babes PLEASEEEE I BEG OF YOU!! ILL GIVE YOU MY FIRST BORN CHILD IF YOU DO ONE OR BOTH IF THESE IDEAS THANKS YOU MWAHE MWAH MWAH
✮ schlatt whose girlfriend loves to cook or bake and she brings it to him on stream a lot and it gives him the opportunity to show her and her cooking off. the chatters and community and basically most in the online space ADOREEE her. you xan make her a content creator or not thats your choice. (if you don't wanna do it while he's streaming you can modify it so she brings it during his chuckle sandwich (rip) recordings and it basically becomes a. staple of the show).
✮ reader who is meeting schlatt's parents for the first time (yes this idea came from that one clip of Tommy talking about the time he met schlatt's mom and dad 🙂↕️🙂↕️)
love your work darling! have a love time!
The Cook
His girlfriend was truly an extraordinary cook, a talent that always left him in awe. He often found himself as her devoted test subject, diving headfirst into this delicious adventure.
It was a delightful challenge, constantly dashing off to the store to gather fresh ingredients or eagerly lending a hand as she experimented with her latest recipes. During her lively cooking streams, she would often surprise him with tantalizing dishes, calling him in with a gleeful shout to taste her latest culinary masterpieces.
Each bite was an explosion of flavor, a little gift of her creativity, and he genuinely savored every meal she whipped up. He felt so fortunate to be part of her culinary journey, sharing in the excitement and joy of her cooking, while also cherishing the intimate moments that came with it.
“And what has the chef brought you today!” Katie asked with a playful grin as their Minecraft characters faced each other.
She could practically hear the excitement in the virtual air, a contrast to the amusing sound of slurping coming from his end.
"Chicken noodle soup," he mumbled through a mouthful, a satisfied smile on his face. "My woman is experimenting with a new recipe tonight, and let me tell you, it’s already smelling incredible!"
“Streamer by day, chef by night,” she joked with a playful grin. “Send us a photo!” His laughter echoed as he captured a quick shot, the familiar click of his camera snapping through the air. Moments later, he sent the image to Katie, who eagerly opened it, anticipation tingling in her stomach as she scrolled through her messages to see what culinary creation he had whipped up that evening.
“Damnnn! Lucky man lucky man”
"She’s a great chef”
Later that week, he was immersed in streaming, casually sipping a drink while navigating through trucker simulator routes. As he focused on the game, she quietly approached, sliding a plate of steaming chicken mushroom rigatoni in front of him.
“Try some,” she said playfully, expertly stabbing a forkful of the creamy pasta. With a warm smile, she brought it closer to his mouth, her hand gently supporting it underneath.
“I’m not a huge fan of mushrooms”
“Have it!”
The chat was buzzing with excitement, spamming messages like “try it, try it!!” as he wrapped his lips around the fork, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked up at her, a hint of surprise on his face, and paused for a moment before breaking into a smile. Nodding in approval, he moved his lips off the fork and exclaimed.
“That’s good, toots!” His laughter mingled with the chat's enthusiasm, making the moment feel all the more alive.
“You want the rest?” she asked, gently nudging the bowl towards him, the fork playfully dipping into it. He nodded eagerly, a warm smile spreading across his face as he watched her walk back to the kitchen, her laughter lingering in the air.
As he savored the last few bites, he couldn't help but think, “She’s a fucking fabulous cook. The way she gets me to eat vegetables is nothing short of a miracle. I mean, who knew greens could taste this good?"
She was hosting her cooking streams, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she called out to him every ten minutes to taste the sauce, savor the rich base, and sample the colorful, fresh vegetables she had just chopped.
Each time, her eyes lit up with anticipation, eager to hear his thoughts and reactions, which infused the room with a lively atmosphere filled with laughter and playful banter. They shared jokes, poking fun at each other's cooking skills as the stream progressed, making the experience feel even more special.
By the time they reached the end of her streams, they would settle into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after shared laughter and good food. Together, they would enjoy the final dish she had artfully prepared, savoring every bite while cherishing a moment of contentment, feeling grateful for the joy of being together over a lovingly made meal.
One thing I’ve always hated is where you search up a tag for an underrated character and think you’ve found a really good fic only to realize the author tags the entire cast.
i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings, uhuh! // manjiro sano headcanons.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ final timeleap/final timeline!mikey as your boyfriend headcanons ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
━━━ ( ⋆｡°✩ this ofc contains spoilers of the ending! ✩°｡ ⋆ ) ━━━
✧ let's face it, mikey has a whole different outlook on life now. because of this, he's determined to make everything right, and he starts with the person he's been crushing on for years. he's spent so long trying to keep you away from him because he's been so scared of his dark impulses & what he could become that now he can't even wait. one of the first things he's doing is convincing takemichi to come with him to your house to introduce himself (and shoot his lil kid shot) so he can weed his way into your life quicker. you're stuck with him whether you like it or not.
✧ you asking him who tf he is and why he's banging on your little eight year old self's door at 5 pm on a tuesday definitely humbles him but mikey's just so happy to see your face that it's all worth it.
✧ his eight year old self 100% proposes the idea of 'getting married and being together for ever and ever'. you obviously go along with this idea and you two have silly talks of emma being at your wedding and all your lil barbies and shit will be there too. it's all innocent and so sweet and mikey cannot believe he took all of this for granted the first time.
✧ once you two are considerably older and actually a couple this time around, mikey is HUGE on touch. like, mikey's constantly wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind, grabbing your hands, etc. he's gotta hold you constantly b/c it's a nice reminder to him that you're real and you're HIS, finally.
✧ actually, as a matter of fact, i would bet my life on saying he never even technically made it official. you two started hanging out romantically and one day he just referred to himself as your boyfriend and you went along with it. you're the person he wants to be with for the rest of his life and he's gonna make damn well sure this happens.
✧ because of everything he's gone through and how scared he is to lose you (even if you don't quite understand it) he's super protective. he's giving every single person who even has the audacity to look at you the nastiest glares he can muster up. if someone's flirting with you, he'll walk up to you, wrap his arm around your shoulder, kiss your cheek and play super dumb. 'whatcha talkin' about?' cute puppy head tilt and all. this, somehow, scares people off more than his nasty glares.
✧ mikey can't stop talking about you to other people. like, i'm sorry to say, but draken is definitely sick of hearing your name because you come up every other sentence. takemichi hears about how beautiful you are and how you and mikey are gonna go to the park later or shopping or whatever -- and, of course, this honestly makes takemichi happier than anyone, because in this timeline, everyone has finally gotten the happy ending they deserve. you and mikey are no different.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ wanna request smth? feel free, my ask box is open !! ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
✮⋆˙Pairings: Husband!mikey x wife!reader. (this is the last timeline where he's a racer and has his black hair btww)
˙✮⋆˙Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy (like a lot of it), domestic themes, established relationship, kitchen sex; on the counter (kind of disgusting cause shes surronded by dirty dishes), mocking, slight crying, unprotected sex/breeding
✮⋆˙Genre: smut
˙✮⋆˙Requests: open
˙✮⋆˙Word count: 4043
Minors don't interact
A/n: kmssss i have school today arghhhhh anyways...ao3 version
"And I shouldn't cry, but I love it, star boy"
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
The pipes groaned as Mikey twisted the faucet shut, steam clinging to his bathroom mirror. Water dripped from his black hair onto bare shoulders, tracing down his neck. He’d forgotten a towel again…
Y/n was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing a stubborn spot off a dinner plate. A low hum vibrated in her throat—some half-remembered lullaby Emma had sung to her newborn baby Miori earlier that afternoon. The melody was soft, almost lost beneath the clink of porcelain and rush of tap water. Her fingers moved automatically, thoughts still lingering on the tiny fingers that had gripped hers so fiercely.
"Y/n! Can you hand me a towel? I forgot to bring one!" Mikey's voice echoed down the hallway, rough-edged and playful. The sound made Y/n's spine prickle—not just the suddenness of it, but the warm familiarity. She could almost see his reflection in the misted bathroom mirror, droplets tracing his jawline. He hadn't changed much since they'd married three years ago—still leanly muscled from racing, eyes glinting with mischief—but lately, a strange intensity simmered beneath it. Ever since they'd visited Emma and Draken, and Mikey had held baby Miori… Y/n sighed softly. "Just give me a sec, Jiro!" she called back, rinsing soap bubbles off her hands.
She grabbed the worn navy towel hanging by the sink—an oversized thing Mikey favored—and padded toward the bathroom doorway. Steam billowed out, carrying the scent of cedarwood shampoo and Mikey himself. His silhouette shifted behind the fogged glass panel: shoulders flexing as he combed wet hair away from his face. "Thanks," he murmured, voice deeper now as the door cracked open. Y/n froze mid-step. The dim hallway light spilled past her, catching the curve of his hipbone, the damp trail of water disappearing beneath the towel carelessly knotted low on his hips. Her breath caught. The flicker in his eyes wasn't gratitude—it was raw, possessive heat.
"You’re staring," he stated, not moving from the doorway. One brow arched, daring her. A droplet traced the ridge of his collarbone and plunged downward. Y/n swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the towel’s terrycloth. She hadn’t realized how deathly quiet the apartment had become—no clinking dishes, no humming pipes—only the frantic rhythm of her own pulse pounding in her ears. The soap scent on her skin felt suddenly childish compared to the musk clinging to him.
"Oh sorry…" she stammered, thrusting the towel forward blindly. "I-I’ll be down in the kitchen if you n-need anything…" She forced her eyes away from the hypnotic line of his hipbone, the suggestive slant of the towel knot. The cold tiles bit into her bare feet as she scrambled backward, her retreat jerky, uneven. Every instinct screamed to flee before he saw the flush spreading down her neck. The unfinished dishes waited, a mundane shield against this scalding intimacy.
"Alrighty…" Mikey muttered low, almost to himself, as he caught the towel mid-air. He didn't wrap it immediately. Instead, he deliberately dragged the rough terrycloth across one pectoral, then the other, the friction leaving faint pink streaks on his damp skin.
Y/n fled back to the sink, plunging her hands into the lukewarm, soap-scummed water. The clatter of plates resumed — louder, clumsier than before. Her focus shifted inward: the memory of baby Miori’s tiny snuffling breaths against her shoulder, the impossibly soft weight cradled in her arms.
Mikey cleared his throat—a rough, purposeful sound that sliced through the humid air like a knife through steam. It wasn't a casual noise, but a deliberate punctuation mark that made Y/n flinch. She kept her back turned, scrubbing furiously at a plate long since clean. Water sloshed over the rim as her knuckles whitened.
"Dunno why you ran off like that," Mikey murmured, his voice a low vibration that traveled across the tiles. He leaned against the doorframe, the towel still loose around his hips. "Like you don't see me naked almost every other day…" The observation hung there, weighted with something beyond teasing—an unspoken challenge wrapped in velvet.
Y/n froze, sponge clenched tight. Her knuckles pressed against porcelain. "Didn't… didn't run," she managed, voice thin as steam. The faucet dripped once. Twice. Each drop echoed like a clock ticking too loud.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
Mikey shifted. His bare foot slapped softly against wet tile. "Then why're you scrubbing that plate raw?" The towel's loose knot shifted dangerously low as he leaned forward. Cedarwood and chlorine—his racing team’s locker room scent—swirled with the humid steam drifting past her. She felt it prickle her neck before she heard his next words, barely above a whisper: "Was thinkin' 'bout Miori’s little face today. How it puckered when she cried."
The sponge slipped from Y/n’s grip. It hit the water with a wet slap. Her hands trembled—not from cold, but from the phantom weight of that fragile newborn skull against her palm earlier. Mikey’s sigh ghosted over her shoulder blade. Close. Too close. "Spent half the drive home imaginin'…" His calloused thumb brushed her spine through her thin cotton shirt. A shiver tore through her.
"Imagining what?" The question rasped out. She didn’t dare turn. Steam curled around them, thick with cedarwood and the sharp bite of soap scum. His breath hitched. She felt it—a tremor vibrating into her skin where his fingertips still rested.
"You know…" Mikey murmured, voice impossibly low and rough against her ear. His other hand slid around her waist, pulling her back flush against the damp heat radiating from his bare chest. The towel knot dug into her spine. "Imagining you… all round with my baby." The words weren't whispered; they were deliberate, carved into the humid air. His hand flattened possessively against her lower belly, fingers splaying wide as if testing the soft curve beneath her shirt. She felt the solid press of his hips behind her, the hard proof of his building fever. "Carrying it." The hand on her belly slid lower, knuckles grazing the waistband of her sleep shorts. "Growing it."
"M-manjiro…" Y/n choked out, the name catching on a gasp as he buried his face against the frantic pulse point beneath her jaw. His lips weren't gentle. They were hot, insistent, branding a path up the straining tendon of her neck. Each kiss felt like a brand—wet, claiming, punctuated by the scrape of teeth against her overheated skin. Her head fell back instinctively, hitting his shoulder as his exploring hand dipped lower still. Her knuckles were white on the sink's edge, the forgotten plate submerged in greasy water forgotten. "A-a baby's… a big responsibility…" The protest was weak, half-strangled, lost beneath the slick sounds of his mouth on her throat and the thundering echo of her own heartbeat. She trembled, caught between the cool steel of the sink against her palms and the inferno at her back. His fingers hooked into the band of her shorts, tugging insistently downward.
"Responsibility?" Mikey rasped, breath searing her ear. His palm pressed flat against her lower belly, fingers spreading wide like he was tracing the phantom swell he craved. "Imagine it…" He rocked his hips against her, a deliberate grind that made her gasp and arch against him. The rough towel rasped against her spine, the knot biting into flesh. "Right here…" His thumb circled lazy, possessive arcs over her softness, dipping dangerously low beneath her shorts. "All tight skin… stretchin'…" His voice dropped to a ragged whisper, thick with lust and longing. "…curves everywhere… hips wide enough for me to hold onto…" He punctuated each word with another slow, grinding thrust against her backside, his bulge a hard ridge beneath the towel. She could feel the damp heat of him seeping through the thin cotton of her shirt, smell the cedarwood and clean sweat mingling with the steam. His hand slid up, cupping her breast through the fabric, squeezing roughly. "…and tits… god, swollen heavy… aching, fuckin' leaking…" He pinched her nipple sharply through the cloth, pulling a sharp cry from her lips.
Suddenly, his wet hands plunged into the soapy sink water beside hers, fingers wrapping like steel bands around her wrists before she could brace. He hauled her arms up violently, water sluicing off her skin in heavy streams. Porcelain clattered violently against porcelain as plates shifted beneath the surface. "Enough scrubbin'…" he growled, voice thick and low. With a single powerful wrench, he spun her bodily around, slamming her back against the wet countertop.
Shock froze her protest in her throat. "Jiro, we can't just have a baby right now! You're… you're being rash!" The words tumbled out, frantic and breathless. "Let's just talk about fi-" Her plea choked off into a sharp gasp as his fingers hooked savagely into the waistband of her thin sleep shorts. He didn't hesitate. With a harsh jerk, he ripped them down her hips in one fluid motion, the fabric catching around her thighs like a flimsy barrier.
"No panties huh…" The words weren't spoken; they were a low, triumphant rumble vibrating against the shell of her ear, thick with satisfaction. His gaze didn't lift to hers. Instead, it burned a possessive trail down her exposed body, lingering on the smooth skin between her thighs. She felt the scrutiny like a physical touch, hotter than the steam clinging.
Before Y/n could stutter a defense about laundry day, Mikey's hands clamped onto her hips—wet calloused palms biting into soft flesh—and he hoisted her bodily onto the slick countertop.
Dirty dishes scattered violently: a greasy frying pan clattering to the floor, a coffee cup spinning wildly before shattering against tile, soapy water sloshing over chicken-stained plates forgotten mid-scrub. The chaos mirrored the frantic pulse pounding behind Y/n’s ribs as Mikey stepped flush between her thighs. Cedarwood shampoo and chlorine filled her lungs when he growled, "Now," and released his towel—the navy fabric pooling silently at his feet. Steam curled around his bare silhouette, catching the rigid lines of his arousal in the humid air. She tasted panic—metallic and sharp—as her palms slid backward on the wet granite, knocking over a forgotten bowl of congealed ramen broth.
"Fuck, Jiro!" Her voice cracked, sharp against the drumming of her own heart. She recoiled instinctively, heels digging into the cupboard door below. "Can't we at least do it upstairs? It's filthy here!" Her gaze flickered to the spilled broth oozing toward her bare thigh, the slick grit of old food scraps under her knuckles. The kitchen smelled suddenly overwhelming: stale grease, sour milk from an unrinsed glass, the heady musk of Mikey's damp skin heating the air. She jerked her leg away just as the viscous liquid touched her skin. "The counter's soaked, there’s broken glass everywhere, and I… I literally just cleaned the floors!" The protest felt pathetic, thin, drowned out by sheer proximity. His hips pinned hers against the cold granite edge, trapping her trembling legs wide open. She felt the slickness between her own thighs—a traitorous, undeniable heat—mingling with the damp chill seeping through her thin shirt.
