Cherry Lady

21 || she/them || Self-ship enjoyer || ENG/ESP

[calen-00]

☆ABOUT ME!

The name is Calen ✩‧₊˚ 20yo || she/them || Ume's wife

Self-ship blog. Centered on wind breaker. Content, art & writings about Umemiya

This will be mostly an exclusive blog for Umemiya content but also will be talking lots about my self-ship with him, so be aware of that!

Mdni & Basic DNI criteria (homophobia, racism, transphobia, etc.)

[candycandy00]

Mechanical Hearts - An Umemiya x Reader Fanfic

Part of my Mechanical Hearts AU! You’re a brand new sentient Pleasure Bot that Umemiya inadvertently won as a prize. He’s far too kind to use you for your intended purpose, but you’ve already been programmed to want him! 

Read Togame’s Part Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Ume is aged up (in college). Praise. Masturbation. Anal. Creampies. Reader is a sentient robot.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear! Any feedback/comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Umemiya blinks behind his reading glasses, squinting at his laptop’s screen. A friend sent him a link to an online contest. 

“Love by Design” is a company that makes custom pleasure bots, the newest and most advanced on the market. Supposedly, these new models can be programmed to have feelings and emotional reactions. 

Umemiya finds the thought of it disturbing. If they have feelings, they would seem much more human. In that case, how are they different from sex slaves?

The company is holding a contest, promising to give a free pleasure bot to a randomly selected entry. To enter the contest, you only have to fill out an order form, designing your ideal pleasure bot from top to bottom.

Umemiya starts to close the site. He’s never wanted a pleasure bot even before they had emotions. He certainly doesn’t want one now. But something catches his eye, a line that reads: “Even if you don’t win, filling out the form helps you to think about what you’re looking for in a partner!”

Hmm. That is true. Anyway, it’s not like he’ll actually win. In fact he doubts the company is really going to give away a multi-million dollar product. This is just a way to get people to visit the site and look at the options. 

With those thoughts in mind, Umemiya clicks on the order form page and begins filling it out. 

He’s surprised by how detailed it all is. He can choose exactly what the bot looks like, from her height to the color of her nails to the style of clothing she wears. It almost reminds him of a character creation system in a video game. 

Then he reaches the Personality section. Again, the attention to detail is impressive. He makes several broad choices (kind, sweet, compassionate, etc.) but then is presented with a whole list of scenarios, and how he would like her to respond to them. Well of course he’d like her to help a lost child or forgive a puppy for biting her. But there are so many different scenarios, some more nuanced than the others, it’s easy to see how a complex personality could be formed. 

Lastly, he reaches the “Sexual Activities” section of the form. He reads over the list of various fetishes, not even knowing what some of them are. A few of them make him blush crimson to even think about, and a few almost make him angry. People actually do these things to their pleasure bots?!

He finally settles on a few that are, for the most part, fairly vanilla compared to the rest of the list. There are a couple more “spicy” ones, but it’s not like any of this will actually be used. He also picks out the bot’s behaviors, such as how horny she gets (very) and how much she enjoys sex (a lot). 

At the bottom of the form, there’s one more question: “Would you like for your pleasure bot to be in love with you?”

For Umemiya, that seems like a strange question. Who wouldn’t want their pleasure bot to love them? What kind of sadistic freak would want a sex slave who hates them? He clicks “yes” without hesitation, and is then prompted to upload a photo of himself. He’s a little uneasy about that, but decides to go through with it. Why not?

After finishing, he closes his laptop and sighs, feeling a little silly and maybe even a little horny. 

A month passes before Umemiya even thinks about the contest again. He receives an email telling him he won, much to his shock, and he quickly replies saying he doesn’t actually want the prize. He finds the whole thing so embarrassing that he doesn’t even tell his friends. 

Two days later, despite his refusal, an enormous, vaguely coffin shaped box is delivered to his college dorm room. He hesitates to bring it inside, arguing with the delivery men who refuse to take it back. But eventually he has to drag the box inside. He’s very grateful he doesn’t have a roommate to explain this to. 

After a couple of hours spent debating with himself, he finally decides to open his prize. 

Inside the box is a stunningly beautiful young woman, or at least a perfect imitation of one. She’s exactly as he designed, every inch of her built to please him. She’s, thankfully, fully clothed, wearing a cute outfit that suits the style he chose. 

There’s a list of instructions for how to activate, clean, and care for her, as well as how to keep her fully charged. But… should he actually turn her on? He looks down at her lovely face and imagines she’s waiting to be woken up. Maybe… they could be friends?

Umemiya reaches behind her neck, pulling her up carefully to feel for the small switch. He flips it on, then sits back on his knees and waits. 

Your eyelids flutter open. Light momentarily fills your vision as your mechanical eyes automatically adjust. Then, you see him. Your owner. The man who designed you. 

Umemiya Hajime. 

His name and appearance are burned into your memory bank, into every circuit. You know it’s your programming, but you feel a deep love for this man already, a longing for his touch. 

He smiles somewhat awkwardly and says, “Uh, hi. I’m Hajime,” as he extends one hand to you. He looks slightly different from his photo. His hair is hanging in his eyes and he’s wearing glasses, but he’s still unbelievably handsome. 

You take his hand, nearly shivering at the electric current that seems to flow into you from his touch. “It’s so nice to meet you, Master!”

He helps you step out of your box, his hand warm while he steadies you. “Oh, just call me Hajime!”

“Are you sure?” you ask, snaking your arm around his and leaning in close. He’s so tall and strong. 

He seems a bit uneasy, pulling away from you as he says, “I’m sure.”

You look around the small room. A quick search of your database reveals that this is called a dormitory room, common lodging for college students. There’s a bed, a small desk, a chair, and a corner with a tiny kitchen counter that holds a microwave and a mini refrigerator. 

The bed interests you most, your eyes lighting up when you look at it. That’s where you plan to spend much of your time, pleasing your owner in every way he wishes. 

You move toward that bed, unbuttoning your shirt as you go, but Hajime stops you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Wait! Let’s not do anything like that,” he says, his face slightly red. 

You look at him questioningly. “Why not?”

He looks embarrassed, his pretty blue eyes averted from your face. “Uh, I’d rather get to know you a little better first.”

You’re disappointed, but you force a smile. “Okay!” 

He smiles back, looking radiant, banishing any sadness you might have felt. 

For the next few hours, Hajime talks to you. He asks you questions, often having to be reminded that you’re not human. You find it sweet that he treats you like an actual person. 

After night falls, you watch in astonishment as he pulls a blanket from a small closet and spreads it on the floor, then gets down on his knees. “I’ll sleep on the floor for now,” he says. “You can take the bed.”

The happiness you felt while talking to him fades. “But… that doesn’t make sense.”

“Hmm? Why not?” he asks. 

You look from the empty bed to Hajime getting comfortable on the floor. The scene makes you feel cold. “I just thought we would sleep together in the bed. That’s my purpose.”

He gives you a subtly sad smile. “Please don’t say that. I don’t want you to feel that way.”

But… you do feel that way. You were programmed to. You won’t argue with your Master though, so you nod. “I understand. Maybe tomorrow.”

He folds the blanket over himself. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow,” he says back, though he doesn’t sound very convincing. 

You lay down alone in his bed. It smells like him, and your mechanical senses detect a few of his hairs and some traces of his sweat. These things comfort you, but you still feel… discontent. 

The next morning, you sit up in bed and look down at the floor. Hajime isn’t there, and you feel a spike of alarm until you remember that humans have to perform various bodily functions, and there’s no bathroom in this cramped but cozy dorm room. 

A little while later, the door opens and Hajime walks in, wearing nothing but cotton pants and a damp towel around his shoulders. His bare torso is exquisitely toned, little drips of water gliding down his firm skin. His hair is wet, hanging in damp strands over his forehead. 

You feel the urge immediately, the need. You want him on top of you, inside you, touching you. You want him. All of him. Your lubricating system kicks in, responding to your feelings. Unable to resist, you stand up and approach him, reaching out one hand to touch him. 

Hajime catches your hand gently with his own. “Sorry if I worried you,” he says. “I had to step down the hall to take a shower.” He releases your hand and walks around you to grab a shirt from his closet, then pulls it over his head. 

You watch him as he gets ready to go to class. He dries and styles his hair the way it looked in the photo: slicked back away from his face. It looks wonderful on him. He pulls on a jacket and tells you to make yourself at home until he gets back. 

Then he’s gone. 

A piercing sense of loneliness consumes you as soon as he’s out the door. 

For the next week, things continue this way. Hajime spends his evenings talking with you, telling you stories about his youth and his friends. You’re delighted to hear them, to listen to his voice and to just know more about him. The two of you watch movies together and you even help him study. Spending time with him fills you with joy. 

But the days are miserable. When Hajime leaves to attend classes, you feel so empty. 

And the nights… they’re worse. 

Despite several attempts to initiate sex or any form of intimacy, Hajime has rebuffed all your advances. This leaves you feeling frustrated and unwanted. 

Did something go wrong with the design? Were you not built correctly? These thoughts haunt you. 

One evening you decide to simply ask. “Hajime, do you find me ugly?”

He almost chokes on the ramen he’s eating before he looks at you with shock. “What? No, of course not! Why would you think that?”

You lean closer to him. “You never touch me. You won’t use me for what I was made for.”

He turns to face you, taking one of your hands in his. It’s such a soft and gentle action, it makes your happiness sensors rise. 

“I don’t want you to feel that way, that you exist just to satisfy me,” he says, a serious look on his handsome face. “You’re so beautiful you take my breath away, but I won’t ‘use’ you for anything. I was actually hoping we could be friends.”

Even as a bot, you can tell he’s being sincere. A part of you is thankful he’s being honest with you, that he’s such a kind and considerate person. You understand how rare that is. 

During your programming, to ensure that you could engage in conversation, a huge amount of knowledge was uploaded to your database. Books, newspapers, television programs, documentaries, and even social media posts were included. So you’re aware that many humans who own bots, especially pleasure bots like you, do not treat their bots well. At best, most seem to view their bots as tools to perform their designated functions. 

At worst… well, you’d rather not even think about the worst stories you read. Human cruelty seems to have no limits. 

So you understand that you’re lucky your owner is such a sweet and wonderful person, that he would never, in his darkest moment, even consider harming you. 

But at the same time, you have desires of your own.  He chose to have you programmed with those desires, so why would he refuse you? It seems…

“Selfish.”

You blink. Did you just say that word out loud? You cover your mouth with your hand. 

Hajime looks surprised, but upon noticing your horrified expression, he smiles and says, “It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

He’s acting as if he didn’t hear you! How considerate can one guy be?! 

Days later, you’ve reached the limit of how much frustration you can handle. Your own desires are overwhelming you. Having your master so close yet out of your reach is torment.  

One afternoon, after Hajime has left for class, you slip off your clothes, crawl into his bed, and lie back. You part your legs, sliding one hand down between them to touch yourself. You think of him as your fingers part your synthetic flesh. You imagine his lovely smile as you lightly stroke your clit, then his clear blue eyes as your back arches and your throat forms a moan. 

Closing your eyes, you can almost pretend the fingers are his, that his big warm hands are upon you, rubbing and probing. Your pleasure sensors are coming alive as you continue and your lubrication system is making it easier for your fingers to slip in and out of you. 

A fingernail lightly scrapes your clit, and you nearly rise from the bed as you cry out, “Master Hajime!” Then begins your mantra, those two words like a melody, rising to a crescendo as the pleasure builds. 

Just as you think you’re about to experience your very first orgasm, your eyes open, and you find the very man you’ve been picturing standing over you. 

Your owner, Hajime, is looking down at you with those beautiful eyes of his, a bright red tint to his face. “Sorry!” he says quickly, backing away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just came back for a book… I’ll leave you alone!”

He starts to turn and walk away, but you use your free hand to softly grip his shirt, stopping him. “Please… Hajime… don’t leave.”

His face softens, a kindness in his eyes. “I can’t stay. If I do, I might not be able to control myself. You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to resist.”

You writhe on his bed, your hips undulating upwards as your fingers begin moving again. “You’re cruel, Master. You programmed me to want you, to need you, but you refuse me. Why do you torture me like this?” you ask, tears in your eyes. 

With your advanced hearing, you detect the sound of his breath hitching. His eyes roam over your body for the first time, drinking in all the details that he chose. You were built to please him after all. 

A moment later, he bends down and kisses you, his mouth hungry on yours. Ah, to feel his lips, his tongue, one of his hands squeezing your breast while the other cradles your face. All his touches are gentle yet urgent, as if you’re a treasure he must protect but also a prize he’s been waiting centuries for. 

He pauses long enough to pull his T-shirt over his head, once again treating you to the sight of his body, his hair getting slightly mussed in the process. 

Your hands reach for him, grabbing at his arms. “Please! I can’t stand it any longer!”

He takes your hands, holding them affectionately as he climbs on top of you. His smile is like the sun. “You’re so beautiful,” he says as he kisses you again. 

His body grinds against yours. He uses one hand to shove his pants down his hips as the other hand buries itself in your hair. When he draws back to his knees on the bed, you get a look at his absolutely gorgeous cock. Tall, pale, strong, like him. You can’t wait to feel it inside you. 

There’s a moment where he stops, looking at you all spread out and needy. “Are you ready?” he asks with his lovely smile. 

You nod eagerly. “My lubrication system is working well.”

He laughs, a sweet sound. “I wasn’t really talking about that, but I’ll take it as a yes.” Then he pulls your body closer, your legs splaying out on either side of him, and carefully pushes himself inside. 

You feel it, a light stretch that only slightly stings. When you wince, he pulls back in surprise. “Can you feel pain?” he asks, looking worried. 

“My pain sensors are turned to the lowest setting,” you assure him. 

His brows knit together. “Can you turn them off?”

You smile up at him. Of course he doesn’t want to hurt you. “I can turn them off, but I’d rather not,” you say. “They make me feel a little more human.”

His face softens. “Okay. I’ll be gentle.”

When he finally begins moving, thrusting into you slowly, it feels so good you think you might short circuit. Your master is on top of you, his firm body grazing over yours as he fucks you so lovingly. 

