especially the wattpad side where people dedicated their entire accounts to roleplaying as fictional characters....
there was something about choosing a character, building your account off of that persona, and absolutely absorbing yourself into the community. looking back, it feels a bit beautiful how we dedicated ourselves as the characters. we saw ourselves within them and chose to express it with pride.
── .✦ (🥥) who would've thought that a late night tutoring sesson with the schools biggest nerd, soobin, turned into a night even more exciting. turns out, he has an even bigger surprise than his brain.
pairing: big dick virgin!soobin x fem!reader
word count: 4.8k
"content warning 18+ [ MDNI! ], switch!soobin, fem reader, big dick virgin!soobin, nerdy dirty talk, he researched ab sex, nerd!soobin, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding, creampie, aftercare”
you invited him over because you were failing math.
there wasn’t anything romantic or flirtatious about it at first — just a silent cry for help written in red marker across your test papers, the kind of desperate slope only someone like choi soobin could pull you from.
he was quiet in class, but always had the right answers. you’d never seen him speak above a whisper, never seen him look anyone in the eye for more than a second, and yet he always left the lecture room with perfectly annotated notes and the air of someone who carried his self-worth in decimal points and weighted averages.
so you messaged him one night — a simple, “can u tutor me?” — and he agreed with alarming speed.
showed up three days later at your apartment like a boy heading into battle, papers in one hand and a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear, even though you weren’t going to a classroom.
he barely spoke as he stepped inside, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame and his backpack clutched so tightly in his hand you worried the strap might snap.
“hi,” he said, voice soft, and then added, “i brought… some topic breakdowns. just what i thought would be most helpful.”
you took the stack of papers from him, letting your fingers brush his as you did — just enough to make him freeze.
“thanks, soobin. you’re a lifesaver.”
“it’s no problem,” he replied, though his voice cracked a little halfway through, and he cleared his throat like it embarrassed him.
he stood awkwardly in the middle of your room until you gestured toward the bed. “we can work there. my desk’s a mess right now.”
he nodded too quickly, walking over with that stiff, careful posture that always made him look like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs.
he perched on the very edge of the mattress, knees pressed together, bag in his lap like a shield.
you were already sprawled out beside him, legs crossed, chin in your hand, flipping lazily through the printouts he brought. he’d highlighted things in different colors — pink for formulas, green for common mistakes, blue for examples — and even used sticky tabs to mark each section.
you smiled a little. “damn. you really prepped for this, huh?”
“i didn’t want to waste your time,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “i mean, you’re busy. i figured i should… y’know. make it count.”
your gaze lingered on his profile for a second — the soft curve of his cheek, the glasses sliding slightly down his nose, the way his lashes caught the light like they didn’t belong on a boy. “you’re cute when you’re nervous,” you said.
his ears flushed pink immediately, and he opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words.
instead, he ducked his head and pulled out a worksheet from his bag, mumbling something about “starting with derivatives.”
for a while, you worked. or at least, you tried to. he was focused, explaining things in his soft, careful voice, gesturing with a pen as he talked.
but the more you listened, the less you heard — your brain slowly replacing the numbers and variables with the warm hum of his voice, the gentle slope of his mouth, the way his fingers tapped the edge of the paper like he needed the rhythm to keep from spiraling.
you weren’t sure when it shifted.
maybe it was when he leaned in to correct your equation, his shoulder brushing yours, and didn’t pull away. maybe it was when your knees touched under the blankets, and neither of you moved. maybe it was the way the air felt heavier now — less like study session, more like waiting for something to happen.
soobin must’ve felt it too. his words started stumbling. he explained one formula three times and still got lost halfway through, cheeks flushed, pupils dilated.
his hand hovered a little too long when he passed you the pen. when your thighs pressed together again, he sucked in a breath and didn’t let it out for four seconds.
you turned slightly to face him, setting your notes aside. the room was quiet now.
just the soft tick of the wall clock and the low buzz of tension coiling between you like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter.
he was looking at your mouth.
you didn’t speak. neither did he. the moment didn’t need narration — it just hung there, charged, inevitable.
and then it snapped.
your lips met his like gravity had pulled them there — sudden, unspoken, too natural to be a mistake. his breath hitched immediately, eyes fluttering shut like a reflex.
he tasted like vanilla and nerves, soft and shaky against your mouth, and when your hand came up to cup his cheek, he made a sound, barely audible, like the beginning of a whimper, and leaned into it like he’d been waiting all night.
you deepened the kiss slowly, letting it unfold, letting him adjust. he responded with this aching softness, fumbling but eager, his fingers curling into the bedsheets like he didn’t trust himself to touch you yet.
he wasn’t practiced, his lips moved like he was still learning. but he kissed you like he meant it. like he felt it.
you pulled back just slightly, breath tangled with his, your foreheads nearly touching.
his eyes stayed shut and he swallowed hard. “is this okay?” he whispered.
you nodded, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “mmhm.”
he opened his eyes then, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel how hard he was trying to stay calm. how the tension in his shoulders hadn’t fully left. like he was waiting for the next step but terrified to ask for it.
