fuss you make and all the scowling you do, you love him so. “we'll never get to the manipedi by movie time at this rate.”

“movie time can wait, princess,” he sighs against your lips. “all i want right now is to watch you, anyway.”

and his words are romantic, suggestive, and they'd bring a blush to your cheeks for sure — if he hadn't accidentally tipped you off balance in that second.

“mikka!—” you yelp (to his delight) as he grabs you and tries to steady you — but even as he saves you, your hand reflexively flails upwards to curl around his arm for support.

and with a smack, the moisturizer is all over his bicep instead of lathered evenly across his face as it should be.

the upset on your face is apparent, but kaiser only grins expectantly as he grips your waist, adjusts your position in his lap again, waiting.

and you don't disappoint. “look what you've done! mikka!”

[shoyoist]

— 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐒 ?! : hanma shuji

content: f!reader. sin&punishment tattoos on your tits. he calls you doll and babydoll + playful use of the term 'slut'. he calls himself daddy. size kink, choking, manhandling, tit sucking, body marking, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.

an : god i might actually get these tats on my tits </3⠀⠀⠀

 ⠀⠀⠀ — . ｡˚ ♡ you've always wanted to match tattoos with hanma.

you sit there, wrapped in your towel at the edge of your bed, smelling of soap and hanma's cologne, waiting for him to come home.

it's a little later than usual, but he'd sent you a message ( [18:26] shuji: i'll b home l8 baby ) so you knew to wait patiently. you also knew that as every other time that hanma came home late from work, he'd be tired and needy for you.

hungry to dig his fingers into you, sink his teeth in and relish your sweetness as it meets his insatiable tongue. it's his favourite way of winding down after a long day. and tonight is going to be special — because you've got a little surprise for him ♡.

the house is quiet as you wait, and you hear easily enough when the front door downstairs is opened. a jingle of keys, a click! and then a slight creak, as it swings ajar.

hanma doesn't call out when he comes in. there's no “i'm home!” or “i'm back sweetheart!” with him. he walks in silently, not even bothering to turn the lights on — he's like a panther stalking prey in the dark, as he saunters in and makes his way up the stairs to the bedroom.

you cup your chest with your palms as you listen intently for his footsteps, feeling the supple skin up, thinking of how his hands would feel over them. his big, calloused palms and long fingers — squeezing so harsh and good.

and then you hear his footsteps — heavy, rhythmic steps that thud closer and closer to your door, and you can't help but rub your thighs together, hot and bothered just by the thought of him and the sound of his arrival.

you watch, as the door handle twists so silently, not a single squeak — before it swings gently open.

hanma stands right outside, peeking through the narrow gap — long and lanky figure accentuated by his pinstriped suit, hair falling over one eye in wavy blonde and black locks, the round lenses of his glasses reflecting the light of your room, concealing his gaze.

a thrill rushes up your spine when his mouth eases into that sly, lopsided grin. “baby.” he croons.

he kicks the door open with one foot, stepping in. the door slams against the wall with a bang, and he chuckles in amusement when it startles you — and his grin only widens as he eyes you up. “you feelin’ your tits up, huh? made you wait too long tonight, did i?”

god, his voice makes you go insane. and he's so tall — so big, shoulders so wide and legs so long as he stops in front of you and bends at the waist to lean closer. those lidded eyes glinting gold behind his glasses as he smiles down at you, watching you squirm.

“daddy's home now, babydoll.” he giggles, knowing that it flusters you. “and he's ready to play.”

“shuji.” you breathe, caught off guard by his presence, the heat that radiates from him, his scent of cigarettes and dior invading your senses and rendering you just slightly dizzy — and your hands slip from your chest, towel falling loose to reveal what you've been keeping for him as a surprise.

and there's silence for a minute. you think you hear hanma's breath catch in his throat.

his eyes drop to your tits — to the freshly inked tattoos that stare up at him from the twin swells of your chest — pretty, black and exactly alike to the sin and punishment tattoos he has on the back of his hands.

he stares for a full minute, before he finally exhales, and exclaims with his eyes lit up— “dollface, you didn't.”

he falls to his knees at the foot of the bed, still at eyelevel with you because he's just that fucking big, and places his hands on your knees to push them apart so he can get closer, between your legs. “let me see ‘at, let me see.”

one hand latches at your waist, big and warm as he grips you, sliding his palm up your ribs and sending shivers up your spine. stretching his thumb out, he presses into the tender flesh of your left breast, rubbing a circle into punishment.

“m—mm,” you whine, arching into his touch, all of a sudden realizing that you're sitting on the bed wearing nothing, and that hanma is fully clothed, in his expensive two piece suit. it makes you feel vulnerable — and turns you on even more. “wanted to—to match your tattoos. you know? like a little symbol that shows i belong to you.”

the corners of his lips quirk up at that, as he glances up at your face for a second. his thumb keeps rubbing circles into your tattoo, grazing your nipple ever so slightly each time, and you can feel your patience running thin. “how you belong to me, hm? tch, such a good fuckin’ thing for me. you want to be branded?”

his other hand, that had remained on your right knee, starts to move then. gentle strokes up and down your thigh, slowly moving up to give your hip a little squeeze, digging his nails into the plush skin, before trailing up your waist.

sin waits atop the rise of your right breast, for his thumb to press into the black ink and give the sore skin some release. “look at that,” he grins, watching how your tits dip under the pressure of his thumbs, soft and pliable, newly marked by his trademark tattoos. “looks fuckin’ adorable, sweet doll. like you're all mine.”

his voice is deep, raspy and it cracks in all the right places — you feel hot, and with your legs spread apart like this, you can't even hide how wet you're getting with each passing second.

and even though you know he'll only tease you for it, you can't help but whisper, “shuji, please.”

“ah? speak up, baby.” he smirks, leaning even closer and letting his breath wash over your bare neck, goosebumps pricking up over your collarbones and down your arms.

his lips hover over your chest, just inches away, and you need him to press them into your skin — need him to hurry the fuck up and take a bite out of you already, before you lose your mind over the damn wait.

“need me t’ mark you up a lil more, ‘s that it?” he hums, and you can feel his words ghost over your skin. “make you really mine, yeah? with my teeth over these tattoos?”

“mhm.” you whine, desperate as you feel wetness pool out your cunt. “please, daddy.”

he squeezes your tits in his hands then, and fuck — it feels good, better than you could ever imagine or remember. a moan spills from your lips, body tilting forward — but he suddenly has his hand pressed flat against the middle of your chest, and without warning, he shoves you onto the bed.

the impact of your back against the mattress is cushioned, but the air is still knocked from your lungs in a gasp — and hanma chuckles again, climbing on top of you and tugging the towel away from underneath your body, throwing it aside.

“get down f’me then.” he reaches up for a moment to loosen his tie, and you stare up at sin with hazy eyes, until he's got his hand wrapped around your throat. he pushes his knee between your legs, and the material of his slacks feels delicious against your puffy clit as you grind on him, slick soaking through so pathetically quick. “let me taste you, a’right?”

“need it, shuji. need it so bad.” his smell and warmth overwhelm you — the space between your bodies so minimal, that you can nearly feel how heavy he is as he hovers over you. he's big, so deliciously big.

“fuck—” he groans when you reach over to squeeze at his boner, loving how his cock twitches against your fingers through his pants. he's so receptive, it's so obvious how badly he wants to eat you up.

“ah-ah, naughty slut.” he recovers quick enough, giving your throat a squeeze and clicking his tongue as he lets go, grabbing your wrist and pinning your arm beside your head. his grip is strong, hand so big and rough. “‘s my turn first. yeah? so behave.”

he wraps his hand back around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and gasp for air as he finally bends down and latches his lips around your tits.

“hngh, shuji—” his tongue is long, wet and sticky as he circles the hot tip around the sensitive bud of your nipple, hollowing his cheeks in and letting out a pleasured groan as he sucks at the soft flesh.

“mmm,” he moans, nose pressed to your skin, sucking in a lungful of your scent, tasting your soap and his perfume and you at the back of his throat. and as he takes his mouth off your tits with a wet pop — trailing his lips over to the tattoos, he whispers in a drawl, “say my name again, babydoll. tell me you're mine. should fuckin’ sear it into your head, heh.”

“i'm yours!” you moan — and he rewards you by sliding one hand back down to your hip and giving you another squeeze before cupping his palm at your pussy.

“all yours, shuji. all yours,” you repeat, encouraging — and he laughs into your skin, a low rumble that spreads tingles through your limbs. “of course you're all mine, look how fuckin’ wet you are. just ‘cause i called you a sweet thing ‘nd sucked these tits of yours?”

his fingers slip between the puffy folds of your cunt, dipping into the dripping hole for a moment before trailing slowly up to your clit — and he gives the little pearl a flick, chuckling when he feels your body jerk underneath him in response.

“sh—shuji, don't tease!” you beg, and his lidded eyes glitter with lust and excitement as he meets yours. “hey, let me have my fun now, dollface. y’re my little toy, aren't you?”

and immediately, your face heats up, tongue falling still — so weak to his smooth talk and that heavy stare of his. you look away, squeezing your eyes shut because fuck, he's all over you right now — no matter where you looked, you could still see him and feel him.

“hah,” he smirks down at you. “that's what i thought.”

his dick throbs underneath his slacks as he slides his fingers deeper into your cunt, feeling your walls clench desperately around the thickness and length of his digits. and just as a little treat, he finds that sweet spot of yours and curls his fingers in nice and hard—

“fuck, shuji—” your eyes open up, rolling back into your head, back arching as you scramble to grab at his clothed bicep. “nngh, more. please.”