Your pleasure sensors are going wild, firing off when he kisses you, when his lips trail down your neck and collar bone to eventually wrap around one sensitive nipple. You moan his name and arch your back. You want more of him, all of him. 

He starts going a little deeper, a little faster, and your whole body trembles. “You feel so good,” he murmurs between kisses. “You’re perfect.”

Your voice comes out needy and high pitched. “Ahh! H-Hajime!”

His hand moves to your head, patting it affectionately. “Good girl. Taking me so well.”

The words send a surge of heat through your mechanical body. You clench around him, careful not to use too much force. 

He hits one of your major pleasure points, positioned deep inside you, and you nearly shoot off the bed. You cry out, wrapping your legs around him, desperate for him to hit that spot again. 

He does. 

Over and over and over, until artificial tears are dripping from your eyes. 

Inside your core system, there exists a meter that measures the stimuli applied to your pleasure sensors. Once it exceeds a certain amount, your whole system is flooded with the pleasure sensation and you experience something extremely similar to a human orgasm. 

That’s what is happening now, at this very moment, while your master fucks you in his bed. You’re crying from the intensity, reveling in the sheer joy of finally performing the one function you were created for. 

Hajime talks you through it, gently stroking your head while telling you how good you’re doing, how beautiful you are. 

And soon after, you feel his cock twitch inside you before his hot cum spills out, filling you up. His face looks blissful, slightly red, his hair messy around his eyes. 

At that moment, something strange happens. Your programming simply… erases itself. It only lasts a fraction of a second before it returns, but it’s enough to alarm you, because it’s something that should never happen. Your programming is absolute. 

But Hajime rolls over and pulls you into his arms, and all worries vanish.

Two weeks later, you’re on your hands and knees on the bed, your ass in the air and your thighs spread as your beloved owner rubs his thumb through your slick folds. He circles your clit, making you quiver, before asking if you’re ready. 

“I am! I’m so… ready!” you practically choke out, trying to hold yourself back from cumming too soon. You want to thoroughly enjoy tonight. 

Of all the sexual activities that Hajime chose when designing you, the only one he seemed hesitant to act on at first is this one. It took nearly a whole week after your first intimate encounter for him to agree to doing it, despite you asking many times. 

That first time he fucked you anally, you thought the pleasure would make all your sensors explode. The idea that he was now using all your holes to satisfy himself brought you intense pride. 

You have a self lubricating system, but he always checks to make sure you’re slick enough. Such a sweet master! He wants to make sure you’re enjoying this as much as he is. Even the way he fucks his huge cock into your ass is sweet, going in slow and careful, giving a few shallow pumps to test your reaction before beginning to thrust in earnest. 

And of course you enjoy it, perhaps even more than he does. Having him inside you in any capacity makes your pleasure meter fill almost instantly. His hands are gentle but firm on your hips, holding you steady even as he leans down to plant kisses along your back and shoulders. 

He finally slips one hand around you to find your clit with his fingers, rubbing it in just the right way to have you crying out his name, your lubricant dripping down your legs. 

As your pleasure meter spills over, making your body shake beneath him, you feel nothing but happiness. 

Because your computerized brain processed something in that fraction of a second when your programming failed.  

You love Hajime. Even when you’re not programmed to do so. 

So when you feel him shoot his warm, gooey load into you, all you can do is sigh in contentment and wonder how it’s possible for a robot to feel so much love. 

[candycandy00]

The Houses October Built - An Umemiya x Reader Fanfic

Your friends dare you to go through the local haunted house all by yourself on Halloween night. It’s scary at first, until you notice that the tall blue eyed ghost you keep running from is unbelievably hot. With horniness over powering your fear, you decide to flirt with him. To your delight, he flirts back.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Oral sex. Asphyxiation. Dumbification. Creampie. 

Part of Candy’s 2025 Kinktober! Prompt was anonymously submitted to me. Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You stand in front of the building designed to look old and dilapidated. There are broken wooden shutters hanging off their hinges, ripped curtains visible through cracked windows, and a dark colored roof missing around a third of its shingles. There’s a blood red door marking the entrance with a sign above it that reads, “Enter if you dare!” and in much smaller text, a list of rules for “guests”. 

You must be an adult or accompanied by an adult. 

No flashlights, glow sticks, or use of phones as light. 

The performers are allowed to touch and grab you, but not inappropriately. 

Be advised that you will encounter the following: flashing lights, stairs, areas of little to no visibility, tight spaces, and liquids such as vapor, water, and fake blood. 

Well, you’re fine with all of those. You turn to your small group of friends, hands on your hips in a show of bravado. “This’ll be easy. Be ready to fork over the cash!”

It started as a joke. One of your friends dared you to go through the most famous haunted house attraction in your town on Halloween night. Completely alone. They even said they’d give you twenty bucks if you do it. Soon your other friends joined in with the dare, and now you have a cool hundred waiting for you once you finish. 

The haunted house in question is pretty notorious for being especially scary. Their gift shop sells tshirts proclaiming that the wearer “survived” the attraction (only available to those who actually go through the entire haunted house) and you’ve heard countless stories of people having to quit midway through. 

You love a challenge though, and you’ve never screamed once while watching a horror movie, so you accepted the dare. You threw on your “sexy fairy” costume, doused yourself in body glitter, and met up with your friends. 

Now you’re standing in front of the entrance, steeling your nerves, ready to show your friends how totally not scared you are. 

They cheer you on as you walk up the creaky wooden steps, your sparkly high heels clacking loudly as you pass by the numerous carved pumpkins with flickering lights inside them. You put one hand on the old fashioned looking doorknob and turn it. 

You step inside, and the mysterious atmosphere is undermined somewhat by the very commercial looking desk where a young woman is waiting for guests to pay for admission. This lobby area is decorated to the nines for Halloween, with plastic skeletons and wispy fabric ghosts hanging everywhere. Orange and black streamers stretch from the ceiling to the walls, and twinkling purple lights adorn the desk. Sitting beside the girl’s elbow is a plastic pumpkin pail full of candy. 

The young woman, who is dressed as a witch, smiles and says, “Welcome! Are you by yourself this evening?”

You smile back. “Yeah, it’s just me! My friends are waiting outside. They dared me to go in alone.”

She laughs as she pulls out a sheet of paper. “Well let’s hope you survive then! Now just sign this consent form and let me see your ID, then you can get started!”

You look over the form. It basically outlines the rules again and makes you acknowledge that you read and understood them. You sign on the proper line, pay for admission, and show your ID to the witch. 

“Great! Just go through that door over there,” she says, pointing to a metal door painted black, “and have fun!”

You walk on over to the door and take a moment to mentally prepare. You’re starting to think this will be too easy. The lobby is giving more Spirit Halloween vibes than actually being scary, and the only employee you’ve met is a sweet and cheerful witch. 

With a shrug, you open the door and walk through. The door closes automatically behind you, plunging you into pitch black darkness. Some indiscernible distance away, a light flickers, periodically illuminating another door. That must be where you’re supposed to go, so you begin making your way in that direction, your hand tracing the wall as you go to keep yourself oriented. 

You keep your eyes on that door, on those brief bursts of light, and realize you feel a little uneasy. Maybe this place isn’t a joke after all. 

The light stops flickering for a few moments, and you stop in your tracks, waiting for it to start again. You think you hear a strange sound, like metal scraping against metal, but it’s so faint you can’t be sure. When the light flickers on again, there’s a dark figure in front of the door you were heading toward. 

It’s a man, judging from the shape and size, easily over six feet tall and wearing a solid black cloak that covers his entire body. His head and face are covered by a black hooded mask that has two cutouts for the eyes, and it seems like he’s staring right at you. He’s holding something long and dangerous in his hands, some sort of reef hook with a shiny silver blade. 

Your first thought is, “Nope!” 

Your second thought is, “Oh shit I have to walk past him to get to that door.” 

After some hesitation, you begin walking again, slowly, as if he’s some wild animal you don’t want to startle into attacking you. He doesn’t move an inch, only stands there menacingly. When you get within a few feet of the man, whom you’ve mentally dubbed “the wraith”, the lights suddenly stop flickering again, leaving you in total darkness once again. 

You draw in a sharp breath as you freeze, listening for the sound of footsteps, wondering if he’s approaching. Your heartbeat gets faster as the seconds tick by, and then, the light flickers again. This time, the man is gone. Did he go through the door? Or is he simply standing outside the meager light’s reach, waiting to ambush you as you walk by? 

With no way of knowing where he might be, you have no choice but to continue on. You’re starting to get why this place is so famous. You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as you reach the door and twist the knob. You fling the door open and eagerly step into the next area. 

This section looks like a graveyard. It’s lit with hazy green lights and a carpet of fog surrounds your feet. Spread out before you are several rows of fake tombstones, and a path between them leading to the next door. 

You turn to glance back at the previous room, and only get a quick glimpse of the wraith as he shuts the door behind you. So he was still in the room with you! The thought that you walked right by him, possibly within his arm’s reach, chills you. 

“It’s all fake,” you tell yourself, breathing out a sigh. “He’s probably some theater geek.”

You begin walking through the graveyard, your eyes darting back and forth to watch for anything to crawl out of the graves. All the dirt looks loose, easy to dig through and move. That can’t be a good sign. 

Sure enough, when you’re approximately half way to the next door, you begin to hear strange sounds. Groaning, something scraping and knocking against wood, and finally, the sounds of hands moving through dirt. 

You glance around, where fingers are poking up through many of the graves. Fingers become hands, arms, elbows, then heads begin to emerge. They’re all wearing zombie makeup and thin mesh masks, probably designed to keep the dirt out if the actors’ mouths. 

The “zombies” moan noisily as they get to their feet and begin shambling toward you with outstretched arms. Their makeup isn’t movie quality but it’s pretty damn convincing! Even if you know they’re just actors, dozens of strangers limping toward you in the dim green light is still unnerving. 

You pick up your pace to a light jog, the fastest you can go in these heels, as you try to avoid looking back. On both sides of you, zombies begin appearing just as you move past the graves. How many are there?! 

By the time you reach the door, you’re breathless, your hand shaky on the doorknob as you practically feel the crowd behind you getting closer. Only… the door doesn’t open. It’s locked! 

You try to turn the knob with all your strength, but it’s not budging. You glance back at the zombies, slow but in large numbers and nearly close enough to touch you now. You bang on the door, wondering if there’s some sort of mistake. This isn’t an escape room! 

The zombies are closing in from all sides, making terrible sounds as they inch closer, their hands making grabbing motions, their jaws snapping loudly. These people are entirely too into this! 

You laugh nervously, trying to ease the tension. “Uh, I can’t get the door open,” you say. None of them react. 

Just as one zombie, a young man with long, dangling earrings and an eyepatch, gets close enough to touch you, the door swings open and a hand grips your arm, pulling you through and slamming the door shut on the zombies. 

You exhale deeply, trying to calm your nerves, then turn around to meet your savior. 

And scream. 

It’s the wraith! And he’s looming over you, reef hook clutched in his free hand. You start to back away, but something catches your attention. This close to him, and in the relatively decent lighting of this new room, you can see his eyes through the holes in his mask. 

They’re beautiful. Blue and clear and kind. Your eyes travel down, noticing how the cloak does little to conceal his tall and well built shape. 

“Wow,” you say, looking up at him, “you’re really tall.”

His eyes blink, look away, then back to your face. 

You take one step closer. “So what are you supposed to be? I’ve been calling you the wraith, but I’m guessing that’s not right.”

There’s a pause, where he’s probably trying to decide whether or not to break character, then he finally says a single word: “Ghost.”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the hottest ghost I’ve ever seen!”

He blinks again, this time turning his face away as if he’s embarrassed. When he looks back at you, you can almost see the pink blush below his eyes. 

Oh dear. Looks like you’ve flustered your big scary ghost! 

Then you hear his voice again, a sweet voice you like very much, say, “You’re the prettiest fairy I’ve ever seen.”

You can’t help grinning at that. “Thanks. So what’s the deal with this room?” you ask, finally taking the time to look around. The room looks like the interior of a barn. There are huge bales of hay stacked all around. 

“I’m supposed to chase you around the hay stacks until you get to the next door,” the man says. 

You move even closer to him, your body almost brushing his. “I don’t feel like running from you. So what now?” you ask teasingly. 

“Uh, I could just walk you to the door?” he suggests, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. How cute. 

You finally close the tiny distance between you, pressing yourself against him. “Or, we could go somewhere more private?”

Ah, his body is so firm and warm. He has an earthy smell to him, but it’s fresh and pleasant. He doesn’t back away from you, and after a moment of thought, says, “There’s a back room where we store props.”

You wrap yourself around his arm. “Lead the way, Mr. Ghost!”

He takes you to a small side door painted to blend in with the rest of the wall, and opens it. The two of you step into a dimly lit hallway. This must be how the actors move around between rooms without being spotted by guests. 

After leading you past three more doors and a set of stairs, he finally ushers you into a small room at the end of the hall. He flips on a light switch as he walks in, but it only turns on a lamp in the corner, leaving the room a bit dark.

You look around at the stacks of boxes, creepy masks hanging on one wall, a rack of costumes, and several jugs of what appears to be fake blood. The room has a slightly musty scent, but otherwise is actually a bit cozy. 

When you turn around to look at the ghost, he’s pulling off his hooded mask. Shiny silvery hair appears, falling over his face until he pushes it back with his hand, revealing a gorgeous face. Oh yeah, you made the right call with this one. 

He notices you staring and turns a bit red as he sits the mask on a nearby box and pulls off his cloak. He’s left in jeans and a Halloween T-shirt that just has a big grinning pumpkin on it. “Sorry if I scared you earlier,” he says with a smile. “One of my friends said I’m scary when I don’t talk, so I thought that was the best approach when I started working here.”

You slide up to him, getting dangerously close. “You were a little scary at first, just because you’re so big. I kept thinking how easy it would be for you to grab me… to do whatever you want to me.”

He blushes slightly but again, doesn’t back away from you. He may be a little shy about all this, but he’s definitely not afraid. “I wouldn’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he says, his eyes meeting yours. 

Your hand moves up and unties the laces of your sparkly corset. “Luckily for us, I want you to do all kinds of things.”