"So what?" Mikey growled, the sound vibrating against her throat where his teeth had grazed moments before. He kicked aside the sodden towel at his feet, grinding his bare sole deliberately into spilled noodles and shattered porcelain. A sharp crunch echoed underfoot. "We've fucked on worse." His calloused palm slid up her inner thigh—rough against her sensitive skin—pushing her bent leg higher against his hipbone. The movement shifted her hips forward, exposing her completely. Cold granite bit into her spine. "Remember Shinichiro’s filthy shop mattress?" His thumb traced her slick folds—not exploratory, but possessive—measuring her wetness before entering his middle finger inside without preamble. Her gasp choked off into a ragged whimper as he curled that wicked finger deep, stretching her. "Grease stains thicker than your fingers." He added a second digit, scissoring brutally. "Springs busted." He twisted his wrist, knuckles grinding against her swollen clit. "Smelled like stale engine oil and cheap cigarettes." He leaned close, his breath hot and wet against her ear as he pumped his fingers relentlessly. "You screamed loud enough to drown out the trains."
The protest died in her throat—a strangled sound swallowed by the steam and the slick, rhythmic noise of his fingers working her. Her head thrashed back against the water-stained cupboard door. "W-wasn’t screaming…" she gasped out, nails scraping uselessly at his slick forearm as he pinned her leg open wider.
"Wasn’t screaming?" Mikey’s laugh was a low, mocking rumble against her damp shoulder. He leaned in, breath hot and damp on her ear, his voice dropping into a breathy, exaggerated falsetto. "You were like—" He mimicked her, a high-pitched, shuddering gasp cracking through his throat. "'Jiro! Oh fuck, Jiro! Right there!'" His imitation was grotesquely accurate, capturing the desperate hitch in her breath. His fingers twisted deeper inside her, curling to brush that sweet, dizzying spot that made her hips jerk violently off the counter. "Sounded like a kitten caught in a blender. Fucking pathetic."
Y/n choked on air, mortification burning hotter than desire. Her cheeks flamed crimson as she squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at the raw triumph gleaming in his eyes. She felt utterly exposed—not just physically, spread open on the grimy countertop amidst spilled broth and shattered glass, but stripped bare by that mocking mimicry.
"Now… dear," Mikey murmured, the sudden shift from mocking to dangerously soft slicing through the humid tension. He withdrew his brutal fingers slowly, slickness glistening in the harsh overhead light. His calloused thumb brushed her cheekbone, forcing her teary gaze back to meet his. "That's no way to talk to the future mother of my children, hm?" His dark eyes held hers, intense and unwavering, noticing the frantic flutter of her pulse beneath her jaw, the way she looked away flustered, breath catching in little hitches. He leaned in, pressing a shockingly tender kiss to her trembling lips—soft, lingering, a stark contrast to the possessive grip still pinning her thigh against his hipbone.
"I love you so much…" The words spilled out raspy, rough-edged, yet surprisingly vulnerable. His gaze dropped momentarily to her damp shirt clinging to her heaving chest. "…dunno what I'd do without you." His voice thickened, the arrogance momentarily dissolved. It wasn't a whisper; it was a raw admission carved into the steam-filled air between them. He felt her shudder beneath him, sensed the shift in her breathing—the panic momentarily stalled.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
Then, slowly, deliberately, Y/n lifted her trembling arm. Water droplets traced paths down her elbow. Her fingers tangled into the still-damp strands of his black hair at his nape. It wasn't a gentle touch; it was a firm anchor, pulling him closer, forcing his face inches from hers. "Oh, Manjiro…" The name escaped on a breathless sigh, thick with a blend of exasperation, surrender, and a desperate affection that cut deeper than any blade. Her nails dug lightly into his scalp, a silent command amidst the chaos of spilled broth and broken crockery. Her eyes locked onto his, wide and dark, reflecting the harsh overhead light and the frantic heat simmering beneath the surface. "Shut up… and do it…"
A slow, predatory grin spread across Mikey's face. It wasn't just amusement; it was pure, unfiltered triumph, sharp and possessive. The tenderness of moments before evaporated, replaced by an electric charge that crackled in the humid air. His gaze locked onto hers, holding her submission, savoring it. Without breaking eye contact, his hands slid from her hips down the outside of her trembling thighs. His palms were rough, calloused from years gripping handlebars, contrasting violently with the soft skin beneath. He pushed firmly, spreading her legs wider against the cold granite countertop. Her breath hitched sharply at the sudden, vulnerable exposure. The movement was deliberate, unhurried, forcing her thighs apart until the muscles strained, opening her completely to his hungry gaze and the imminent invasion. Steam clung to their skin, the scent of cedarwood now mingling with the sharp tang of her arousal and the stale remnants of dinner.
He leaned forward, his damp chest brushing against her thin shirt. The heat radiating from him was immense, a furnace against her cooler skin. His arousal pressed hot and hard against her inner thigh, a blunt, demanding promise. At first, he teased her entrance with the slick head of his cock, a slow, maddening glide through her wetness, tracing her folds without penetrating. His eyes never left hers, watching every flicker of anticipation, every involuntary twitch of her muscles. Then, with a low groan that vibrated deep in his chest, he pushed forward. Not violently, but with undeniable, relentless firmness. The initial stretch was intense, a deep, burning pressure as he breached her, inch by deliberate inch.
He buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, claiming thrust, forcing a sharp gasp from Y/n. Her fingers tightened painfully in his hair, anchoring herself against the overwhelming fullness, the shock of sensation—cold granite biting into her spine, hot granite hardness filling her core. Mikey froze for a heartbeat, savoring the tight clench of her around him, the frantic flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb still resting on her jaw. Steam condensed on his skin, mingling with a fine sheen of sweat already gathering on his brow. The kitchen air was thick with the scent of their mingled arousal, spilled food, and the damp remnants of his shower. His breath hitched, ragged and hot against her lips.
"Fuck… fuck, Y/n," he groaned, the sound scraping against his throat like gravel. He pulled back slowly, deliberately, dragging friction that sparked whimpers low in her throat, before driving back in with possessive force. His hips snapped forward again, pressing her deeper into the counter's unforgiving edge. His gaze dropped from her wide, dazed eyes, trailing down her flushed neck, over the damp shirt clinging to her trembling chest. A faint, familiar pattern caught his eye—a small, innocuous calendar magnet clinging crookedly to the fridge door beside her head. His rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second, a predatory grin twisting his lips as he recognized the small red circle pencilled around today’s date. "Saw you were ovulating on the calendar…" The words weren't tender; they were a low, guttural growl punctuated by another hard thrust that stole her breath.
Y/n’s moan tore free, sharp and ragged against his throat where his pulse hammered wildly. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was a surrender, thick with hopeful desperation. Her hips arched off the filthy countertop to meet his next savage thrust.
"Fuck, yeah…," Mikey snarled, his gaze locked onto her flushed face, the triumph blazing hotter than the overhead bulb. His hips pistoned relentlessly, the wet slap of skin echoing off the tiles amidst the chaos of shattered dishes. "Deep…fill you up." Another brutal snap forward slammed her spine into the granite. "Get you swollen… heavy…" His thumb found her clit, rubbing rough circles that stole her breath. "Hopefully we’ll get you pregnant on the first try, huh?" The growled words vibrated against her sweat-slicked temple, possessive and raw.
Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. The visceral hunger in his voice, the crude promise vibrating against her skin—it overwhelmed her. Panic flared alongside the coil tightening low in her belly. Her hand shot up instinctively, palm smacking hard against his mouth, muffling the next filthy vow. Fingers splayed wide, digging into the line of his jaw, pressing his lips shut against further declarations. Her nails bit into his cheekbone. "Shut up, Manjiro!" she gasped out, voice a ragged mix of desperation and command. Her hips bucked involuntarily against his thrusts, undermining her own order.
But it was too late. His groan vibrated against her palm, wet and muffled, yet somehow louder than the slick slap of their bodies. The sensation—his lips moving against her skin, the scrape of his teeth beneath her fingers—was the tipping point. The coil snapped. Her hips jerked forward against his, meeting his next thrust with frantic urgency, then jerked backwards, rolling against him in a sharp, seeking arch. It was instinct, primal and unthinking—her body riding the wave of his relentless pistoning hips, grinding backwards against the solid heat of him as she chased the cresting pressure. Her throat seized. The sound that escaped wasn’t a moan; it was a choked, guttural cry ripped from deep within, echoing off the grease-stained tiles as her vision fragmented into white sparks. Every muscle clenched, locking around him impossibly tight.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
Her thighs clamped violently around his hips, trapping him deep as she shuddered through the peak. Her spine bowed sharply against the counter’s edge, muscles straining to the point of trembling. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—could only feel the overwhelming pulse radiating from her core, spreading outward in fierce, uncontrollable waves. Her fingers spasmed tighter against his jaw, nails digging furrows into his damp skin, pinning his face against her palm even as her hips pressed back harder, grinding against him, milking every convulsive pulse. Broken plates dug into her back, forgotten beneath the roar in her ears and the frantic hammering of her own heart. The scent of sweat and sex and spilled broth filled her lungs, thick and suffocating. Tears blurred her vision—not sorrow, but sheer sensory overload, the raw intensity of release igniting every nerve ending.
Mikey ripped her hand away from his mouth, teeth grazing her knuckles as he crushed her against the countertop. His hips bucked once—a brutal, uncontrolled thrust—before freezing deep inside her. A low groan tore from his throat, raw and shuddering, as he buried his face against the frantic pulse in her neck. His arms locked around her waist like steel bands, hauling her impossibly closer until her ribs protested. She felt him throb, thick and urgent, spilling hot against her inner muscles with each ragged pulse. His breath hitched against her skin—wet, open-mouthed gasps—as he pressed his brow hard against her collarbone, hips grinding instinctively deeper as he rode out his own climax. Steam curled around them, heavy with the musk of their mingled sweat and the sharp tang of his release.
Y/n slumped against him, boneless and trembling, her own aftershocks still rippling through her veins. Every breath felt raw, scraped from her lungs. The cool granite beneath her thighs contrasted violently with the scorching heat radiating where their bodies were welded together—slick with sweat, and something thicker. Mikey didn’t move. His weight pressed her into the counter’s unforgiving edge, his breathing still ragged gusts against her damp shoulder. His fingers traced lazy, possessive circles over the small of her back beneath her shirt. "Fuck…" he rasped finally, voice thick and shattered. "Manjiro…" The name escaped her on a sigh, barely audible, soaked in bone-deep exhaustion and a stunned, spreading warmth low in her belly. "Felt… so… good…" The admission was a fragmented whisper against his damp hair, her fingers trembling as they tangled weakly in the strands at his nape.
He just breathed her in—cedarwood shampoo tangled with the sweet musk of her skin, the sharp copper tang of blood from his cheek where her nails had dug deep, and underneath it all, the potent, unmistakable scent of sex and hope. His thoughts weren't coherent—just flashes: her flushed skin under harsh light, the choked desperation of her cry echoing louder than shattered porcelain, the yielding softness beneath him holding his seed. Later, he thought hazily, picturing her stomach swelling under his hands, round and heavy with his child. Soon. The image burned brighter than the ache in his hips or the sting on his jaw. He nuzzled deeper into the curve of her neck, inhaling slowly, dragging the scent deep into his lungs.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his head. His gaze wasn't tender; it was scorching. It traced the tear tracks drying on her cheeks, the frantic flutter of her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her throat, the tremble still vibrating through her slack jaw. Below, his softening cock twitched against her thigh, still buried deep within her heat, stirring back to life against the slickness coating her inner thighs. A predatory stillness settled over him, sharper than before. His thumb brushed her swollen lower lip—a silent question etched into the rough pad of his calloused skin. "Round two?" The words weren't spoken; they were a thick, guttural rumble vibrating against her damp collarbone, low enough to feel deep in her bones.♡
Follo x Chubby Reader continuation of the last post. Smut post, 18+ MDNI(Minors, do not interact!!!)
Fem Ver.
The room was filled with the sound of your gentle breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets as Follo continued his passionate attention to your body. The devilish grin on his face seemed to widen with each kiss he placed on your thick thighs, as if he was savoring every moment of this intimate encounter. His hands, warm and strong, held your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he worked his magic.
"D-does it feel good?..." he murmured with a bashful lithe that betrayed the thickness of desire in his voice. His tongue darted out, tracing a slow, teasing line along the edge of your panties, causing you to gasp and arch your back. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
His golden eyes, now dark with arousal, never left yours. He loved the way you looked at him, with a mix of hunger and anticipation. It made him feel powerful, knowing that he had the ability to make you feel this way. Despite the embarrassment he might have felt in this position, it was overshadowed by his eagerness to please you.
And oh, he absolutely wanted to shower you with everything he had. You could see it in his eyes.
So cute~
The room seemed to spin as Follo's focused attention intensified. You felt like the most precious being in the world, adored and desired. The raw need in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and it sent a surge of wetness gushing from your core. Your hand found its way to his soft, jet-black hair, gripping it gently as you pulled his head closer to your most sensitive spot. His nose pressed firmly against your throbbing clit, eliciting a sharp gasp and a drawn-out moan from your lips. You instinctively pushed yourself further into his face, seeking more of that delicious friction.
"Of course it does. After all, my man is treating me so sweetly, how could I not get wet?~"
You cooed with delight, your teasing words were laced with genuine appreciation, and they had an immediate effect on Follo. His entire body tensed, and the flush on his skin deepened to a fiery red. Despite being completely buried in your warmth, his eager response was palpable. He mumbled something, the vibrations from his voice sending shockwaves through your already sensitive body, causing you to jolt and clutch his hair tighter. "Babe?—" You stutter, a tad taken by surprise at his movements. What was he doing? You wondered.
Unbeknownst to you, it seemed your words made a rise out of your boyfriend!...And so~...
With newfound determination, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips. The underwear that had been in his way was quickly pulled aside with deft hands, allowing him a clear path. A brief moment of adjustment passed as he took a gasping breath, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with longing. Then, like a starved man finally getting a taste of his favorite meal, he dove back in with an intensity that made your breath catch.
Your hips sputter, your eyes flying wide briefly, only to melt as you felt the gooey warmth of that skilled tongue glide over your heated, weeping privates.
"Mmmmm..." The sound rumbled from deep within his chest as his tongue began to explore your wet folds, tracing slow, deliberate patterns. His nose kept brushing against your clit with each movement, creating a delicious blend of sensations. One of his hands left your hip, sliding down to spread your thighs wider, offering him even better access. The cool air of the room caressed your exposed skin, making the contrast with his warm, wet mouth all the more exhilarating.
"You taste... so good..." he managed to murmur in between licks, his voice thick with arousal. You loved it when he had enough courage to talk dirty to you like that, it was a real turn on.
The room was filled with the intoxicating sounds of your moans and Follo's eager slurping. "Shit... Follo, that feels so good." Your words spurred him on, and he responded by driving his tongue even deeper. Though his reach was limited, the sensation was nothing short of mind-blowing. Your hips moved instinctively, grinding against his face as you sought more of that divine pleasure.
Your pussy contracted around his skilled tongue, the wet sounds echoing through the room. You leaned back, supporting your weight on your hands, giving him better access. That's when you noticed his straining erection, pressing against his pants with desperate need. The fact that he was putting your pleasure first made your heart swell with love and your core throb with desire.
You absolutely promised yourself that you'd spoil him just as much as he was spoiling you...But only after! Right now? There was no fucking way you were moving, not till you came undone at least.
Mean? Maybe... but Follo liked it when you were mean to him. Because he knew the end reward was always sweetest, it was nothing new, you trained him well after all, he was a good, patient little trooper.
His tongue continued its relentless motion, fucking in and out of your slick entrance. Every now and then, he would pause to suck gently, creating a vacuum that sent shivers down your spine. Then, he'd switch his attention to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub in a figure-eight pattern, then suckling on it and nibbling it. It was like he was trying to drive you crazy.
His tongue swirled and teased, a masterful symphony of pleasure. Your body began to tremble as the waves of bliss mounted, reaching a feverish crescendo.
"Mmm...baby...I can tell you're close..." He murmured in that sexy, low voice of his. He had pull his mouth off your clit for a moment, replacing it with his thumb and index fingers, his eyes quietly observing your reaction with an intensity that seriously belied the timid guy of some moments ago. After a bit of making you squirm on top of him, his fingers left your clit momentarily, only to be replaced by his lips. He suckled gently, applying just the right amount of pressure as his tongue resumed its expert exploration within you.
The combination was overwhelming. You felt your orgasm building like a tidal wave, crashing towards you with unstoppable force. Your hands fisted the sheets, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself.
"Follo...I'm...I'm..." you gasped, unable to finish the sentence. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, grinding against his face as the first spasms of your climax hit. Your entire body tensed, then relaxed, and then tensed again as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Follo's grip on your thighs tightened possessively, holding you firmly in place as he rode out your orgasm with you.
This dude was legitimately sucking the hell out of your pussy, and drinking it up like it was his last drink. Genuinely, you didn't even have enough brain power to register what was happening until you finally came down from your high, falling back, your head resting right on top of his groin, which caused him to let out a pain but sweetish moan.