but you didn’t rush. you just leaned in again, slower this time, and kissed him like there was nothing else you wanted to do tonight.
and this time, he kissed you back like he believed it.
but the kiss had unraveled something in both him and you.
he was still leaning into you like he hadn’t realized it was over, lips parted, breath catching at the edges, glasses slightly fogged from how close you’d been. you could see the color bleeding up his neck in slow-motion, creeping past his collar like his whole body was flushing from the inside out. he looked dazed. pink. utterly stunned.
you wondered, for a moment, if he’d ever been touched like this before.
but then he blinked, slow and heavy, and something in him cracked open.
he kissed you again, unsure, but full of need. like he’d been holding it back for too long. his hand twitched, then moved up — resting on your waist like he was afraid he’d break something, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt.
you climbed into his lap without thinking. not rushed. not performative. just a natural shift, a quiet surrender to gravity and tension and everything that had been simmering between you all evening.
he made a noise, sharp and startled when your weight settled on him, and his hands flew to your hips like instinct.
you could feel him underneath you already, half-hard and growing fast, and the realization sent a low throb through your stomach.
“fuck,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
you stilled. “hm?”
he looked horrified. “n-no, i mean— i wasn’t— that wasn’t—”
you tilted your head, amusement curling at your lips. “you okay, soobin?”
his throat bobbed. he didn’t answer. just stared at you like you were something holy and terrifying.
then, voice barely a whisper: “i’ve never done this before.”
you blinked. “like… never?”
he shook his head. “n-no. not even close.”
you felt your expression soften, and you leaned in to kiss him again, gentler this time. “you want to stop?”
he hesitated — not with fear, but with something more fragile. like he was trying to trust himself to speak.
“…no. i want to—” he paused, breath shaky. “i want to. just— it’s my first time, not my first time… knowing.”
you blinked again and chuckled slightly. “what?”
he turned bright red. “i… studied.”
you stared.
he flailed. “not in a weird way! i just— i didn’t want to be bad at it. s-so i read stuff. books. forums. diagrams— i even watched videos sometimes but only for like— like educational purposes—”
you blinked again. slowly. “…so you watched porn. like, for science.”
“i wanted to take notes,” he said, sounding genuinely defensive.
you laughed. couldn’t help it. he looked so earnest about it — like he’d genuinely sat down with a browser tab open and a pen in his hand, analyzing thrust angles.
“you’re unreal,” you said softly.
“i just didn’t want to disappoint anyone,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.
you reached down and took his hand, guiding it under your shirt. he froze, mouth open slightly, and his fingertips trembled against the skin of your waist.
“you won’t,” you promised. “you’re already not.”
his breath hitched. he looked up at you like you’d just rewritten the rules of the universe.
you started to grind your hips, slowly, experimentally — not enough to overwhelm, just enough for friction.
just enough for your shorts to tug against his sweats and for the growing heat between you to become unmistakable.
and god, he was big.
you could feel it — not in a vague, flattering way, but in a real, holy-shit-how-are-you-expected-to-fit-inside-me way.
every roll of your hips brought him further into focus, your body reacting before your brain could even catch up. he was so hard already, twitching beneath you, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.
“s–shit,” he gasped, eyebrows scrunched. “this— this isn’t in the articles—”
you snorted. “what, grinding?”
“n-no— i mean— yes, but not— not like this—”
you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing the way his voice caught in his throat. your hands pushed his hoodie up slowly, palms skimming over warm skin, and he shivered when you reached his chest.
he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. like every second of contact was tripping a wire in his system.
you whispered against his lips, “you’re gonna let me ride you, right?”
his eyes rolled back so fast it was almost funny. “god— y-yeah. anything. anything you want.”
you reached between you, slipping your hand under his waistband — and what you found made your breath stutter.
he was thick. heavy. the kind of size that made your thighs clench just imagining it. no wonder he’d studied. no wonder he was scared.
you looked at him, slightly stunned. “jesus christ, soobin.”
he blinked, confused. “w-what? is it— is it weird? i read that some people have curve—”
you cut him off with a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, and his hands clutched at your waist like he was trying not to fall off the earth.
“it’s big,” you muttered. “like… really fucking big.”
he made a sound you couldn’t describe — somewhere between a choke and a moan.
you stripped slow, teasing, sliding your shirt off and watching his eyes widen as more skin revealed itself.
he stared like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look. like he wanted to memorize it but felt guilty for trying.
you helped him out of his clothes next, pulling his hoodie over his head and tugging his sweats down far enough for him to spring free.
he gasped when the air hit him. flushed deep pink from tip to base. twitching slightly in time with his heartbeat.
and yeah. huge.
he tried to say something, but it came out garbled. you didn’t let him speak — just kissed him again, sweeter this time, pressing your body against his until he was whining into your mouth.
“lie back,” you whispered, and he did.
you climbed on top of him slowly, positioning yourself, and when the tip nudged against you, both of you gasped.
you took your time, letting him feel every inch of you — the stretch, the slide, the warmth — and his jaw dropped like it was all short-circuiting him.