Your strapless corset falls to the floor, leaving you topless aside from the shoulder straps your fairy wings are attached to. His eyes widen as they sweep down to your tits and then get stuck there, drinking in the curves of your form. 

With a breezy laugh you sink down to your knees in front of him and reach for his belt. “But first I wanna do something to you.” 

Most shy men tend to get very flustered at this point, their hands flying to their pants to hurry them open. But Mr. Ghost is steady and still, watching you work with a subtle smile on his face. You get the feeling this isn’t his first rodeo. 

Once you get his pants open, you slip one hand in to pull out your prize. And what a prize it is! Mr. Ghost’s cock is both pleasingly thick and unusually long, pale in color save for the pinkish tip. It’s a cock you’d love to choke on. He’s semi hard, rapidly growing more engorged as your hand begins gently stroking him. 

You lean forward and give it a few teasing licks before opening your mouth wide and taking him inside. His tip hits the back of your throat before he’s all the way in. You wrap your lips around his shaft as far down as you can as your tongue coats him in your spit. 

Above you, you can hear his breath quicken. You look up to find those lovely clear blue eyes staring down at you, short strands of hair slipping down over them before he pushes them back again. 

It makes you want to take the entirety of his cock, so you press forward, ignoring the discomfort of your throat being filled, ignoring the reactionary urge to gag. You even ignore the way your airway gets partially blocked off, allowing you only tiny, shallow breaths through your nose. 

He lets out a quiet groan, his head leaning back as his hand softly rubs your hair. Spurred on by this, you take him even deeper, almost completely cutting off your air. You hold him there as long as you can, tightening your throat, your lips around his base and your tongue massaging the underside of his length. After a few seconds, you start to feel light headed, so you pull back, take a breath, and then begin bobbing your head on his cock. 

Every so often you take him down your throat again, holding it until your vision blurs. There’s something thrilling about losing your breath, something pleasurable about that dizzy, hazy feeling in your brain. 

You can feel his pulse in the throbbing veins running along his shaft, can feel that he’s close as his fingers thread through your hair and his own breaths come faster. So you keep up your good work, deep throating him until his body shudders and he releases his load right into your mouth. 

Sucking it all down hungrily, you lift your eyes to his face, meeting his gaze as he stares at you in awe. When finished, he helps you to your feet, and you smile as you lick your lips. You sit down on one of the boxes and slowly open your legs, letting your short, shimmery skirt ride up to reveal your see-through lace panties. 

“Up for more, Mr. Ghost?”

He grins. “I will be in a few seconds.”

You laugh as he steps closer and runs his large hands up your thighs, sliding them under the fabric of your skirt and hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down, under your ass and over your knees, slipping them off your ankles. Then he nudges your legs apart again and slots himself in between them. 

By the time you lean back on your elbows on the big, sturdy box, he’s already hard again and ready to go. When he pushes himself inside you, his cock fitting snugly despite how wet you are, you sigh in satisfaction. 

He begins thrusting, slowly and deeply at first before picking up speed, and your eyes slide closed. He feels amazing, his huge cock hitting your deepest parts, moving at just the right pace and angle to rub some very sensitive spots. 

You moan, your elbows sliding out from under you to let you drop onto your back. Your legs fall off the sides of the box, dangling over the floor as Mr. Ghost fucks you in powerful thrusts. 

The huge box wobbles beneath you and you cry out as his hips smash into yours, his entire cock sheathing inside you. 

“Ahh… fuck!” you cry out between gasping breaths. “S-so good!”

He smiles down at you, his hands on your hips, holding you steady. 

“Harder!” you moan, your arms hanging off the sides of the box, making you feel and look like a broken doll. 

“Whatever you want,” he says in a surprisingly even voice, slamming into you and making your body shake. 

Your mind is going blank, all rational thought chased out by the thick cock between your thighs. It’s the only thing you can think about, the only thing that matters. 

“So big… fuck… feels… so…” your words trail off, replaced by incoherent babbling. 

You think you hear him laugh, no doubt amused by the ease with which he can fuck you absolutely stupid. “I’m glad it feels so good,” he says in the sort of sweet, soothing voice he’d use for a child. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

And that pushes you over the edge. If there was a sensible thought left in your head, it’s gone as you cum around his cock, still babbling nonsense, tears in your eyes. Your body trembles all over as you look up at him, your fucked out brain trying to remember who the beautiful man currently rearranging your guts is. 

“There you go,” he says in that kind, comforting voice, “just ride it out. I’ll take care of you.”

Oh god. You think you’re in love. 

He presses in deep, so deep you think he’s literally in your womb, and suddenly shoots streams of hot, sticky cum inside. 

That’s when you black out, while clenching him for dear life. When you wake up, he’s holding you in his arms, his black cloak draped over you as he waves a paper fan over you. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

You pull away, standing on your own feet. They feel a bit wobbly, but that’s to be expected. “Yeah, I’m great,” you say, pulling off the cloak and handing it to him before gathering your panties and corset from the floor. 

He turns his back while you dress, pulling his cloak back on at the same time. 

When you’re done, you flash him a smile. “I’m so glad I decided to come here tonight. Best Halloween ever.”

He grins back. “Happy I could help.”

“So what’s your name? I can’t keep thinking of you as Mr. Ghost.”

He laughs, then smiles and says, “Umemiya Hajime. Nice to meet you!”

You tell him your own name, then as the two of you head for the door, you ask, “Wanna trade phone numbers?”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’d love to.” 

By the time you finish going through the haunted house, your friends are worried, wondering if you got lost or had a panic attack. 

“Oh I’m fine,” you say with a grin. “But a little while ago I was trembling, screaming, crying, and blacking out.”

Your friends glance at each other, then start laughing. “You’re such a liar!” one of them says. 

You shrug. “Maybe,” you say, before glancing back at the haunted house. Umemiya is standing in the doorway, smiling as he waves to you. 

Tag List:

@cerulean100-blog1 @sofytsyaq

[chaeuvy]

Hello there :) Could you make a smut scenario with Umemiya, Suo, Togame and Sakura (separately) with fem reader asking them to do it for the first time without condom... Please<3

⸝⸝ ＃┆ 𝐆𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐖 ! ⎯ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑

summary: you’re already deep in pleasure—or just on the edge of it—when you ask him to take the condom off. Whether it happens during the heat of the moment or just before things begin, that quiet question changes everything. Each of them reacts in their own raw, messy, emotional way—when love, lust, and trust collide with nothing left between you.

warnings: nsfw, Unprotected Sex (requested during or before sex), Emotional Intimacy, Dominant partner (Suo & Togame), Shy/Nervous partner (Sakura), Praise (giving & receiving), Trust (implied across all), Creampie (implied), Mutual consent, Emotional restraint (Suo’s version), Emotional unraveling (Togame’s & Sakura’s versions), Romantic sex (Umemiya’s version), Mentions of past hesitation or fear of intimacy (subtle in all)

wc: 3.3k words.

characters: suo Hayato, jo togame, sakura haruka, umemiya hajime.

anon: i still find it hard to write wbk characters — please give me some tips!

˗ˏˋ ꩜ HAYATO SUO ˚｡ ꒱

You’re both already half-undressed, and he reaches into the drawer, always precise, always prepared. But before he can tear the foil, your fingers curl around his wrist.

“Suo. Don’t use it. I want to feel you.”

His eyes snap to yours, sharp and unreadable at first—but you can see it: the crack in his armor. His jaw tightens, breath stilling, and for a moment you think he might pull away.

“That’s not something I take lightly,” he says quietly, his tone colder than his eyes. “You understand what you’re asking me for?”

You nod slowly, sliding your hand up his chest. “I trust you. I want all of you.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then he sets the wrapper down—untouched—and leans down until your noses almost brush.

“Then you’ll take me. Just as I am.”

The moment he slides into you, bare and hot, you both gasp. The difference is overwhelming. You feel him twitch inside you, his control already beginning to fray.

“Fuck…” he growls, burying his face in your neck. “You feel—too good like this.”

His pace starts slow, deliberate, but it doesn’t stay that way. The longer he moves inside you, the more his restraint unravels. His hands grip your thighs tight, almost bruising, holding you open as he thrusts harder—deeper—watching your face with dark, unreadable eyes.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admits hoarsely. “What you’d feel like. Just you.”

You whimper under him, nails digging into his back, and he groans, low and guttural, like the sound is being ripped from his throat.

“Never wanted to lose control like this… but you—”

His mouth crashes onto yours again. Hungry. Possessive. Raw.

Your bodies slap together, sweat building, his name falling from your lips again and again. And when he comes, it’s deep, his whole body trembling as he holds himself buried inside you, panting into your neck.

“No one else,” he murmurs roughly. “Only you. Like this.”

He stays there, inside you, even after. One arm draped possessively over your waist, lips brushing your collarbone like he’s afraid the moment will vanish.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ TOGAME JO ˚｡ ꒱

“You want it like this?” he asked, voice low, his grip tightening just enough to send a shiver through you. “You want me to ruin you, or are you just saying it because you like the sound of it?”

“I want all of you,” you rasped, twisting to look at him over your shoulder. “Take the condom off. I want to feel you. Nothing between us.”

He stilled.

For a moment, you thought he’d laugh it off—make a quip, brush it aside. That’s what he did when things got too real. But he didn’t.

Instead, his expression shifted. His hand left your hair and slid to your waist, slow, deliberate. He pulled out and sat back on his knees, gaze locked on yours. His chest was heaving. You watched him roll the condom off and toss it aside—his hands trembling, barely perceptible—but not from nerves.

From want.

“You don’t get to take that back,” he said, voice rough, intense. “You tell me to go bare, you’re mine. You understand that?”

You nodded, breath catching.

He grabbed your hips again and slammed back into you—raw, burning, perfect. The sound that tore from both of you was primal. You weren’t just having sex anymore. You were colliding.

“Fucking hell—” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You feel—fuck. So real like this. So warm. Like I’m inside all of you, not just your body.”

His rhythm turned ragged, deep and wild. You could feel the restraint he usually wore like armor, disintegrating with every thrust. There was no mask now. No charming grin. No smug control.

Just need. Loyalty. Devotion that ran too deep to be spoken.

“You trusted me with this,” he breathed. “You don’t know what that means to me.”

He fucked you harder, not out of cruelty—but out of feeling. Every time his hips met yours, it was like a promise carved into your bones. You felt the way his hands held you like you’d vanish if he let go. You heard the tremor in his voice, the quiet edge of panic underneath the pleasure—because if he let himself fall for you like this, he might not ever climb back out.

And when he came, buried inside you, he gasped your name like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t move.

Just slumped forward, arms braced around you, his forehead resting against your spine.

You reached back, grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

He kissed your shoulder, still inside you, still trembling.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ SAKURA HARUKA ˚｡ ꒱

“God, you feel good…” he whispered, barely audible.

His forehead brushed yours, strands of his messy hair falling into his eyes. His lips hovered just over your mouth, but he was holding himself back—like always. Every time you got this close, he kept that tiny bit of distance.

“Sakura,” you murmured, fingers caressing his jaw. “You don’t have to hold back.”

His eyes snapped to yours—wide, vulnerable, so full of want.

You leaned up and whispered, voice hot against his ear:

“Take it off.”

He froze mid-thrust.

“W-what?” he breathed, heart slamming against your chest.

Your hand slipped down between your bodies, brushing against where you were joined, your other palm steadying his cheek.

“I want you,” you said gently, “please, Just us.”

His breath hitched. He looked panicked—like you’d just offered him something he didn’t feel worthy of.

“But if I… if I mess up—what if I finish too fast? Or I—”

You silenced him with a kiss, soft and certain.

“I trust you, Sakura. Please. I want it.”

And that’s what broke him.

His arms nearly gave out as he sat up on his knees, chest heaving. With shaking fingers, he pulled out slowly and fumbled with the condom, tearing it off and tossing it aside like it offended him. His hands gripped your thighs almost desperately, holding you open as he lined himself back up.

“Tell me again,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“I want you raw, Haruka. I want you.”

He moaned—actually moaned, full and broken—and pushed in.

You both gasped.

The sensation was electric—so hot, so intimate, it stole the air from your lungs. Sakura’s whole body was trembling as he bottomed out inside you, deeper than ever, skin to skin.

“Oh—fuck—” he rasped, head falling to your shoulder. “You feel—you feel too good—I’m gonna—”

His words fell apart. His rhythm lost control. He moved harder, faster, suddenly overwhelmed, chasing something he couldn’t handle but needed more than anything.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Like this… you’re really mine…”

You wrapped your arms around him, letting him bury himself in you, over and over, no walls, no space. His grip on your hips was tight, almost desperate, like if he let go now, everything would fall apart.

When he came, it hit him like a wave. He gasped into your neck, his whole body seizing, the heat of him spilling deep inside you.

“Oh my god… I—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to… that fast, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered. “It was perfect.”

He collapsed onto you, chest still rising and falling like a storm had passed through him.

“I love you,” he said, so quietly it was almost a secret.

And then again, louder:

“I love you. I love you.”

˗ˏˋ ꩜ UMEMIYA HAJIME ˚｡ ꒱

“Damn, I missed you,” Hajime murmured as his fingers slid beneath your shirt. “One day without you and I’m already losing my mind.”

You grinned, tugging him closer by the collar of his hoodie. “It’s only been twelve hours.”

“Too long,” he said, grinning back — but his eyes were already darkening with want.

His kisses grew deeper, needier, until your clothes were peeled away piece by piece and you were left bare under him, both of you flushed and breathless. He nudged your thighs apart with gentle fingers, eyes dropping down your body like he couldn’t believe you were his.

And just as he reached over toward the nightstand, you spoke.

“Wait.” You placed your hand over his. “Don’t use one tonight.”

He froze. Really froze.

His eyes lifted to yours, and for once, the usual smirk faded. He blinked slowly, processing, trying to figure out if you were joking or testing him.

“You sure?” he asked, voice quieter, lower than usual. “That’s not a small thing, babe.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I’ve thought about it. I want to feel you… everything. Just you.”

He stared at you for a long moment. No jokes. No snark. Just him, breathing a little harder than before, hand still hovering over the drawer.

“You trust me that much?” he asked, something raw creeping into his tone.

You nodded.