"There is no way you licked me up like that." You say, finally able to gather your thoughts, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your organism. Follo on the other hand moved to sit up, shifting you till he was right above you, a mischievous little smile in his face, "You didn't like it?" he asked in a soft voice, gold eyes searching yours. His breath came in short gasps, the evidence of his own unmet need pressing insistently against your back. The mischievous smile on his face was both endearing and incredibly alluring. His fingers traced aimless patterns along your stomach, moving lower with each pass. His exploring fingers elicited a sharp, shuddering gasp from you, and all you could do was stare up at him like a lost deer.
Noting your reaction to his words, and movements, he smiled a boyish grin and replied, "I'll take that as you did like it then?" his voice dropped to a husky whisper, a stark contrast to his typical bashful demeanor.
The power dynamic had drastically shifted; gone was the timid boy, replaced by a self-assured young man who knew precisely the effect he had on you. No matter how many times you saw it, it always left you breathless and happily wanting to be submissive to him.
Follo leaned down, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss, his tongue seeking entrance. You could taste yourself on him, a reminder of the intense pleasure he'd just bestowed upon you. One of his hands found your breast, squeezing gently as his thumb toyed with your nipple. You let our a soft shriek, before it turned into a pleasurable moan, your hands finding his beefy biceps and squeezing them, only to trail up to those broad shoulders of his to steady yourself.
"Y'know..." he murmured against your lips, his hips starting to rock against yours, feeling his erection consistently grind against your wet, pulsating entrance with enticing friction. "I'm also kinda...up..ya know?..." The change in his tone was unmistakable. There was a hint of impatience, a craving that had been held back in favor of your pleasure.
For a minute, you had to call yourself, he was being way too sexy right now and it wasn't even funny.
Regathering your swagger after a much needed exhale, you replied, your tone just as playful as his, fingers finding his hair and caressing it in ways you knew would make him shudder.
"And so what if it's up?, hm?~"
His breath caught in his throat as your fingers weaved through his hair, applying just the right amount of pressure. His hips stuttered, grinding against you with even more fervor. The look in his golden eyes had changed from playful to outright ravenous.
"You're so unfair," he groaned in a light voice, sounding like a whimpering dog— but the desire in his voice was undeniable. "Making me wait like this... It's torture." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're just mean..." He sighed, his teeth would graze your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.
One of his hands left your breast to slink lower, his fingers dancing along the curve of your hip before moving towards your still sensitive core. He began to draw slow circles around your clit, his touch both gentle and purposeful. "I can't put it in? Really?.. After you've gotten me this worked up? That so unfair—Ngh!"
His words were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath as you reached down into his pants and wrapped your hand around his straining length, giving it a firm squeeze. "You've gotten a little brave now, haven't you?" You'd hum, purposely rubbing your thumb over the weeping tip.
Sure, Follo had taken the lead just moments ago, that didn't mean you were going to let him have complete control.
After all, there was something irresistibly charming about seeing him a little bullied. Yes, you were being a bit mean, but it was all done with love. In one swift, decisive move, you flipped the power dynamic again. With a firm push, you forced him down onto the mattress, then roughly yanked his pants down. His eyes shot open in surprise, and his face flushed a deep crimson as his impressive 5-inch-plus cock sprang free, standing erect and bobbing eagerly. It was a sight that made your mouth water.
You climbed over him, your ample ass brushing against his sensitive member as you settled fully onto his lap. A soft, whimpering moan escaped his lips as he looked up at you with half-lidded, expectant eyes. He was completely silent now, his entire body tense with anticipation as he awaited your next move. And you relished in that power, in the knowledge that he was so needy and desperate for you.
Your hand reached down and wrapped around his thick shaft, giving it a few teasing strokes.
A choked gasp escaped his throat as your hand worked its magic on his cock. His hands instinctively grabbed your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as you continued to stroke him. The look in his eyes was a potent mix of longing and reverence.
"Baby... please..." he pleaded, his voice cracking with desire. His hips bucked up, trying to push into your hand for more contact, but, you keep the control, leaving him wanting more.
You loved seeing him like this, completely under your control. With a mischievous grin, you finally guided the tip of his cock towards your waiting entrance. The moment the hot, velvety head brushed against your already pulsating core, you both let out a synchronized moan.
And then, with one powerful downward movement, you sank down onto him. The lewd "squelch" that echoed through the room was drowned out by your combined cries of ecstasy. His cock filled you perfectly, stretching you to your limit.
Follo's head fell back against the pillows, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as you started to move. You set a relentless pace, your hips rocking back and forth with calculated force.
You wanted to overwhelm him, wanted to make him squirm and cry out your name as much as you did some moments ago.
The bedroom air was thick with the fragrance of sex as you continued your rhythmic movements atop your lover. His features contorted in absolute rapture, his head thrashing from side to side against the pillows. It seemed as if his very essence was on the brink of departing his body due to the intensity of the pleasure you were bestowing upon him.
"Feel good, sweetheart?~" you purred, your own breathing becoming ragged as you observed his every reaction. His hands clutched at your hips with such ferocity that his fingers were likely to leave marks, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was this moment, this connection.
He tried to respond, but all that emerged were short, breathy moans and groans. His hips bucked upward, meeting each of your thrusts with equal fervor. And then, without warning, his expression changed.
With a sudden burst of strength, he pushed you off him, his cock throbbing violently as he reached his peak. The hot spray of his release missed your entrance by mere inches, splashing onto your stomach instead.
A high-pitched, almost feminine cry tore from his throat as he came, the intensity of it sending shivers down your spine. His entire body trembled uncontrollably, muscles taut and then lax as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. You watched in awe, never tiring of seeing him like this—vulnerable, completely lost in ecstasy. When the aftershocks finally began to subside, you immediately leaned in, covering his face with soft kisses. His skin was damp with sweat, and he smelled of sex and desperation. You pulled him close, cuddling him tightly against your chest as you stroked his hair.
"You were amazing, baby." you whispered, your voice filled with sincere admiration. Your hand traced gentle patterns on his back, feeling his rapid heartbeat slowly start to return to normal. The way he had ejaculated with such force was both hot and endearing, and that final high-pitched moan... it was something you'd definitely be teasing him about later.
Follo, however, was already spent. He mumbled something incoherent into your breasts, his face buried so deeply that you could hardly understand him. It brought a smile of satisfaction to your lips.
Placing a well deserved kiss on his forehead, watching as he began to drift in your arms to slumber, you couldn't help but admire his spirit.
He tried. You didn't get to cum a second time, but holy shit— that face fuck was beautiful.
Ah yes, he had his moments definitely. Such a creampuff. You love him anyways.
Thanks for reading!!! Stay tuned for the male version and then non-binary one(Istg, I'd have to like split one post into two for that non-binary one, because there's literally so many creative ways I can do this 😩)
ⓘ instructions; log into twitter & click on the p! links
. . . . ⇢ ˗ ˏˋ 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 dni if you’re uncomfortable. ࿐ྂ
𑣲 ENJIN -
it’s so big & long! ⸝⸝ how he sounds in bed ⸝⸝ oops! he’s underneath you.. ⸝⸝ what he sends you while you’re away— ⸝⸝ just put it in already! ⸝⸝ he’s devouring you completely ⸝⸝ take it like a good girl .. ⸝⸝ missionary like always ⸝⸝ “lift your skirt for me.” ⸝⸝ taking your punishment like a good girl ⸝⸝ he misses you so much
𑣲 TAMSY CAINES -
frat! boy tamsy linking up with your emo self. ⸝⸝ he loves to tease you ⸝⸝ he fingers you so good ⸝⸝ slow & steady just like that ⸝⸝ loves fucking your throat! ⸝⸝ fucking you in the lingerie he loves.’ ⸝⸝ how he sounds in bed ⸝⸝ pink lights & backshots ⸝⸝ close up of his cum leaking out of you.. ⸝⸝ jumping like a bunny!
𑣲 ZANKA NIJIKU (AGED UP 20+) -
it’s getting sticky! ⸝⸝ emo! zanka fingering you in-front of your plushies! ⸝⸝ “just like that,” ⸝⸝ riding it so good ⸝⸝ the forgotten movie ⸝⸝ aw he’s helping you ride it! ⸝⸝ he loves the view ⸝⸝ how he sounds in the bed ⸝⸝ so oiled up! ⸝⸝ “don’t move until i say so” ⸝⸝ he loves eating you ⸝⸝ stole enjin’s car for this..
𑣲 CORVUS ARKHA -
ugh too much squirt ⸝⸝ what a pretty view ⸝⸝ it can’t fit! ⸝⸝ tummy bulge ⸝⸝ ride it like a good girl! ⸝⸝ “just like that love,” ⸝⸝ what he sends you while you’re away :(⸝⸝ he’s so rough! ⸝⸝ taking him so good ⸝⸝ fucking in the shower eheh ⸝⸝ he loves to pleasure you ⸝⸝ what you send him while he’s away!
𑣲 AUGUST STILZA -
fucking you in the lingerie he made you ⸝⸝ ugh he loves fucking you like this ⸝⸝ “you so pretty mamas,” ⸝⸝ loves when you’re breathless ⸝⸝ trying something new .. ⸝⸝ you love to overstimulate him! ⸝⸝ he made you lay on the teddybear while he fucks you ⸝⸝ best bj ever! ⸝⸝ teasing you through ur panties! ⸝⸝ “doing so good baby,”
𑣲 GRIS RUBION -
he’s so rough & mean!!.. ⸝⸝ gosh even if he’s mean, you still love it ⸝⸝ “stay still sweetheart,” ⸝⸝ he feels so good ⸝⸝ the belly bulges ⸝⸝ helping him stroke it ⸝⸝ rubbing & grinding on him ⸝⸝ shoving a pillow up your face & fingering you ⸝⸝ quickie in the headquarters lounge! ⸝⸝ what he sends you while you’re gone
𑣲 FOLLO TUNITO -
“you like this, my love?” ⸝⸝ how he sounds in bed ⸝⸝ he punished you for being bratty all day! ⸝⸝ morning quickies ⸝⸝ teasing him hehe ⸝⸝ “you like it slow?” ⸝⸝ dressing for him so adorably, so he decided to eat you out ⸝⸝ he loves using his fingers on you” ⸝⸝ using both holes!? ⸝⸝ you love to edge him as a punishment
𑣲 ZODYL TYPHON -
he’s so big oh lordd ⸝⸝ “you’re so pretty for me,” ⸝⸝ taking your punishment so good ⸝⸝ “come sit on it,” ⸝⸝ what he sends you while you’re pleasuring yourself ⸝⸝ each other’s sneaky links! ⸝⸝ shh you gotta be quiet ⸝⸝ the type of videos he sends you ⸝⸝ what you send him while being in his car ⸝⸝ how he sounds in bed
𑣲 JABBER WONGER -
loves using your mouth & throat ⸝⸝ “you love my dick ma?” ⸝⸝ ugh he’s so rough with you ⸝⸝ bully! jabber fucking you in his room ⸝⸝ creamie pie! ⸝⸝ ugh he’s such a tease ⸝⸝ taking zanka & jabber at the same damn time!? ⸝⸝ how he sounds in bed ⸝⸝ “just like that mama, fuckkk.. use your teeth,” ⸝⸝ taking him like a good girl!
✮⋆˙Pairings: Husband!mikey x wife!reader. (this is the last timeline where he's a racer and has his black hair btww)
˙✮⋆˙Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy (like a lot of it), domestic themes, established relationship, kitchen sex; on the counter (kind of disgusting cause shes surronded by dirty dishes), mocking, slight crying, unprotected sex/breeding
✮⋆˙Genre: smut
˙✮⋆˙Requests: open
˙✮⋆˙Word count: 4043
Minors don't interact
A/n: kmssss i have school today arghhhhh anyways...ao3 version
"And I shouldn't cry, but I love it, star boy"
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
The pipes groaned as Mikey twisted the faucet shut, steam clinging to his bathroom mirror. Water dripped from his black hair onto bare shoulders, tracing down his neck. He’d forgotten a towel again…
Y/n was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing a stubborn spot off a dinner plate. A low hum vibrated in her throat—some half-remembered lullaby Emma had sung to her newborn baby Miori earlier that afternoon. The melody was soft, almost lost beneath the clink of porcelain and rush of tap water. Her fingers moved automatically, thoughts still lingering on the tiny fingers that had gripped hers so fiercely.
"Y/n! Can you hand me a towel? I forgot to bring one!" Mikey's voice echoed down the hallway, rough-edged and playful. The sound made Y/n's spine prickle—not just the suddenness of it, but the warm familiarity. She could almost see his reflection in the misted bathroom mirror, droplets tracing his jawline. He hadn't changed much since they'd married three years ago—still leanly muscled from racing, eyes glinting with mischief—but lately, a strange intensity simmered beneath it. Ever since they'd visited Emma and Draken, and Mikey had held baby Miori… Y/n sighed softly. "Just give me a sec, Jiro!" she called back, rinsing soap bubbles off her hands.
She grabbed the worn navy towel hanging by the sink—an oversized thing Mikey favored—and padded toward the bathroom doorway. Steam billowed out, carrying the scent of cedarwood shampoo and Mikey himself. His silhouette shifted behind the fogged glass panel: shoulders flexing as he combed wet hair away from his face. "Thanks," he murmured, voice deeper now as the door cracked open. Y/n froze mid-step. The dim hallway light spilled past her, catching the curve of his hipbone, the damp trail of water disappearing beneath the towel carelessly knotted low on his hips. Her breath caught. The flicker in his eyes wasn't gratitude—it was raw, possessive heat.
"You’re staring," he stated, not moving from the doorway. One brow arched, daring her. A droplet traced the ridge of his collarbone and plunged downward. Y/n swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the towel’s terrycloth. She hadn’t realized how deathly quiet the apartment had become—no clinking dishes, no humming pipes—only the frantic rhythm of her own pulse pounding in her ears. The soap scent on her skin felt suddenly childish compared to the musk clinging to him.
"Oh sorry…" she stammered, thrusting the towel forward blindly. "I-I’ll be down in the kitchen if you n-need anything…" She forced her eyes away from the hypnotic line of his hipbone, the suggestive slant of the towel knot. The cold tiles bit into her bare feet as she scrambled backward, her retreat jerky, uneven. Every instinct screamed to flee before he saw the flush spreading down her neck. The unfinished dishes waited, a mundane shield against this scalding intimacy.
"Alrighty…" Mikey muttered low, almost to himself, as he caught the towel mid-air. He didn't wrap it immediately. Instead, he deliberately dragged the rough terrycloth across one pectoral, then the other, the friction leaving faint pink streaks on his damp skin.
Y/n fled back to the sink, plunging her hands into the lukewarm, soap-scummed water. The clatter of plates resumed — louder, clumsier than before. Her focus shifted inward: the memory of baby Miori’s tiny snuffling breaths against her shoulder, the impossibly soft weight cradled in her arms.
Mikey cleared his throat—a rough, purposeful sound that sliced through the humid air like a knife through steam. It wasn't a casual noise, but a deliberate punctuation mark that made Y/n flinch. She kept her back turned, scrubbing furiously at a plate long since clean. Water sloshed over the rim as her knuckles whitened.
"Dunno why you ran off like that," Mikey murmured, his voice a low vibration that traveled across the tiles. He leaned against the doorframe, the towel still loose around his hips. "Like you don't see me naked almost every other day…" The observation hung there, weighted with something beyond teasing—an unspoken challenge wrapped in velvet.
Y/n froze, sponge clenched tight. Her knuckles pressed against porcelain. "Didn't… didn't run," she managed, voice thin as steam. The faucet dripped once. Twice. Each drop echoed like a clock ticking too loud.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
Mikey shifted. His bare foot slapped softly against wet tile. "Then why're you scrubbing that plate raw?" The towel's loose knot shifted dangerously low as he leaned forward. Cedarwood and chlorine—his racing team’s locker room scent—swirled with the humid steam drifting past her. She felt it prickle her neck before she heard his next words, barely above a whisper: "Was thinkin' 'bout Miori’s little face today. How it puckered when she cried."
The sponge slipped from Y/n’s grip. It hit the water with a wet slap. Her hands trembled—not from cold, but from the phantom weight of that fragile newborn skull against her palm earlier. Mikey’s sigh ghosted over her shoulder blade. Close. Too close. "Spent half the drive home imaginin'…" His calloused thumb brushed her spine through her thin cotton shirt. A shiver tore through her.
"Imagining what?" The question rasped out. She didn’t dare turn. Steam curled around them, thick with cedarwood and the sharp bite of soap scum. His breath hitched. She felt it—a tremor vibrating into her skin where his fingertips still rested.
"You know…" Mikey murmured, voice impossibly low and rough against her ear. His other hand slid around her waist, pulling her back flush against the damp heat radiating from his bare chest. The towel knot dug into her spine. "Imagining you… all round with my baby." The words weren't whispered; they were deliberate, carved into the humid air. His hand flattened possessively against her lower belly, fingers splaying wide as if testing the soft curve beneath her shirt. She felt the solid press of his hips behind her, the hard proof of his building fever. "Carrying it." The hand on her belly slid lower, knuckles grazing the waistband of her sleep shorts. "Growing it."