“aww,” he coos, “all pent up for me, huh? need daddy to make you feel good so bad.”

“yes, need you—” he does it again, laughing when your begging is cut short by another moan. his mouth finds your chest again, front teeth and canines sinking into the plush skin as his tongue laps at your nipple, biting an arch over sin before doing the same to punishment, your pretty gasps and cries of pleasure and pain nearly drowned out by his heavy, strained groan.

“god, baby,” hanma breathes, ignoring the way you whine as he slips his fingers out of your cunt for a moment, leaving you fluttering around nothing as he pops the digits into his mouth and sucks at the slick coated on them. “shit — think i need you, sweet doll. sweet fuckin' thing.”

“give it back,” you beg, needing his fingers, needing him to hit that spot and press into it again, again and again. “please daddy, give it back.”

“a'right, dollface, calm your tits,” he chuckles, but you don't even hear his stupid little joke because he slips his fingers back in your pussy at the same time, and your vision blurs, the ringing in your ears getting so much louder with the increase in pleasure.

he rubs at your clit, letting go of your wrist now so he can watch how you grab at your own tits, feeling the marks he left on them with his teeth as you kick your legs under him and beg mindlessly for more. “little doll wants a fucking so bad, ah?”

“mhm,” you mumble, and he kisses you, his tongue meeting yours and wrapping around it, teeth clicking together as you lean up, wanting more.

“if ya want it so bad,” hanma rasps in between kisses, half joking. “then don't you dare cum just yet.”

“h—” your breath catches in your throat. “why?”

“heh,” he smiles, showing teeth. amused by the way your eyes widen in shock and how your voice lowers with indignance. “cause daddy said so, dollface. i'm saying you're only allowed to cum on my cock, yeah?”

you want to be good. you really do.

but right now, the fact that hanma is still fully clothed and doesn't even have his dick in you yet — it's driving you crazy.

you'd behave and endure his games, usually. but not this time. how can he expect you to control yourself when he's making you feel so good — just with his hands and his mouth? you need more. “no.”

reaching up, you grab at his jacket and pull him ontop of you — wanting his heavy weight, his heat and his boner on you. “baby,” hanma chides, barely getting his hand out from between your legs before your bodies collide. sympathy dripping from the rasp of his voice. “so fucking needy tonight? did ya drink something before i got home or somethin'?”

“no,” you whine again, too busy enjoying his pressure, the feel of his dick, hard and heavy against your bare thigh, to come up with a good response.

too needy for his cock to tell him properly that you've been wanting this since so early this morning, when you'd gone to get the tattoos as soon as he was out of town for his meeting. that even while the lady was soothing your nonexistent anxieties and talking away while inking the kanji onto your tits, you'd been thinking about him.

about him and about his reaction to your pretty tits being marked by his very own tattoos.

so delirious, you can't tell him you've been wanting him all fucking day, and even before today you've been wanting this to happen all fucking month ever since you got the idea — so you just grab his face, the harsh line of his jaw digging into your palm, and drag him in for another kiss.

“can't take it tonight, shuji. need you too much, 'n i know you're tired, too.” you say into the kiss, hoping the feel of your plush thighs against his dick and your tits squished against his chest will be enough, along with your sweet kisses and your voice, to convince him to reward you rather than punish you.

taking his face in your hands, you pull him back in when he tries to pull away. “please, daddy. just — just want you to make me yours.”

and hanma just can't resist.

“fine, fine.” the groan he lets out into your mouth is in sync with the twitch of his cock. his hands find your waist again — big, big hands feeling your naked body all up before he straightens up onto his knees on the bed, tugging at his belt.

you hook your legs around his waist, cupping your tits and showing them off to him, and he grins, the gold of his eyes wicked.

“wanna be fucked senseless so bad, ah?” he chuckles, throwing the belt aside, taking his jacket off before unzipping his pants and pulling out his big, big cock.

“mhm,” you stare at it, so long and beautifully curved upwards, the tip drooling a pearl of precum that trails down to his full, heavy balls — and you almost wish you could lick it up. “please, shuji.”

and when you look up into his eyes, you know he's about to do everything you'd been daydreaming about, and more.

“yeah.” hanma breathes, giving himself one good stroke, fist around his girth, before taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

the triumph you feel at being able to win hanma over, when usually you know that if you begged like that he'd only toy around with you more, sits bright in your gaze as you smile all giddy up at him. “mmm, missed you too much. 'm sorry.”

you say sorry, but there's not an ounce of apology in you. hanma smiles anyway. “don't hafta be sorry, baby. 's how i like you.”

eager to be fucked. such a slut for his cock. even getting his tattoos on your tits, just to be all his and only his. god, hanma loves you.

“and whatever my babydoll wants,” he leans back down to kiss at your chest, tongue lazily licking at the tattoos once more, before he angles himself at your entrance, meeting your lips with his again so he can eat up your whine as he works his tip into your cunt. “my babydoll gets.”

tagging : @b1ackdragon @virtue-and-beneviolence + @haruchiyos (az ik you didn't ask for a tag but i thought you'd like to see the finished product<3)

[shoyoist]

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 — hanma shuji.

hanma doesn't know why he's so nervous about giving you chocolate on valentine's day. for fuck's sake.

he checks himself out for the seventh time in the reflection of the candy shop's display window, running a hand through the gelled locks of his dyed hair, fixing a strand that had fallen loose. chill the fuck out. he leans back against his motorcycle, hoping to god that he doesn't look awkward as he stands there, holding a heart-shaped box and a bouquet of flowers— starting to feel cold as the sun goes down in the distance, his leather jacket and skinny jeans doing little to protect him from the late winter chill. 

like, who cares if this is the first time he's spending a valentine's day with someone? he stares into the lidded, dusty gold eyes of his reflection. and who gives a shit that you're the first girlfriend he's ever had? the first person to ever sway his devil heart, to pull him down from the top of the world and dethrone him of the title of the lone reaper? … and who cares if he was over twenty whole fucking years old when you gave him the first kiss of his whole life? 

“shut up,” he'd hissed at hanemiya, who laughed at him while he was hunched over shelves of confectionery, unable to pick something for you. “shut the fuck up, b’fore i knock the teeth outta your fuckin' skull.”

“ooh, would ya really do that, now?” usually, anyone would cower and tremble in their pissy little shoes if the hanma shuji had threatened them like that. but hanemiya hadn't even flinched. 

“your little girlfriend might run from you, shuji honey,” kazutora had mocked, using the petname you always called him by. “can't risk that, man. not when she’s the first girl that's ever wanted your flat ass in your life.”

“can it, tora.” hanma had warned, voice low. “for a kid that sat in the class corner and got his shit beat in by every other kid in school, you sure have a sharp fuckin' tongue.”

“ouch.” hanemiya's wince was only fake. “hey, man. we're friends.”

to be fair, hanma had never thought much about love or first kisses or valentine's days, or even relationships in general. he was plenty amused and invested by kisaki's endeavours, sidelining his efforts to win over the woman of his dreams like it was a soap opera.

it was new, unwalked territory, and it made him nervous, made his heart flutter, goddamnit— to be in love with someone himself. and god he's fucking sweating despite the cold, as he stands there as patiently as he can and waits—

“shuji!” your voice calls him from behind, and he ignores the way his face and ears heat up as he turns around to find you. “shuji honey! i'm sorry i'm late!”

you wave at him as you rush over, your shoes clacking over the frosty sidewalk and your scarf fluttering in the breeze. the first thing hanma thinks is oh, fuck— because you're damn pretty, and also because your hands are full. of shopping bags that contain what he can only assume are valentine's day gifts for him.

suddenly, he feels embarrassed. the box of chocolates he spent so much time choosing for you, and the bouquet of roses (one of each colour to signify every kind and stage of love) feel suddenly empty. not good enough.

“hi baby,” he says, voice going rough as he softens it for you. leaning down so you don't have to get on your toes, he allows you to capture his lips in a kiss, parting his lips to give himself a sliver of your taste. “don't worry your pretty little head. i didn't wait long.”

“i went shopping.” you tell him, hanging some of your bags on the handlebar of his motorcycle, trifling through one of them for something. “shuji i knew you'd never dress correctly for the weather, so i made some last minute additions to my gift list and bought you these.”

you pull out a checkered scarf, very long in your hands — and you get on your toes anyway, slinging it around his neck and patting his chest before nodding in satisfaction and going back to the bag for something else. “that, and these gloves!”

you take out a pair of thick, black leather gloves and wait for hanma to finish wrapping his new scarf around his neck, before taking his large hands in yours and pulling the gloves on them for him. “aren't they nice?” you smile proudly, squeezing his gloved hands. “look at the silver buttons! you fasten them like this, and see! they're fitted perfectly.”

“i—” his voice cracks, and he blinks down at you in silence for a moment, feeling warm and fuzzy as you hold his hands in yours. “thank you, pretty doll. i love them.”

“and you better use them.” you huff. “i know you're freezing even now. it's a cold evening. you never learn, shuji.”

“i will, baby.” he has to grin at you then, because you're so fucking cute when you turn your nose up and frown at him, bossing him around like that. “promise.”