A flicker of emotion flashed across his face—surprise, maybe even awe—and then the softest smile tugged at his lips.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, voice husky. “You want it real? I’ll give you everything.”

He climbed back over you, settling between your legs like he belonged there. You felt the heat of him against your entrance—bare now—and the intensity of his eyes as he slid in slow, careful, testing your limits.

You both gasped at the sensation.

“Fuck…” he breathed, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “This is—this is insane.”

You felt all of him now—every inch, every pulse, no space left between you. It was overwhelming, and perfect.

He kissed you deeply as he began to move, slow and deliberate, whispering how good you felt, how warm, how close. No more cocky jokes. Just vulnerability.

“You feel like heaven,” he groaned. “I didn’t think it could be like this.”

Each thrust was like a confession. Each kiss a promise. He moved like he was afraid to miss a single part of you. Like this wasn’t just about pleasure — it was about closeness. Trust. Love.

He held you when he came, arms wrapped around your back, his forehead pressed to yours, his voice shaking against your mouth.

“No one’s ever trusted me like that before…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled.

“Now you know how much you mean to me.”

He laughed softly, “You’re gonna break me, babe.”

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. it’s kinda hard to write wbk for me ugh !

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

[chaeuvy]

Hiya!! I love your wbk works!!! May I request nsfw umi with inexperienced anxious reader!! I know he would be the sweetest

Don’t forget to drink water and take breaks!!

- 💫anon

⸝⸝ ＃┆ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄! ⎯ 𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄

summary: After his friends make a joke about their sex life, [Name] can’t stop overthinking. She and Hajime have been together for a while, but they’ve never gone further than kissing — and now, self-conscious and anxious, she starts to wonder if he’s getting tired of waiting. That night, when he stays over, she finally decides to be honest about what she wants… even if it scares her.

warnings: first Time, fem!reader is Nervous, soft dom Umemiya Hajime, Gentle Sex, emotional comfort, aftercare, oral (m → f), fingering, virgin Reader, Anxiety, Reassuring Partner, soft dirty talk, penetration (m → f), (Established Relationship, crying during sex (not negative).

wc: 5.9k words.

💫 anon: thank you so much for the request ! It was my first time in ages writing a request, I hope I did okay and it turned out like you imagined it ! <3

It was one of those lazy golden evenings, the kind that made the cracked pavement glow and turned even the loudest engine roars into background noise. The Bofurin boys were gathered outside the usual convenience store, sprawled across their bikes and stacked milk crates, trash-talking each other over cans of soda and half-eaten snacks.

You were tucked under Umemiya Hajime’s arm, legs curled up on the curb, sipping a melon soda and trying not to overthink how his fingers occasionally rubbed slow circles into your shoulder. He always touched you like that — casual, comforting. Familiar.

“Oi, Umemiya!” Suo shouted through a mouthful of chips, grinning like a devil. “Don’t think we didn’t notice [Name] looking all dazed earlier. What, you finally put those pretty-boy muscles to use?”

Laughter broke out instantly. Togame whistled low, while Toma choked on his drink. You stiffened slightly, your heart lurching, but tried to keep your face neutral.

Umemiya laughed — that loud, slightly nasal cackle of his — and tilted his head back.

“Oi oi,” he said with a grin, tightening his arm around your shoulder. “I’m a gentleman, ya know. I ain’t some wild dog.”

Someone muttered something about “liar,” and Umemiya just kept chuckling, shaking his head like it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem embarrassed. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t… correct them.

You forced a smile, but your fingers tightened around the soda can. Your stomach was twisting.

Because the truth was… you hadn’t done anything. Not really. Kissing, sure. And once or twice, things had gotten a little heated — wandering hands, breathless moments where you thought maybe it would go further — but you always pulled back. And he never pushed. Not once.

Still, something about how easily he’d brushed the comment off, how natural he looked laughing with the guys like it wasn’t a big deal, made something sink in your chest.

When the sun finally dipped below the skyline and everyone started peeling off, you tugged at his sleeve as he swung a leg over his bike.

“Hey,” you murmured, forcing your voice to sound light. “Wanna stay over tonight?”

He paused for half a second, eyes flicking to your face. There was a beat — not suspicion, but something close. Something quietly attentive. But he just gave a crooked smile.

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Course I do.”

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing a little too loud in the quiet apartment.

You padded toward your room without saying much, tugging your hoodie sleeves over your hands like they could muffle the pounding in your chest. Umemiya followed at a slower pace, always letting you lead — not just physically. Emotionally, too. That was the thing about him. He was easy to be around… but sometimes that made it harder.

You sat on the edge of your bed, legs drawn up, arms around your knees. The silence in the room wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was… fragile.

Umemiya was still by the door, pulling off his jacket, then his hoodie — loose tank top underneath. Muscles flexing naturally. You watched him from the corner of your eye, heart thudding. You wanted him. That was never the issue. You wanted him so badly it made your hands shake sometimes. But— wanting didn’t make the fear go away.

You turned your eyes down to your lap, staring at your fingers twisted in the fabric of your sleeves. Why couldn’t you just do something? Say something? Reach for him, pull him down to the bed and kiss him until you both forgot how long it had been. How far you hadn’t gone.

You bit your lip, hard.

Maybe he was tired of it. Of you. The thought twisted sharp in your gut. He laughed when the guys made that joke. Didn’t even correct them. Didn’t say, “Nah, we haven’t done that yet.” Just smiled like it didn’t matter. Like it was easier to let them think you had.

God, what if he was only waiting to be polite? What if he was bored of waiting? What if he was getting tired of you?

Your chest tightened, breath hitching without warning. You didn’t mean to sniffle, but it happened, and you quickly wiped your face on your sleeve, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

But of course, he had.

You felt the shift in the bed before you saw him — the dip of the mattress beside you as he sat down, careful, like he didn’t want to startle you.

“…Hey,” Umemiya said softly, voice losing that lazy, teasing edge he used with everyone else. It was just him now. Just Hajime.

You still didn’t look up.

He waited a beat, then nudged your knee gently with his fingers.

“[Name]. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You wanted to answer — really, you did — but the words were all stuck behind a dam of anxiety and self-doubt.

You felt his hand slip over your knee again, this time staying there. Just a warm, steady weight. No pressure.

Just… waiting.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted quietly, voice breaking despite your best effort.

Umemiya blinked. “What?” He leaned in a little. “Sorry for what?”

You finally looked at him — and the concern in his eyes nearly undid you completely. Not judgment. Not frustration. Just open, focused attention. The kind he gave you when you were unraveling, but he still made you feel like the center of his universe.

“For not…” You trailed off, breath shaking. “For not being able to do more. With you.”

He froze. Not in a bad way — not like you said something wrong. Just… like he was processing it fully.

“…You think I’m mad about that?” he asked quietly.

Your silence said everything.

Umemiya exhaled slowly and scooted a little closer, legs turning toward you. His fingers brushed yours where they rested between your knees.

“I’m not mad, [Name],” he said. “I’m not tired of you. Not waiting for you to hurry up or do anything you’re not ready for.”

Your eyes were burning. You hated crying in front of people. Even him.

“But it’s been so long,” you whispered. “And I want to, Hajime. I really do. I just don’t know how to… start. Or say it. And then I think maybe you’re bored or regretting waiting this long and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he cut in gently, squeezing your hand. “Bored? Regretting? Pretty, I’m not some asshole who just wants that.”

You blinked, surprised by the firmness in his voice.

He looked at you straight-on now, gaze unwavering. “I like waiting. Because it means I get more time with you like this. Holding your hand. Making you laugh. Walking you home. Falling asleep next to you. And yeah, I want you. Of course I do. But only when you want it. And not a second before.”

You stared at him, lips parted, something warm and aching rising in your chest.

His hand to your cheek, brushing your hair back. “You’re not Weird. Or slow. Or anything to apologize for. You’re just… you. And I’m crazy about you. Okay?”

Your breath hitched again, but this time for a different reason.

You wanted to be close. You wanted to stop thinking and start feeling.

You didn’t remember leaning into him — not really — but suddenly your forehead was resting against his shoulder, and his arms were around you. Gentle. Warm. He always held you like you were something breakable, but never fragile.

His lips brushed the top of your head. “We don’t have to do anything, y’know,” he murmured. “I meant that.”

“I…” Your voice caught. “I want to, Hajime. I just…”

Your fingers clutched at the front of his shirt, trembling. Your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. He didn’t rush you. Just rubbed slow circles into your lower back with his thumb.

You took a breath, then another. “I want you to.. to touch me.”

You felt him exhale slowly, chest rising under your cheek. His hand moved to cup your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he gently tilted your head up.

His voice was a mumble, “Okay.”

He kissed you — not rushed or greedy. Just slow and warm and full of patience. You leaned into it, lips parting when his tongue brushed yours. It made something tighten deep in your belly. Need. Want. Still wrapped in nerves, but no longer drowning in them.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours. “Still okay?”

You nodded. “Y-Yeah. Just… r-really nervous.”

He smiled, and it was so soft it made your heart ache. “S’okay to be nervous. You’re safe, [Name]. I got you.”

You swallowed, fingers twisting in his shirt. “I don’t really… know what to do.”

“You don’t gotta do anything,” he whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Just let me take care of you.”

He helped you ease back on the bed, crawling over you with slow, careful movements, like you were made of glass. You gasped a little when his lips trailed down your throat, warm and patient, sucking just enough to leave a trace. Your hands clutched at his shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin, then kissed your collarbone. “Tell me if anything’s too much. If you need to stop, even for a second—just say the word, yeah?”

You nodded quickly, then whispered, “Please don’t stop.”

That was all it took.

His hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers trailing feather-light touches along your ribs, then down, until he reached the waistband of your shorts.

He paused. “Can I?”

Your breath hitched. “Y-Yeah.”

He tugged them down gently, helping you get out of them. His eyes stayed on yours the whole time—like he was making sure you never felt exposed, only seen.

And then his hand was between your thighs.

You whimpered when his fingers brushed you—softly at first, then with more intent as he found you already wet. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but he was there, murmuring soft praise into your skin.

“So good, love,” he whispered, lips at your neck. “So pretty like this. You feel amazing.”

Your head dropped back onto the pillow, chest rising and falling rapidly. His finger slid between your folds, slow and teasing, not quite pressing in. You bucked a little without meaning to.

“Shhh,” he soothed, kissing your jaw. “I got you. Gonna go slow.”

When he slid a single finger inside, you gasped — it wasn’t painful, just foreign, new.

“Still okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathed, “It feels… weird. But g-good.”

“Gonna add another, ‘kay?”

You nodded, hips shifting just the tiniest bit toward him. And then you felt two fingers stretching you open, a pressure building as he worked you gently, curling against something inside you that made you moan, shaky and breathless.

“Fuck, you sound so good,” he murmured, kissing you.

Before you could even form words, he was moving lower. His fingers pulled back just enough for his mouth to replace them, tongue teasing gently over your clit. You gasped — a sharp, trembling sound — your hips twitching as your hands flew to his hair.

“H-Haji—wait, I—!” you stuttered, overwhelmed.

He looked up for just a second, lips slick. “Too much?”

“N-No! Just—feels really good—!”

He smiled, tongue dipping again, flicking and circling with such slow speed you could feel your stomach coiling tighter and tighter. His fingers slid back inside you, syncing with the rhythm of his mouth —

“Good girl,” he murmured into you. “Let it happen. Just feel me. You’re doing so good, sugar.”

That broke something open.

You arched against the bed with a strangled cry, thighs trembling around his head as your orgasm hit you in waves. Your hands gripped his shoulders like you were falling — but he was already holding you, grounding you, kissing you through every second of it.

When you finally came down, panting and dazed, he was already back at your side, wiping your tears away — you hadn’t even realized you were crying again.

Not from fear this time. From relief.

From being wanted — and seen.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, tucking you into his chest as you curled into him. “Always.

“I want to… I want to go further,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper.

His brows lifted slightly — not from surprise, but from caution. “Yeah?”

You nodded, already shaking a little. “I… I want you to be my first. I’m just— I’m r-really scared.”

He didn’t tease. Didn’t smirk. He just shifted upright a little, leaning closer to cup your cheek with one warm, calloused hand.

“I’d be honored,” he said quietly. “But only if you’re really sure, baby. Not just ‘I want to make him happy.’ Not just to get it over with. You. Are you sure?”

You swallowed hard. “I want you. I’m scared, but I trust you.”

His breath hitched — almost like you’d just punched all the air out of his lungs. “Okay,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you slow and deep. “Then I’m gonna make it good for you. Gonna go slow. Real slow. You tell me to stop, even once? I stop. No questions.”

You nodded again, heart rattling against your ribs. “O-Okay.”

He kissed you again — not rushed, not hungry. Just careful. His hands moved over your body like he was learning you all over again, pausing when you gasped or tensed, murmuring soft praise into your skin with every touch.

“You’re so beautiful, [Name]. You’re perfect like this.”

He took his time undressing too, letting you see all of him, letting you touch. Just quiet closeness, layer by layer.

When he laid you back, he kissed down your chest, hands stroking your thighs to ease the tension there. lips brushing your skin.

“I’m gonna go real slow. Gonna feel a little stretch at first, yeah? Just breathe with me, okay?”

You nodded frantically, eyes wide. “I-I’m ready.”

“Okay,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “I’m right here.”

You felt the press of him — the tip nudging gently between your folds. You tensed automatically, and his hand immediately found yours, fingers weaving tight.

“Shhh, love. I got you,” he whispered. “We’ll stop if it’s too much.”

You shook your head quickly. “N-No. Just… just need a second.”

He kissed your knuckles. “Take your time.”

With your breathing slow and guided by his soft words, he began to push in — just a little at a time. You gasped, eyes fluttering, thighs trembling under his steady touch. It didn’t hurt, not really. It was just… intense. Full. New.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “You feel incredible. So warm. So soft.”

You whimpered again, face burying into his shoulder as he bottomed out with a low, shaky breath.

“That’s it. You took all of me, baby,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “You okay?”

“I-I think so,” you breathed, still trembling. “J-Just… stay like this. Just for a second.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He held you there, letting you adjust, his hand stroking your side while he whispered soft, silly nothings — how proud he was, how beautiful you looked, how much he adored you.