"M-manjiro…" Y/n choked out, the name catching on a gasp as he buried his face against the frantic pulse point beneath her jaw. His lips weren't gentle. They were hot, insistent, branding a path up the straining tendon of her neck. Each kiss felt like a brand—wet, claiming, punctuated by the scrape of teeth against her overheated skin. Her head fell back instinctively, hitting his shoulder as his exploring hand dipped lower still. Her knuckles were white on the sink's edge, the forgotten plate submerged in greasy water forgotten. "A-a baby's… a big responsibility…" The protest was weak, half-strangled, lost beneath the slick sounds of his mouth on her throat and the thundering echo of her own heartbeat. She trembled, caught between the cool steel of the sink against her palms and the inferno at her back. His fingers hooked into the band of her shorts, tugging insistently downward.
"Responsibility?" Mikey rasped, breath searing her ear. His palm pressed flat against her lower belly, fingers spreading wide like he was tracing the phantom swell he craved. "Imagine it…" He rocked his hips against her, a deliberate grind that made her gasp and arch against him. The rough towel rasped against her spine, the knot biting into flesh. "Right here…" His thumb circled lazy, possessive arcs over her softness, dipping dangerously low beneath her shorts. "All tight skin… stretchin'…" His voice dropped to a ragged whisper, thick with lust and longing. "…curves everywhere… hips wide enough for me to hold onto…" He punctuated each word with another slow, grinding thrust against her backside, his bulge a hard ridge beneath the towel. She could feel the damp heat of him seeping through the thin cotton of her shirt, smell the cedarwood and clean sweat mingling with the steam. His hand slid up, cupping her breast through the fabric, squeezing roughly. "…and tits… god, swollen heavy… aching, fuckin' leaking…" He pinched her nipple sharply through the cloth, pulling a sharp cry from her lips.
Suddenly, his wet hands plunged into the soapy sink water beside hers, fingers wrapping like steel bands around her wrists before she could brace. He hauled her arms up violently, water sluicing off her skin in heavy streams. Porcelain clattered violently against porcelain as plates shifted beneath the surface. "Enough scrubbin'…" he growled, voice thick and low. With a single powerful wrench, he spun her bodily around, slamming her back against the wet countertop.
Shock froze her protest in her throat. "Jiro, we can't just have a baby right now! You're… you're being rash!" The words tumbled out, frantic and breathless. "Let's just talk about fi-" Her plea choked off into a sharp gasp as his fingers hooked savagely into the waistband of her thin sleep shorts. He didn't hesitate. With a harsh jerk, he ripped them down her hips in one fluid motion, the fabric catching around her thighs like a flimsy barrier.
"No panties huh…" The words weren't spoken; they were a low, triumphant rumble vibrating against the shell of her ear, thick with satisfaction. His gaze didn't lift to hers. Instead, it burned a possessive trail down her exposed body, lingering on the smooth skin between her thighs. She felt the scrutiny like a physical touch, hotter than the steam clinging.
Before Y/n could stutter a defense about laundry day, Mikey's hands clamped onto her hips—wet calloused palms biting into soft flesh—and he hoisted her bodily onto the slick countertop.
Dirty dishes scattered violently: a greasy frying pan clattering to the floor, a coffee cup spinning wildly before shattering against tile, soapy water sloshing over chicken-stained plates forgotten mid-scrub. The chaos mirrored the frantic pulse pounding behind Y/n’s ribs as Mikey stepped flush between her thighs. Cedarwood shampoo and chlorine filled her lungs when he growled, "Now," and released his towel—the navy fabric pooling silently at his feet. Steam curled around his bare silhouette, catching the rigid lines of his arousal in the humid air. She tasted panic—metallic and sharp—as her palms slid backward on the wet granite, knocking over a forgotten bowl of congealed ramen broth.
"Fuck, Jiro!" Her voice cracked, sharp against the drumming of her own heart. She recoiled instinctively, heels digging into the cupboard door below. "Can't we at least do it upstairs? It's filthy here!" Her gaze flickered to the spilled broth oozing toward her bare thigh, the slick grit of old food scraps under her knuckles. The kitchen smelled suddenly overwhelming: stale grease, sour milk from an unrinsed glass, the heady musk of Mikey's damp skin heating the air. She jerked her leg away just as the viscous liquid touched her skin. "The counter's soaked, there’s broken glass everywhere, and I… I literally just cleaned the floors!" The protest felt pathetic, thin, drowned out by sheer proximity. His hips pinned hers against the cold granite edge, trapping her trembling legs wide open. She felt the slickness between her own thighs—a traitorous, undeniable heat—mingling with the damp chill seeping through her thin shirt.
"So what?" Mikey growled, the sound vibrating against her throat where his teeth had grazed moments before. He kicked aside the sodden towel at his feet, grinding his bare sole deliberately into spilled noodles and shattered porcelain. A sharp crunch echoed underfoot. "We've fucked on worse." His calloused palm slid up her inner thigh—rough against her sensitive skin—pushing her bent leg higher against his hipbone. The movement shifted her hips forward, exposing her completely. Cold granite bit into her spine. "Remember Shinichiro’s filthy shop mattress?" His thumb traced her slick folds—not exploratory, but possessive—measuring her wetness before entering his middle finger inside without preamble. Her gasp choked off into a ragged whimper as he curled that wicked finger deep, stretching her. "Grease stains thicker than your fingers." He added a second digit, scissoring brutally. "Springs busted." He twisted his wrist, knuckles grinding against her swollen clit. "Smelled like stale engine oil and cheap cigarettes." He leaned close, his breath hot and wet against her ear as he pumped his fingers relentlessly. "You screamed loud enough to drown out the trains."
The protest died in her throat—a strangled sound swallowed by the steam and the slick, rhythmic noise of his fingers working her. Her head thrashed back against the water-stained cupboard door. "W-wasn’t screaming…" she gasped out, nails scraping uselessly at his slick forearm as he pinned her leg open wider.
"Wasn’t screaming?" Mikey’s laugh was a low, mocking rumble against her damp shoulder. He leaned in, breath hot and damp on her ear, his voice dropping into a breathy, exaggerated falsetto. "You were like—" He mimicked her, a high-pitched, shuddering gasp cracking through his throat. "'Jiro! Oh fuck, Jiro! Right there!'" His imitation was grotesquely accurate, capturing the desperate hitch in her breath. His fingers twisted deeper inside her, curling to brush that sweet, dizzying spot that made her hips jerk violently off the counter. "Sounded like a kitten caught in a blender. Fucking pathetic."
Y/n choked on air, mortification burning hotter than desire. Her cheeks flamed crimson as she squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at the raw triumph gleaming in his eyes. She felt utterly exposed—not just physically, spread open on the grimy countertop amidst spilled broth and shattered glass, but stripped bare by that mocking mimicry.
"Now… dear," Mikey murmured, the sudden shift from mocking to dangerously soft slicing through the humid tension. He withdrew his brutal fingers slowly, slickness glistening in the harsh overhead light. His calloused thumb brushed her cheekbone, forcing her teary gaze back to meet his. "That's no way to talk to the future mother of my children, hm?" His dark eyes held hers, intense and unwavering, noticing the frantic flutter of her pulse beneath her jaw, the way she looked away flustered, breath catching in little hitches. He leaned in, pressing a shockingly tender kiss to her trembling lips—soft, lingering, a stark contrast to the possessive grip still pinning her thigh against his hipbone.
"I love you so much…" The words spilled out raspy, rough-edged, yet surprisingly vulnerable. His gaze dropped momentarily to her damp shirt clinging to her heaving chest. "…dunno what I'd do without you." His voice thickened, the arrogance momentarily dissolved. It wasn't a whisper; it was a raw admission carved into the steam-filled air between them. He felt her shudder beneath him, sensed the shift in her breathing—the panic momentarily stalled.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
Then, slowly, deliberately, Y/n lifted her trembling arm. Water droplets traced paths down her elbow. Her fingers tangled into the still-damp strands of his black hair at his nape. It wasn't a gentle touch; it was a firm anchor, pulling him closer, forcing his face inches from hers. "Oh, Manjiro…" The name escaped on a breathless sigh, thick with a blend of exasperation, surrender, and a desperate affection that cut deeper than any blade. Her nails dug lightly into his scalp, a silent command amidst the chaos of spilled broth and broken crockery. Her eyes locked onto his, wide and dark, reflecting the harsh overhead light and the frantic heat simmering beneath the surface. "Shut up… and do it…"
A slow, predatory grin spread across Mikey's face. It wasn't just amusement; it was pure, unfiltered triumph, sharp and possessive. The tenderness of moments before evaporated, replaced by an electric charge that crackled in the humid air. His gaze locked onto hers, holding her submission, savoring it. Without breaking eye contact, his hands slid from her hips down the outside of her trembling thighs. His palms were rough, calloused from years gripping handlebars, contrasting violently with the soft skin beneath. He pushed firmly, spreading her legs wider against the cold granite countertop. Her breath hitched sharply at the sudden, vulnerable exposure. The movement was deliberate, unhurried, forcing her thighs apart until the muscles strained, opening her completely to his hungry gaze and the imminent invasion. Steam clung to their skin, the scent of cedarwood now mingling with the sharp tang of her arousal and the stale remnants of dinner.
He leaned forward, his damp chest brushing against her thin shirt. The heat radiating from him was immense, a furnace against her cooler skin. His arousal pressed hot and hard against her inner thigh, a blunt, demanding promise. At first, he teased her entrance with the slick head of his cock, a slow, maddening glide through her wetness, tracing her folds without penetrating. His eyes never left hers, watching every flicker of anticipation, every involuntary twitch of her muscles. Then, with a low groan that vibrated deep in his chest, he pushed forward. Not violently, but with undeniable, relentless firmness. The initial stretch was intense, a deep, burning pressure as he breached her, inch by deliberate inch.
He buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, claiming thrust, forcing a sharp gasp from Y/n. Her fingers tightened painfully in his hair, anchoring herself against the overwhelming fullness, the shock of sensation—cold granite biting into her spine, hot granite hardness filling her core. Mikey froze for a heartbeat, savoring the tight clench of her around him, the frantic flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb still resting on her jaw. Steam condensed on his skin, mingling with a fine sheen of sweat already gathering on his brow. The kitchen air was thick with the scent of their mingled arousal, spilled food, and the damp remnants of his shower. His breath hitched, ragged and hot against her lips.
"Fuck… fuck, Y/n," he groaned, the sound scraping against his throat like gravel. He pulled back slowly, deliberately, dragging friction that sparked whimpers low in her throat, before driving back in with possessive force. His hips snapped forward again, pressing her deeper into the counter's unforgiving edge. His gaze dropped from her wide, dazed eyes, trailing down her flushed neck, over the damp shirt clinging to her trembling chest. A faint, familiar pattern caught his eye—a small, innocuous calendar magnet clinging crookedly to the fridge door beside her head. His rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second, a predatory grin twisting his lips as he recognized the small red circle pencilled around today’s date. "Saw you were ovulating on the calendar…" The words weren't tender; they were a low, guttural growl punctuated by another hard thrust that stole her breath.
Y/n’s moan tore free, sharp and ragged against his throat where his pulse hammered wildly. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was a surrender, thick with hopeful desperation. Her hips arched off the filthy countertop to meet his next savage thrust.
"Fuck, yeah…," Mikey snarled, his gaze locked onto her flushed face, the triumph blazing hotter than the overhead bulb. His hips pistoned relentlessly, the wet slap of skin echoing off the tiles amidst the chaos of shattered dishes. "Deep…fill you up." Another brutal snap forward slammed her spine into the granite. "Get you swollen… heavy…" His thumb found her clit, rubbing rough circles that stole her breath. "Hopefully we’ll get you pregnant on the first try, huh?" The growled words vibrated against her sweat-slicked temple, possessive and raw.
Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. The visceral hunger in his voice, the crude promise vibrating against her skin—it overwhelmed her. Panic flared alongside the coil tightening low in her belly. Her hand shot up instinctively, palm smacking hard against his mouth, muffling the next filthy vow. Fingers splayed wide, digging into the line of his jaw, pressing his lips shut against further declarations. Her nails bit into his cheekbone. "Shut up, Manjiro!" she gasped out, voice a ragged mix of desperation and command. Her hips bucked involuntarily against his thrusts, undermining her own order.
But it was too late. His groan vibrated against her palm, wet and muffled, yet somehow louder than the slick slap of their bodies. The sensation—his lips moving against her skin, the scrape of his teeth beneath her fingers—was the tipping point. The coil snapped. Her hips jerked forward against his, meeting his next thrust with frantic urgency, then jerked backwards, rolling against him in a sharp, seeking arch. It was instinct, primal and unthinking—her body riding the wave of his relentless pistoning hips, grinding backwards against the solid heat of him as she chased the cresting pressure. Her throat seized. The sound that escaped wasn’t a moan; it was a choked, guttural cry ripped from deep within, echoing off the grease-stained tiles as her vision fragmented into white sparks. Every muscle clenched, locking around him impossibly tight.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
Her thighs clamped violently around his hips, trapping him deep as she shuddered through the peak. Her spine bowed sharply against the counter’s edge, muscles straining to the point of trembling. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—could only feel the overwhelming pulse radiating from her core, spreading outward in fierce, uncontrollable waves. Her fingers spasmed tighter against his jaw, nails digging furrows into his damp skin, pinning his face against her palm even as her hips pressed back harder, grinding against him, milking every convulsive pulse. Broken plates dug into her back, forgotten beneath the roar in her ears and the frantic hammering of her own heart. The scent of sweat and sex and spilled broth filled her lungs, thick and suffocating. Tears blurred her vision—not sorrow, but sheer sensory overload, the raw intensity of release igniting every nerve ending.
Mikey ripped her hand away from his mouth, teeth grazing her knuckles as he crushed her against the countertop. His hips bucked once—a brutal, uncontrolled thrust—before freezing deep inside her. A low groan tore from his throat, raw and shuddering, as he buried his face against the frantic pulse in her neck. His arms locked around her waist like steel bands, hauling her impossibly closer until her ribs protested. She felt him throb, thick and urgent, spilling hot against her inner muscles with each ragged pulse. His breath hitched against her skin—wet, open-mouthed gasps—as he pressed his brow hard against her collarbone, hips grinding instinctively deeper as he rode out his own climax. Steam curled around them, heavy with the musk of their mingled sweat and the sharp tang of his release.
Y/n slumped against him, boneless and trembling, her own aftershocks still rippling through her veins. Every breath felt raw, scraped from her lungs. The cool granite beneath her thighs contrasted violently with the scorching heat radiating where their bodies were welded together—slick with sweat, and something thicker. Mikey didn’t move. His weight pressed her into the counter’s unforgiving edge, his breathing still ragged gusts against her damp shoulder. His fingers traced lazy, possessive circles over the small of her back beneath her shirt. "Fuck…" he rasped finally, voice thick and shattered. "Manjiro…" The name escaped her on a sigh, barely audible, soaked in bone-deep exhaustion and a stunned, spreading warmth low in her belly. "Felt… so… good…" The admission was a fragmented whisper against his damp hair, her fingers trembling as they tangled weakly in the strands at his nape.
He just breathed her in—cedarwood shampoo tangled with the sweet musk of her skin, the sharp copper tang of blood from his cheek where her nails had dug deep, and underneath it all, the potent, unmistakable scent of sex and hope. His thoughts weren't coherent—just flashes: her flushed skin under harsh light, the choked desperation of her cry echoing louder than shattered porcelain, the yielding softness beneath him holding his seed. Later, he thought hazily, picturing her stomach swelling under his hands, round and heavy with his child. Soon. The image burned brighter than the ache in his hips or the sting on his jaw. He nuzzled deeper into the curve of her neck, inhaling slowly, dragging the scent deep into his lungs.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his head. His gaze wasn't tender; it was scorching. It traced the tear tracks drying on her cheeks, the frantic flutter of her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her throat, the tremble still vibrating through her slack jaw. Below, his softening cock twitched against her thigh, still buried deep within her heat, stirring back to life against the slickness coating her inner thighs. A predatory stillness settled over him, sharper than before. His thumb brushed her swollen lower lip—a silent question etched into the rough pad of his calloused skin. "Round two?" The words weren't spoken; they were a thick, guttural rumble vibrating against her damp collarbone, low enough to feel deep in her bones.♡
cw: NSFW, lingerie, suggestive content, mild sexual touching, teasing, possessive behavior, established relationships, implied intimacy.
The ToMan boys react to you modeling lingerie for them — flustered stares, bold comments, and reactions that range from soft admiration to dangerous temptation…
—You want me to sit there and just watch you model lingerie for me?—he asked, arms crossed. You nodded, watching him raise his eyebrows.
—Yes —you saw him make a face.
—No, hell no. For your own good, it’s better if you give your own opinion about them —he turned around and walked out of the room. Just like that.
—Well, your loss —you sang as you headed to the bathroom to change. If you knew your boyfriend well enough, then he’d be outside waiting even if he had refused.