“ohmygod,” he moaned, hands flying to your thighs. “ohmygod, it’s so warm— it’s— fuck—”
you bottomed out and paused, letting him breathe. he was gripping you like he was afraid he’d float away, eyes glassy, hips twitching up just barely.
“you okay?” you whispered, brushing his sweaty hair from his face.
he nodded, but he looked wrecked already.
“i-it’s so much,” he choked out. “i d-didn’t think it’d feel this good— i thought— i thought i’d last longer—”
you started moving, and he whimpered.
“oh— oh fuck—” he cried, head falling back against the pillow. “you’re s-so— it’s too good— oh god— i’m gonna— i’m—”
you weren’t even bouncing yet. just rolling your hips, slow and deep, letting his cock drag against every inch of your walls. his eyes fluttered, his chest heaved, and he let out a sound that didn’t even sound human.
“such a good boy,” you whispered, to which he moaned in response. the prettiest noises leaving his mouth as you praised him.
he couldn’t stop shaking underneath you. soobin was all heat and trembling muscle, wide eyes flickering open only to shut again in dazed desperation.
his chest heaved with every shallow breath, slick with sweat, lips parted in a silent plea as your hips rolled down again — slow, deliberate, like you were memorizing the way he stretched you open.
his hands had settled at your waist, not gripping, not guiding — just holding, fingers splayed across your skin like he didn’t want to forget the shape of you. like he wasn’t sure this was real.
every time your cunt dragged down his cock, his stomach fluttered, tightening like a wire being wound tighter and tighter with no end in sight.
he was deep. impossibly so. every inch of him filled you, pressed inside with this perfect fullness that made your vision blur. the curve of his cock nudged something devastating with each movement, and yet the stretch never dulled — not even as your walls grew slicker, your legs trembling from the slow pace.
you rode him with patience. not because you needed to go slow — but because he looked so wrecked.
his eyes glassy, his thighs twitching, mouth caught in a half-moan that never made it out. his expression was nothing short of reverent. overwhelmed. ruined.
you leaned over him, skin sliding against his as your hands braced at either side of his chest. the shift made your angle deeper, pulled a broken sound from his throat that made your core throb.
he tried to lift his hips, just a little, just to chase the feeling, but he couldn’t get the rhythm right, too stunned, too overstimulated, too caught up in the sheer reality of you.
the head of his cock dragged against your walls again, and your mouth fell open with a gasp — because he filled every inch, every curve, as if he was shaped for you alone. he was pulsing inside you already, and you hadn’t even given him permission to move yet.
his hands twitched, your body ached for more, and so you let him.
you shifted, just barely — lifting your hips until only the thick head remained inside you, holding there for a breathless second, watching his jaw slacken as if he’d lost something vital — and then you dropped down again, full weight, taking him all the way in one smooth thrust.
his back arched.
the sound that broke from him was nothing short of guttural — low and soft and strangled at the edges, like he didn’t know what to do with the sensation.
“mmh, i-it… it feels so good… don’t stop… please”
his fingers finally tightened on your hips, not hard, just grounding — and you felt him thrust up.
it was shaky. clumsy. but the strength behind it was unmistakable. he met your next roll with a sharp buck of his hips, and it landed deep, sudden, deliciously raw. your breath caught. his face contorted, eyes fluttering closed, lips trembling.
he did it again. and again.
beneath you, soobin moved like he didn’t even know he could. the soft whimpering boy who’d watched porn for research was gone — replaced by something unfiltered, frantic.
he thrust up into you with so much need, so much pure instinct, that you nearly collapsed against his chest.
he was so warm. so deep. every time you sank back down on his cock, it filled you to the hilt. every motion sending waves of heat through your spine, your stomach, your lungs.
you clenched around him without meaning to — too full, too sensitive — and he gasped like he’d been punched, arms tightening around your waist. he sounded like he was breaking. like it was too much.
you rolled your hips down hard, once, and he cried out.
not loud. not dramatic. just this fragile, broken sob of pleasure that slipped out past gritted teeth as he tried to keep fucking you through it. tried to keep his pace even as his body started failing him.
he was close. you could feel it. his whole body trembling beneath you, stomach fluttering, cock twitching deep inside like he was aching to let go.
“w-wait… im gonna cum… p-please… don’t stop…”you ground down harder, deeper, faster — and he fell apart.
his hips jolted once, then twice, then lost all rhythm. his cock pulsed violently inside you, and then you felt it — thick, hot, the warmth of him spilling into you as his body seized and shuddered.
he buried his face in your neck, arms clinging to you like a lifeline, thighs shaking uncontrollably beneath yours as he came.
every pulse of his cock pushed his cum deeper, filled you more, the mess gathering between your thighs like he couldn’t help it.
his breath hitched, his mouth opened against your skin, and then the tiniest sob escaped — cracked and soft and overwhelmed.
he was crying again.
you held him through it, rocking your hips just slightly to ease him through the aftershocks. he twitched inside you, whimpering, helpless beneath the weight of it all. his hands gripped you like you’d disappear.
his cock throbbed inside you, overstimulated and soaked in your slick, and he just kept whimpering.
you pulled back to look at him.