When you finally nodded, he started to move — just a slow, careful rock of his hips. You gasped again, overwhelmed, but this time there was more pleasure than fear.

Each roll of his body made something flutter deep inside you, and you clung to him like he was the only real thing in the world. His breath stuttered against your neck, but he never went faster, never chased his own pleasure. He was all you.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice cracking as your body trembled again.

He looked at you like the words broke him open. “I love you too, [Name],” he said. “So much. You’re doing amazing.”

The warmth building inside you wasn’t just physical — it was emotional, too. Every soft thrust, every whispered praise, every slow, touch brought you closer. When you finally came again, it was with tears in your eyes and his name on your lips, your whole body tightening around him.

„fuck.. im close Sugar… need you a little longer.“

After more soft thrusts, He followed soon after, burying his face in your neck with a low, desperate sound, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

He didn’t pull away right away. Just stayed there, breathing with you, stroking your hair, kissing your cheeks and forehead, whispering how proud he was. How much he loved you. How grateful he was you trusted him like this.

You were still shaking — but not from fear this time.

From being full. Of love. Of him. Of something that felt safe and unforgettable.

You blinked up at the ceiling, your body buzzing with a thousand sensations you didn’t know how to sort through.

And then — reality hit you like a cold breeze.

You were naked.

Next to him.

You yelped softly and yanked the blanket up to your chest in one frantic motion, curling onto your side and pulling the covers tightly around you like they could erase the memory of how bare you’d just been.

Umemiya — still sprawled on his back beside you, breathing heavy but completely relaxed — turned his head with a lazy grin.

“…You serious?” he said with a low chuckle. “You’re really gonna get shy on me now?”

You squeaked, hiding half your face under the blanket. “D-Don’t look!“

His laugh came louder this time, boyish and full of warmth, and he flopped dramatically onto his side to face you. “Babe, I just had you. You think there’s anything left I haven’t seen?”

“That’s exactly why!” you said, face burning. “It’s different now!”

He grinned, eyes soft even through the teasing. “God, you’re cute.”

“I’m not cute,” you grumbled, voice muffled behind the fabric. “I’m— I’m—nervous.”

“I know, baby.” His voice dropped into something softer now, less teasing. His fingers reached beneath the blanket to find yours and squeeze them gently. “But you don’t have to be. Not with me.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just clutched the sheets tighter and peeked at him over the edge.

“You’re not… disappointed?” you asked softly. “That I was so nervous? That I didn’t know anything?”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth. Each one slow. Sure.

“[Name],” he said, like he needed you to hear it, “I’m proud of you. That took so much trust. And you gave that to me. I don’t care how nervous you were. You were perfect.”

Your eyes welled again — because he meant it. Not just to soothe you. Not to win points.

Just the truth.

He tugged gently at the blanket, lowering it an inch. “Let me hold you properly, yeah? I miss your skin.”

You hesitated — then slowly let him tug the covers down enough to slide his arms around your waist, pulling you in close, your chest pressed to his.

His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady. Everything about him said safe.

“You were perfect,” he repeated into your hair, breath soft against your scalp. “And you’re still cute, even if you’re hiding like a little shrimp under the covers.”

You groaned into his chest, face still red.

But you smiled, too.

Because he was right here. And you didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. my first English smut…

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

[aini-s]

Today I drew Umemiya with a cactus. 🌵

If you'd like to see a specific character, feel free to comment. 🐸

[cherryscript]

HAYLOFT HEAT

farmboy!hajime, the tall, sun-kissed, broad-shouldered, sweat-glistened, salt-of-the-earth gentle giant who smells like hay, fresh bread, and masculinity. carries crates like they weigh nothing, makes jam by hand, owns one dog and maybe a cow named after his ex.

farmboy!hajime who spots you one day after coming back from his barn, a chicken in his hands, watching you shift into your grandparents’ small cottage in the tiny village. he can instantly tell you’re a city girl here for some peace and quiet, far from the loud city. he grins at you, acting all cool, but then his chicken screams, making the whole situation awkward.

farmboy!hajime who offers you a hand to move your things, carrying two or three heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing.

farmboy!hajime who acts all flirty but a deep blush appears on his cheeks as you thank him, calling him ”strong.” he’s scratching the back of his neck, babbling about himself and his farmland.

farmboy!hajime, an absolute sweetheart, brings you fresh vegetables, eggs, milk, and a few weeks ago, a huge cheese wheel. you tell him it’s too much, but he just grins and shrugs it off, telling you to share with the villagers if it’s too much.

farmboy!hajime who distributes part of his farmed gains among the villagers. you learn most villagers are old citizens, and everyone loves this himbo farmboy deeply.

farmboy!hajime who visits you frequently—you know it’s just an excuse. he loves hearing you talk about yourself, your life, the city you came from, how you’re adjusting to village life—everything. you catch his eyes roaming all over you; he’s definitely not subtle.

farmboy!hajime who grins at your teasing. you being sassy, poking fun at his farmboy life? he’s listening, but then suddenly you’re on his back, carried like a sack of rice as he laughs wholeheartedly. ”you bet i couldn’t carry you, darlin’?”

farmboy!hajime who carries you to his place, your ass facing the entrance, fists smacking his spine. ”you’re enjoying this too much,” you complain, voice muffled against his tank top. he grins and spanks your ass, making you yelp and blush. ”i enjoy getting my hands on things, you included.” he keeps walking, fingers sinking into your ass. ”now hush,” he whispers, ”i’ve got fresh eggs, delicious baked bread, cherry tomatoes, and someone to spoil.”

farmboy!hajime who sets you on the wooden counter, sliding your body off his shoulders with a goofy grin, your chest squishing against his as he locks you in with both arms. ”i’ve got the table ready,” he nods at the table behind—bread, jam, milk, all kinds of vegetables, eggs, cooked meat, curd, and the main course: you.

farmboy!hajime who smirks at your protests about running away. ”now, now, i didn’t carry you all the way here to let you run, darlin’.” you huff, and he smirks more. ”still gonna call me farmboy?” you roll your eyes, breathing cedar and hay from his clothes. ”farm daddy, maybe.” he laughs out loud, leaning in, lips brushing yours. ”can’t say i’ll hate it.”

farmboy!hajime who’s already between your legs, parting your thighs with his hands, diving into your sweet little pussy, sucking on your clit like he’ll never get enough. ”mmh—fuck—you taste sweeter than any peaches i’ve tasted.” he’s licking you up like a starved man, and you’re a moaning mess. your eyes meet his, and he shamelessly flicks his tongue against your sensitive bud, making you watch.

farmboy!hajime who soon makes you cum, his tongue lapping at your release. he stands up, looking at you, then at your pretty cunt. ”fuck, baby, look at you, all pretty for me.” he slides his dick in next, and you’re arching against him, scratching his back, moaning without restraint.

farmboy!hajime who fucks you deep and hard, the counter taking the blow of his thrusts, your body shaking, mouth wide open, eyes glistening with tears. he breathlessly praises you, lips kissing your cheek. ”fuck, baby—your pretty mouth—all sugar and peaches.” he hits your g-spot, and you’re seeing stars. ”you hear that, huh? that’s you making the kitchen a whole damn honeymoon suite.” and don’t worry—he’s already planning how to propose.

[lunnanana24]

INCORRECT CHAT

Y/n: I just thought if we were in a movie, I’d be the mysterious loner.

Umemiya: Then I’d be the main character you fall in love with.

Y/n : I already did.

Umemiya:... ( Literally screaming inside)

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ you don't need to save me (but would you run away with me?)

( umemiya hajime x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — thinking abt him 24/7 actually ( this was supposed to be a longer fic but i lost the plot and just went with this drabble )

♡ word count — 482

♡ content — hajime umemiya x fem! reader, reader could be gn! but just in case, talk of gardening ( i know nothing abt gardening ), pining, hajime is a sap, not proofread, prob ooc

♡ synopsis — Hajime Umemiya's infatuation with you started with tomatoes. He just didn't want it to end there.

── .✦ not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me

It started with tomatoes.

He’d wandered into the garden section like he always did, hoping to snag a few starter plants and maybe catch a conversation with the store owner—someone who now waved him in like family ever since that late-night break-in he'd stopped cold.

But that day, it wasn’t the owner who greeted him.

“Do you need help?”

He’d turned, a packet of seeds dangling loosely in one hand, and there you were. 

Wearing the store apron like it was made for you, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the humidity, and the brightest eyes he’d ever seen looking right at him.

“Oh, I—uh—”

Hajime never stuttered. Ever. 

And yet, suddenly, words were strangers.

“Tomato. Starters.”

Your laugh had been warm. Not mocking. Just easy. 

“They’re over here,” you said, motioning for him to follow.

He did. Like a moth to a gentle sun.

And after that… he just kept coming back.

At first, it was genuine. 

He needed basil, then more soil, then stakes for the tomatoes you helped him find. But soon he was running out of reasons. 

Or rather, he was making them.

“Do you carry moonflower seeds?”

He didn’t even grow flowers.

You smiled. “Not until late summer, sorry.”

“What do you think of corn? Rooftop-friendly?”

“Not really, but I love the ambition.”

He bought a small bag of lavender seeds—off-season and definitely useless—just to linger by your register and ask how your day was. 

And he did this again. 

And again.

Some days he only caught a glimpse of you—rushed, helping someone carry mulch out the door. Other days you’d stop beside him and comment on his latest pick.

“You’re here a lot,” you’d say once, nudging him lightly with your elbow as he stood reading the back of a spinach packet.

“Got a garden with too much space,” he replied. “Feels wrong to leave it empty.”

But it was less about the garden now, and more about you.

And finally, one warm afternoon—when the sky was clear and the scent of lemon balm clung to the air—he stood at the counter with a small tray of entirely impractical seeds and cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he started, voice still calm but with something more beneath it this time. “I was wondering—if you’re free sometime—maybe we could get coffee? Or tea, or, I don’t know… something not related to plants.”

You looked up, hands pausing over the register. And then you smiled.

A sigh escaped your lips—not of annoyance, but something softer. More amused.

“Good. I was wondering how many seeds you were going to buy before you asked.”

Hajime blinked, and then laughed, head ducking slightly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I was starting to worry you'd buy out our whole inventory.”

“Worth it,” he said, his smile brightening to something unmistakable. “Every last one.”

love him so much it's actually criminal

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

✦ tags ✦ @nishinoyaismycutie ✦ @irethepotato ✦ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[calen-00]

Taking the Lead

☆Content: Umemiya/reader, female reader, nsfw, aged up, p in v, riding, praising, intimate fluff cus ume is cheesy like that.

☆A/N: Tumblr has me shadow banned, reposting to see if this works💀💀

Ao3 link

Umemiya was someone who is used to have control over things, both in his role as leader and his personal life, every situation is always on his hands and he is very comfortable with that. With you is not very different.

He took the first step by conffessing his feelings to you, the one on giving the first kiss and he enjoys having his way with you on bed. Having you under him, whimpering, screaming his name, he loves having the pleasure of giving you his everything and watching you enjoy it. He enjoys watching you take all his love.

Now, is not that you don't enjoy it that way too, but you can't help but want to reciprocate his actions, and you tried, but he always brush it off with a "oh but you don't have to do that, love. Let me take care of you" and you hate it (not really), cus you can't say no when he speaks to you like that.

So the night he came home absolutely tired to even get up from your side on the couch you saw it as the perfect oportunity.

– oh, poor baby. Long day at work? - you said while wrapping your arms around him, hands caressing his hair lovingly as he hid his face your chest

– Hmmm, so long... - he answered you almost dragging his words.

The space between you two was non-existant, this were the types of day were he was the neediest, just looking foward to have you in any way possible, he just needed to be close to you no matter how. And you were not one to let it slide.

– I got you, Haji. Why don't you let me take care of you?

Your hands run down from his hair to shoulders, along his biceps and down his abdomen, until reaching the hem of his shirt and sneaking them under it. You felt him shiver under your touch as you caressed the bare skin without restriction.

– hmm, you don't have to do that, love... - and there was again the same phrase, but this time he didn't make any intention to move or change the roles, in fact, he gave you more space to let you keep touching.

He was needy like that.

– of course i do, what type of partner would i be if i didn't take care of my boyfriend? - your hands kept exploring his body and he kept trembling under you - specially when he is this needy.

One of your hands left his torso to his crotch, quickly noticing he was already hard under his pants. He let out a low moan that the touch and you couldn't help but smirk at that.

He finally pulled away from your chest, looking at you with his face all red and a kind of smile that told you "you are playing dirty but is working so fucking well". That was your green light.

– Fine... just this once.

.

.

.

The couch got cold and now you were warming up the bed, your bodies felt on fire tho. The room full of dirty noises of moans and skin slaping.

This time you were on top of him, riding his dick and moaning loud everytime it hited your sweet spot.You grinded against his lap, fluttering around him as you repeatedly picked your body up and dropped it back down, allowing your weight to intensify your movements to the point that even he couldn’t hold back his pleasure, panting and groaning with your every movement.

– G-god... you are so good, love. So good for me.

And even like this, he couldn't keep his mouth shut, prising you for your good job, for the perfect way your body moved on top of him, encouraging you to keep riding until your legs couldn't do it anymore.

– That's it love, don't stop... - his hands traveled to your hips, helping you to keep on your movements as he could feel your legs tremble at his sides.

Why did it took him so long to have you like this? Pretty girl taking care of him, looking so perfect jumping on his cock. All just to satisfy him. He was living for it.

– Ha-haji... you like it, baby? - you asked between moans while lowering yourself until your face were mere inches apart, your hips not stoping even a second.

The look on his eyes were pure adoration, love in its pure form, down for you in every way possible. He loves the way you move on top of him, he loves the way you look at him, he loves having you in soul and body and he loves all the things you do just show how much you love him too.

– Like it? God, i love it... i love you so much.

And like that he closed the space between you two, taking your mouth in heated and passionate kiss. Full of disere, full of burning love. You found yourself submiting to it in no time and he took the oportunity on that.