When you came out, you confirmed it, letting out a small laugh.
Half of his body was inside the room. He had his mouth pressed against the back of his hand against the doorframe, most likely biting it. When he saw you step out of the bathroom wearing the burgundy velvet set, his eyes swept over your body from top to bottom.
—What do you think?—you spun around in place so he could see the full details of the back. Baji tilted his head further to the side, leaning more into the room to take a closer look.
—Shit, why do you do this to me?—the boy let out a huff and began muttering under his breath.
Manjiro Sano
Your boyfriend’s eyes couldn’t have been any wider. Neither could his mouth.
—How does it look on me? —you adjusted the straps of your panties and gave yourself a slow, complete turn. When you stayed with your back to him for a few seconds, Mikey let out a small squeak to himself, unable to believe how good you looked at that moment.
You stood in front of him again, his gaze was anywhere but on your eyes.
—Wait… I didn’t see well, turn around again —you smiled at his audacity and spun around once more in your place so he could get a better look at the set.
—And…?—you asked, looking at him face to face again. By this point Mikey had his hand against his mouth, his eyes moving quickly from top to bottom, completely stunned.
—It’s pretty—that was the only thing he let out, his voice sounding almost painful.
Takashi Mitsuya
—You’re good at these things, so be honest and don’t say it looks nice just because you like me, okay?—Mitsuya looked at you and nodded, completely firm—. great, wait for me right here outside.
—Anyway, I could make you a set myself —Mitsuya murmured to the air— And I’d be more than happy to take your measurements, _______.
You got dressed inside the bathroom quickly and came out after a while. The black set fit your body perfectly, the panties had two straps that wrapped around your hips; to be honest, it took you a little effort to put it on.
—Mhm… come here —Mitsuya adjusted himself in the chair, shifting his hips slightly and motioned for you with his hand.
Once you stood in front of him, he straightened up again and stretched his hands to the height of your panties, adjusting the straps over your hip bones. In that moment, he took the chance to touch the material with his fingers, tracing the edge slightly before pulling his hands away from you.
—It’s very pretty, and it fits you perfectly —he praised, forming a smile—. Though I still say I could make a much better one.
—So that means it’s not that nice?—you tried to tease him a little. Mitsuya let out a few small laughs, narrowing his eyes at the same time.
—I’m telling you it is very pretty—he wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled you closer to him to leave a small kiss on your abdomen.
Ken Ryuguji
—Are you going to model for me?—Draken’s perverted expression appeared in an instant; you rarely saw that look on his face.
—Yup, so sit wherever you like and wait for me —you walked into the bathroom and started changing.
—Alright, I’ll wait here —you heard him say.
You came out of the bathroom and stood in front of him. The most surprised one was you; seeing him sitting in the middle of the couch with one arm stretched over the backrest and his heel resting over one of his knees gave you quite the view.
—What’s wrong? —Draken smiled, showing his bright teeth. You cleared your throat and coughed, nervous.
—Do you like it? —you stepped a little closer, somewhat nervous as you noticed his gaze more intense than ever, scanning you.
With his free hand, Draken motioned for you to turn around, moving his index finger in circles. You blinked a couple of times; he looked different in that facet.
You slowly spun in place, and when you were facing Draken again, your nerves grew even more. Without thinking, you brought your hands to your bra, adjusting it even though it hadn’t moved.
—It fits you perfectly—he admitted honestly, looking at your body. A nervous laugh escaped you, and you let out a small squeal when he stood up just to take your hand and pull you toward him.
Kazutora Hanemiya
—Is it my birthday or why such a gift?—you started laughing when you heard him say that. Kazutora was something else.
—I just need your opinion, so sit down if you want and wait here —you gave his chest a light shove and he fell back onto the couch. He didn’t get mad; instead, he slightly spread his legs to settle into the seat.
—God… you looked me in the eyes…—while you were getting dressed in the bathroom, you heard him thanking the heavens. He really was a case.
After putting on the white set, you stepped out of the bathroom and walked a little closer to him, keeping a safe distance.
—And? Is it nice?—you glanced down at the set and then lifted your gaze back to him. Kazutora froze in place.
—Fuck…—he leaned forward while still sitting, resting his elbows on his thighs. His eyes fixed on the upper fabric with determination before lowering to where the panties with small ruffles rested.
—Do you like it? —you bit your lip nervously when he didn’t say anything.
—You’d better take it off so I can see it better —you blushed completely at his shamelessness.
Souya Kawata
—I don’t think that’s a good idea… I’m terrible when it comes to clothes —the boy clarified right away.
—Shhh… you just have to tell me if it looks good on me or not —you stuck your head out of the bathroom and saw him standing in front of the couch, not doing anything yet— wait for me.
This time you had chosen to buy a pale pink set. It wasn’t your favorite color, but the set was simply majestic.
Completely made of lace. When you stepped out of the bathroom, you were adjusting the straps of your bra, so you didn’t see the way Angry lightly slapped his own cheek to focus.
—Wow —Angry let out.
—Do you like it?—you looked at him to see his reaction. Angry fidgeted with his hands, his eyes wandering over every inch of your skin. Without meaning to, he struggled to focus on the set itself.
—It’s… very pretty —he cleared his throat— It suits you really well, the color matches… your skin.
—See? Isn’t it nice?—you squealed excitedly and spun around in place— it has lace in the back too, I loved it.
—Yeah —Angry dropped back onto the couch when he finally saw the lace in the back— _______, please stop spinning around.
Chifuyu Matsuno
—I should be the one embarrassed, not you —you laughed at his behavior. The blond was completely flushed.
—I don’t know why you want me to see them… I’m a guy, I doubt my opinion will help you —Chifuyu tried at all costs to avoid seeing you in lingerie.
—It’ll be quick, I promise —you disappeared into the bathroom to change. You put on the set with very thin panties, all in black.
When you came out of the bathroom, you heard Chifuyu swallow.
—Look! How do I loo—
You stopped when you saw Chifuyu burying his face into a cushion on the couch. The expression on your face deepened when you saw him hitting his face with the cushion.
—Hey… stop hitting yourself —you walked over just to pull the cushion away from his face and place it behind your back. When Chifuyu lifted his gaze to you, he let out a yelp and covered his eyes with both hands—Oh come on, you’re old enough to not act like this.
—I’m still not used to it —he slightly parted his fingers and looked at the set through them.
—Is it nice?—you asked again.
—Yeah —he answered automatically. His eyes slowly roamed over what the set revealed— the color is nice.
—The color isn’t a big deal —you laughed at his reaction— look —you spun around in place so he could see it more fully.
—Holy Mother of God —he muttered in a whisper. When you faced him again, you saw him completely defeated against the back of the couch, this time without covering his face.— by any chance… do you have another set?
Nahoya Kawata
—This time you have to look at me —you told him as you walked into the bathroom.
—I swear I’ll look way too much —he promised, shouting.
You smiled at his enthusiasm and started putting on the dark set you had bought that same day. You tied the straps of the bra behind your neck and, after briefly checking yourself in the mirror, stepped out of the bathroom.
Nahoya let out a whistle.
—That’s my girl! —he stretched his hands out, calling you over to him.
—Is it nice?—you looked at the set with a bit of doubt. Smiley nodded several times. You stepped a little closer and, instead of giving an opinion, he turned you around in place. Once you were facing away from him, he pulled you against himself. You let out a small squeal as you ended up sitting on him without even processing it.
—The fabric is really good —he wrapped one arm around your waist, and his free hand slipped over your bra, cupping one of your breasts in his palm— good texture, the color’s nice, and the size is perfect.
—You’re just taking advantage to grope me—Smiley started laughing at his own shamelessness. He let go of the fabric of the bra and moved his hand behind your neck, undoing the knot.
—I don’t actually like it that much, let’s try another one—you slipped out of his embrace, holding the straps so the bra wouldn’t fall. Then you went back into the bathroom to keep modeling more sets for him.
Seishu Inui
—Are you trying to kill me with a heart attack?—the blond got startled when he heard your request. When you nodded at his question, he began to stutter.— Do I have to see you… myself?
—Yes, wait here —after grabbing a few new sets you had bought that morning, you hurried to the bathroom to try them on.
First, you put on a cute pastel-colored set. It had plenty of lace and gave you a very pretty shape. After looking at yourself in the mirror, slightly doubtful, you stepped out of the bathroom and stood in front of him.
Inui tried to look only at your eyes.
—But you have to look at the set —you smiled at the way he reacted.
—It’s not necessary, everything you wear looks amazing on you —his eyes hesitated, wanting to lower his gaze but doubting at the same time.
—But Inui, look at the damn set —you stepped closer to him to put him on the spot and force him to look at the set properly.
Inui lowered his gaze to the pale bra, focusing on every detail before letting it travel down to the panties. He leaned back and fully rested against the back of the bed, covering his face with both hands.
—You’re so fucking pretty —he muttered against his hands, covering his face and eyes.
Takemichi Hanagaki
Takemichi looked at you while scratching the back of his neck, his cheeks turning red.
—I…—you smiled at his awkwardness.— I…
—It’s better if you don’t say anything and just give your opinion about the set I’m going to show you, okay?—you turned around without waiting for an answer and walked into the bathroom with the lingerie bag in your hand. After putting on a lilac set, you came out with a bright smile on your face, completely excited.
—_______…—Takemichi called your name in a whisper.
—Is it nice?—Takemichi nodded several times, quickly.— Are you sure?
Takemichi couldn’t handle his blush anymore, but he nodded again, not wanting to look at your bare skin. In the end, though, he lost the battle. Your eyes dropped to the exposed skin, and he didn’t even try to hide the way he slapped his own cheeks.
—But…—you stopped when you saw him finally realize that he had to say something.
—You look beautiful, like an angel —you pouted when you heard him and hurried toward him to try to hug him.— oh no no no, no hugs, not now, at least not now.
You were confused at first, but when you looked down at yourself with barely any clothes on, you understood and started laughing softly at him.
Ran Haitani
—I’ll show you some new sets I bought yesterday —you lifted the bag in your hands and looked at Ran.
The one with braids started to form a mischievous smile. After slipping his hands into his pockets, he walked slowly toward you. His index finger hooked onto the edge of the bag as he peeked inside, looking at the different lace sets.
—I like that one —he pointed at a bright red one.
—Alright, I’ll start with that one then —as you turned to head to the bathroom, Ran grabbed your wrist, stopping you.
—Wait, you could put them on right here —you let out a laugh at how perverted that sounded.
—I’m only planning to show you the lingerie, Ran —you walked to the bathroom again, this time successfully. You decided to start with the one he chose, and after putting it on, you opened the door to step out.
Surprise; Ran was waiting for you right outside. He brought his hand to his mouth and whistled enthusiastically.
—Alright, give me a spin —your eyebrows arched.— it’s to look at it properly, relax.
Still standing inside the bathroom, you gave a full turn in place. Ran let out an almost shouted exclamation, whistled again, and his hands tried to touch the fabric on the lower part.
—Okay, okay, let me put on the other one —you pulled away laughing from his attempt to hug you and pull you closer.
—No, no, I’m sticking with that one, I like it —his hands stretched out again and hooked around your torso to pull you toward him.— You can model the others for me one each day, keep this little red one.
You rolled your eyes in amused annoyance. Ran took advantage of having you in his arms to slide his hands down to the lace waistband of your panties, moving it playfully as if he were going to pull it down. Even though he didn’t.
Rindo Haitani
—Are you going to model for me too?—Rindo looked at you over his glasses, one eyebrow slightly raised.
—Mmmm no.—you joked as you stepped into the bathroom. You decided to put on a very pretty white lingerie bodysuit. It had plenty of lace, so you couldn’t wait to see Rindo’s reaction.
When you stepped out of the bathroom, you walked toward him with a smile clearly written across your face. Rindo’s gaze moved from your neck downward with full attention.
—Don’t you want to give me a little dance?—he asked, just in case you dared to. You shook your head, so Rindo straightened up slightly and sat closer to the edge of the couch, looking at you more intensely.
—Is it nice?—you asked this time, turning slightly from side to side so he could see the whole piece.
—Nope.—you made a face instantly.— I’m kidding, pretty.—Rindo started laughing when he saw how quickly your expression changed.
You grabbed a cushion from beside him and hit him in the face for playing that joke. A tug on your wrist made you fall onto Rindo, who burst out laughing at the situation. The nerves appeared instantly.
—You look very beautiful.—he admitted, gently caressing your hips. Rindo spent a long moment staring at the lace on the bust before speaking again.— Are you sure you can’t give me a little dance?
Izana Kurokawa
—And what would that be for?—you put on your best poker face when he asked you.
—What do you mean “what for”? I need your honest opinion.—you disappeared into the bathroom.— and don’t you dare leave.
As if you were Flash, you quickly put on the caramel-colored set. When you stepped out of the bathroom, the first thing you did was notice Izana’s somewhat astonished expression.
—Look, this is one of them.—you walked closer so he could see the small flowers on both parts of the set.— Do you like it?
—Ah.—that was all he said. You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him reproachfully; getting him to take something seriously was always a case.— Shit, let me focus.
Izana rubbed his eyes and looked at you again. He stretched both hands out and pulled you a little closer to him, still sitting against the couch. His large, rough hands settled on your hips at the level of the garment, touching it softly as if he actually knew what kind of fabric it was.
—Mhm —still holding you, he turned you around, placing you with your back to him.— this one is nice.—his finger hooked into the lace of your panties.
—Just nice?—to be honest, you were expecting more compliments.
—Yeah.—he turned you around again; you let out a small laugh at the way he handled you like a doll.— The bra, hmm.—he tugged your wrist slightly so you’d lean down toward him. His eyes carefully examined the pattern and color of the bra— yeah, the whole set is nice.
• Protagonista masculino tiene 25 años y la protagonista 20 años.
Ser la hermana menor de Baji significaba una sola cosa: protección absoluta.
Durante años, nadie la miró como mujer. Solo como “la hermana pequeña”
Hasta que alguien cruzó esa línea…
Cada noche cruzabas la calle sin mirar atrás, moviendo el bolso hacia un costado y manteniendo una suave sonrisa en el rostro. Tal vez no deberías haber venido... o bueno, si, en realidad querías con todo tu ser asistir a la cita.
Debías llegar exactamente a las 9pm, justo después de que las motos hayan salido del recinto de manera fugaz, cuando el aire aún olía a gasolina y neumáticos quemados. Caminaste apresurada, sujetando con una de tus manos la chaqueta de cuero negra que era la encargada de cubrir tu expuesta piel del vestido color negro que traías. Tus tacones resonaron por el pavimento en un sonido brusco por cada pisada que dabas, el ritmo competía con tu corazón que bombeaba de una forma descontrolada. Suspiraste ampliamente.
A lo lejos, observaste una luz clara, casi amarillenta por los efectos de la oscuridad. De inmediato mordisqueaste tu labio con nerviosismo, pensando qué hacer o qué decir.
No tuviste tiempo de procesar tu diálogo, él no te dejó caminar más y se acercó a ti a grandes zancadas. No bastó un saludo verbal, te sujetó sosteniendo tu cintura al instante en el que se acercó completamente y dejó un fogoso beso en tus labios.
Presionó tu boca con alivio. Se sintió completamente en paz al ver que decidiste llegar a él a pesar de todo.
—Llegaste...
Su pulgar acarició tu mejilla con delicadeza, recorrió centímetro por centímetro de tu piel hasta llegar a tu cabello donde escondió un mechón detrás de tu oreja. Asentiste, dando un paso más cerca y acortando la distancia de sus cuerpos.
—¿Cómo pudiste dudar? —susurraste contra su mentón. Él bajó su rostro, permitiendo que exhales en sus labios —. No voy a dejarte.
Cerró los ojos por unos segundos. Su frente hizo contacto con la tuya, sus narices se acariciaron brevemente.
Sus dedos descendieron desde tu mejilla hasta tu cuello, deteniéndose apenas sobre la piel expuesta por el escote del vestido. No dijo nada. No necesitaba hacerlo. La forma en que sus ojos recorrían cada centímetro de ti hablaba por sí sola. Tu piel vibró por su contacto y por el frío de esa noche.
—No sabes lo difícil que fue no ir a buscarte —murmuró, su voz baja, cargada de algo que no era solo deseo.
Sus manos se deslizaron hasta tu cadera, esta vez con más firmeza, atrayéndote contra su cuerpo. Sentiste el calor que emanaba de él atravesar la fina tela negra de su traje al parecer costoso. Su respiración se volvió más pesada cuando tus manos subieron por su pecho, sujetando la tela de su camisa como si necesitases anclarte a algo real.
—Te dije que no hicieras eso —susurraste, aunque tu tono no tenía fuerza para reprenderlo.
Podías sentirlo firme contra ti. Su abdomen, que antes habías visto lo fuerte y marcado que era, sus muslos amplios y sus caderas... tan punzantes contra las tuyas.
Él sonrió apenas, esa sonrisa que siempre aparecía cuando sabía que estaba cruzando una línea... y aun así no pensaba detenerse.
—Y yo te dije que no me importaba.