“kiss.” you pout, then, and his heart melts. he'd already put his flowers and chocolate down on the back of his motorcycle, so he wraps his hands and arms around your waist, pulling you in and enjoying the warmth you offer as he kisses you, his touch so gentle and tender even to himself. “love you, baby.” he says into your mouth, blushing again when he feels you hum happily against his lips. “i love you so much.”

when you pull away, your gaze wanders off to his motorcycle — and you look up at him, eyes somehow so adorable, sparkly and full of innocent joy. “are those for me?”

“who else would they be for?” hanma chuckles, snatching up the bouquet and chocolate, handing them to you. “happy valentine's day.” the words feel foreign, an inexperienced rasp to them as they leave his tongue.

he watches you hug the flowers to your chest, reading the label on the chocolate box, giggling as you notice your name carefully written in black marker on the pink ribbon tied around it. “it's not much,” he starts, but you don't let him continue. 

“i love them, shuji! these are my favourite kind of chocolate— and how did you know to pick these specific colours of roses, hm?” you raise an eyebrow, giggling even as you try to appear skeptical. “i bet kisaki taught you. you wouldn't know a thing about flower meanings.”

it's true — he didn't know. he'd asked kisaki for help himself. his little plant-loving genius of a friend had been delighted to oblige. “hey, don't be mean t’me now.”

“i love them, honey.” you smile, and hanma's heart flutters with the softness of your tone.

he knows you love him. you call him your honey, your sweetheart, your baby — as if he wasn't 6’4, tatted up and famous on the streets for being an on-and-off member of multiple gangs, a wild card and a lone reaper of souls that's never been defeated in a fight.

as if he wasn't quite terrible at giving you his love back. he stares again at his flowers and his measly box of chocolates, before glancing as discreetly as he could at all the bags you'd hung on his motorcycle's handlebar. “so, what's our plan?” he licks his lips. “we can go anywhere you want— name a place, i'll drive us there.”

“aren't you sweet,” you reach up to pinch his cheek. “hm, let's go to my favourite restaurant! you know the one. and after that we can drive around and head to the park you like. we can open the rest of your gifts there.”

fuck. “these all’re really for me?” he frowns at the bags — there are six of them, all tote bags in pretty pastel pinks and yellows.

“mhm.” you nod, utterly unaware of what you do to his heart. “i got you twenty presents!”

“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the nape of his neck, puzzled. “why the fuck would ya do that, now?”

“buy you twenty presents?” you blink. “well, i was trying to get you something really meaningful, you know? something special. that's practical but also mmm, sexy — because that's the kind of thing you like.”

“and you had to buy twenty of these … practical and sexy presents.” hanma isn't convinced. 

you put the flowers and chocolate into one of the bags and climb onto the back of his motorcycle, rolling your eyes at him. “listen, shuji— i got a little carried away, alright? i'm nervous!”

nervous? you? he walks the few steps required to close the distance between you two once again. “hah?”

“mhm.” you grab at his stomach through his shirt and pinch, earning yourself from him a hiss of pain and a swat from his hand. “i'm nervous, because…” you smile, leaning in like you're telling him a secret. “i have to show you a good time—a little birdie told me this is your very first valentine's day date.”

hanma's embarrassment is evident as he tugs the scarf up his chin and turns his back to you, leaping onto the motorcycle and making it jolt, your panicked squeak and the way you grab at his jacket to steady yourself making him chuckle despite himself.

“hey!” you slap his shoulder, and he ignores you, twisting the keys into the ignition and revving his vehicle up instead. “shuji! you're mean.”

“‘m not.” he scoffs, backing up off the side of the rode and to the yellow line. “you're mean.”

he peeks at one of the mirrors and sees your pretty face twisted into a scowl, and his own face cracks into a smile. “you'd be a real sweetie if you told me the rest of the stuff you got f’me, though.”

“those are surprises.” your scowl lifts, as he pushes off the road with one foot and drives out into the street. you wrap your arms around his waist and press your body to his back, cheek against his shoulder as you let the wind into your hair and relax as he speeds up. “you can guess, though. so funny when you guess.”

“cause i never get anything fuckin' right?” he laughs, and then you laugh too, and hanma feels all warm and fuzzy again. god, he loves you. he loves you so much.

people would assume about a man like hanma, that he wouldn't settle for a first love. he would want experiences! he would want to taste love, passion, regret, heartbreak, unadulterated lust, the poisons and ambrosias of other people— but really, he thinks he can do just fine with just you.

he can do just fine with only your love, your presence, your warmth and your kisses from your lips his whole life. if he wants experiences, he'll have them with you.

“hey.” he says, half hoping his words get lost in the wind— but you hum in response anyway, so he continues. “i know i haven't even opened those presents yet, but thank you. alright? i really do appreciate it, baby.”

he laughs at the end, a little awkward, because fuck— he sounds so stupid when he tries to be serious and express something that isn't a joke.

then you kiss his shoulder, and he feels that warmth and fuzziness all over again. “of course. anything for you, shuji. i'll make sure you feel just how much i love you.”

and god, hanma just might fucking cry. his eyes sting, and he blinks the sensation away before it can build — but he still takes a little too long to reply, takes too long to swallow down the lump in his throat. “i love ya too.”

“shuji,” your voice is teasing, and he feels you tilt your face on his shoulder to look at him better. “you're tearing up, aren't you?”

“baby, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” he smiles anyway, because your laugh is beautiful, and when you push yourself up just a bit to place a quick kiss on his cheek, he turns his head just in time to make it a kiss on his lips. ”now stay put.”

note: inspired by an ask left to me by @vivianette. thank you for the idea, beloved<3 interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated!

[shoyoist]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 — haitani ran.

haitani ran doesn't care for anything. 

he has always been that way. laid back look in eyes, lips set in that impassive slant that somehow passed as a smile. you've known this about him for the lengthy amount of time you've been friends, and you were used to his languid attitude — and you didn't mind it, honestly.

you knew he only really cared when it was something about himself. his hair, his pride, or something to do with his little brother getting into danger.

which is why you're staring at him the way you are. 

watching him rub the darkening bruise at the left of his mouth as he fixes his hair (of course. his ever so precious hair.) after it had come loose, seated on your couch with that nonchalant look in his eyes — like he hadn't just beat the absolute shit out of your ex boyfriend.

thinking back on it, you weren't even sure why you'd called ran and told him about it. 

all you knew was that you'd just barely managed to move on from the way your ex cheated on you and dumped you months ago; and seeing the jerk at your door, hearing him tell you that he regretted everything and wanted you to give him a second chance — it had you fumbling for the phone in an instant.

"ran," you'd muttered, trying to keep your voice from reaching the guy standing more or less patiently behind the door you'd slammed in his face. "ran, he's here. and he says he wants me back. after everything he did—"

ran had cut you off with a simple 'give me five minutes, yeah?' — and then he was there, grabbing your ex by the collar and spitting in his face before throwing him onto the ground.

you'd stood there for a moment, confused, shocked and stunned to see the anger in ran's usually placid eyes. to see the way he used his fists, rather than the weapons he preferred. to hear him cuss your ex out, talking about how you deserved better than a piece of shit, about how if he ever showed his ass at your door again, he'd kill him on the spot.

you'd only snapped out of it when your ex managed to land a punch on ran's face, sending his head twisting to one side, blonde-and-black braids following the movement — and then you were stepping out, screaming at them to stop. 

ran looked up at you, recognized the upset written over your features, and withdrew. not without one last kick, but the fact that he'd immediately, actually stopped was another surprise. "get the fuck away." he'd hissed at your ex.

naturally, your ex had left the scene without further protest, hopefully never to return, but you were still stunned. because for a moment, it looked like haitani ran cared.

"lemme get a glass of water," he'd mumbled, all casual, shouldering past you into your house and making his way into your kitchen.

you followed, poured him his water, watched him drink and wash his mouth with it, and then followed him back into your living room where he now sat, redoing his hair.

deciding that you'd stared enough, he looks up. "what is it, huh?"

"ah," you scramble to find words that would make sense. "i was just wondering. you got here pretty fast."

"i was on my way." he explains dismissively.

"you were?" you ask. he nods, fixing one braid and undoing the other, letting the alternating waves of dyed hair fall across his shoulder, creating soft shadows over the slant of his face, against the watery sunlight coming through your window. "was gonna take you out for some ice cream."

"oh." and then you realize that in fact, he'd been doing that a lot the past weeks, after your break up.

showing up unannounced and asking you if you wanted to go out for some nothing-in-particular, telling you almost teasingly that he'd freed up some time just for you, so you better accept his offer.

you'd been appreciating his gestures as kindness shown to you by a friend — albeit one that was involved in various criminal activities, that you'd decided to look past because you'd known him for long enough to not care — but now, you were starting to wonder if it was something more.

the signs were all there, after all.

"ran, do you—" the words spill from your lips without your intention, and you hesitate, even as he looks up, flicking a strand of his hair out of his eyes that were now glowing with the light pooling in them. "yeah?"

fuck, you think, as his gaze grows sharper, steeling itself against yours.

"i'm just, uh," you really don't know how to say what you wanted to say. "it's just, you ... do you care?"

he raises an eyebrow, giving you a scrutinizing look. "the fuck's that supposed to mean, hm? care about what?"