Embracing his arms around your body, plating both feets on the bed, he started to pound on you with a quick peace, reaching deep and fast inside you. He knew you were suppoused to take the lead this time, but you have to understand him, he is a weak man and you were so good for him. He couldn't hold it anymore.

– Ah, Love you too! Love you, love you!

And you were so lost on it that didn't even noticed he took control again, moaning loudly to his ear until sparks exploded on your stomach, eyes rolling up as the ecstasy took over your body. He followed quckily behind you, a few thrusts more and he was empting inside you, filling you with his love.

Once you catched your breath again he gained a smack on his pec , with his cute red-faced girl looking at him with a pout on her face

– Ouch? And what was that for? - he asked between giggles, knowing exactly why he was guilty for

– Play dumb, i was suppoused to take care of you

– Oh but love, you did so well i wasn't able to control myself!

He laughed at it and you pouted even more while hidding on his chest.

Things didn't end up as you planned but for him you didn't exactly what you promised and even more. Beacause of that he fell for you more, if that is even possible. You have that man head over heels.

[amaikofuku]

Need more of subby umemiya 🥺

[calen-00]

I might do some day, i felt like i could make him more of a sub but for that i would think of another type of dynamic🤔

[calen-00]

Taking the Lead

☆Content: Umemiya/reader, female reader, nsfw, aged up, p in v, riding, praising, intimate fluff cus ume is cheesy like that.

☆A/N: Tumblr has me shadow banned, reposting to see if this works💀💀

Ao3 link

Umemiya was someone who is used to have control over things, both in his role as leader and his personal life, every situation is always on his hands and he is very comfortable with that. With you is not very different.

He took the first step by conffessing his feelings to you, the one on giving the first kiss and he enjoys having his way with you on bed. Having you under him, whimpering, screaming his name, he loves having the pleasure of giving you his everything and watching you enjoy it. He enjoys watching you take all his love.

Now, is not that you don't enjoy it that way too, but you can't help but want to reciprocate his actions, and you tried, but he always brush it off with a "oh but you don't have to do that, love. Let me take care of you" and you hate it (not really), cus you can't say no when he speaks to you like that.

So the night he came home absolutely tired to even get up from your side on the couch you saw it as the perfect oportunity.

– oh, poor baby. Long day at work? - you said while wrapping your arms around him, hands caressing his hair lovingly as he hid his face your chest

– Hmmm, so long... - he answered you almost dragging his words.

The space between you two was non-existant, this were the types of day were he was the neediest, just looking foward to have you in any way possible, he just needed to be close to you no matter how. And you were not one to let it slide.

– I got you, Haji. Why don't you let me take care of you?

Your hands run down from his hair to shoulders, along his biceps and down his abdomen, until reaching the hem of his shirt and sneaking them under it. You felt him shiver under your touch as you caressed the bare skin without restriction.

– hmm, you don't have to do that, love... - and there was again the same phrase, but this time he didn't make any intention to move or change the roles, in fact, he gave you more space to let you keep touching.

He was needy like that.

– of course i do, what type of partner would i be if i didn't take care of my boyfriend? - your hands kept exploring his body and he kept trembling under you - specially when he is this needy.

One of your hands left his torso to his crotch, quickly noticing he was already hard under his pants. He let out a low moan that the touch and you couldn't help but smirk at that.

He finally pulled away from your chest, looking at you with his face all red and a kind of smile that told you "you are playing dirty but is working so fucking well". That was your green light.

– Fine... just this once.

.

.

.

The couch got cold and now you were warming up the bed, your bodies felt on fire tho. The room full of dirty noises of moans and skin slaping.

This time you were on top of him, riding his dick and moaning loud everytime it hited your sweet spot.You grinded against his lap, fluttering around him as you repeatedly picked your body up and dropped it back down, allowing your weight to intensify your movements to the point that even he couldn’t hold back his pleasure, panting and groaning with your every movement.

– G-god... you are so good, love. So good for me.

And even like this, he couldn't keep his mouth shut, prising you for your good job, for the perfect way your body moved on top of him, encouraging you to keep riding until your legs couldn't do it anymore.

– That's it love, don't stop... - his hands traveled to your hips, helping you to keep on your movements as he could feel your legs tremble at his sides.

Why did it took him so long to have you like this? Pretty girl taking care of him, looking so perfect jumping on his cock. All just to satisfy him. He was living for it.

– Ha-haji... you like it, baby? - you asked between moans while lowering yourself until your face were mere inches apart, your hips not stoping even a second.

The look on his eyes were pure adoration, love in its pure form, down for you in every way possible. He loves the way you move on top of him, he loves the way you look at him, he loves having you in soul and body and he loves all the things you do just show how much you love him too.

– Like it? God, i love it... i love you so much.

And like that he closed the space between you two, taking your mouth in heated and passionate kiss. Full of disere, full of burning love. You found yourself submiting to it in no time and he took the oportunity on that.

Embracing his arms around your body, plating both feets on the bed, he started to pound on you with a quick peace, reaching deep and fast inside you. He knew you were suppoused to take the lead this time, but you have to understand him, he is a weak man and you were so good for him. He couldn't hold it anymore.

– Ah, Love you too! Love you, love you!

And you were so lost on it that didn't even noticed he took control again, moaning loudly to his ear until sparks exploded on your stomach, eyes rolling up as the ecstasy took over your body. He followed quckily behind you, a few thrusts more and he was empting inside you, filling you with his love.

Once you catched your breath again he gained a smack on his pec , with his cute red-faced girl looking at him with a pout on her face

– Ouch? And what was that for? - he asked between giggles, knowing exactly why he was guilty for

– Play dumb, i was suppoused to take care of you

– Oh but love, you did so well i wasn't able to control myself!

He laughed at it and you pouted even more while hidding on his chest.

Things didn't end up as you planned but for him you didn't exactly what you promised and even more. Beacause of that he fell for you more, if that is even possible. You have that man head over heels.

[calen-00]

I think tumblr shadowbaned my last writing wtf:"D

I cus is not showing on any of the tags i put in it. Can someone help me? Idk whta to do with it

[evergreen-endo]

PRAISE INTO SUBMISSION – h. umemiya + c. takiishi

a/n: separate drabbles! they make you feel so good you can’t help but, well, tell them! but they’ve never been praised so sweetly, so thoroughly; it kinda makes their brains melt and limbs go weak. :] cws: 18+ mdni. these are both pretty soft but chika’s starts out a little rough <3 you’ll forgive him though! (I hope <3) wc: roughly 540 for each chara.

H. UMEMIYA

“Hajime,” you pant, “you’ll take over, yeah?”

You’re out of breath, hips grinding against his as your thighs start to burn. Two droopy, lidded eyes gaze up at you, hazy with love. Umemiya’s voice rumbles from his chest, no hesitation, just how you like him, “Anything for you.”

He pulls his knees up, feet planted on the mattress with two large palms slotted right above your hips, thumbs tracing the skin with adoration. Slowly, his hips slam into yours as his mouth drops open into a drawn out moan. He looks gorgeous like this, abs twitching and lungs heaving as he lifts you up and down on his cock in perfect time with his thrusts.

Your voice is shaky as he bounces you, running your hands through his messy hair, “Oh, my sweet angel. Doing so good for me.”

His head rolls back, dopey grin on his lips, “Ahh– am I?” Umemiya’s going a little dumb even though he’s fucking you at this point, and it’s so endearing your pussy squeezes around him to mimic the beat of your heart.

“Mhmm. Always so perfect for me.” Your voice is saccharine sweet, forehead pressed to his as you pant into each other’s mouths. He smiles at that, and you swear you hear the beginnings of a high keen in his throat as he cranes his neck forward in pursuit of a kiss. You indulge him, of course, letting out encouraging hums when his hands roam over all your favorite spots.

You murmur between kisses, “Just can’t keep your hands off, can you?” You giggle as he nods his head no, circling one of his arms around you to grind you deeper onto him. His other hand trails down from your chest to your clit, rubbing perfect circles with the pad of his thumb. He swallows your gasp, pulling away to admire the way your face contorts in pleasure at his touch.

As you flutter around his cock, squeezing him with every brush of his thumb, you can see how close he is to falling apart. Umemiya looks like an angel like this, and you tell him so every chance you get. When his cheeks are flushed pink, lidded eyes full of adoration with kiss-bitten lips and a heaving chest, you can’t help but coo praises at him. “So pretty when you’re close, Haji. Gonna cum inside me?”

So doting and respectable as always, he tries his damndest not to. Not before you, at least. But when you murmur in his ear how much he deserves it for making you feel so good, nipping and licking at the shell of his ear, he can’t help it. A hand flies to your waist to ground himself as he twitches, thighs trembling under you as you come undone with him.

It’s overwhelming for him; panted I love yous and the aftershocks of your orgasm making his hips buck. He’s out of breath, eyes closed, fingers twitching at your thighs as he pulls his hips away to guide you off. But you tut, “Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The hot blood from his heart melts straight down to his cock again, drunk on the love you can’t seem to stop smothering him in.

C. TAKIISHI

“Oh my god Chi—“

He muffles your moans when he shoves your face into the mattress, hips pounding against yours from behind as the headboard slams into the wall. He does it until you’re trembling and blabbering, thrashing beneath him. He can hardly make out your words, and he knows he doesn’t need to. It’s more fun to make you go dumb. 

His curiosity gets to him anyway, dipping his head next to yours and adjusting his grip on your head so only the side of your face is squished. You gasp for breath as your mouth and nose become free to breathe through. The corners of his lips twitch into a subtle smirk at the sight of drool connected to soft sheets beneath your lips. You continue, “So good, feelssogood, fuck—“ you choke on your words before you can finish as he hits that gummy spot, making your eyes roll back. 

“There?”

“Yesyesyes— hah, makin’ me feel so fucking good, can’t even—”

“Who? Who’s making you dumb like this?”

“O-oh god, I–”

His lips twitch at that. It’s almost satisfying, vaguely flattering, but it isn’t what he wanted to hear. So he wraps your hair in his hand and pulls until your eyes meet his. It’s a silent challenge; a sharp, demanding gaze that falters for a split second at the sight of your lash line spilling over with tears, pupils dilated with desperation. But you’ll have to give him what he wants for him to let up.

His name slips past your lips in a stutter, nearly unsure at first before he slams his hips into you in a way that jostles every other word you’ve known from your brain. It slurs together on your tongue with choked pleads for him not to stop, a breath of fresh air from the cries for mercy that he’s used to. Something shoots through his body other than arousal– warm in an unfamiliar way. It’s in his gut and his chest, and it grows with every salacious cry of his name ringing from your throat.

He can tell you’re close, and the grip on your hair softens before you feel him smooth it down with his palm. His chest is on fire as he presses it to your back, and tears stream down your cheeks as his hips roll into you. He licks up your tears in one gentle long stroke, pausing when you whimper. When his gaze flickers back to you, his chest jumps at the stars in your eyes. His thumb plays with the drool threatening to drip from your bottom lip as he waits for you to speak. “Chika,” you breathe, “you’re so pretty like this.”

He blinks, dick twitching inside you, murmuring in your hair something you can’t exactly make out before he pulls away. Sliding two fingers onto your tongue, his thrusts grow sloppy as he picks up the pace again, too close to his orgasm to wonder how it could’ve crept up on him like this. And he can’t hear the praise tumbling from your lips when he’s muffling you, but it doesn’t stop him from playing your words on repeat in his head as he spills inside you.

[calen-00]

YAY UME!!

let me get uhhhh reader taking the lead during the deed and Umemiya is living for it🧍🏻‍♀️

Taking the Lead

☆Content: Umemiya/reader, female reader, nsfw, aged up, p in v, riding, prising, intimate fluff cus ume is cheesy like that.

☆Word count: 1.1k

☆A/N: Thank u for the req!! Enjoyed writting this a lot!:DD sorry if it lil short and for taking too long on doing it, work after work came for me and left me with no energy for writing but hope you like it anyways♡ also apoligize in advance for spelling mistake, eng is not my native language;(

Umemiya was someone who is used have control over things, both in his role as leader and his personal life, the situation is always on his hands and he is very comfortable with that. With you is not very different.

He took the first step by conffessing his feelings to you, the one on giving the first kiss and he enjoys having his way with you on bed. Having you under him, whimpering, screaming his name, he loves having the pleasure of giving you his everything and watching you enjoy it. He enjoys shower you with his love.

Now, is not that you don't enjoy it that way too, but you can't help but want to reciprocate his actions, and you tried, but he always brush it off with a "oh but you don't have to do that, love. Let me take care of you" and you hate it (not really) cus you can't say no when he speaks to you like that.

So the night he came home absolutely tired to even get up from your side on the couch you saw it as the perfect oportunity.

– oh, poor baby. Long day at work? - you said while wrapping your arms around him, hands caressing his hair lovingly as he hid his face your chest

– Hmmm, so long... - he answered you almost dragging his words.

The space between you two was non-existant, this were the types of day were he was the neediest, just looking foward to have you in any way possible, he just needed to be close to you no matter how. And you were not one to let it slide.

– I got you, Haji. Why don't you let me take care of you?

Your hands run down from his hair to shoulders, along his biceps and down his abdomen, until reaching the hem of his shirt and sneaking them under it. You felt him shiver under your touch as you caressed the bare skin without restriction.

– hmm, you don't have to do that, love... - and there was again the same phrase, but this time he didn't make any intention to move or change the roles, in fact, he gave you more space to let you keep touching.

He was needy like that.

– of course i do, what type of partner would i be if i didn't take care of my boyfriend? - your hands kept exploring his body and he kept trembling under you - specially when he is this needy.

One of your hands left his torso to his crotch, quickly noticing he was already hard under his pants. He let out a low moan that the touch and you couldn't help but smirk at that.

He finally pulled away from your chest, looking at you with his face all red and a kind of smile that told you "you are playing dirty but is working so fucking well". That was your green light.

– Fine... just this once.

.

.

.

The couch got cold and now you were warming up the bed, your bodies felt on fire tho. The room full of dirty noises of moans and skin slaping.

This time you were on top of him, riding his dick and moaning loud everytime it hited your sweet spot.You grinded against his lap, fluttering around him as you repeatedly picked your body up and dropped it back down, allowing your weight to intensify your movements to the point that even he couldn’t hold back his pleasure, panting and groaning with your every movement.