Su boca volvió a la tuya, más lenta esta vez, más profunda. No era un beso apresurado. Era uno que te reclamaba como suya. Le importo una jodida mierda si alguien los veía, él no iba a disimular ni reprimir sus sentimientos. Ahora no le importa eso. Iba a dejarse llevar por lo que sentía, en realidad, lo que sentía por ti únicamente.
No podía dejarse llevar por otros de sus pensamientos o emociones, eso podría traer consecuencias. Sin embargo, lo relacionado a ti solo le traía paz y felicidad, así que dejó de reprimir todo.
Una de sus manos descendió peligrosamente por tu espalda, deteniéndose en la curva sobre tu trasero antes de deslizarse apenas más abajo. Tu respiración se quebró contra sus labios.
—Si tu hermano supiera...
El silencio cayó entre ambos como una advertencia.
Él abrió los ojos. La oscuridad no ocultó el brillo decidido en su mirada.
—No me importa.
Y esa era la parte que más te asustaba. Porque tú sí sabías lo que significaba.
Porque amar a alguien así no era solo arriesgar un secreto.
Era arriesgar una lealtad.
Y aun así... tus manos no lo soltaron.
—Sabes que yo le diría ahora mismo, _________ —la seriedad tiñó su voz —. pero entiendo que no quieras decírselo aún. Keisuke puede ser...
Una sonrisa suave, casi infantil, apareció en sus labios. Pero no tenía nada de inocente. Le miraste a los ojos directamente, intentando saber que estaba pasando por su cabeza en ese momento.
—Estoy dispuesto a lo que sea —su mirada se desvió hasta tus labios. De los nervios, los humedeciste con tu lengua —. Haré lo que sea si eso significa seguir a tu lado, _________.
Habló como si fuera una declaración, sin dramatismos, solo diciendo su mayor verdad. Tus manos temblaron apenas contra su pecho, tu garganta se apretó repentinamente por lo que tuviste que tragar saliva para aliviarla.
Sabías que no retrocedería por nada ni nadie. Ni siquiera Baji, tu hermano.
La situación era tan caótica, la adrenalina podía llenar tu sistema cada vez que lo veías a escondidas o cuando debían fingir en frente de todos. Cada vez sentías que podrías tener taquicardia fácilmente en esas situaciones. Era complicado, pero te enamoraste tan perdidamente de él desde el primer momento, así que... ¿cómo ibas a dejarlo ir?
Ni en tus pesadillas lo harías
—¿Vamos?
Su inoportuna pregunta hizo click en tu cerebro y recordaste porque estaban ahí. Iban a cenar.
Y si, tu hermano era realmente sobreprotector, por lo tanto, debiste mentirle respecto a la salida nocturna.
—¿A dónde iremos esta noche? —le abrazaste, pasando ambos brazos por su estrecha cintura. Él sonrió, mostrando su hermosa dentadura.
—Es una sorpresa.
Al otro día ya era domingo.
La puerta de tu casa estaba abierta cuando llegaste. Las voces llenaban el interior, con risas fuertes y conversaciones superpuestas. El sonido de las botellas chocando entre sí ya se te era familiar.
Respiraste hondo.
Cuando cruzaste el umbral, él ya estaba ahí. Sentado en el suelo, rodeado de todos. Estaba relajado, una de sus piernas estirada y su espalda apoyada hacia atrás contra una parte del sofá. Su sonrisa llenó toda tu visión y sólo eso pudiste ver, no que tipo de alcohol bebían, ni quienes más estaban presentes, sólo lo viste a él.
Pronto sus ojos encontraron los tuyos.
Por un segundo su expresión flaqueó, su sonrisa cambió levemente. Fue apenas un gesto de su comisura la cual se extendió un poco más. Carraspeaste y desviaste la mirada, caminaste a paso apresurado a la cocina para dejar las bolsas de las compras.
—¡_________! ¿Trajiste mi encargo? —Baji gritó alegre —. ¡Hermanitaaaa! Mi dulce hermana.
—¿Tú desodorante? —preguntaste revolviendo la bolsa y sacándolo —. Si, lo dejaré a la vista para que te lo lleves luego.
—Hey Baji, ¿tú no puedes comprar tus propias cosas? —oíste su voz desde la cocina. Sonreíste inconscientemente.
—¿Ah? No me jodas, Mikey —Exclamó tu hermano. Todos comenzaron a reír y burlarse de él, diciéndole lo poco eficiente que era para su propio bien —. Es solo un favor de hermanos, tu igual le pides cosas a Emma. Idiota.
—Si ya tienes 25, compra tus jodidas cosas tú solo, Baji — coincidió Draken.
Volvieron las burlas e incluso oíste un par de golpes. Era normal, ellos se llevaban así con sus juegos, pensaste.
Luego de ordenar un par de cosas, sonó el timbre.
—¡Llegó la pizza!
Te asomaste de inmediato. Smiley fue corriendo por ella, y todos se acercaron a la gran mesa para comenzar a comer. Trasladaron unas botellas al centro, y luego dejaron cuatro cajas de pizza familiar en la mesa, llenándola.
Por suerte no habías comido antes en casa de Yuzuha, ahora sí que ibas a quitar al menos un trozo a tus amigos.
Te acercaste, quedando cerca de la mesa de pie. Intentaste que no vean tu presencia, pues justo Manjiro se había sentado de espaldas a ti y el único asiento vacío era junto a él, en una esquina. Desde que comenzó su romance a escondidas que tomabas precaución por cada movimiento que realizabas cerca de él. Si, eras exageradamente precavida a pesar de no ver que alguien sospeche de ustedes, pero lo sentías mejor así.
—Oh, ________, ¿vas a quedarte ahí parada todo el rato? —Baji sonrió burlón, guiñando un ojo para demostrar que solo quería tomarte el pelo —. Siéntate, hermanita.
—Qué encantador —murmuraste, acomodándote en la silla junto a Manjiro, quien de inmediato hizo contacto con tu rodilla por debajo de la mesa.
Su rodilla acarició la tuya, un toque lento y casi accidental.
El rubio estiró su mano para dejar un plato en frente tuyo y luego dejó un trozo de pizza ahí. Le miraste brevemente antes de agradecerle.
Por otro lado, Draken discutía sobre algo irrelevante. Chifuyu reía. Mitsuya bebía tranquilo al igual que Hakkai. Nahoya comía a la par de su hermano toda la pizza que podían.
Y luego, bajo la mesa, una mano descendió.
Primero rozó tu muñeca. Apretaste tu mano contra tu falda, bajaste la mirada hasta ver cómo su mano se movía hasta la tuya antes de entrelazar sus dedos con los tuyos. Su pulgar comenzó a trazar círculos suaves en el dorso de tu mano.
Tragaste saliva.
Arriba, Baji habla sobre una pelea y cómo dejó a su contrincante.
Abajo, sus manos se calientan juntas.
Intentando disimular, mordiste un trozo de pizza. Miraste brevemente a cada uno de tus amigos antes de bajar la vista nuevamente, fingiendo que veías la pizza.
Manjiro movió sus manos con lentitud. Estaban entrelazadas pero las dejo a ambas sobre tu muslo, intentando mover tu falda hacia arriba poco a poco. Tu piel se erizó deliberadamente.
—¿Estás roja? —preguntó Keisuke de pronto.
Tu cabeza llegó a crujir por cómo levantaste la mirada hacia él, al otro lado de la mesa justo frente a ti. Frunciste las cejas, manteniéndote serena y disimulando todo.
—¿Ah? No, hace calor pero no estoy roja.
Él rió
—Claro, calor.
Manjiro no dijo nada, y tú rápidamente mordisqueaste de nuevo tu pizza.
Sentiste como su meñique se estiraba fuera de tu mano y tocaba tu piel, aún seguían con las manos entrelazadas muy cerca de la parte superior de tus piernas. Pronto, decidió soltarte y estiró su palma para acarrear tu muslo por completo.
Te atreviste a mirarlo y saboreaste la consecuencia de hacerlo. Él te observó automáticamente, disimuló agarrando su vaso para dar un buen trago de soju. Su mirada fue... electrizante. No te observó con descaro, con pasión, sino con una tranquilidad que decía que seguías siendo suya a pesar de estar rodeada de ellos. Que estaba dispuesto a que él lo odie si eso significa poder tocarte así como ahora, o siquiera poder estar a centímetros de ti.
Él sonríe apenas. Tú... sentiste que el aire desaparecía.
Volviste a observar y quedar atrapada forzosamente en tu trozo de comida. Volviste a comer en silencio, escuchando como todos aumentaban en risas tras terminar dos botellas de alcohol. Intentaste respirar normalmente pero volvió a mover su mano, más adentro esta vez entre tus piernas.
De inmediato tu mano agarró la suya, el apretó tu carne y la moviste más lejos de tu centro. Se negó, su arrastre volvió hacia arriba, tocando la piel sensible de tu muslo y siguiendo por la parte interior. Tu falda se enroscó levemente, solo faltaban pocos centímetros para que pueda rozar tus bragas de algodón.
—Mmh —le oíste carraspear, aclaró su garganta que sin duda estaba tensa.
A media mordida volviste a agarrar esta vez su muñeca, sus venas se aplanaron contra tu mano.
La tensión se podía cortar con un cuchillo y nadie podía notarlo, todos estaban ya ebrios. Todos menos Manjiro, quien solo había mantenido alcohol en su vaso desde que tú habías llegado. Sin duda no necesitaba alcohol esta noche, podía perder el control por sí mismo.
Tu mano seguía aferrada a su muñeca, intentando frenar el avance lento y deliberado de sus dedos. No estaba apurado por tocarte, estaba jugando.
Y eso sabías que era peor. Los juegos que le gustaban eran diferentes, sobre todo cuando estabas implicada.
Inclinó apenas el rostro hacia ti, lo suficiente para que nadie notara la cercanía. Su voz fue apenas un hilo de aire que rozó tu oído.
—Relájate.
Su pulgar se movió, esta vez no hacia arriba, sino dibujando una línea lenta por el interior de tu muslo. No cruzó el límite.
Solo se quedó justo antes.
Tu respiración se volvió irregular.
—Estás temblando —añadió, casi divertido.
Apretaste más fuerte su muñeca, intentando apartarlo. Él no luchó. Pero tampoco se retiró.
Alzó su vaso otra vez, bebiendo con calma mientras sus dedos seguían allí, inmóviles, calientes contra tu piel.
Arriba, Baji seguía hablando de una pelea.
—Y entonces lo lancé contra el suelo— ¡boom! —rió fuerte, golpeando la mesa.
El movimiento hizo vibrar todo.
Tu cuerpo dio un pequeño salto.
Manjiro sonrió.
Creíste que por fin dejaría de tocarte tan íntimamente frente a ellos, pero no. Sus planes fueron más allá. De un segundo a otro sostuvo tu mano, desde el dorso, y la acercó por entre tus piernas.
—¿Qué estás...? —comenzaste a susurrar, con el trozo de pizza cubriendo tu boca de los demás.
Lo miraste, recibiendo una oscura mirada penetrante que empezó en tus ojos y terminó bajando hacia tus muslos. Duró solo un segundo, pero para ti fue eterno.
Su dedo medio se movió contra el tuyo, al llegar a cierto límite la yema de tu dedo hizo contacto con tu ropa interior. Acaricio tus dedos, logrando que se muevan contra tu clítoris de un lado a otro ligeramente, suavemente. Enderezaste la espalda y te moviste más cerca de la mesa, pidiendo que nadie notara lo que sucedía a pasos de ellos.
Su mirada fingida teñida de inocencia se concentró en mirar a sus amigos, sonriendo de vez en cuando. Sus dedos siguieron moviendo los tuyos casi con posesión, presionándolos en tu entrepierna y acariciando cada vez con mayor ritmo repetitivo. Cerraste las piernas, logrando que soltara tu mano pero cortando su juego abruptamente a algo más. Al momento de subir tu mano y buscar tu móvil, para fingir mirar eso en ves de solo observar cada detalle del pedazo de pizza, la palma de Manjiro se cernió en todo tu centro. Chillaste.
—Carajo... —mascullaste entre dientes. Varios pares de ojos se fijaron en ti —. Eh, estoy viendo noticias. No es nada.
La mentira flotó con una naturalidad que sorprendió a Manjiro, su ceja se enarcó y decidió presionarte más.
En un solo movimiento movió su pie ligeramente y encontró el tuyo para luego moverlo hacia su dirección. Tú pierna se separó ligeramente de la otra, lo que obtuvo un mayor espacio entre tus muslos. Luego, simplemente sus dedos comenzaron una exploración minuciosa, que tenía la intención de memorizar cada centímetro de piel. Tocó el lado interno de muslo, moviéndose hacia dentro, presionando con paciencia la tela delgada de tu ropa interior para luego acentuar su dedo medio en el centro.
Apretaste el móvil en tu mano, lo sujetaste con tanta fuerza que dolía.
Su mano movió ligeramente la ropa hacia en frente, tres de sus dedos se deslizaron dentro para perderse en la humedad que comenzaba a hacerse notar cada vez más. Suspiraste temblorosamente e intentaste no moverte de anticipación. Dejaste un codo contra la mesa y dejaste caer tu frente contra tu palma, imitado como si estuvieras simplemente viendo tu móvil hacia abajo y con tu cabello tapando levemente la visión de los demás hacia tu rostro. Tu otra mano se dedicó a deslizar la pantalla, fingiendo que estabas leyendo algo realmente interesante.
Sus dedos se movieron de arriba hacia abajo, tan lento que lo sentías como un jodido castigo hacia tu persona. Ahora estabas molesta, necesitada y totalmente furiosa con Manjiro.
Pero mierda, la excitación podía más. Era imposible regañarlo luego, porque estabas demostrando lo mucho que te encantaba esto. Era aún mejor el saber que esto no debía ser así, que era un secreto y nadie podía verlos. Traería consecuencias, si, pero también trajo tanta adrenalina que provocó una tormenta de emociones dentro de ambos. Era jodidamente placentero.
De reojo pudiste observar hacia abajo, como su mano libre había abandonado su vaso y ahora estaba en su propio muslo. Su mano apretaba con fuerza su pantalón oscuro, estaba en un puño furioso, sus venas se marcaron con notoriedad y estaba un tanto más pálido que de costumbre. Él se esforzaba por no tomarte y llevarte lejos de los demás, quería privacidad para hacer tantas cosas pero era imposible, aunque quisiera debía aguantar.
Y es por eso que se contuvo en follarte con sus dedos, aunque moría por hacerlo. Solo quedó en caricias, un recordatorio que decía como solo él podía tocarte así en estas circunstancias. Le importaba una mierda que lo vean, que Keisuke lo vea. Le daba igual si le partían la cara, si perdía una amistad de años o si se armaba un escándalo tan grande que perjudique a todos sus amigos. Sus prioridades cambiaron extremadamente.
—Mikey, es hora de irnos.
Draken se levantó con un leve tambaleo, los demás algunos ya estaban durmiendo con la cabeza en la mesa. Baji seguía riéndose junto a Kazutora, ni idea tenías de qué estaban hablando.
—Emma me mandó un mensaje, es hora.
Manjiro, con un leve suspiro hondo y extenso, dejó una leve última caricia ordenando tu ropa y luego se puso de pie. Era el único sobrio, así que intuiste que el iba a llevar a Draken a casa.
En el momento en que se giró hacia tu dirección, sutilmente limpió sus dedos llevándolos a la boca. Te guiño un ojo, su expresión burlona mostrando una sonrisa coqueta que hizo que la respiración se te corte a medio camino.
—Adiós, __________ —se agachó para dejar un suave beso en tu mejilla, rozando con su nariz tu piel.
—A-... adiós
Se separó para despedirse con un asentimiento de cabeza de los demás y partió fuera de la casa junto a Draken.
Al día siguiente
Hubo una discusión repentina que empezó con un empujón impremeditado. Había sido Keisuke quien no había mirado por dónde iba, y bueno, él no se iba a disculpar. Sobre todo ya que él "afectado" era un miembro de una pandilla muy famosa en el sector. Era una excusa perfecta para desquitase un poco, pensó.
—Baji, tú siempre ladrando más fuerte que todos... pero cuando importa, desapareces.
Mala elección de palabras del tipo calvo. De inmediato Draken sujetó a Baji de su chaqueta y lo mantuvo en su lugar. A los costados estaba Kazutora, con una expresión seria en su rostro, Mikey, quien se encontraba un poco más atrás con una pizca de desinterés notoria hacia la discusión, Mitsuya y Hakkai también estaban junto a ellos pero atentos a lo que podrían hacer los acompañantes del tipo calvo que había sido empujado.
—¿Qué dijiste? —Baji soltó, dando un paso adelante, forzando a Draken a sujetarlo más fuerte.
—Nada. —Sonrió ladeado— Solo que a veces el perro que ladra fuerte, a veces descuida lo que tiene en casa.
—Habla claro o cállate —Gruñó Draken, enfadado.
—Digo que quizá deberías cuidar mejor lo que tienes en casa.
Silencio.