his eyes were glassy, unfocused. his cheeks damp. he looked like he’d been cracked open from the inside out.
you leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then finally his lips — soft and slow, grounding him.
his voice was barely there. “i— i didn’t mean to—”
you shushed him. “you did perfect.”
his lashes fluttered. his arms loosened. his body finally relaxed beneath you, sinking into the mattress, flushed and tear-streaked and filled to the brim.
he looked at you again, and you held his cheek. “you wanna go again?” you said, brushing your thumb across his face, catching a tear that fell earlier.
he nodded slowly, and he was still inside you when he started to move again.
his cock hadn’t even softened fully—still thick, still flushed a deep pink at the base, still twitching inside you from the overstimulation, but now he was shifting, testing, thinking through the daze. and that was the moment you knew, he wasn’t done.
his breath still caught every time your walls clenched, but he was moving—hips subtly lifting, grinding into you in soft, sticky rolls. the cum from his first release had made everything slick, slippery, messy—your thighs wet, your inner walls coated.
he was still nestled so deep you could feel him twitch against your cervix, and when he pulled back a few inches, a broken gasp slipped from your lips.
he froze, like he didn’t expect that sound. you felt his hands tighten at your waist.
“…i wanna try something,” he whispered.
before you could ask, he pulled out with a soft squelch, and you both moaned at the loss. but he didn’t waste time—didn’t even stop to overthink it—he just reached for you and flipped you, slow but firm, until your cheek was pressed against the pillow and your back arched, hips raised just enough.
you turned to glance over your shoulder, heart thudding.
soobin was flushed all the way down to his chest, hair stuck to his forehead, lips pink and parted—but his eyes had sharpened. still soft. still shy. but there was something new there now.
something focused.
his hand settled on your lower back, then drifted down to your ass, squeezing once like he was testing a theory. when he spoke again, his voice was low. almost dazed. “theoretically… this angle should stimulate the anterior wall more consistently.”
you blinked.
“…are you quoting a textbook right now?”
he pushed back in without warning—one slow, gliding thrust, his cock stretching you open again with a wet slide—and you choked on your own breath.
the stretch burned now, fucked-out and sore, but god, he felt so full. the second his hips pressed flush to yours, you felt your arms go weak.
“yeah,” he whispered. “i read about this. from the back, hips raised… it’s supposed to— oh fuck—”
he started moving before he could finish the sentence.
his thrusts were deeper this time. not rough, not fast—intentional. heavy. every motion angled slightly upward, every roll of his hips hitting that same devastating spot, over and over again.
you realized—somewhere between gasping into the sheets and gripping the pillowcase like it might save you—that he meant to do that.
“feels… right?” he panted, voice breathless. “am i… hitting it right?”
you couldn’t speak. could barely even moan. your body was melting around him, dripping slick and cum with every push, your mind already fraying at the edges from how deep he was.
his cock dragged against your walls with obscene precision—too precise, like he was adjusting his angle mid-thrust to line up with your reactions.
every time your thighs trembled, he leaned in further. every time you gasped, he whispered a frantic, “there—like that?” and did it again.
“fuck,” you managed, voice hoarse. “you— god, you feel so fucking good—”
he moaned behind you, and then his fingers curled around your hips to pull you back onto him harder.
the pace stuttered for a moment, but when he found it again, it was relentless. sloppier now, louder. the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, each thrust jostling you further up the bed.
“read once,” he gasped, “that the g-spot’s like… five centimeters in… angled toward the belly button—f-fuck, wait—”
he adjusted again, slightly upward, and this time you cried out, legs buckling beneath you.
“there,” he whispered. “t-there it is. fuck.”
your entire body clenched. he felt it, gasped again, and leaned over you. now his chest was against your back, his breath warm and fast against your ear, hips still pistoning into you as he pressed you down with the weight of his body.
“you’re so—tight,” he breathed. “s-so warm— i can’t— i c-can’t stop—”
you weren’t stopping him.
your brain had shut off halfway through his nerdy monologue, somewhere between “g-spot location” and “angle of friction”. all you knew now was the way his cock dragged against your walls, the obscene squelch of your mixed arousal leaking down your thighs, the sound of his voice trembling as he kept going, even as his rhythm began to falter.
you could feel him close again. his thrusts started to stutter—less controlled, more desperate.
every breath came out choked. his grip on your hips turned vice-like, and his weight pressed you harder into the mattress.
“g-gonna cum again,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “inside, please, i can’t— i want— fuck, please—”
you let him. you even tightened around him on purpose. and that broke him.
his hips slammed forward one final time—deep and hard, burying himself to the hilt—and then he snapped, groaning into your shoulder as he came again, harder this time.
hot and messy, cock twitching wildly as his cum spilled out in thick spurts, dripping back down your thighs with every shudder.
he didn’t move for a long moment. just panted against your neck, body trembling, arms around you like a blanket.
still buried deep, still twitching from the aftershocks, still too full of sensation to pull out.
you were shaking too. used. sore. stuffed.
he kissed the back of your shoulder, then your spine. slow, reverent.