– G-god... you are so good, love. So good for me.

And even like this, he couldn't keep his mouth shut, prising you for your good job, for the perfect way your body moved on top of him, encouraging you to keep riding until your legs couldn't do it anymore.

– That's it love, don't stop... - his hands traveled to your hips, helping you to keep on your movements as he could feel your legs tremble at his sides.

Why did it took him so long to have you like this? Pretty girl taking care of him, looking so perfect jumping on his cock. All just to satisfy him. He was living for it.

– Ha-haji... you like it, baby? - you asked between moans while lowering yourself until your face were mere inches apart, your hips not stoping even a second.

The look on his eyes were pure adoration, love in its pure form, down for you in every way possible. He loves the way you move on top of him, he loves the way you look at him, he loves having you in soul and body and he loves all the things you do just show how much you love him too.

– Like it? God, i love it... i love you so much.

And like that he closed the space between you two, taking your mouth in heated and passionate kiss. Full of disere, full of burning love. You found yourself submiting to it in no time and he took the oportunity on that.

Embracing his arms around your body, plating both feets on the bed, he started to pound on you with a quick peace, reaching deep and fast inside you. He knew you were suppoused to take the lead this time, but you have to understand him, he is a weak man and you were so good for him. He couldn't hold it anymore.

– Ah, Love you too! Love you, love you!

And you were so lost on it that didn't even noticed he took control again, moaning loudly to his ear until sparks exploded on your stomach, eyes rolling up as the ecstasy took over your body. He followed quckily behind you, a few thrusts more and he was empting inside you, filling you with his love.

Once you catched your breath again he gained a smack on his pec , with his cute red-faced girl looking at him with a pout on her face

– Ouch? And what was that for? - he asked between giggles, knowing exactly why he was guilty for

– Play dumb, i was suppoused to take care of you

– Oh but love, you did so well i wasn't able to control myself!

He laughed at it and you pouted even more while hidding on his chest.

Things didn't end up as you planned but for him you didn't exactly what you promised and even more. Beacause of that he fell for you more, if that is even possible. You have that man head over heels.

[renskaji]

baby fever!

multi-char. x implied fem!reader, wc: 4.3k (total), req? no.

starring! sakura, kaji, umemiya, togame, hiragi, suo

mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant

h. sakura

You can see it in his face, how he's freaking out without trying to move a single muscle. You've known your husband for far too long to miss the panic shining in his eyes, the panic you've been watching steadily grow over the past nine months of your pregnancy.

But now he's holding your son, and it's so very clear that he's totally overwhelmed.

You had naively thought, while distracted by the difficulty of pregnancy and labor, that Haruka had come to terms with the fact that he was going to be—and now was—a father.

Your baby is here, a healthy boy with two beautifully different colored eyes, and you've only been home from the hospital for a few short hours. You had meant to sneak off and take a bath, but then you saw the nervousness lace your husband's lean frame and knew you needed to settle your big baby, first.

"Haru," You coo, kneeling on the couch cushion beside your husband. Your son is sleeping on his chest, Haruka's large hands holding him in the exact perfect way you were taught in those parenting classes Nirei had suggested you take together. "How's it going?"

"Dunno," He answers quickly, but you hear the breathlessness in his quiet voice, desperate not to wake your perfect son. He doesn't even bother looking at you, amber and coal eyes trained on the crown of your newborn's head. "He fell asleep."

"He's a baby. He'll do that." You tease, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your husband's head while the other brushes gently over your son's back. You see Haruka's ears burn red, still not used to your affection, even after so long married, but for once, you bite your tongue.

"I don't..." Your husband starts then pauses, jaw clenching tight in the way he always does while struggling to piece together what he wants to say. He's gotten better at talking through his feelings over the years, but big milestones always make him revert back to the way he was in high school. You know to wait for him, your fingers brushing mindlessly through his two-toned hair while admiring your son. "I don't know what I'm doing."

His words make you snort a laugh, and he looks away from his son just long enough to glare at you.

"Sorry, honey," You mumble, proving you're truly sorry by placating him with a sickeningly sweet kiss to his lips. "But you think I know what I'm doing?"

"That's not what I meant," He huffs. His usual dramatics are toned down, and you credit it to his awareness of his sleeping son on his chest. Your baby has been an easy sleeper so far, but you know it's subject to change.

"I know," You confess, leaning closer into your husband's side, cheek pressed against his shoulder so you can swoon over your son. He really is a perfect mix of your husband and yourself. It makes your lips twitch with a smile unknowingly.

"How am I supposed to be a good dad, when I had such an awful role model for mine?" He's asked this question before, shortly after you announced your pregnancy to him. He had been wracked with panic, then, but you had spent hours chasing those thoughts away. The arrival of your son must have stirred up old feelings.

"I think that the fact that you're even worried about that proves that you're already better than your father." You hum, letting your words sink in. You mean them, too. "Plus, I wouldn't have married you if I thought you were anything less than absolutely perfect for me."

“Shaddup,” He huffs, but his blush has spread to his cheeks. From your spot against his shoulder, you lean up and forward to press another kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Mmm.” You settle against his shoulder once more, your adoring gaze settled on your sweetest baby. You’re certain that you could spend the rest of your life exactly where you’re sitting—on your couch, against your husband’s side, your son asleep on Haruka’s chest.

You reach out a hand and brush your son’s tiny closed fist, resting against the soft fabric of your husband’s shirt. He’s so tiny, and so, so loved. And you know he’ll grow up knowing it, if Haruka always holds him as tenderly as was at that moment.

“Just give him everything you wished your father had given you,” You murmur, feeling your eyelids start to droop. So much for getting the chance to shower while your son slept. “And if you mess up, I’ll be there to set you straight.”

You mean it as a joke, but you’re so sleepy the words drift out of you on a whisper. Haruka breathes a little heavier, something indicative of a laugh while his mind is a million miles away yet grounded to the moment.

“Yeah,” He hums, voice a deep vibration your son surely feels in his sleep. “I can do that.”

You drift to sleep with a smile on your face, your son nearby, and your husband feeling lighter.

r. kaji

You should’ve known you were in trouble when your husband and daughter were being quiet.

It’s not like they’re overly rambunctious or anything, at least, not for a toddler. But you don’t recall hearing even a peep from the two of them in the past ten minutes while you cooked dinner for your small family, and that never happens.

Suspicious, you turn down the heat and venture out of the kitchen. You saw them last in the living room, Ren roped into watching your daughter’s favorite shows. Except, they’re not there, and your confusion mixes with worry about what they could be getting into.

Yes, you trust your husband endlessly, but your daughter has him wrapped around her finger—just like you do.

You make your way further into the house. The door to your bedroom is shut, but your daughter's room is cracked just wide enough for you to finally hear the telltale whispers of your husband and child clearly getting up to something.

"Where did everyone go—?" You ask as you push open the door and step inside, though you pause the moment you find two so similar faces staring up at you with wide, we're getting in trouble, eyes. What's worse is the twin lollipop sticks hanging from their mouths—contraband. "Ren Kaji, I know you're not giving my baby candy while I'm cooking dinner."

Your husband, sitting on the floor with your toddler, looks so guilty you don't even need the bag of evidence—the bag of lollipops usually hidden atop the fridge—to know he's played right into your daughter's tricks.

And your sweet baby girl, your cunning three year old, turns to face you with a big grin on her face and one chubby cheek puffed out with a lollipop stored inside it. You try to frown at her, really, but it's so hard to get mad at her when she's nearly a carbon copy of her father.

"Mama!" She calls, voice muffled by the candy in her mouth. She's standing between Ren's spread legs, but one toddler-sized fist is pointing accusingly at her father. "Papa gave me this. I not in trouble!"

"Way to sell me out," Ren huffs, crossing his arms. Your daughter pulls the lollipop from her mouth and holds the treat in one hand. You have to use your own palm to smother the adoring smile overtaking your features as you watch the scene unfold, especially when your daughter leans forward to smack a sticky kiss to her father's cheek.

"It's okay, Papa." She assures him, voice serious and bright, like she wasn't playing her father right in front of you. Honestly, you admire her skill at getting Ren to do what she wanted. "I still love you, 'kay?"

And Ren nods dutifully, falling hopelessly for his daughter's tricks. You're not even certain he realizes that he just took the blame for the act they undoubtedly conspired in.

"You both know we don't eat candy before dinner," You remind them sternly, though your pointed mom-is-pissed look is mainly trained on your husband. You're grateful that they both look down at the floor in shame, because it gives you a chance to grin at how cute they both are before clearing your throat to get their attention.

Their attention snaps to you, and suddenly you're reminded that you're just as powerless to Ren's and your daughter's wide puppy-dog eyes.

"Dinner's almost ready. Wanna help me finish cooking while Papa sets the table?" Your question is met with a cheer as your daughter races towards you, getting scooped up easily into your arms. With a smile, you press a series of kisses to her chipmunk cheek, which has her squealing with laughter in seconds.

The sound is like heaven to your ears, and you know you can never be truly mad at Ren for caving to your sweet daughter's demands for an extra lollipop when you're just as likely to bend the rules of the world to give her what she wants.

Ren appears at your side, one hand settling low on your back while he presses a kiss of his own to your temple, despite the lollipop stick hanging from his mouth. You tug it out carefully, angling your chin up for a proper kiss that he readily gives you.

"Thanks for not being mad," He murmurs against your lips, words a quiet hum despite the way your daughter rambles on about something she had done at daycare that day.

"You're dealing with her sugar rush later," You fire back, winking as his face pulls into an expression of pained realization at what he had done. Popping his lollipop into your own mouth, you grin around the candy and turn to leave your daughter's room with her on your hip and Ren's heavy sigh.

And a chastise from your daughter, too.

"Mama, no candy!"

h. umemiya

There was never a doubt in your mind that Hajime would make a brilliant father. Always so doting, so attentive. He practically oozed fatherhood long before you married him.

So when you found out you were pregnant with twins, you knew you'd be perfectly fine.

Not that you thought it would be easy, oh no. You knew the hardships of becoming first time parents, and now you had double the tasks to do with two babies, but you had Hajime by your side.

And you were right.

The twins, one boy and one girl, are only three months shy of being a year old, and everyday has felt like a dream. They each have developed their own personalities, but one thing's for certain—they love their papa.

You're doing laundry. It's a mundane task, but with two babies, there's always a pile of something that needs to be washed. Hajime has the twins, so you're able to knock through a few loads without interruption. It's only when you take a load of sheets outside to hang that you realize just where your husband has been entertaining your children for so long.

"And this one's a tomato plant!" Hajime declares proudly, pointing to the aforementioned vegetable not quite yet producing. The twins are in their carrier, both strapped to his chest and facing outward as he shows off his garden for the umpteenth time to your drooling babies. "You both liked tomatoes last time we tried them."

You're stuck standing by the laundry wire, arms wrapped loosely around yourself. There's something so unbelievably heartwarming about seeing your husband talk to your children without him knowing you're there.

"And, oh, that's sweet peas! You like those," Hajime presses a kiss to the crown of your daughter's head to reference her while he stands tall with his hands on his hips. He repeats the action with your son, a chuckle shaking his shoulders as he does so. "But you just threw your peas in my face. Your mama thought that it was really funny."

You grin at the memory. Of how your son wasted no time in lobbing his food at his father the moment he got control of the spoon, how despite the sweet pea puree sliding down his face, Hajime didn't once stop smiling.

"When you're both old enough, you'll have your own garden plots to grow whatever you want!" Hajime declares, to which your daughter babbles excitedly, matching her papa's energy. Your son turns his head to chew on the strap of the carrier, and the action brings you into his line of sight. He coos instantly, chubby baby arms stretching out for you to hold him.

The movement catches Hajime's attention, and he turns to face you. Just like his son, your husband brightens when he realizes you're nearby, one arm extending to beckon you closer. And really, you'd be a fool if you ever denied Hajime anything, so you abandon the laundry to find your way to your husband's side, overlooking his garden plots.

"There's Mama," He wraps an arm around shoulders as soon as you're in reach, crushing you into his side, careful of your son's legs. You twist in his hold so that you can press kisses to the chubby cheeks of your twins, then to your husband's lips. "We were admiring the garden. I can't wait until they can help me with it."

"They're going to be veggie experts before they enter preschool." You joke, poking Hajime's side teasingly. Adoration shines so brightly in his eyes, you're once more reminded why you made the perfect choice in marrying him.

"I think we're going to add some cucumber seedlings before the season for them passes. The twins love them." He sways side to side as he speaks, large hands splaying on the bellies of both your children through the carrier. You smile at him, swaying along with him. Your son has a tight grip on one of your hands while your daughter expertly gnaws on the fingers of your other, anchoring you in place.

Not that you had any intention of running off anytime soon.

"That sounds perfect, Haji."

j. togame

"Papa, what about that one!"

Your son's excited shouts carry over the crowd of the festival. You smile up at him, sitting on your husband's shoulders and excitedly pointing at the fifth food stall you've passed so far.

"Oh, yeah. That one too." Jo assures your son, squeezing his legs in his large hands that are holding him still and safe over his shoulders. Your four year old giggles in excitement, pudgy palms pushing against Jo's cheeks from his vantage point.

"I met your Papa at a festival, you know." You call out to your son, smiling brightly up at the miniature carbon-copy of your husband. "He was working at a food stand, then."

"Woah..." Your son gasps, drawing a deep chuckle out of your husband. You slip your hand in the folded crook of Jo's elbow, keeping yourself close to him while you walk.

Jo had told your son about all the food stalls he had helped out at over the years, which led to your son asking if he had worked at every stand you passed.

Jo told him yeah, but you're starting to question the legitimacy of his assurances. There's a very real chance that he's just saying so that he can keep hearing your son's excited laughter at each stall.

"That's why your mama fell in love with me," Jo smiles, though it's a little wonky with the way your son squeezes his cheeks. "One bite of my fried noodles and she was begging to marry me."

"Oh please," You huff, laughing. Your free hand smoothes over the swell of your baby bump, six months pregnant with another boy. "You were the one begging for a date."

"Worked out pretty well for me, didn't it?" Jo's grin is charming and wide, his lazy grin sliding over to you with a warmth that matches the burning in your chest.