Instantáneamente toda la ToMan dejó de respirar. Aquella frase les hizo prestar atención verdaderamente a lo que estaba diciendo, y todos se acercaron más.
—¿Qué mierda insinúas? —escupió Baji.
—Está jodiendo —soltó Mitsuya, entendiendo la intención del tipo.
El hombre alzó los hombros con falsa inocencia.
—Nada, nada... solo que he oído cosas.
—¿Qué cosas? —La voz de Baji ya no tenía paciencia.
El tipo lo miró de arriba abajo, soltando una risa perversa. Se oyó el crujir de los dientes de Baji, su puño formándose en un segundo.
—Que tu hermana es más simpática de lo que aparenta —rió. Draken soltó a Keisuke, y este empezó a caminar hacia el hombre— Tranquilo, no me mires así. Solo digo que seguro sabe entretener bien a la gente.
No pasó ni un segundo antes de que su frase fuese cortada por un gran puño que emergió con una velocidad impresionante. El hombre recibió un puñetazo en la mandíbula que resultó en un fuerte ruido tenebroso para quienes estaban viendo. Luego, Manjiro le siguió golpeando, sujetó el cuello de su camiseta y volvió a dar otro puñetazo esta vez en su nariz y luego en su mejilla.
Keisuke quedó observando con asombro. Los demás, aún sorprendidos, comenzaron a acercarse para evitar que alguno de los otros se metan contra Mikey.
—¿Quieres repetir lo que dijiste? ¡Eh! — le dio otro puñetazo luego de lanzarlo al suelo y presionar su rodilla contra su abdomen. El hombre no pudo hablar, la sangre nubló su visión y estalló en su boca—. ¡Maldito bastardo! Repítelo, repite lo que dijiste así te rompo la maldita boca.
Volvió a arremeter con fuerza, su puño se cubrió de sangre casi por completo y sus nudillos se magullaron a la par.
—¡Mikey, ya basta!
Mitsuya gritó, intentando sujetar su brazo.
—¡Mikey!
Draken exclamó, también sujetándolo.
Manjiro arremetió por última vez, estampando al tipo al suelo e incorporándose con lentitud. Su mirada estaba oscurecida casi por completo, mirándolo con odio y desprecio. No se separó hasta que le dio una patada en el abdomen y el hombre se encogió en su lugar. Lo tiraron lejos de ahí y él comenzó a caminar, huyendo antes de que llegue la policía.
En todo ese momento, Keisuke se quedó viendo, pensando que había ocurrido. Solo se movió cuando Kazutora lo movió desde el hombro y le pidió irse con ellos. Sin embargo sospechó algo.
Desde hace años que Mikey no reaccionaba así... y ahora...
No había esperado a que el otro golpee primero, él simplemente se lanzó a pelear. Sin medirse.
Baji permaneció en silencio mientras los demás comenzaban a dispersarse. Draken seguía regañando a Mikey, Mitsuya limpiándole los nudillos con un pañuelo improvisado.
—Te pasaste —gruñó Draken.
—No —respondió Mikey, tranquilo, casi frío —. Él se pasó.
—Era mi pelea —murmuró Baji.
Mikey alzó la vista. Sus miradas chocaron.
—No cuando hablan de cosas que no les competen.
Draken frunció el ceño. Keisuke le miró con duda, intentando descifrar lo tan difícil que era entender a Manjiro.
—¿Desde cuándo te afecta tanto?—respondió Draken, un tanto molesto por ahora estar escapando de la gente para no involucrase con las autoridades.
Mikey no respondió de inmediato y se limitó a encogerse de hombros.
—No me gusta que hablen de personas que no están aquí para defenderse.
Suena lógico, sonó lógico para Keisuke. Sin embargo...
Su mirada y su tono de voz indicaba otra cosa. No quiso preguntar, solo se lo guardó para sí mismo y siguió a los demás hasta las motos. Sin más preguntas emprendieron el camino por separado, cada uno a sus casas.
Baji entra sin tocar a tu habitación. De inmediato le miraste mal, aunque ni se volteó. Se puso a rebuscar en tu armario simplemente.
—Oye, ¿has visto mi sudadera negra? La que tiene el cierre medio roto.
—No, no la he visto.
Sin desviar tu mirada del pc, seguiste en tus asuntos.
Keisuke suspiró, ya perdiendo la paciencia. Antes sí que le tomabas algunas de sus sudaderas, pues era tu hermano y decías que era su deber. Además, su ropa es bonita. Sin embargo, estabas segura que esa prenda no la habías agarrado.
—Revisa el living igual —añades —. Quizá la dejaste ahí.
Keisuke se agachó y buscó en la parte inferior del mueble, movió algunas prendas hasta que su atención fue a una camiseta que estaba arrugada al fondo. Curioso, se estiró para agarrarla.
Al estirarla pudo divisar mejor el estampado. Era sencilla, tenía un logo pequeño atrás y por delante era lisa. Luego, comenzó a recordar que efectivamente era familiar pero no era suya.
Esa camiseta era de Manjiro.
Era la camiseta que usaba en su casa, cuando tenía el día libre y que tenía puesta solo cuando no esperaba que ellos vayan. Lo sabía, varias veces llegaban sin avisar y él estaba con esto desayunado perezosamente.
¿Qué hacía en el clóset de su hermana menor?
Al no escuchar su desorden, decidiste voltear y ver a Keisuke. Cuando él se giró lentamente, extendiendo la prenda con sus manos, te helaste.
Te observó, te miró brevemente mientras palidecías. Su expresión cambió, se endureció y su mandíbula se apretó.
No necesitaba que digas nada, tu reacción le confirmó todo.
Y no, no necesitaba preguntar, él ahora tenía que ir donde el idiota de su mejor amigo a partirle la cara. Si, esa fue la primera opción para Baji. Y eso fue suficiente.
Baji sale del cuarto sin mirarte, a paso firme y rápido, aún sujetando la camiseta en su mano. Tardaste solo dos segundos en reaccionar y corriste detrás de él.
—¡Keisuke! Espera, espera no... —le miraste correr escalera abajo y abrir la puerta de un manotazo— ¡Keisuke, no!
Cuando cruzas la puerta ya era tarde, el encendió su moto y fue en dirección a la casa de Manjiro. Sus llantas chirriaron contra el pavimento antes de desaparecer por la esquina. El ruido del motor se llevó contigo el aire de los pulmones.
El corazón te golpeaba el pecho con una violencia que dolía.
Sabías exactamente lo que iba a pasar.
Keisuke no era impulsivo...
era explosivo
Y Mikey...
Mikey no iba a quedarse quieto.
Corriste hacia la calle, pero era inútil. No podías alcanzarlo a pie. Miraste a ambos lados, desesperada, pensando en llamar a alguien. ¿A Draken? ¿A Mitsuya? ¿Y decirles qué?
"Hola, mi hermano descubrió que me estoy acostando con el líder de la ToMan, su mejor amigo y ahora va a matarlo".
Genial.
Te llevaste una mano al cabello, respirando rápido. No podías permitir que esto explotara así.
Mientras tanto, solo bastaron 8 minutos para que Keisuke llegue a la casa de Mikey.
La puerta de la casa se abrió de golpe, azotando contra la pared. Emma ni siquiera alcanzó a reaccionar cuando Baji entró como una tormenta, respirado agitado y con el cabello desordenado cayendo por el costado de su rostro.
—¿Dónde está? —rugió.
Mikey apareció desde el pasillo, con esa calma irritante que lo caracterizaba. Llevaba una camiseta negra sencilla. Muy similar a la que Keisuke sostenía arrugada en su mano.
Sus miradas se cruzaron por dos segundos.
—¿Qué pasa, Keisuke? —preguntó Manjiro, pero su voz ya no era ligera.
Baji alzó la camiseta y la lanzó contra su pecho.
—Explícame qué hacía esto en el clóset de mi hermana.
Un silencio pesado.
Mikey no se agachó de inmediato. Solo bajó la vista hacia la tela que cayó a sus pies. La reconoció de inmediato, como iba a olvidar la primera noche que metió a la hermanita de Baji a escondidas a su habitación. Flashbacks le vinieron de repente y tuvo que forzosamente no mostrar una sonrisa. Te había dado su playera luego de haber roto ligeramente tu top, sino ¿cómo ibas a llegar a casa sin ropa?
Luego volvió a mirarlo.
Y por primera vez... no le sonrió.
—Keisuke—
—No me llames así.
Su voz tembló. No de miedo, de ardiente rabia.
—¿Desde cuándo? —escupió—. ¿Desde cuándo estás metiéndote en mi casa? ¿Desde cuándo la miras así?
Mikey dio un paso al frente.
—No me "metí" en nada.
Oh bueno...
—¿Ah no? —Baji avanzó también, acortando distancia hasta quedar frente a frente—. ¿Entonces por qué tu ropa está en su habitación?
La mandíbula de Manjiro se tensó. Sus ojos oscurecieron.
No retrocedió. Sin embargo, no pudo mentir, él no era un mentiroso. Odiaba las mentiras.
Entonces, tenía que ser ahora.
—Porque yo la quiero.
La frase cayó como un disparo. Fue como un balde de agua fría repleta de hielo para Keisuke.
Manjiro se esperaba su reacción, por eso cuando el pelinegro cerró su mano y arremetió contra él, este pudo esquivarlo sin problema.
El puño pasó rozando su mejilla.
—¡No me jodas! —rugió Baji, girando sobre sí mismo para intentar otro golpe.
Mikey esta vez no esquivó. Sujetó su muñeca. Apretó firme, empleando la fuerza necesaria para dar a entender que estaba hablando en serio. Sujetó su otra muñeca cuando Baji intentó golpearlo con la izquierda.
—Escúchame —dijo, con una voz baja que no necesitaba volumen para imponerse—. No la toqué sin que ella no quisiera.
Eso dolió más que cualquier golpe.
Tal vez Manjiro debió omitir eso.
Keisuke forcejeó, intentando soltarse.
—¡Es mi hermana!
—Lo sé —respondió en un murmullo—. ¡Lo sé, Keisuke! Carajo...
Emma, desde el pasillo, no se atrevía a intervenir. La rubia algo sospechaba, pero nunca quisiste confirmar nada. Y ella jamás le dijo nada a nadie, claro está.
Baji apretó los dientes hasta que su mandíbula crujió. Sus ojos se encontraban ardientes de violencia, de eso y confusión junto con engaño. Sentía muchísimas cosas en ese segundo.
—¿Desde cuándo? —preguntó esta vez más bajo, pero cargado de furia.
Mikey lo soltó lentamente, intentando que puedan conversar y no hacer trizas la casa con una pelea. Probablemente si se ponían a matarse entre sí la más afectada de ello serías tú, y no quería eso.
Estaba dispuesto a recibir un golpe de ser necesario. Pero sabía que amabas a tu hermano, así que él no iba a tocarlo.
No retrocedió.
—Desde el día en que dejó de ser solo tu hermana para mí.
Otro golpe.
Esta vez sí le dio.
El puño impactó contra la comisura de su labio. La cabeza de Mikey se movió apenas hacia un lado. Sangre. Sintió un sabor metálico recorrer su lengua, con frustración pasó el dorso de su mano por su boca para limpiarla.
Keisuke lo miró enfadado, esperando el golpe que debiese venir pero Mikey no hizo nada, no lo golpeó.
Solo volvió a mirarlo.
—Si quieres golpear a alguien, hazlo —dijo, limpiándose la sangre restante de su comisura con el pulgar—. Pero no voy a arrepentirme.
Eso fue peor.
Jamás lo había visto tan serio y decidido. Keisuke lo vio descolocado, se dio cuenta que esto era algo mucho más serio. No sabía qué sentir, qué decir.
—¿Crees que esto es un juego? —escupió Baji, avanzando un paso. Mikey no retrocedió, levantó la mirada y lo miró a los ojos sin un ápice de duda.
—No, ni esto ni ella es un juego para mí.
La sangre seguía bajando lenta por su labio, pero no la limpiaba esta vez.
—Ella es mi hermana pequeña —soltó Baji, pasando una mano por su cabello, conteniéndose.
—Lo sé.
—Es menor que tú.
—Lo sé —masculló. Manjiro sabía que se llevaban un par de años de diferencia, era consciente y no le importaba lo suficiente.
—La conoces desde... pequeña, joder. Eres un imbecil —Keisuke lo empujó con ambas manos en su pecho, Manjiro se movió levemente —. ¿cómo mierda cruzaste esa línea?
Ahí Mikey titubeó apenas. Simplemente recordando todo, a ellos y a como se desarrolló su relación. Y ese microsegundo fue suficiente para Baji notarlo.
Y explotó
El siguiente golpe no fue anunciado, iba directo a su rostro. Impactó en el pómulo ya herido y rozó su nariz. El sonido fue seco. Manjiro trastabilló un paso atrás, chocando contra la pared.
—¡No te quedes callado! —rugió Keisuke—. ¡Respóndeme!
Mikey levantó la vista.
Sangre.
Su respiración se hizo pesada. Esta vez pudo sentir como su nariz sangró un poco. Conocida que los puñetazos de Baji eran fuertes, siempre usaba sus manos en las peleas y sabía que era su mejor arma. No le sorprendió que con solo tocar un poco su nariz esta haya sangrado. Respiró un par de veces, contó hasta diez y se quedó quieto, no contraatacó.
Baji lo tomó del cuello de la camiseta y lo estampó contra la pared otra vez.
—¡Te pregunté cómo cruzaste esa línea!
Mikey lo sujetó de las muñecas, fuerte esta vez.
—Simplemente sucedió. Ya deberías saber que tu hermana ya no es una niña, Baji —dijo, bajo pero firme.
Eso fue como echar gasolina a una fogata.
Baji le dio otro golpe, esta vez en el abdomen. Mikey soltó el aire, pero no cayó.
—¡Es mi hermana!
—Y no es tu propiedad —respondió, escupiendo sangre a un lado.
Baji lo empujó otra vez, respirando como si hubiera corrido kilómetros.
—¿La tocaste? —la pregunta salió rota.
Mikey sostuvo su mirada.
—Ya te lo dije —le miró fijamente —. No hice nada que ella no quisiera —Baji intentó volver a golpearlo pero Manjiro lo sujetó y dio vuelta, estampó su mejilla en la pared y sujetó sus brazos por detrás de la espalda —. Cálmate ya, _________ llegará y no puede vernos así.
—¿Y ahora te preocupa? ¡Tú la metiste en esto!
—¡No la metí en nada! —gruñó Manjiro, apretando los brazos de Baji contra su espalda—. Ella decidió estar conmigo
Keisuke forcejeó.
—¡Decidir qué, maldito imbécil!
—Ya basta, chicos —Emma se asomó por el pasillo nuevamente.
—Ella decidió que sea yo — Manjiro lo siguió sujetado contra la pared. Keisuke rió irónico —. Tú la sigues viendo como una niña, yo no.
Baji dejó de forcejear por un segundo. Realmente, la veía como lo que era, su hermana pequeña. Y conocía a Mikey, sabía lo que hacía su amigo años atrás, como es de peligroso con los demás.
Mikey lo soltó. Keisuke se giró de inmediato y lo empujó del pecho.
—¿Desde cuándo vienes a mi casa? —preguntó, más bajo.
—Desde cuando ella me deja entrar.
Fue directo y sincero. Baji miró como se le formaba un moretón en la mejilla, y su camiseta ahora teñida de rojo en ciertas partes. Parpadeo, mirando el suelo.
—Tú no eres para ella —dijo finalmente.
La rabia ahora dio paso a la seriedad, Baji estaba seguro de lo que decía y no hizo falta más acciones, solo habló. Majito se mantuvo de pie, viéndolo con sutileza.
—Tú atraes problemas. —Baji alzó la vista otra vez—. Sangre. Enemigos. Policía. Todo lo que tocas termina en peligro —Manjiro apretó la mandíbula, rechinando los dientes —Ella no es como nosotros. Ella todavía puede tener una vida normal. Universidad. Trabajo. Lo que sea. —Señaló el suelo con el dedo—. Tú la vas a arrastrar a esta mierda.
Sonó más maduro que nunca. Es verdad que seguían en la pandilla, algunos tenía trabajos adicionales pero sus reuniones no han cesado. Todos conocían a Manjiro Sano y Keisuke Baji, todos conocían la ToMan. Y si bien, eras hermana de Baji, tu vida había resultado más normal de lo que se esperaría. Te encontrabas trabajando para ir a la universidad en el próximo semestre, y eso todos lo sabían.
—No la voy a arrastrar a nada —Manjiro negó con la cabeza —. Sé a lo que te refieres, tengo a Emma, ¿sabes? —apuntó a su hermana, que estaba detrás de él —. Entiendo lo que dices, pero, no. Yo me encargaré de que haga lo que ella quiera sin ningún inconveniente. No voy a permitir que nadie la toque ni que la metan en nuestros conflictos.
—¿Y cómo piensas hacer eso? —se burló Baji—. ¿Dejarás de ser tú?
—Si tengo que hacerlo lo haré —sentenció.
Sus ojos se abrieron de par en par, tal declaración le dio de lleno. ¿Manjiro dejaría todo por ella?