"about ..." you take a deep breath. "scratch that. do you like me?"

he freezes momentarily, upon hearing your question — only for a fraction of a second — but you're watching him closely enough to catch it. you don't know what else to say, and there's silence in the air between you two for what feels like an age, before he simply finishes braiding his hair and stands up. 

your heart starts to beat faster, wondering if he was about to walk out with no explanation — perhaps you'd hit a nerve, perhaps you'd assumed wrong and thought too much about something that had no meaning. "wait—"

"look, i don't wanna be a rebound or anything." he starts, voice a little stiff, a little cold — and you shut your mouth, allowing him to continue. "i'm not about to get played or made a fool out of. so, so we'll take things slow. i'll wait for you to get over shit at your own pace. you take your time, and tell me if you ever wanna give me a chance."

"g-give you a chance?" your heart picks up pace again, because god, you weren't expecting him to say all of that. it wasn't like him to be so — so this way, and it was rendering you just a bit speechless. "ran, i . . . you, you really—"

he turns to you again, rolling his eyes — but you don't see any real annoyance behind it. "not in the mood to talk about it right now, love. let's just go get some food. and you know it's not gonna be any tacky shit like what ass-face treated you to, so hurry up."

and now, after that thrown out half-confession, the way he called you love sounded softer, less of a joke and more of something else. you felt bad, but you also can't help but feel relief. 

why relief?

because you know how you used to have a crush on him. 

hell, you'd been in love with ran, going as far as to break things off with your friends that tried to convince you that he was no good. 

and because you can't help the way you've been looking forward to his impromptu visits as of late, daydreaming and wondering when he was going to surprise you next, and with what.

you know how you'd seen your ex at your door and only felt fear and anger stir in your gut — and you know how you'd immediately dialled ran, and felt near-tears with consolation when he picked up so quickly, when you heard his voice in your ear.

because you were starting to wonder if your past love for him was slowly coming back.

you still needed some time to move on, and ran knew that. which is why he'd just said, that he's willing to wait. because he has feelings for you?

"but are you sure you're willing to," locking the door, you turn to him and walk after him, out to where he had his motorcycle parked across the street. "you know, willing to wait?"

"whatever." ran shrugged, not looking at you. you quickened your pace, catching up with him and grabbing his sleeve to cross the street together. his gaze was fixed on his motorcycle, but it didn't look like he was focused on the vehicle.

the breeze rustles gentle in your ears as you walk with him to the other side of the road, and the sound fills in any awkwardness that blooms between you two.

the sequence of events that had just played out, hadn't taken even an hour. but as you search your surroundings for any signs of any unwanted presences, you see nothing.

there's only a couple of kids passing by on bicycles, birds coming down to land on the branches of a tree growing some distance away, and pale sunlight sifting down frim between the clouds to pool on the asphalt at your feet.

you feel calm. ran shakes away the grip you've got on your sleeve, but as your hand falls down to rest slack at your side, he grabs it, and gives it a small squeeze — and you feel a tingle of something bright and hot run through your chest. 

swinging his leg over, he leaps onto the motorcycle, slipping the key into the ignition. you get on behind him, grabbing onto his shoulders for support, suddenly feeling warm despite the chilly wind that was starting to pick up. 

"i've waited long enough already, anyway." he added belatedly, sounding ever so laid back, despite the cherry colour tipping his ears. "take your time. nothing to it, waiting some more."

and as your heart warms, you think that perhaps you were wrong. 

perhaps haitani ran does care. for you.

note: interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated!<3

[shoyoist]

Hi my name is virtue and i'm plagued (pos) by thoughts of how delightfully vocal hanma is in bed.

content: fem!reader. unprotected sεx, riding dⅰck<3 shuji is loud and talks so much. multiple rounds and οrgasms, overstim, use of the terms daddy and babydoll. manhandling. note: this took me so long i apologizey_y

— . ｡˚ ♡ hanma likes it best when you're just as vocal as he is.

“shuji—” your voice has nearly given out. your body is hot and sore and your skin glows with sweat under hanma's bedroom light. the slap-slap-slap! of skin against skin fills the room, along with your boyfriend's shameless moans and sighs of pleasure.

“say my name again, baby,” he groans, sliding his big hand down your waist to your ass, squeezing at the plush skin before giving it a sharp slap. “fuckin’ say it, and open your mouth—moan pretty for me, yeah?”

you're tired — hanma has been making you ride his cock for what feels like hours, and your legs are trembling, cunt and thighs messy with your slick and his cum, and your clit is begging for relief.

but he doesn't let you stop. “c'mon, dollface. fuck, you look so fuckin' good like this, mm?” he hisses through gritted teeth, hips jerking up to meet your body when your cunt flutters around him, making his dick throb. “tits so good when they bounce like ‘at. gotta— gotta fuckin' see em jump while i cum.”

god, he uses the most embarrassing fucking words sometimes— but you're so blissed out and dizzy on the feeling of his big, big cock inside you, that you can't give a damn. 

“hhngh— shuji, ‘m tired.” you beg, grabbing hold of his arms and using them to hold yourself up, still being such a good girl as you fuck his cock, pussy drooling and pulsing hot and wet all around his girth. “please.”

“keep goin’, baby.” he moans so loud, throwing his head back and exposing the expanse of his throat for you, and you can see red lines from where you'd dug your fingers in and scratched him down the side of his neck— you want to lean in and kiss him there, but you think if you move forward too much right now, you might collapse.

hanma is nice enough to grab your hips and fuck up into you, lightening the effort. “heh,” he smiles, a drunken stretch to his lips — and his eyes lower to his cock, watching the way your cunt stretches out around him as he rolls his body up in slow, languid thrusts.

“was gonna put a— a ring on you for valentine's day, baby.” his laugh is breathy, partially a stuttered moan. he eyes the milky band of cum and slick that sits around the base of his cock, getting thicker every time you sink your pussy hilt-deep onto him— and his smile widens. “but it looks like you beat me to it. look at that.”

your face heats up in a furious blush, and hanma just chuckles at your expense as you shudder in his arms, feeling an orgasm coming but also feeling too exhausted to even tell him about it.

his dark, golden gaze scans you as you try to catch your breath, thinking you're so fucking pathetic and so pretty as you keep going, just incapable of saying no to him even when you're begging him to give you a break.

he knows you love getting fucked on his cock as much as he loves watching you get fucked on it. “talk t’ me, baby.” he coos, patting your cheek before wrapping sin around your throat and gently leading your lips to his.

your hips buckle then, and your ass smacks onto his thighs as you sit down on his dick and whine. “fuck—” he groans, choking on his words as he lets out a string of cusses under his breath. “little cunt did so good f’me, ah?”

“can’t— wanna cum, shuji.” your eyes flutter, rolling back into your head as you exhale and slump into his chest, upset as you feel the stimulation against your clit die down but you've worked enough for one night. 

“kah— you tappin’ out on me?” he grins, squishing your cheeks in his big, big hand and giving your head a little shake. ”c’mon baby, give me a good time.”

“wanna cum,” you beg, tears dotting your lashline now. you wanna please him so bad, but you just cant. “shuji, shuji please. i … i did well already, mhm?”

you're so fucking cute. so damn good, so pretty and all his for the taking, he knows. you've pleased him plenty already, it's true. he's made you ride him and let him watch your tits bounce till he came three whole times into your pretty little pussy— and till you'd come undone, shaking and whimpering in his hands as you struggled to fuck his cock through your orgasm at least four times. 

and hey, isn't valentine's day supposed to be an occasion where the man showers his woman in gifts, affection and love?

“alright, since you're askin’ so sweet.” he chuckles again, and when sin and punishment grip your waist again, they do it firmly and with force.

hanma lifts you off his cock easily, and you don't notice but it twitches, the vein that runs underneath throbbing heavily when you let out a sad little whine like you're sad it's not in you anymore— and he shushes you, pushing you down on your back across the sheets. “let daddy take care of you now, m’kay?” he giggles.

you blush again at the term that you always say is so embarrassing yet makes you so wet and obedient for him anyway — and as you nod, hanma climbs over you, trapping your body under his broad shoulders and between his long, lanky limbs. “just need you to say the words f’me, baby.” he says, taking hold of your legs under the knees and hooking them over his shoulders.

you feel your cunt open up, slick and fluttering in anticipation for him, and the sensation of the cool air washing over the sensitive flesh right before the blunt head of his cock presses over your hole — it has you keening. 

he doesn't even have to instruct you. “please shuji, daddy—” you babble, needing him. “need you to fuck me ‘n help me cum. tired, so tired and i did well for you, didn't i daddy? need you to make me feel good now, please.”

and how could he ever say no?

“anyth—shit—anythin’ for my babydoll.” he hisses sharply, pushing his cock past your entrance and back into your warm, velvet cunt. his hands, the dark tattoos contrasting so prettily against his pale skin as he grips you tight, holding you in place as he thrusts in and slides himself into you in one go.

you cry out weakly, toes curling with the pleasure that rushes through you when he splits you open and his tip bumps your cervix— and he smiles down at you, golden eyes lidded and dopey. “yeah, ya like that? like how daddy can fuck his cock so deep into your little cunt?”

“mhm, mhm,” you nod, by now so blissed out that all you can do is moan and tell him mhm to every question he asks. 

“baby's all fucked out already,” he tuts, giving you another thrust, the schlick! of his cock going in and out so loud it sends the most delicious shiver up his spine. he's going to fuck you so hard. “y’gonna match my energy, doll? gonna moan with me ‘n cry while you cum?”