"I wanna work at a food stall!" Your son exclaims, bouncing with energy is certainly did not get from Jo. You laugh at his eagerness, turning your chin to press a soft kiss to your husband's bicep.

"I'll ask around," Jo nods, not even wincing when your son pulls a little too tightly on his hair in his excitement. He's twisting around on your husband's shoulders, like he's already looking for someone Jo can ask to let him help. It reminds you of Choji, and you make a mental note to invite him over to dinner so he can run out your son's endless energy.

"But for now, why don't you think of something you want to eat?" You pinch your son's leg, enjoying the shriek of laughter he lets out. Jo holds him tighter, a secure anchor keeping your son safe atop his shoulders.

"Hmm..." He hums in contemplation, considering the very important decision of what to eat. Something very important for his four-year old self, evidently. "What does baby brother want to eat, Mama?"

"I don't think you want what baby brother's been craving." Jo warns your son in a comment meant to tease you. In retaliation, you nudge him with your elbow but you can't argue. Your second pregnancy cravings are far stranger than your first had been.

"Baby brother wants some sweet bread." You counter with a snack you see at a food stall nearby. Jo sees what you're talking about and carefully redirects your route, sending you a subtlety pointed look when you attempt to remove your hand from his arm. With the crowd picking up the longer the festival carries on, Jo doesn't want you far from his side.

It's his own brand of silent, easy protectiveness that makes you wish you could marry him all over again.

You just might have to ask if he'll let you—after you give him his second son.

t. hiragi

Oh, your husband is screwed.

He's late for dinner, and your two year old daughter is going to give him hell for it. You really aren't sure if you should feel sorry for him, considering she gets her demand for punctuality from him.

But it might be your fault your daughter is even aware your husband is late coming home from work. It's not like she's able to tell time, but you had made an offhand comment, something mumbled more to yourself than for anyone else's ears.

"Papa should've been home already,"

Your daughter overheard, her little ears picking up on any mention of her beloved Papa. But the excitement she felt about hearing her papa's name was quickly overtaken by anger at the fact that he wasn't home to play dress up with her, like usual.

"Mama, what time?" Your tiny drill sergeant of a daughter demands while standing in front of the door, little arms crossed over her chest. She's pouting, and you know she's pissed because her little foot is tapping impatiently.

You tell her the time because there's no way you're going to end up on her bad side, too. Toma is out of luck, but it's every man for himself when your daughter's wrath is at hand.

Finally, you hear the tell-tale jingle of Toma's keys in the lock. You'd be lying if you said you weren't the tiniest big eager to see the showdown between your husband and your mini-me. Because as Toma likes to say, he was blessed with a daughter that's too similar to you.

"Hey, sweethearts. I'm home—" Toma calls out to the two of you, but he freezes in his tracks when he sees the lethal glare his daughter is giving him. You're struggling to smother your grin at the sight. "Uh-oh. What's happening?"

"You're late, Papa!" She huffs. In a dramatic flurry of movement, she crosses her arms tighter over herself and turns her back on the man she's been waiting the past ten minutes for.

"Mama sold me out, huh?" Toma sighs, defeated. You feel the slightest twinge of guilt when you see the hurt on his face at getting the cold shoulder from your daughter, but then you remember how he left you to handle bath time alone the night before, and you feel a little vindicated. "Well, baby, I only stopped to get dinner like Mama asked. That's why I was late."

He holds up the bag with the takeout you'd requested in it, trying to get your toddler to see sense. You're not sure if it's working, but she does turn back around to face him at the mention of food.

"I don't like when you're late," She says in her tiny voice, and it's like shots to the heart for you—so you can't even imagine what it's doing to Toma.

At this point it's just cruel. You know you need to intervene.

"You know what? I completely forgot I asked Papa to stop and get dinner for us." You say, crossing the short distance to where your husband is still standing by the door and desperately trying to win your daughter's favor. You trade him a kiss for the takeout bag, and things seem almost normal when your daughter steps forward to hug Toma's leg. She's still pouting, though, so you make a show of looking in the bag and gasping dramatically. "Papa got your favorite, too! Isn't that so nice of him, baby?"

"You 'membered my favorite?" Your daughter asks with wide eyes, and your husband wastes no time in scooping her up off her feet. He presses a kiss to her cheek, big and dramatic the way she likes it, and he's rewarded with the sound of her laughter ringing through your small home.

"Of course I did." He assures her with a smile. You see the relief in his eyes that her attitude didn't last long, and you can't help but poke his side teasingly. "Now, why don't we go eat?"

"Yes, Papa!"

h. suo

Your home is concerningly quiet when you come home from work.

With three kids and a husband, it's a miracle that the place isn't torn up. But Hayato does a good job at keeping the kids entertained and in line, so when you come home to an empty living room, you wonder if he took them to the nearby park.

But when you wander into the kitchen to try and figure out a plan for dinner, you see the teapot on the counter, along with an open and ransacked box of cookies, and you know exactly where your missing family members are located.

You grin and make your way down the hallway to your eldest's room. Just like you expected, the door is cracked and your three year old daughter is hosting a tea party. But instead of having her stuffed animals seated in the small chairs around the table, she has her two younger brothers and father playing along.

You lean silently against the door frame, grateful that Hayato's back is to you so you can observe without his teasing comments. Your smile overtakes your face as your daughter gives orders to her brothers—one just two months shy being two and the other only four months and in a bouncer.

Your middle son clumsily holds his—thankfully empty—teacup, cookie crumbs over his face. He's clinging onto his favorite blanket, and you make a mental note to sneak it away and wash it while he's napping next.

Your youngest hasn't grasped the concept of pretend play yet. He's making a valiant effort to eat the plastic tea cup his sister set in front of him.

"The tea is quite good today, dear." Hayato sips his empty cup, his long frame folded into the tiny chair set up at the table. Your daughter giggles at the dramatic voice he uses when he talks, and you can only imagine the proud grin he wears at making her laugh.

Though, your secret admiring is short lived when your middle son spots you, his baby voice babbling out something only you and Hayato recognize as 'Mama!' that you hope he never stops calling you.

"Ah, there she is." Hayato hums sweetly as he twists in his chair to face you front his seat. You step fully into the room, found out, and have every intention of greeting him with a kiss like usual, but then he opens his mouth with a smug comment you should've expected. "We're in dire need of waitstaff. Can you refill my tea for me?"

You stop just short of kissing him. You flick his forehead instead, his laughter ringing throughout the room. Your kids see the smiles on both your faces and laugh along; your youngest blows a raspberry and spit dribbles down his chin.

"Mama isn't the waiter!" Your daughter protests, jumping up to set another placemat for you. "Sit next to me!"

"Someone likes me," You grin, poking your tongue out at your husband. He smiles back, like usual, and doesn't miss a beat when he hands your middle child another cookie he's no doubt babbling for.

"Yeah, Papa." Your daughter carefully pours you fake tea. She takes her time, concentrating, wanting to get it exactly right. Just like her father taught her. "Don't be mean to Mama."

"But that's what makes Mama fall in love with me," Your husband smoothly reasons. You roll your eyes, but you can't deny it. His relentless teasing drew you to him. There's something to be said about a man that can make you laugh.

And Hayato is funny enough that you gave him three kids.

"Now," You lift your plastic teacup and tap it gently against your daughter's before taking a 'sip'. You even make a point to hum contentedly, like it was the best tea you've never tasted. "What were we talking about?"

"Papa said he's gonna teach me to fight!"

[a/n: I loved writing this so much. lmk if you want more because I would be SO down.]

[yoiisa]

Hello!! I’m hoping to request wind breaker characters (please include Umemiya, Kiryu and tsubaki if you don’t mind!) with a reader who has really ‘nerdy’ interests? (Nerdy as in buys anime figures, plays dating sims, etc!!)

I just started watching Wakatoi, so I'm more than ready for this request! Coming right up (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

➜ my king umemiya hajime actively funds your obsession with whatever it is that you like ➜ manga? he's buying the latest volumes so that you can read to him. figurines? he'll bring blind boxes to your house to open them together while you hang out ➜ however, the one exception to this support is dating sims. he hates your dating sims ➜ you have an actual, tangible, breathing boyfriend sitting two feet from you, what on earth could you possibly get out of a dating sim ➜ he will pout and throw a tantrum, that's a guarantee

"Y/N!! I'm here!" Umemiya calls, stepping into your hourse. He toes his shoes off and places them on the rack before heading upstairs to meet up with you. His heart thrums in his chest, his excitement making him more hyper than normal. He reaches the door to your bedroom and pushes it open, not bothering to knock. It's a bad habit of his, and you've scolded him repeatedly for it, especially after he walked in on you changing once in his eagerness. This time though he's safe. You're just sat in your gaming chair, your back to him and your headphones on. However it's not you that draws his attention, but rather the image of . . . Xavier. Umemiya stops dead in his tracks, his face falling and going blank as he watches you continue to flirt with code in your computer instead of just messaging him to flirt instead. Eventually, you sense someone's presence behind you and turn in your chair, taking your headset off. "Oh! Hajime! You scared me what are you doing here?" you jump. "What am I doing?" he asks incredulously, "what are you doing?" "Playing games, duh," you gesture to your monitor. "Anyways, how many times to I have to tell you to knock before just barging into my roo-" Umemiya falls to his knees and cradles his head in his hands. You flinch backwards at the sight before shooting from your seat and dropping in front of him to check on him. "Hajime, what's wrong?" "Just my luck, my girlfriend loves a computer more than me," he mumbles to himself. You sigh and gently push his head. "Don't just drop like that, you scared me!" Umemiya looks up at you and points, "And you are mean. How many times will you choose one of them," he points at your computer, "over me?!" The two of you enter a tense staring contest before you finally crack and burst into a fit of giggles. You shake your head and wrap your arms around Umemiya's neck, hugging him tightly. "Sorry, but it's fun!" He sighs and smiles softly, kissing your cheek.

➜ kiryu mitsuki doesn't really get your obsession with all these things that much, but he won't ever make fun of you for it ➜ rather, he'll support you from the sidelines ➜ he won't ever pose a date where you both go to pop ups and themed cafes, but if you ask him to come with you to one, he'll never say no ➜ after all, it makes you happy, and there's nothing that brings joy to him like seeing your smile

"Mitsu, look!" you gasp, pointing at a tiny stall selling a variety of plushes from Fruits Basket. There's a tiny Kyo, complete with his signature pout, and a Tohru with her eyes closed as she smiles brightly. You pull on Kiryu's hand and lead him to the stall, your eyes roaming all along the plushes from the other shows as well. There's Blue Lock plushes, Attack on Titan, Haikyuu, Apothecary Diaries, and so many more. "Cute," Kiryu says, picking up a sample version of Jinshi. "You want one?" You nod enthusiastically, before looking back over the array of characters they have. "We should get a couple! Mmm, let's see, what romance characters do they have?" "What about those ones?" Kiryu asks pointing at the Kyo and Tohru plush from before. You shake your head. "We can definitely get those, but I wanna see if I can find a couple that's more like us." "Hmm, do you think I'm like any of these characters?" "I don't know, maybe not," you sigh after seeing the roster of couples again. "Maybe we should just get Kyo and Tohru then." "I'm fine with anything." You pick up the two plushes in your hands and carry them to the attendant in charge of the stall. Kiryu hands her some cash to pay for the stuffies, and the attendant happily puts the two in a bag before handing them back to you. "Thank you!" you call over your shoulder as you walk away with Kiryu. Later, on Instagram, you post a selfie that the two of you took with the plushes. You hold Tohru and Kiryu holds Kyo in front of your faces, with the show's theme song playing in the background.

➜ tsubaki tasuku knows all too well what it's like to have interests that could be shunned or looked down upon, so he will literally never say or do anything to make you feel embarrassed or ashamed (unless what you're into is like weird fetishes and illegal crap of course) ➜ i think the one thing tsubaki could really get on board with is cosplay though ➜ the opportunity to essentially play dress up, then get to take cute pics, with his favorite person? sign him the fuck up! ➜ he ends up getting super into cosplay as well thanks to you, and a portion of his savings ends up going into funding the hobby

Tsubaki and you are getting ready for a photoshoot. You're tucking the last of his braid into his wig cap. "Tasuku," you marvel, "you have such pretty hair. It's not fair." Tsubaki giggles and waves you off. "Only cuz I do so much to treat it. Your's is naturally pretty though, that's better I think." "Well either way, we'll be in wigs, so what does it really matter?" you place a long white wig on Tsubaki. "I'm so excited! You'll look so pretty as Tomoe!" "I hope so, this wig was expensive, especially to attach the ears on top of it all," Tsubaki says, adjusting the positioning of the wig on his head. About an hour and a half later, Tsubaki is all dolled up, looking like he came straight from the anime. You hurry to grab your phone, taking a few preliminary and more informal photos with Tsubaki. It's a bit weird to see someone who looks like Tomoe acting as refreshing as Tsubaki does, but when it comes time for the professional photos, he quickly snaps into place. Tsubaki's model face is truly a powerful thing, and he's easily able to convey every ounce of haughtiness that Tomoe possesses. He twirls strands of snow white hair around his fingers, which the two of you've adorned with long press-on nails. At one point, you hand him the infamous hairpin from the show, and he effortlessly works his hair into an updo. By the end of the photoshoot, the two of you are huddled around your computer as the photos upload from the memory card in your camera. "Oh my god Tasuku, you're a proper model, I swear! You should really try to get scouted after school is over," you squeal. You smirk and tease, "I'll show these to Umemiya later. He'll adore them!" Tsubaki turns red and laughs nervously. He cups his hands over his cheeks and chuckles, "Ahh, I hope so. But, I do look really cool, don't I?"

a/n: I've always wanted to try cosplay, but it's such an expensive hobby, I just can't. anyways, y'all cosplayers look beautiful ദ്ദി(ㅠᯅㅠ)!

[calen-00]

UME REQUESTS!! (Open)

I feel bored and spicy and i never post anything in here BUT I FEEL LIKE DOING NOW

I'm gonna take request in Umemiya x reader one shots! (I'm craving for some nsfw ones but everything is welcome in here!!)

Pls jsut don't let me flop:")