“…did i do good?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and breathless.
you turned your head enough to look at him.
he was flushed. swollen. smiling—barely.
you cupped his cheek, pulled him down into a kiss, and let him melt into you again.
you didn’t move for a while.
your body felt… gelatinous. boneless. like you’d been poured out, reshaped, and forgotten on warm sheets.
your thighs were trembling, too slick to close properly, your breath still shallow as you stared blankly at the headboard, brain empty except for the faint memory of being absolutely ruined.
and behind you—still pressed close, still inside—you could feel him twitching softly. Soobin’s arm was curled around your waist, his forehead damp against your shoulder, and his chest rose and fell in uneven waves as he tried to catch his breath.
“…i think i broke you,” he whispered.
his voice was so soft, so tentative, that you let out a shaky laugh despite yourself.
“maybe just… a little,” you mumbled, voice hoarse.
he didn’t respond right away. just let out a breath that was almost a whimper, and very slowly, he pulled out.
the sound was obscene—wet and slow and too much. his cum spilled out in thick, creamy rivulets, already smeared down your inner thighs, soaking the backs of your legs and your sheets.
he groaned under his breath the second he saw it, like even looking was too much for his nervous system to handle.
“oh my god,” he said, eyes wide. “i—fuck, i didn’t mean to—there’s just—so much—”
you flopped onto your back with a wince and watched him sit up on shaky legs, completely naked, flushed red from head to toe, hair a mess. his dick was still red and slightly twitching, glistening at the tip from whatever hadn’t managed to stay inside you.
he scrambled for his hoodie, dragging it on clumsily and then half-tripping as he grabbed his backpack off the floor.
“d-don’t move,” he babbled. “i’ve got—uh—one sec—”
you blinked. “soobin… what are you doing.”
he held up a pack of wet wipes.
“…why do you have those?” you asked.
he looked mortified. “i-it’s for glasses! and, um. keyboard dust.”
but he was already kneeling between your legs, gingerly nudging them apart with the back of his hand.
his face flushed impossibly deeper at the sight—your swollen folds, the sheer amount of cum, the fact that he put it there.
you watched his throat bob as he took a breath and started cleaning you.
gently, carefully.
he touched you like you might break, using slow, soothing strokes, barely applying pressure.
when the wipe brushed over your entrance and another trail of cum spilled out, he made a tiny noise in his throat and mumbled, “oh my god—i’m so sorry—”
you couldn’t stop smiling, too wrecked to be shy, too full of affection to care. “you’re apologizing for fucking me now?”
“i-i just—i should’ve warned you. or slowed down. or—” he paused, looking deeply concerned, “—maybe done a few more warmup exercises—”
you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping the endless spiral of his thoughts. “soobin.”
he froze. eyes wide.
“you were perfect.”
he blinked, like you’d just told him he aced an exam he forgot to study for.
“…r-really?”
“really.” you tugged him closer. “come here.”
he climbed onto the bed clumsily and wrapped his arms around you.
you let your head rest on his shoulder, body melting into the warmth of him as his fingertips gently traced circles over your spine.
he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then, with shaky hesitation, to your lips.
“…you feel okay?” he murmured against your mouth.
“sore,” you admitted. “but in a good way.”
his ears went pink. “i didn’t think it’d… i mean, you were so tight, and i thought—i mean, i calculated it before, but actually being inside—”
you laughed again, too tired to tease him. “soobin.”
he looked at you, dazed and flushed and in love with you, probably.
you kissed him again.
and this time, he smiled against your lips. soft. warm. nerdy.
“…can i write about this in my notes?” he asked suddenly, like he couldn’t help it.
A/N: HEEERE WE AREE finally. the brainrot was strong but i enjoyed writing these!! i had help from my goat Spice while thinking about Yukio, so big thanks to them 🙏 as always, disclaimer that some hc may be repeated - it just means im still as delulu as i used to be 🙂↕️i hope you enjoy these! as always, im slightly biased towards rin, so sorry!
Warnings: none, msg to add, hcs are separate for both of the twins! x reader content ahead. some hcs are meant for fem/afab readers but thats already mentioned before the said hcs start, THIRST, N/SFW. yeah. welcome back to my slop.
Word count: 1,5k+
Rin:
Rin is SUCH a pretty moaner, but he's sadly pretty shy about it for a while, especially at the beginning of your relationship. Your words do make him more encouraged, but as soon as you start moaning yourself, he just can't help it and joins you. The longer the relationship lasts, the more he moans and stops caring where it happens or when. You have to put your hand over his mouth to stop him... Not for long anyway.
Adding to the headcanon above, he's also VERY turned on by your voice and moans, to the point that he's almost ashamed of it. Sing his name in the right way and tickle his neck and he'll swallow HARD.
His tail usually wraps around your thighs, wrists, or ankles during the deed, depending on the position you're currently in. It's something he does subconsciously and eventually out of habit, especially when he's getting close to cum; he prefers it like that, rather than having it flail around and possibly hit you (it might've happened once)
^He’ll moan like a little bitch in heat when you pull on his tail while being balls deep inside you. He throws his head back and grips your thighs hard, DEFINITELY leaving a mark afterwards. Rin almost tears up from the pleasure, looking at you with glossy eyes and breathing heavily before resuming his pace, slamming his hips back against yours.