“mhm,” you nod, mouth falling open as he thrusts harder, and your arms come up to wrap around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. “love you, shuji.”

god, he thinks, giggling into your mouth, biting into your swollen bottom lip. he's going to fuck you so damn hard, when you finally cum this one last time, it'll fucking knock you out. 

notes: interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated! come thirst with me in my asks<3 tagging: @katasstrophy here it is rivvy! hehe<3

[shoyoist]

content: fem!reader. pussy eating + fingering. somno, but not exactly. overstimulation, implied multiple orgasms. listen up everyone shin eats pussy for his own pleasure <33

 — . ｡˚ ♡  shinichiro wakes you up at 00:00 on the first of August, hungry for his birthday present.

"angel," the muffled, sleep-heavy rasp of shinichiro's voice coaxes you away from your sleep, and your eyes flutter open slowly as you feel the pull of his arms around your thighs.

"what—" your mouth opens to ask him if something's wrong, but what escapes your parted lips instead is a gasp of pleasure, when you feel his fingers pull at the folds of your pussy, your legs already spread and thrown over his shoulders as he leans in and places a chaste kiss right on your clit. "shin!"

"g'mornin', love." he mumbles, lips pressed to your cunt. the space between your legs feels slick, sticky — and you're not sure if that's just his tongue, or if he's been palming and playing with your body already, causing you to react to him unconsciously. "guess what day it is today?"

"'s y-your birthday." you mumble, eyes hazily searching for the clock on the table beside the bed, and they open wider when you see that it's barely two minutes past midnight. "baby, it's not even morning yet. why—"

"want my present." he slurs into your pussy, and any reply that was forming in your head is wiped clean when he sticks his tongue into your hole, drinking up the wetness that leaks out of you. "didn't wanna wait."

your mind is cloudy with sleep, barely awake.

but the pleasure that sparks up your spine and within the coil in your stomach when his lips press into your clit, deft fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs as he grips them tighter, urging you to wrap them around his head as he delves deeper into your cunt — it's electrifying.

when you look down, you see the dark mess of short, black hair bobbing between your legs as he eats your cunt all up, sending shivers crawling through you with each flick of his warm tongue between your folds.

"so fuckin' good, angel." he grunts, low and husky as he takes hold of the back of your thigh and pushes your leg further up, allowing himself more room. "y'taste so good."

a flustered whimper is all you can manage in reply, as he presses you into the bed and devours you, letting out the neediest groans right into your cunt, your body shaking with each word he says. "make some pretty sounds f'me? need ta hear you."

he says it like he isn't just going to wrap his lips around your clit and suck the moans out of you himself, but you open your mouth anyway, letting out a sleepy plea for him to go just a little faster with his tongue, telling him to take you to his heart's content.

"'s my good girl," he breathes, the words hot and heavy over your skin as he turns his face and gives you a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh. "my only girl, yeah?"

"mhm," you whine, hips jerking as he dives back into eating you out, the orgasm building within you so fast it makes you dizzy.

"my one 'n only girl g'nna let me," he exhales, licking a thick line from your clenching pussy to your throbbing clit. "let me fill her up? gonna let me make her cum as many times as i want, 'n then fuck her full of my cum?"

"yes," you moan. there's no other answer to give, not when it feels so amazing and when it's your sweet, doting boyfriend's birthday and this is all he wants to have from you.

"good girl." he repeats, and with the next hot kiss he lands on your clit, your orgasm crashes down on you, and your breath catches in your throat as you cry out, asking for his fingers, wanting him to curl them into your tight, fluttering walls as you reach your high.

he does as you say — but you can barely hear his praising whispers as he pushes two fingers, and then three, into your squelching pussy and fucks you with them. each wave that washes over you is one of pure bliss, and your vision goes bright with stars as you gasp out shinichiro's name again and again, unable to say anything else.

"fuck, my doll's the prettiest when she's cumming." he says, and you think he's done, that he's going to let you come down from your high and then put his cock in you — but then, his arms wrap tighter around your hips.

shinichiro pulls you back in, and fits his tongue in your cunt again. "mm, keep goin', angel. keep makin' those pretty sounds."

you grab at the blanket that's under you, curling your fingers into a fist and letting your other hand crawl between your legs so you can push him away, ask for a few minutes in between before he fucks you again. "wait, wait, shin—"

"no," he says bluntly, tongue lapping at the slick as it drools out of your cunt. "taste so good like this, baby. let me have you."

the spike of pleasure that courses through you when his lips tighten around your wet clit almost stings, this time — and when you squirm in his unrelenting embrace, an incoherent moan spilling from your throat, you know he's enjoying this so much.

he loves when you squirm helplessly in his hold, coming undone over and over again by his needy mouth — he loves pushing you to heaven like this. gets drunk off it.

and you can't help but think of his cock — hot, leaky and blushed red under his sweats as he grinds against the mattress, so ready to force its way into your tight, sticky heat and stuff you full of his cum.

that'll have to wait, though. because what shin wants for his birthday is to have you as his first meal, and he's not going to move onto anything else till his hunger has been quenched.

[shoyoist]

any thoughts on which blue lock men would absolutely be one of the best fathers out there? <33

ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 + 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

content: fluff. f!reader. marriage. mentions of pregnancy, child birth. an: sobbing they are all such sweet dads nonnie it was so hard to choose </3 gave us four best dads in no particular order because i could not rank them if i tried.

featuring: kunigami rensuke, mikage reo, isagi yoichi, oliver aiku.

° 𐐒𐐚 . kunigami rensuke!

he's a caring father. a little over protective, and a little confused — but he works hard to be a good husband and a good father to your kids, and that makes him perfect<3

he's the perfect man to have as your husband & as the father of your kids. chivalrous, a total sweetheart, doesn't get swayed easily, somewhat stubborn and oh, so loving. he's patient and caring and always available during your pregnancy, and he remains steadfast with those traits when the kids do get here.

he's way more into planning the baby's rooms than you are, honestly. stresses so much over the little details — wallpapers, curtains, sheets and number of pillows, exact furniture placements, everything.

he drives your baby girl and boy to school every single day, steals your duty of fixing their bentos for them, loves braiding your little girl's hair, and cries ("rensuke, are you crying?" "n—no, i'm just feeling a little emotional, a'right?") about how one day they'll be all grown up and people of their own.

none of the blue lock men EVER miss a sports meet, that's for sure — but kunigami? he helped the school arrange it. none of those boring lemon-on-a-spoon games. he pushes the school to replace the regular games with football related ones. a dribble race. the baton in the baton relay is replaced by a football.

one teacher makes the mistake of telling him "but sir, these are football games. what about the girls?" he gave them a whole lecture on how little girls can play and be interested in football just as much as little boys.

his enthusiasm is masked by his gruff exterior, and often it's just you that's left to placate him when your baby girl and boy get tired of listening to their dad explaining football rules and positions to them over and over again.

"rensuke," you hum, walking over to share the seat with him when he flops onto the sofa in defeat. "don't look so down, honey. they're only five and six years old. they just don't have the attention span."

"just wish i knew more ways to spend time with them." he confesses, running a hand through the spikes of his orange hair. "football's all i cared for when i was a kid, y'know? so i'm not sure what else to do."

he's so sweet :( and he feels better right away too, when you kiss his forehead and tell him he could take them to the aquarium next weekend. "they've been dying to go see the penguins."

"really?" he mutters, that contemplative frown that you've gotten so used to seeing and fallen in love with creasing his brows. "hmm, i'll see if i can take the day off."

° 𐐒𐐚 . mikage reo!

he's the fun dad. the life of the party even in the family. he starts off a little rocky, but after that he's so very supportive, lifting his son up into the light and paving the way for his future with everything he's got.

reo didn't have exactly the best relationship with his parents. it was great when he was a kid, but as he grew up and became a man of his own, his dreams and the dreams his parents set for him became obviously separated from eachother — which ended with him getting estranged from them himself.

which might lead one to believe that he would avoid doing that with his own child at all costs — but for reo, it was a shock at first when he realized his son had no interest in football.

"he's into art." you stroke his hair, letting him lay in your lap and mourn the loss of his personal father/son dreams. "he wants to paint, baby. look at him. only five years old and he's already so good at it."

"maybe he'll get bored of it in a few years." reo muses, rolling over in your lap to press his face into your stomach. "maybe he'll get into football later."

"reo." you say his name sternly. "don't push your own dreams onto your son." it's a simple reprimand, but it hits reo hard. he fixes his mindset instantly after that.

he's ready to bribe Tokyo's best art schools to let his son enroll in — but with the amount of top quality supplies, world class teachers and expensive classes reo has made available for his little artist son, he gets in without a hitch.

he takes so much pride and joy in knowing that his son is an art prodigy — showers him with gifts and praise, takes front row seats at every award ceremony, takes him out on celebratory dinners, and he pays for everything.

he'd also find it incredibly funny to buy his son art-related gag gifts, pretending he's innocent and doesn't realize what he's doing. "mom, can you tell dad to quit buying me the cheesy aprons." your son complains to you, showing you the OOPS! DRANK FROM MY PAINT CUP AGAIN! apron that reo had bought him online.

you don't tell reo to quit, though. you're just glad your husband has a happy, healthy relationship with his son.