—Si algo relacionado a la pandilla le afecta —dio un paso más cerca de Baji —. La ToMan se acaba. Esto termina —su voz estaba teñida en verdad. Su expresión no titubeó, él habló firme —. Y si decides acabar nuestra amistad, está bien. Estoy dispuesto a mandar al carajo todo lo que he construido por ella.
—Tú no abandonas lo que construyes —dijo Baji más bajo.
—Ahora tengo otras prioridades —su mirada caló en lo más hondo —. A ella no la abandonaré jamás.
Baji dio un paso atrás.
—Tú eras el primero en decir que la pandilla era lo único que importaba —continuó, la voz más baja ahora—. Que la ToMan era tu familia.
—Lo sigue siendo.
—Entonces no puedes simplemente...
Se quedó callado.
—Estoy eligiendo no perderla —dijo en un tono de voz más bajo, diferente.
Silencio.
Emma miró a ambos, entendiendo que esto ya no era una pelea.
Era un punto de quiebre. Manjiro estaba dispuesto a algo que nunca hubiese dicho en su vida, con tal de estar con su hermana. Ahí él se dio cuenta que esto no podría ser pasajero o un simple lío entre ambos.
Baji levantó la vista una última vez.
—Si la haces llorar —dijo, muy bajo— no voy a pelear contigo como amigo.
Mikey sostuvo su mirada.
—Lo sé.
Y justo en ese momento, llegaste corriendo hacia ellos. Emma te miró con cautela, y luego vio a su hermano. Intentaste calmarte cuando los viste de pie y no destrozando la casa, pero al notar sangre que recorría la nariz y la boca de Mikey rápidamente te acercaste a él.
No dijiste nada, tus manos sujetaron su rostro y te acercaste a él, inspeccionándolo. Al sentir tu piel, Manjiro se relajó y se dejó caer hacia ti, apoyando su frente en la tuya y sujetando tus brazos más cerca de él.
—¿Qué hicieron...? —murmuraste, con la voz temblando mientras tu pulgar rozaba la sangre en su labio. Acariciaste su labio superior, suave y rosa. Te regaló una tierna sonrisa.
—Nada —respondió Mikey bajo, sin apartar la mirada de tus ojos.
Baji observó la escena en silencio.
Ya habías visto que tu hermano no tenía ningún rasguño, así que te demoraste un poco más en girarte hacia él y verlo finalmente. Sujetaste el brazo de Manjiro cerca de ti, simplemente queriendo tocarlo. Keisuke los miró a ambos, pudo notar su complicidad fácilmente y volvió a preguntarse desde cuando pudo ser tan ciego de no verlo antes.
—¿La amas? —preguntó de pronto. Su mirada se volvió a fijar en su amigo.
Mikey no dudó.
—Sí.
Sin titubear. Sin bajar la mirada. Keisuke sintió que algo le apretaba el pecho. Podía notar a kilómetros que no mentía, lo conocía.
—__________ —habló tu hermano. Te miró por primera vez y le devolviste la mirada, pidiendo que te entienda. Él no pudo preguntar, pero asentiste, sabiendo que quería decir.
Mikey respiró hondo.
—No estaría aquí recibiendo tus golpes si no fuera así —mencionó Manjiro, intentado disminuir la tensión.
Silencio.
Emma bajó la mirada desde el pasillo.
Baji pasó una mano por su cabello con frustración, girándose unos pasos como si necesitara espacio para pensar.
—Es mi hermana —murmuró otra vez, pero ya no sonó como reclamo. Sonó como recordatorio para sí mismo.
—Lo sé.
—Si la haces sufrir...
—No lo haré.
—No te estoy advirtiendo como líder —añadió Baji, volviendo a mirarlo—. Te estoy hablando como su hermano.
Mikey sostuvo su mirada sin retroceder.
—Y yo te estoy respondiendo como alguien que no piensa soltarla.
El aire entre ellos estaba cargado. Manjiro bajó su mano para entrelazarla con la tuya, su toque te calmó de inmediato. No habías notado lo nerviosa que estabas ni que estabas temblando ligeramente por el estrés. Al fin y al cabo sabías que debía saberlo tarde o temprano, pero esto te tomó desprevenida.
Baji bajó la vista hacia la camiseta que aún estaba en el suelo.
Luego volvió a mirar a Mikey.
—¿Cuándo pensaban decírmelo?
Ibas a abrir la boca para contestas pero él mismo te cortó.
—Olvídenlo, no me digan nada.
Presiono el puente de su nariz e inhaló con fuerza, pausó y luego exhaló de igual forma. Volteaste hacia Manjiro, intentando comprender que sucedería ahora. Él pareció entender. Su agarre en tu mano se apretó y acarició con su pulgar el dorso.
Keisuke aplanó sus labios, sin poder decir nada. Ya había entendido, ¿lo había aceptado? aún estaba procesándolo, no sabía cuánto debía esperar para poder verlos como pareja. Sin embargo...
Keisuke soltó una risa fingida, y comenzó a caminar. Paso por tu lado y acaricio la cima de tu cabeza, revolviendo tu cabello. Te sorprendió cuando sonrió, sentiste una calidez cubrir tu interior que apagaba por completo la ansiedad.
Baji observó al rubio unos segundos más, evaluándolo como si lo estuviera viendo por primera vez.
Luego negó con la cabeza.
—Siempre supe que eras un problema —murmuró—. Solo no pensé que ibas a meterte en el mío.
Pero ya no había veneno en sus palabras. Solo resignación. Emma soltó el aire que no sabía que estaba conteniendo y al fin pudo relajarse.
Tú aún sostenías la mano de Manjiro, notando cómo su pulgar seguía moviéndose sobre tu piel, casi inconscientemente. Como si necesitara asegurarse de que estabas ahí.
Baji caminó hacia la puerta. Pero.. se detuvo justo antes de salir.
—No se atrevan a hacer esto —los apuntó a ambos—. en mi casa —añadió sin mirarlos directamente.
Típico de Baji, pensaste.
Eso, curiosamente, fue su forma de aceptarlo.
La puerta se cerro y reinó el silencio. Emma decidió irse, no sin antes dejar una fuerte palmada en la espalda de su hermano, dándole apoyo moral.
Tú miraste a Manjiro, quien seguía viendo el lugar donde había estado Baji.
Y por primera vez desde que entraste... dejó caer la fachada.
Se giró antes de volver a apoyar su frente contra la tuya.
—Lo siento —susurró.
No por amarte, sino por haberlo hecho así. Él no quería, nunca quiso que pasarás por esta situación de forma estresante. Al verte llegar agitada, con el miedo dibujado en los ojos, algo se le apretó en el pecho. Negaste suavemente, acariciando su mejilla.
—No te disculpes —murmuraste, deslizando tu pulgar por la marca rojiza en su mejilla—. Iba a pasar tarde o temprano. Además, yo era quien te decía que aún no le digamos.
Y era cierto. Manjiro nunca estuvo muy de acuerdo en ocultarlos, en ocultarte. De ser por él, desde que le empezaste a gustar lo hubiese gritado a los cuatro vientos.
—No quería que lo supiera así.
Mikey cerró los ojos un segundo bajo tu tacto. Como si tu mano fuera lo único que necesitaba para calmarse.
—Lo sé —susurraste.
—¿Estás bien? —preguntó de pronto, abriendo los ojos.
Te sorprendió.
—¿Yo?
Asintió.
—Llegaste corriendo. Estabas temblando.
Te diste cuenta entonces de que aún no te había soltado del todo. Y tú tampoco a él. Esbozaste una leve sonrisa y te estiraste para dejar un pequeño beso en sus labios. Sonrío de inmediato.
—Estoy bien —susurraste—. Me asusté, eso es todo.
Mikey apoyó su frente con más firmeza contra la tuya. Esta vez sus brazos pasaron por detrás de tu espalda y te abrazó hacia el.
—No quiero que vuelvas a asustarte por mi culpa.
Ahí lo miraste. La culpa teñía su expresión, sus cejas haciendo ademán de juntarse y sus ojos levemente vidriosos.
—No fue por tu culpa.
Se miraron otra vez, más tranquilos luego de ser conscientes de no tener que ocultar más secretos. Manjiro apretó tu cuerpo entre sus brazos y te alzó, cargó tu cuerpo hasta que pudiste estar a su altura para poder besarte con mayor fervor. Sus labios se unieron en sintonía, no tan brusco para no dañar su labio roto pero si lo suficiente firme para transmitir lo mucho que necesitaban esto.
Y por primera vez desde que comenzó todo, no estaban escondiéndose. Solo estaban de pie, juntos.
Mikey who is completely obsessed with reader's boobs. Loves sucking them and definitely loves having his cock between them
Hope you like it.
If you asked Mikey who his favorite person is-- Many expect probably Draken? Maybe his sister Emma? Or his other gang members who are his friends? They are all important to him.
But if you must really know? His favorite person in this damned world is his girl. His Y/n.
He loves everything about her. She's strong and has a sharp mouth. She's funny and beautiful. She's brave and loyal. Soft and caring.. If you were to look up at the night sky and see the stars, count them one by one, you'd count all the reasons as to why Mikey loves her.
He's absolutely obsessed! And he'll scream it to the world if he has to.
His perfect girl wrapped in a perfect package. A voice that melts his mind, a body that makes him crazy.
Your thighs are so soft, your hands are so dainty. Your lips are always so sweet.
But your tits? Oh fuck.. That's where his soul is at peace. Firm and soft, the best stress reliever when he's had a bad day. They fit so perfectly in his hands. They jump and giggle as you ride him. His thoughts lost to them as you heave out his name.
He loves when you pull on his hair as he suckles and leaves wet kisses on them. The way you moan his name when he flicks his tongue against your hardening nipples. Your breath staggered as he tried to leave as many marks as he could on them. He's even tried to spell out his own name on them.(though that didn't work out too well.)
He loves them so much.
Especially when he has you naked on your knees. Thighs shaking and breath stuttering. His cum leaks out of your used cunt. But he's still hard, still wanting his precious baby. Wanting her tits.
You whine and stick out your tongue. Using both your hands to squeeze your pretty boobs together. His cock lays hard between them, angry red tip peaking out and poking at your wet tounge.
You love his cock as much as he loves your tits.
He drags his hips back and forth. You try to squeeze your tits around him tighter. His head falls back with a curse while you lick the underside of his cock. The most sensitive spot.
He reaches down to help you hold your boobs. His hands engulfed yours as he squeezed your tits. His thrust becomes wild and uneven while he groans and lets out quiet moans.
You could feel his cock twitch before he covers your chest with his warm seed. Hot and sticky, you almost feel bad to have it all go to waste.
But Mikey knows his baby isn't wasteful. He's suddenly on his knees and licking up the mess on your tits. His tongue swirls on the creamy substance before his lips crash into yours. His hands on your tits as he kneads the flesh and gives you a taste.
➺ INCLUDES: wakasa imaushi, haruchiyo sanzu, hanma shuji, shinichiro sano, ran haitani (all of legal age, timeskip or bonten) x fem!reader
➺ CONTENT WARNING | this post contains explicit porn links!! you may need to have a twitter account or change your privacy settings to be able to see them. The women on the videos are white-skinned + please do not interact if you are under 18.
➺ NOTE | tokrev version !! again, the links will probably disappear after a little while but i'll do my best to replace them or find similar ones when that happens!
➟ WAKASA
Wakasa knows your body like the back of his hand, and he knows it. The look on your face along with those sweet, pathetic little sounds you make as he pounds into you tells him everything he needs to know. He's only been fucking you for a couple minutes and you're already moaning, babbling and begging him to go harder, your tits bouncing with each thrust of his hips.
↳ LINK ↲ [updated!]
➟ SANZU
Sanzu could spend hours playing with your pussy before even thinking of touching you with his cock. He’ll have your back pressed flush against his chest, fingers rubbing your clit in fast, frantic circles, his hard cock poking your lower back as he watches you squirm and whimper for more.
↳ LINK ↲
➟ HANMA
Hanma fucking loves your tits. It doesn't matter what size they are, he'll have his hands and mouth on them every time you ride him, sucking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it while his free hand gives equal attention to the other breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud between his index finger and thumb.
↳ LINK ↲
➟ SHINICHIRO
Shinichiro loves giving more than receiving, and he’s not afraid of letting things get messy. He’ll greedily lap up your pussy while he fingers you, his index, middle and ring fingers buried deep in your cunt as his cum leaks out in thick loads, trickling down his hand as he pumps it out of you.
↳ LINK ↲
➟ RAN
Ran has fucked you on every flat surface in every room of your shared house, but his favorite place to fuck is the bathroom. He’ll have you laid on the counter, one leg lifted and propped against the sink while he fucks you from behind, your moans echoing off the thin, definitely not soundproof walls. (Bonus point if you're in front of a mirror)
Thinking about Wakasa fucking Bankei's little sister
Wakasa Imaushi x afab!reader
CW: nsfw, 18+ mdni
A/N: Not proofread, I wrote this at 3 in the morning.
Your legs are pushed up against your chest. Moans slipping past your lips as wakasa slams his hips into you over and over. You're trying to be quiet. You really are. But the way wakasa is moving On Top of you is making it hard.
You don't even remember how this happened. You went to bed leaving your brother and wakasa alone then next thing you know Wakasa is sneaking into your room.
“What do you think your brother would say if you walked in right now” wakasa says As he gives a hard thrust. “What do you think he would do if he found out his sweet little sister was really just a cock hungry whore?”
Wakasa wraps his hand around your throat cutting off a moan as your eyes cross. Your legs are shaking but you wrap them around his waist pulling him closer to you. “do you fuck all your brothers friends?” You try shaking your head no but wakasa slaps your cheek. “Words sweetheart. You're a big girl right? Big girls use their words” He says As he finds your clit and starts rubbing “n-no”
“No?” He repeats “only you Waka” you say as tears fill your eyes. He's being mean. Why is he being so mean? Wakasa has always been nice to you. “Only me?” He says letting out a Breathy laugh. “Don't lie to me. I see the way you look at Shin” you moan as he gives another hard thrust. “You're just a little slut that was waiting for the first cock to walk through that door” your shaking your head no and the tears start to run down your face. You don't know if you're crying from his words or the pleasure he is giving you.
Wakasa is biting and licking your neck As he speeds up his hips causing you to scream out his name. He slams his hand over your mouth. “Shut up, unless you want your brother to find out”
You feel that familiar heat in your gut. You're going to cum. You're moaning into wakasas hand as you run your nails down his back causing him to let out a hiss. “You gonna cum, princess” He asks you nod your head as he smirks down at you. “Cum then. Milk my cock baby”
You're moaning his name over and over like a prayer. He quickly switched his hand with his lips swallowing any sounds you let out. He grabs your hips pulling you even closer to his as he feels his own release approaching. He moans your name as he fills you with his cum telling you how much of a good girl you are for him.
You fall asleep shortly after not seeing wakasa sneak out of your room and go back to your brother's.
Thinking about Wakasa fucking Bankei's little sister
Wakasa Imaushi x afab!reader
CW: nsfw, 18+ mdni
A/N: Not proofread, I wrote this at 3 in the morning.
Your legs are pushed up against your chest. Moans slipping past your lips as wakasa slams his hips into you over and over. You're trying to be quiet. You really are. But the way wakasa is moving On Top of you is making it hard.
You don't even remember how this happened. You went to bed leaving your brother and wakasa alone then next thing you know Wakasa is sneaking into your room.
“What do you think your brother would say if you walked in right now” wakasa says As he gives a hard thrust. “What do you think he would do if he found out his sweet little sister was really just a cock hungry whore?”
Wakasa wraps his hand around your throat cutting off a moan as your eyes cross. Your legs are shaking but you wrap them around his waist pulling him closer to you. “do you fuck all your brothers friends?” You try shaking your head no but wakasa slaps your cheek. “Words sweetheart. You're a big girl right? Big girls use their words” He says As he finds your clit and starts rubbing “n-no”
“No?” He repeats “only you Waka” you say as tears fill your eyes. He's being mean. Why is he being so mean? Wakasa has always been nice to you. “Only me?” He says letting out a Breathy laugh. “Don't lie to me. I see the way you look at Shin” you moan as he gives another hard thrust. “You're just a little slut that was waiting for the first cock to walk through that door” your shaking your head no and the tears start to run down your face. You don't know if you're crying from his words or the pleasure he is giving you.
Wakasa is biting and licking your neck As he speeds up his hips causing you to scream out his name. He slams his hand over your mouth. “Shut up, unless you want your brother to find out”
You feel that familiar heat in your gut. You're going to cum. You're moaning into wakasas hand as you run your nails down his back causing him to let out a hiss. “You gonna cum, princess” He asks you nod your head as he smirks down at you. “Cum then. Milk my cock baby”
You're moaning his name over and over like a prayer. He quickly switched his hand with his lips swallowing any sounds you let out. He grabs your hips pulling you even closer to his as he feels his own release approaching. He moans your name as he fills you with his cum telling you how much of a good girl you are for him.
You fall asleep shortly after not seeing wakasa sneak out of your room and go back to your brother's.