His ears, despite not looking like such, are quite an erogenous zone for him. Rin whimpers softly when you begin to gently massage his ears, nuzzling into your hand and grabbing your hips as you straddle him, but seemingly innocent kisses might lead you to getting thrown onto the bed real quick.
This baby is a giver!! He wants to spend hours between your legs just giving you pleasure. To be honest, he’s probably cum by just eating you out multiple times, that’s how much of a simp he is. If you’re an AFAB person, Rin is absolutely obsessed with your boobs regardless of the size, and nursing handjob is a big turn on for him.
^he whimpers so, so deliciously when you squeeze his head with your thighs, actually obsessed with that feeling, almost makes his eyes roll back into his skull. Hell, if you sit on his face he'll be in heaven, moaning into your cunt as he messily licks your folds all over, using his inhuman strength to make you unable to get off of him until he's blabbering nonsense under you.
Rin likes to sneak behind you… and just roam his hands on your body until he has you pressed against the kitchen counter, while his lips press open-mouthed kisses against your neck. At first, he’s just clinging to you with his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder, until his hand slides under your shirt and makes its way up to graze the underboobs ever so slightly.
„Rin, what are you doing?”
His voice lowers, but his hand now shifts to cup your tit, „nothing, baby, keep going. You promised me a dinner this time,” his lips brush against the junction between your neck and shoulder, „unless you meant something else?”
(AFAB) He's a bit into spit play? Not to the point that it gets disgusting, but kinda to mark you? Either way, he's not afraid of messy kissing, getting a messy blowjob from you, or using his spit as a lube and spitting on your cunt while eating you out. Rin is a rather big kisser during sex, so whenever his eyes catch a string of saliva connecting your lips, he's INSTANTLY hard.
(AFAB) Not necessarily into period sex, but I feel like he’d just… not care. If you’re horny and down to have sex, you don’t need to say anything twice, he’s already pouncing on you. He constantly asks if you’re okay throughout the whole thing, stops immediately when something’s not right and runs you a bath afterwards 🥺 he’ll never say no to you, especially massaging your sore boobs. Yes, he actually does research on how to properly do it. Yes, it does end with fucking almost every time (unless you’re not feeling like it, of course).
HORRIBLE at orgasm control, Rin sees you bouncing on his cock and no matter how much he wants to, he busts a nut as soon as he’s able to. Though, teasing him is quite fun, especially after denying him a few times - at some point he just starts to babble random things, begs you to let him cum and apologizes in between.
“Please, please, baby, I wanna cum! I can’t hold it anymore,” Rin pleads oh so beautifully with his hair sticking to his forehead, his gaze fixed on your tight hole swallowing him back and forth, “oh god. Please.”
You cup his face gently and stop your movements. “No.”
He pants heavily, whining and placing the back of his head against the wall behind him, impatiently massaging your hips and almost, almost moving you up and down with his own hands, “Please, I’m sorry, baby, just let me cum, sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck,” his rambling gets more desperate each time, but it only fuels you further.
But if you decide to grant his wish…
“Good boy.”
His head spins as soon as you praise him and jump up and down his hard cock again, “Yes, yes, oh god it feels so good, haah, thank you baby, thank you, I love you so— so much, don’t stop! Please, I’m so close!”
Are you brave enough to tease him until demon!Rin comes out?
Yukio:
Everyone GET BEHIND me because Yukio is out to get some. While seemingly less horny than his twin, he’s just WAYYY more subtle about it and it’s honestly SO HOT because he’s able to pull it off. Yukio just loves to push your buttons until you’re frustrated and dragging him to a nearby bathroom stall.
He’s a fan of quickies. Partially because yes, he’s quite busy, but also because he wants to get rid of his frustration as soon as possible, so don’t get surprised if he pulls you towards an empty alleyway to take you right there, right now.
YUKIO IS A SHAMELESS THIGH GROPERRR he’s such a leg man and I’ll die with that headcanon. While he’s happily chatting with the rest of the exwire squad, his hand sits on your thigh under the table. Quite normal for him, until you feel his hand toy with the soft flesh, slowly sliding closer and closer to your core. If you squirm and almost give away what he’s doing, he only turns his head towards you.
„What’s wrong?” His tone is calm, but you can feel the familiar band of your panties getting tugged to the side; while most don’t pay much attention after your positive reply, that mischievous glint hasn’t escaped Yukio’s eyes.
Speaking of leg obsession, he likes those plain, black tights the most on you. They look classy and formal enough just to tickle the right side of his brain to get the horny out. Keep him pent up enough and he’ll rip them! What a shame. Thank god he looks hot while doing it, so you forgive him every time.
Listen. He’s able to take off his glasses in that one, hot way, but don’t make him aware of it. He’ll never do it again the same way now that he's aware of it.
Oh Yukio’s absolutely THE person to comb through your hair softly while sucking him off. Despite being more feral than Rin in general (Rin is more desperate tbh), he wants to let you know that he does appreciate you.