° 𐐒𐐚 . isagi yoichi!

he serves as the closest and wisest mentor for his kids. he's a little nervous about his duties sometimes, but any time his children need someone to lean on, he's there. and he's there for you, too.

isagi knows what it's like to be average. he knows what it's like to dream. and he also knows what it's like to work hard, hone himself and make those dreams come true.

when the doctor tells you both that you're going to have a child — and when the doctor confirms that it's a boy — the first thing isagi does, is teach himself that your child is going to be a separate person from him, that will have separate interests and dreams of his own.

he's fully prepared to love and support his son in every way, no matter how alike or different he turns out to be from isagi himself. takes a lot of time off for you, especially during the later months of your pregnancy. he's so antsy too, always half-awake and jerking up every time you cough or mutter in your sleep.

checks on you so many times throughout the night that it gets in the way of your sleep and irritates the fuck out of you. he's just doing his best :(

and when the baby gets here, he's so on board with making sure you get enough rest and continue to get enough to eat.

scoops your baby boy up from your arms as soon as he's done feeding and takes him to the living room, telling you to make yourself comfortable in bed and take a nap. hours later, you wake up and head downstairs to see him sitting on the sofa, dozing off with the baby swaddled in his arms.

gets super nervous at parent meets but he attends each one. listens carefully to the teachers' feedback and scolds his son as due — but so gently, in such a reassuring tone that it's impossible to throw a tantrum or get upset with him. he's a real nice dad <3

and he's so lucky both his sons (because you get another little boy two years after the first) are into football. he coaches the school teams sometimes, coming over to give pep talks and offer tips before important games.

tells his boys to stay humble no matter what the outcome, but secretly takes so much pride with each goal they score<3

° 𐐒𐐚 . oliver aiku!

he's his daughter's daddy. his happiness comes in tow with yours and your daughter's happiness. you're both the lights of his life. people say oliver was tamed when he met you — and softened when you both had your little girl. and in a way, it's true.

(dilf dilf dilf dilf) loved showing you off when you were pregnant, and he loves showing of his baby girl to literally the whole world. buys you and your daughter the prettiest matching dresses, and brings you along to every event he attends.

"meet my girls," he says, shaking the host's hand firmly, giving the man a proud smirk as he puts an arm around your waist and brings you closer. "this is my wife, and our daughter."

"everyone knows, oliver." you roll your eyes, picking your daughter up and pressing her to your chest. she clutches the neck of your dress and buries her little head into your neck, tired already of the crowd, the noise and the flashing lights. "what do they know?" he grins, pinching your cheek in response to your eye-roll.

"that i'm your wife and she's our kid." you answer, letting him lead you to the seats reserved for the aikus. "i'm sure you've introduced us at least five times already. they'd know — if the news about our wedding and our baby weren't enough."

"hey, but isn't it fun?" he leans in and kisses your cheek — you just know people are snapping up pictures. tomorrow morning, your friends will send you the latest headlines: mr. oliver aiku is such a romantic!

"hmph," you huff, because it's true, he is a romantic. a show off, but a romantic one nonetheless.

spoils your daughter thoroughly — buying her dolls, pretty clothes, the trendiest school bags, cute shoes, whatever she asks for. and he always pulls up at the school gates in his most expensive car when it's time to pick your daughter up from school.

"you're gonna give her a big head if you keep spoiling her like that, oliver." you sigh, when he comes home with yet another dollhouse set for her. "she's my little princess." he shrugs, smiling nonchalantly as you cross your arms over your chest. "and a little ego never hurt anyone — mhm?"

walking over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, whispering in your ear, "and it's not like i spoil you any less, is it?"

[shoyoist]

𝟎𝟕:𝟏𝟒 𝐀𝐌 : hanma shuji.

"mwah~" you kiss his cheek and giggle, fighting back the arm hanma lifts up to elbow you away. pushing his arm down, you wrap your own around his neck, slithering in and pressing your lips to his temple. "mwah!"

"fuckin' hell, baby," he grunts, lashes fluttering as he tries to open his eyes only to squeeze them shut again, when he meets the searing early morning light coming through the window. "it's too early for this. go back to sleep."

"it's past seven, shuji," you sigh dreamily, and his brows crease together as you continue peppering kisses all over his face and neck, giggling every time he lets out a huff or tries to push you away. "and you look so cute when you're sleepy."

he somehow rolls his eyes at you, even with them still shut tight, and as you brush away loose strands of dyed hair away from his forehead so you can kiss him there, he groans. "i'm not sleepy, doll, i'm sleeping."

"hmph, even cuter when you're sleeping, if you ask me." you return, grabbing the blanket he's got over him and tugging it away to reveal his bare chest, eyes focusing on the cute little mole he's got right over his heart, on his left pec — flopping onto him, you land a kiss on the spot, giggling as he gasps, the wind knocked out of his lungs with the sudden impact of your weight.

"get off," he warns, placing his hands on his shoulders as if to throw you off, and you lock your arms around his waist, placing kisses across his collarbones, down his chest and on his stomach — and his muscles flex at the soft touches. "i said get off, baby."

"nope." you smile, batting your eyelashes at him before you continue what you're doing. when you move your lips over to his side, and kiss just below his rib cage, he jerks — lets out a short giggle that sounds even cuter than usual with the sleep mixed into his voice. "see, shuji, you're adorable."

"i punch people's teeth in for fun," he retorts, flipping over onto his left so you're forced to roll off of him — but you only climb back on and stick to him, hugging him tight and giving him another peck on the cheek. scowling, he continues, "and i'm on the run for murder."

slipping your hand under his chin, you slide your fingers behind his ear and under his jaw, lifting his face so you can place a small kiss on his lips. "mhm, so scary. but you're cute when you're running, too. all twiggy and stuff."

hanma's eyes finally open then; he tries to give you a wide stare, but is forced to squint with how bright it is in the room already — pressing his index finger to your lips to pause you, he blinks.

"twiggy?"

"mhm," you feign innocence, tapping his chin lightly. "you're tall and skinny. lanky; know what i'm saying?"

he stares at you for a second, before he grabs you by the back of your thighs and pulls you off onto the bed beside him, and gets up, pinning you between his hands and knees on the sheets in an instant.

his hair falls over his face, blonde and black locks lit up in the streaming sunlight, and his eyes glow; he's beautiful, and you blush despite yourself. "'m not twiggy, doll. i love you, but i'm fucking warnin' you. watch that mouth."

"heh," you giggle again, taking his face back in your hands and tugging him down for more kisses. "that's what got your attention? i'm literally showering you in my love here."

"take it back," he grumbles, and you bring one hand down to grip his bicep, lift yourself up a little so it's easier to kiss him. "mm," you put up a contemplative tone. "flex those muscles for me a little, and i'll think about it."

his arm flexes around your fingers, bulging hotly along with his pectorals, and when you laugh, he turns his face aside and laughs too, because fuck. "i love you," you say. "love you so much. my big, bad shuji, aren't you?"

"shut up," he mutters, and you grin, taking the chance instantly without a beat missed. "make me."

"fuck you, i'm goin' back to sleep." he lets out an exasperated sigh (holding back laughter) and falls on top of you, smothering you with his large frame, slotting his head in the gap above shoulder and turning his face so you can't bother him with kisses.

leaning over, you press your lips to the back of his neck, the faint scent of your own shampoo lingering in his hair from last night's shower. "i love you."

there's silence in answer — but only for a few seconds, before he turns his face back towards you, and opens his eyes again. he gives you another scowl, rolls his eyes again, before his lips stretch into a grin and he's pulling you closer.

"i love you, too." hanma mumbles, kissing you shortly—a press of his lips to your forehead, to your temples—before nuzzling his face in your neck. "now. let's fuckin' go back to sleep, please."

he's about to snuggle into you to spare himself from the light that's increasing in intensity as it pours in through the window, hoping you're satisfied, when he feels you pout. "shuji. you didn't say mwah."

the groan he lets out into your skin is loud, resounding in your ear and sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as you laugh. pulling back and grabbing your face, he tugs you in to give you another kiss. "for fuck's sake, baby, mwah."

[shoyoist]

ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 : hanma shuji.

content: f!reader. bad toman!shuji. mentions of murder, blood and violence. use of guns and knives. some sort of mutual pining. work partners to fwbs to lovers kinda thing. you fuck on the hood of his car that's parked in an alley, you suck blood off his fingers, he licks blood off your body (not your own). unprotected sex, fingering, biting, body marking, shuji's a little crazy v_v.

word count: about 4.0k

— . ｡˚ ♡ when kisaki gives hanma a little ‘birthday treat’ by sending him on a hunt for some traitors, he makes you go with him as a leash. and hanma decides he wants to have a little more fun, with you.

an: i'm terribly late but here it is! happy birthday shuji my love.

the night is still — the sky dark, the moon blocked out by the heaviness of the clouds, and the expanse overhead stretches like a void, consuming all that lay underneath.

the sounds of the city fade further away, giving way to the clack of your heels and the thud of hanma's shoes against the asphalt with every step you take away from the main streets — following him as he turns wildly around the final corner into an alley, and you both at last make it to a safe place.

you stop just short of bumping into him, and the scent of sweat and drying blood, mixed with a familiar hint of cigarettes and men's cologne, invades your senses with your next breath.

you taste rust on your tongue, at the back of your throat, and now that you've stopped running, the smell and the taste remind you of how badly you've both just fucked your mission up.