(AFAB) While Yukio curls his fingers inside you, his lips stay on yours until both of you need to catch a breath. He swallows your moans eagerly, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek if you can't kiss him anymore due to the pleasure; he hisses at the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers, growing more desperate hearing the lewd sounds coming from your wet cunt.
Car sex. Sometimes he just can’t wait - but tries… until you start to suck his dick while he’s driving. He doesn’t even attempt to stop you - not that he could - so he tries to keep his composure while steering the car, gasping at the obnoxious sounds of your lips wrapped around his cock; that is, until he pulls over and gives you one, quick order that you don’t need to hear again. “Backseat, now.”
Punishments are a thing for him - if you piss him off enough, he’ll keep you horny for hours, until he feels like it’s time to finally fuck you, and cockwarming is one of them. Usually, he isn’t that much into it since quickies are his go to’s, but… if you’re too bratty that day, he’ll remember that. Yukio keeps you on his cock until he’s done with what he’s currently busy with, and if you try to squirm in his lap, better yet - move, or attempt to ride him, he’ll extend your punishment longer.
And oh, he absolutely gives you this look when you talk back to him ☝️
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students, with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds that this was a purely sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ Fratboy!Sukuna FWB Series ]
[ PAIRING ] — fratboy!sukuna x f!reader (college au)
[ TAGS ] — 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. fwb. angst. hurt/comfort. slow burn. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family trauma. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line
✮ pt 2 — shoko/utahime make u doubt your fwb label so now you’re desperate to prove them wrong
✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time
✮ pt 4 — his brothers visit unexpectedly
✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna
✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you
✮ pt 7 — (coming soon)
✮ chp 1 — how this fwb thing started
✮ chp 2 — (coming soon)
✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮
✮ ask tag ✮ music tag ♪ ✮ tiktok tag
[INFO] — parts vs chapters: chapters is where the series story will start from the beginning and progress on, adding an a, b, and c plot and so on. parts exist in the same universe as small drabbles, before the angst blows up in their face. [ they can be read separately. ]
series taglist open ✮ comment on this post if you want to be tagged. age should be visible on your blog.
taglist is only for chps not parts — (art by @/to00fu, dividers by @/cursed-carmine)
You know, there's something that's been bothering me for a while.
I've never really understood why Yukio gets so much hate. Like... guys, he's literally a 15-16-years-old teenager who's been burdened with adult responsibilities since he was a kid. He became an exorcist at 13 and a teacher at 15; he is still a child, yet he's out there fighting demons on the front lines and risking his life.
People say stuff like, "I've been through hell too but I was never a jerk like him" as if their own personal experience were the universal basis for comparison for how a person should behave. Not everyone handles pain the same way. Each one of us reacts differently, according to their own personality.
He never really got the chance to cope with his own emotions; he was taught to suppress them and focus on getting stronger to protect his brother.
And honestly? I get it. That's exactly how Shiro dealt with his own problems when he was a kid (It's giving me generational trauma vibes). Instead of actually listening to Yukio, he gave him a gun and basically pushed him into becoming an exorcist.
Of course, I'm not justifying Yukio for treating Rin so poorly, but I think we should try to put ourselves in his shoes before judging.
People love to talk about Rin's struggles, while Yukio's story is often overlooked.
He's a kid who was forced to grow up too fast, and he's still trying to figure out how to survive in a world, and in a self, that's constantly telling him to be stronger, colder, better.
He was trained to fight demons, yet he was never taught to face the ones inside him.
riding and turning yuuta into a babbling mess ₊˚⊹ ᰔ
it starts slow. you sink down on him once, and yuuta gasps like the world’s ending, his fingers twitching against the sheets, body arching up into you without meaning to. he’s always like this—too sensitive, too sweet, too quick to give in.
“relax,” you murmur, dragging your hips in a slow circle that has his breath hitching. “i just got started.”
he nods, quick and frantic, though his nails are already digging into the mattress.
the first orgasm is embarrassingly fast. you ride him steady, bounce a few times, and his pretty lips fall open, a broken moan spilling out as he cums deep inside you. his chest heaves, his face scrunches up, and he looks at you like he’s sorry for not lasting longer.
but you don’t stop.
“n-no, wait, i just—” his voice cracks, eyes going wide as you keep grinding down, milking his cock through the overstimulation. his body jerks, his hands flutter to your hips like he might push you off, but then he chokes on another moan and lets them drop again.
by the second orgasm, he’s already trembling, tears brimming in his lashes. his cock is swollen, leaking, but still painfully hard, still twitching inside you like it doesn’t know how to quit. he sobs your name as he spills into you again, body shaking, and you just smile down at him.
“good boy,” you purr, leaning forward to kiss the tears on his cheeks. “look at you, still hard. you can give me more, can’t you?”
and he can. god, he does.
you bounce harder, chasing your own pleasure now, and yuuta falls apart under you. every thrust has him crying, babbling nonsense—“too much, too much, please—no, don’t stop, feels so good—ahhh, i can’t—”—his body contradicting every word as his hips jerk helplessly up to meet you.
by the fourth orgasm, he’s ruined. glassy-eyed, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth, voice wrecked to broken whimpers. you pin his wrists above his head just to watch him squirm, rolling your hips until his eyes roll back and he cums again with a sob that sounds more like a scream.