"you know what," hanma laughs, barely out of breath as he lurches to a stop beside his car, parked unceremoniously at the back of the alley, concealed by the shadows of the buildings and midnight gloom. "i take it back. kisaki knew what he was doing when he sent me out to work on my birthday."

he gives his gun a little shake, watching as it spews the last wisp of smoke from its mouth, before putting it back in his pocket and turning to you with a grin. "heh, that was the most fun i've had in a while."

oh, you know he had fun.

you've known hanma quite well for quite a while, even intimately so because you've fucked on occasion, but still — you think you'll never quite get used to seeing him like this.

his suit had been clean when you'd left headquarters earlier that night — it was a grey two piece, form fitting and accentuating his lanky figure, and it was as expensive as it was lovely.

but when you'd watched him in the warehouse, told to stand by on guard in case someone interrupted his little kill job, you'd witnessed how he dirtied it, how he got it covered in blood.

the sleeves were dripping red, his white dress shirt splattered with arterial spray — and you couldn't tell if it was his own blood or not that was trickling down his chin, as he slid his tongue out to lick it up.

"fuckin' shit, you are," he'd cackled, on his haunches over the victim of his hunt, as the man under him screamed for mercy. "think you can fuck my boss over and get away with it? i'll kill you. yeah? say my fuckin' name with your last fuckin' breath."

and when he'd gotten back up, his hair was tousled, black and blonde curls falling over lusty gold eyes as he threw his head back and laughed — tall and broad shouldered, with a long, freshly used blade in his hand and with his pale skin stained red with blood, he'd laughed.

and god, he looked so fucking hot.

but you can't focus on that right now. you're too busy trying to catch your breath, and though you're glad you've escaped safely, though he'd looked so hot playing his game of being a ruthless villain — the task you were assigned with was still ultimately fucked. "shuji, what is wrong with you?"

and instead of feeling remorse or staying quiet, hanma just laughs. again. "babydoll, i think we need to do this more often. you're getting out of shape."

"kisaki said—" you're cut off by your own coughing, and hanma rests a bloodstained hand on the small of your back as you bend down and brace yourself with your hands against your knees. "kisaki said keep things under cover and deliver the body to the harbor, not make a whole massacre out of one little kill job and then be all fucking careless and almost get shot to death by the other guy hiding under a fucking cardboard box."

"hey," he rubs your back, thumb catching on the red satin of your dress as he presses into it, trying to get a feel of your softness. "i didn't die. you saved me."

"you almost died!" you protest — "you nearly fucking died and you would be bleeding out through a hole in your head right now, had i not been there to shoot down that other man first. who fucking knew he was even there?"

"you did save me." he smiles. "two birds with one stone! now hush. you're being a little too loud."

right.

"and who knows how many other people know what we were doing there tonight." you mutter sourly, thinking of how much trouble you'd all have to go through to cover up all that had happened tonight. if you didn't send people over to clean the bloody mess hanma had left at the warehouse tonight, there would be no escaping things.

you'd lose a lot of cash, at the very least, bribing people to stay blind and mute to the murder. "someone ratted us out. there's more traitors around, shuji. there were more people coming. that's why we had to fucking run for our lives all the way till we got here."

"you're right, babydoll." he says softly, rubbing your back for you as you sigh — and you'd believe he'd finally snapped out of his adrenaline high and sobered up, if he wasn't using that petname on you. "we've got more hunting to do."

you glance up when you catch something glinting between hanma's clothes, and you notice that the knife he had used to slash his victim up was carelessly stabbed into the folds of his own suit—

something he'd recklessly done that you hadn't noticed, as he'd grabbed your arm and run off with you, thanking you in a maniacal fit of giggles for shooting down the guy that would've shot him in the back of the head and killed him, had you been too late.

he's crazy.

"fuck's sake. at least you had your fun." you sigh again, and hanma steps closer to you still, chuckling as he runs his fingertips lightly up your spine. "i did, baby. it's my birthday, remember? i'm supposed to have fun."

you can feel the heat radiating from his body even from here — it chases away the cold, lets you feel some of the fire that's burning in him. "take that stupid knife out of your poor suit."

"you mad the suit's ruined?" hanma pouts, and you roll your eyes at him.

"enough." you mutter, straightening back up and taking another breath.

the polished surface of the car gleams in the light of the street lamp buzzing across the street, as you walk over, squeezing into the narrow space between the alley wall and the car door to open the shotgun. god, he had to park the thing in a place like this, too.

"we need to get home quick. you're all fucking dirty, and you'd be in worse shape if i hadn't been here to haul your ass. kisaki sent me with you so i'd keep you from getting killed or caught red-handed."

"aw, come on baby." hanma coos, shrugging his shoulders as if to claim his innocence, watching while you lean uncomfortably into the car and pull out disinfectant and a clean towel from the bag under the shotgun seat.

he watches as you struggle, twisting your body and cursing under your breath as you work through it. he remembers — how you'd watched him cut that man up, how you'd looked so enamoured by his violence, so afraid yet excited all at once, as you'd listened to him talk and watched him gut the man like a fish.

he remembers how you had run up to him, almost losing your footing in those cute little heels of yours as you pushed him aside and pointed your gun behind him, the weapon already loaded and with the hammer pulled back as you pulled the trigger — and shot another man that had somehow stayed silently hidden behind the boxes at the back the entire time.

"fuck," you'd gasped, and hanma had seen the anger, the fear and the flooding relief in your eyes as the man crumpled to the floor. then, you'd been interrupted yet again by the screeching of motorcycle tyres outside. "we need to get out of here, shuji. now."

and hanma's cold, ruthless heart had fluttered. you cared for him, didn't you? truly.

aw, he had thought. she loves me!

oblivious to his stare, you squeeze back out and set the bottle on the hood of the car, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and examining his condition.

half of his face is swathed in shadow, and half is bathed in the fluorescent light of the street lamp. you see the smatter of blood on his cheek, the stain of it at his lip and on his chin where he'd licked it away earlier.

there's drying blood all over his clothes, trails of it down his neck and spread over the white of his shirt, from when he drove his knife into the man's chest and it had cut a vessel, spraying blood all over him.

"take the jacket off." you say, and he does so.

the white shirt stretches across his shoulders, the buttons at the top undone to make it easier for him to move in the thing. the hem of it had somehow stayed mostly tucked into his pants the whole time, and the buckle of his belt shines gold as you looked down at it. his pants hug his legs, showing off his thighs and calves as he stands there, smirking down at you like he's reading your thoughts.

shit, he looks so good.

the round lens of his glasses flash as he turns according to your push, the edges flecked with drops of red — and when you reach up and take them off, his eyes glimmer gold, along with the dopey smile he gives you. "babydoll, you're my lil life saver, aren't you?"

his voice lilts with the words, and instantly, you know what he's trying to start. you say nothing, but the meeting of your eyes with his is all he needs to continue.

he towers over you, shadow falling on you and shielding you from the light as he draws closer. the thick scent of cigars, cologne and blood grows stronger, and you breathe it all in — and his smile widens along with the rise of your chest.

"shuji, wait." you try, but your tone is half hearted and you know he catches it. "i need to clean you up first."

"you're all dirty too, you know?" he hums. his right hand comes back up, still sticky and red with blood as he cups your cheek with his palm, lifting your face up towards his. "such a gorgeous fuckin' sight, when you're covered in blood and holdin' a gun."

it's true. right after you'd told hanma that you both needed to get out of there immediately, you'd fallen on your ass into a pool of the first man's flesh and blood. your arms, your dress and your legs were all dirty with it, and now with hanma's touching, your face is dirty, too.

"shuji," you repeat. "not now. we need to get back, report to kisaki, and send people to cover up the messes you made."

"that can wait, can't it?" he presses even closer to you, placing sin flat against your stomach and giving you a light push.

he coaxes you to sit up on the hood of his car, the metal cold and smooth against your bare thighs, exposed by the short length of your pencil skirt — and you almost fall against it as hanma pushes himself between your legs and lowers his face to yours, bending down so he can get a good look at your pretty face. "haven't had a taste of you in a while, doll. don't you miss me?"

his palm slides over from your stomach to your waist, fingers squeezing at your flesh over the fabric as he slides his palm higher up. "it's my birthday. can't turn me down just like that. that's mean."

"sh—shuji," you say, trying your hardest to sound composed but it's so hard when he's so close, so hot, and his voice is so low and delicious in your ear. "not here—"

"can't." he groans almost dramatically, hand making it up to your ribs before he slides his palm to your back, toying with the zipper that's hiding under the slit of satin at the middle of your back. "i can't wait. you don't fuckin' know what you do to me, huh? so fuckin' hot, all dressed up, covered in blood and bossing me around like you're my little wife."

and with a whirr of tiny metal teeth unhooking from eachother, your zipper is undone, and your dress hangs loosely at your chest.

"your hands are bloody, shuji." you protest, but your voice is reduced to little more than a whine — he's so hot it's overpowering. "can't touch me like that."

"suck my fingers clean for me then." he says, and laughs when you scrunch up your nose and scowl. he takes a moment to grab the bottle of disinfectant, pours some into his palm and lathers it over his hands and arms. the bloodstains disappear somewhat, but his fingertips remain red, skin and nails etched with blood.

wiping it off with the towel, he presents his hands to you again. "happy? now, suck them off for me, like you'd do to my dick." he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, and you taste blood and disinfectant on your tongue— "mmph!"

"shhh, it's okay, baby." hanma chuckles, tapping your cheek with his index finger. "go on. i know you missed having daddy's fingers in your mouth."

fuck — hearing him call himself daddy makes you go weak. and he knows, god, he knows — you see it in the way his eyes darken, the way his grin widens as you curl a hand around his wrist and suck on his thumb, leaning into his touch. "that's it, there's daddy's good girl."

the edges of his eyes catch the light from the street lamp, glowing in a halo of gold as he watches you closely, letting out little groans of pleasure as you suck harder and harder.

he gives you another finger, and then another — and his other hand first pulls at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it off, letting out a sigh as he then brings the hand over to your thigh. this time, it's punishment, and he slides it under your skirt swiftly, fingers tugging at your panties and urging you to lift your ass of the hood a little so he can take them off.

"'s my little doll gonna be quiet for me?" he croons, pulling the lace garment down and yanking it off along with your heels — you feel them slip off, hear the heels clatter onto the ground. "we're outside, aren't we? 'n even if we're alone, you're gonna hafta stay quiet. or do you need me stuffin' these panties in your mouth?"

"n—mm," you shake your head, trying to speak around a mouth full of his fingers, and he laughs, wishing it was his cock making your cheeks bulge like that, but he doesn't have the patience to play right now.

he needs his cock in your cunt.

"good girl," he gives you a smile, showing teeth as he presses into you, giving your pussy a quick swipe with two of his fingers to gather up your leaked slick onto them and pop them in his mouth for a taste. "mm, fuck, baby," he grunts, eyes rolling up as he exhales, hot over your neck. "so good. so wet for me tonight — y'like seeing me kill people, ah?"

"mhm," you moan, not even sure what you're saying anymore, more interested in the way he's pushing your legs further apart, fumbling with the zipper of his pants and pulling his cock out from within, the heady tip red and hungry to be buried in the velvet walls of your cunt.

"a dirty fuckin' slut, aren't ya? heh," he giggles, voice so deep yet playful at the same time as he slips his fingers out of your mouth, his other arm curling around your waist, forearm against your bare back because he's unzipped your dress already, pulling you in as he tries to angle himself right.

"shit, baby," he grunts, wet fingers going under your skirt to touch your pussy — digging through the folds and touching your clit before he's bringing them down to sink into your entrance. "move a little f'me? daddy wants his cock in you, doll. let me fuckin' get in there."

"hah," you gasp at the curl of his fingers in your cunt, warm, wet walls clenching around them and squelching loudly as you lean back onto your elbows on the car's hood, feeling it bend a little under your weight as you spread your legs further and wrap them around hanma's waist, dragging him in. "please, shuji — daddy, need it. hurry up, fuck."

"'m givin' it, doll." he moans, laughing hoarsely when he pushes his fingers in deeper and your pussy squelches again. "fuck, pussy's louder than your mouth tonight, huh? naughty girl."

he slips his fingers back out, lands a sudden slap on your cunt that makes you cry out, and laughs as he grabs his cock and strokes it, still caged into your body by your legs wrapped around his waist.

"daddy," you whine, and he moves in for a kiss, meeting your lips with his mouth open, forcing his tongue in your mouth and tasting the blood — and he chuckles into your mouth, brows screwing together as he tastes the bitter tang of disinfectant that followed.

you're really his little slut, huh? sucking on his fingers even when they tasted like that?

"shhh," he mumbles into the corner of your mouth, giving his cock one last pump before he bumps his head to your pussy, slowly slipping himself in. "i got you, baby."

the stretch is expected — you've had him in you more than a few times, but still, it's still fucking delicious when his cock slides into you.

you feel how your walls hug his length, sucking him in as you lay on your back on the hood of his car, legs spread out and wrapped around his waist as he slowly pushes himself balls deep inside, skin cold but body hot and heart beating so loud inside with him pressed to your body, his smell and his taste cloaking you along with the metallic odour of blood.

god, he's so hot — so, so hot — "let me clean you up a little too, hm?" he hums, voice breathy with pleasure as he kisses your cheek, feeling the smatter of dried blood on your cheek against his lips, and he puts his tongue out and licks at your face, sending shivers crawling up your spine when he moans into your ear.

"heh, so good, babydoll. all of you 's so good," he says, rolling his hips in and slapping them against your ass as he slides fully into you with a heavy chuckle that sounds so good you could cum just listening to it—

and then, he bites.

he grabs your hair, curls his fingers up your nape into your messy locks and pulls your face aside to reveal your neck to him — and he bares his teeth and bites.

"a—ah! shuji!" you cry, and he laughs, digging his teeth in just hard enough for it to hurt, for it to hurt so good, before moving his face back to see how his teeth have marked your neck. "it's halloween season, baby. you'll be getting bitten sooner or later, lookin' this fuckin' fine."

"mmm—more," you moan, pulling another string of pitchy laughter from him, followed by a low growl as he bites again, lower this time but still just as hard. "fuck!".

he starts to move then, knowing he's not going to last long with how you're fluttering around him, sucking him in like you're afraid he's about to get up and leave.

there's blood on your neck too, and down your collarbones, and he licks it all up as he pulls in and out of your cunt, filling the silent alley with muted slap-slap-slap sounds and your moans, your dress falling apart to reveal your tits to him — and as he watches them bounce with each slap of his hips into you, he thinks he might go insane.

your only warning is the sight you see, of his eyes going bright, gold and narrow with want—

and then he's got you shoved onto the hood right on your back, your head against the windshield as he grabs your waist and digs his fingers into the plush skin, leaning onto the car and telling you in a rasp, "fuck, hold on f'me, pretty doll."

then, his body offers the first snap — and his cock hits your cervix so hard, your head is knocked back along with the rest of your body — he has you seeing stars.

the night sky above, that you can barely see between the two buildings on either side of the alley, is pitch black — but hanma puts stars in your eyes with how hard he fucks you.

the hinges of the car's hood whine just a little under your shared weights, but you don't hear it — not over hanma's heavy breathing, his whispered fuckfuckfuckfuck as he gets closer and closer to his high, and your open mouthed gasps for air as each thrust of his big fucking cock in your cunt knocks your breath away.

his pace is so fast, so hard, it's incredible he has so much left in him after all that fighting and all that god damn running—

but he fucks you hard, big hands holding you pinned down as he uses you all up, dress bunching up at your stomach, and your zipper digging into your back as he sends you to heaven and back on top of his car, right in this stupid little alley with a dead man's blood still wet on both your skins and clothes.

"baby," he moans, sweat glistening on his brow, at his temples, as he struggles to look at you through the bliss. "gonna cum, gonna fuckin' cum."

"want it, shuji — fuck, inside, please." you beg, eyes rolled back into your head, back arching up as you try so hard to keep your orgasm away, because you wanna cum with him, not before him.

but it's impossible — each thrust sends a pulse of white hot pleasure into your veins, the head of his cock hitting your sweetest spots so well, digging into them and leaking precum into you as he nearly loses himself and collapses on top of you, blissed out before he even cums.

"inside?" he rasps. "want it inside like you're my girl? like you're my own little thing, my slut, my girlfriend, my wife?"

"i am—" your voice breaks with the next hit of his cock into your cunt, overwhelmed and unable to hold your high back anymore. "i am your girl— mmh, gonna cum shuji, gonna cum!"

"go ahead, cum f'me," he hisses, the words sharp and needy as he bends down to kiss you again. "make me cum too, yeah? cum nice 'n hard for me 'n help me fill you all fuckin' up."

"mmgh," you swallow, as he keeps fucking into you, and you're half afraid that there's someone around to hear you by now as you feel yourself slip, as you feel the first wave of your orgasm crash down on you and your mind goes blank.

your pussy tightens around hanma's cock, so tight and hot and wet, squeezing him in a vice — and when your hands finally come up from where they've been gripping the edges of the hood to try and stay balanced, to cup his face and pull him down for another kiss, before you wrap your arms around him and drag him ontop of you, he feels your body squish under his, and fuck, it pushes him off the edge.

"cumming—" he chokes out, and you feel the thick, hot seed paint your walls white a second after, as shuji tries his best to hold himself up over you, gasping out your name as he cums.

your orgasm milks him through, pussy eating all his cum up, as he falls still with his balls against your ass, dissolving into your frame and your embrace as he breathes, so tired but feeling so fucking good at the same time. "hah—shit, baby. so good. so—so fuckin' good, i love you."

"mmm," you whimper, as he kisses your neck, his hair in your face, his glasses getting smudged on your skin. you feel his cum fill your hole up and drool out, so much cum you can't even hold all of it in. "i love you, too."

the two of you lay there for a few minutes, catching your breath and pulling yourselves together — and then shuji says, "fuck. gotta get home now."

"would've been better if we waited till then." you grumble, feeling sticky and sweaty now that the euphoria is over.

"hah, no," hanma giggles, his cheek pressed to your chest. "much better this way, dollface. don't fuckin' lie."

"hmph," you huff, running a hand through his hair — and you feel how he relaxes into your touch, purring low in his throat as you scrape your nails at the nape of his neck.

"happy birthday, shuji." you sigh, and he chuckles, low and hoarse into your skin.

"thank you, babydoll. give me an 'i love you'?"

"i love you." you hum, tilting your head forward to kiss his hair — and you ignore the way he lifts himself up to stare at you and coo like you hadn't just said it minutes ago. "now come on, let's fucking go home, shuji. i'm tired."

"okay, okay. but — since it's my birthday and since you love me … you drive."

"shuji."

"fuck, fine. you're no fun."

and there's nobody to hear it, but if there were, then they'd hear two killers laughing together, huddled up ontop of a car in an alley in the middle of a late October night, after having freshly added to their body counts just that very same night <3