“fuck, you’re perfect,” you coo, leaning down to lick a tear from his cheek. “my sweet little toy. just a cock for me to use until i’m satisfied.”
yuuta’s brain is gone. whatever protests he had have melted into sloppy cries, his voice wrecked beyond repair. his tongue lolls out when you kiss him, like he doesn’t even have the strength to kiss back. his whole body shakes beneath you, overstimulated to the point of collapse, but every time you clench down, his cock spurts weakly inside you, another ruined orgasm ripped from him.
and you laugh breathlessly because he’s still hard, still throbbing, even after you’ve milked him dry.
round after round, you break him down further. you ride him until your thighs ache, until your own orgasms leave you trembling, but you don’t let him stop. you edge him sometimes—pulling off right before he spills again, watching him sob and beg, cock twitching painfully as he bucks into the air.
“please, please, please,” he whines, tears and snot wetting his flushed cheeks, hips stuttering as if he could fuck you himself. “need it, need it, please—”
only when he’s shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out like he’s gone dumb do you sink back down, burying him to the hilt and riding him through another ruined orgasm.
by the end, yuuta’s gone. he’s drooling, trembling, completely incoherent. his voice is reduced to high, broken whines every time your walls clench around him. his cock twitches weakly inside you, still trying to give even though he’s long past empty.
when you finally collapse against his chest, satisfied and aching, yuuta’s nothing but a fucked-out doll. eyes half-lidded, mouth open, tears staining his temples. he doesn’t even react when you kiss him, just sighs weakly, cock still buried inside you like it belongs there.
and the sickest part? the second you shift your hips, he twitches again, body ready to give you more—even if it breaks him completely.
cw. chubby read (but I think it can fit for any female body type), mean geto, praise, degrading, marathon, pets name (sweets mostly), nerd reader, breaking up motion (briefly), tongue lips and cock piercing, creampied, unprotected sex, hate sex (?), p in v, a bit of nipple sucking, cock drunk, pussy drunk, oral (f. receiving), big dick geto duuuh, TATTOED GETO!!!, passing out
previous << part.4 >> next
a/n. youhouuuu, finally finally this is the enddd. ik this is not perfect as i wrote this originally for fun and not to be a series, there's probably some rushed part. but ig it's all fun and fantasy at the end of the day sooo no need to be perfect right,,,, haha ENJOY!!! <33 + i put what some anons send me ;)
SERIES
wc. 4.4k (only smut)
˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliees <333
banner arts aransmind on x :))
“you gonna cry?” geto asks once your boyfriend's gone, voice all smug. he doesn't even pretend to soften. just leans back against the wall like he didn't burn your life to the ground.
you keep your voice steady, laced with fury. “you're such a piece of shit, suguru.” you whisper, eyebrows drawn so tight they hurt, hands clenched to your sides to stop yourself from shaking.
“didn't hear you complaining last time you soaked your hand in front of me.”
“fuck you,” you spit.
“already did, pretty. in spirit,” he shrugs, eyes dragging over your body like his hands would. “don't pout. not my fault you're easy to read. skirt that clunges to your body and all,” he adds with a cruel smile “shaking when he touched you. . hoping it was my hands instead.”
you take a step forward, “you think ruining my relationship is some kind of fucking game?”
geto's smile drops, jaw ticking. his next words are quieter—dangerous. “no, pretty. you did that. the moment you started squeezing your thighs every time i walked into a room.” his eyes narrow, voice dipping lower. “the moment you started thinking about me when he kissed you.”
your slap nearly lands. nearly.
because unlike the previous time, he catches your wrist midair—fingers wrapping around it tight, pulling you closer.
“go ahead,” he dares, mouth inches from yours. “hit me. hate me. scratch my fucking face off. but don't pretend you never wanted me.”
you tremble—because he's right. and when you breathe, it's shallow—sharp and painful. your bodies are too close, your heart's a drumbeat against your ribs.
his fingers slide to your waist, “you know i'd fuck you angry, right?” he murmurs at your lips, the threat heavy in his voice. “make you cry for a real reason.” and your lips part, but no words come out. just breath. just heat.
just the weight of everything he’s done crashing into you.
your desire for him, also crashing into you—violent and impossible to stop. it flattens every ounce of logic, grinds the mess from earlier into dust.
and that's probably why you're back at your shared place with geto. and it's brutal.
he barely shuts the door before he's on you—mouth crashing into yours with violent desperation, all tongue and teeth and the sharp, addictive scrape of his snakebite piercings against your lips. his pierced tongue licks into your mouth—tasting the remnants of something smoky and bitter, like cigarettes. but it’s not the wrong kind. no, it makes your head spin in the best way, a dizzying mix of need and something darker. you gasp, your lungs emptying from the weight of his kiss.
his mouth is greedy, devouring, taking everything. geto's pushing you against the wall in no time. his hands are all over—the roughness of his tattooed fingers scrape against your sides, your skin, dragging up your skirt without a shred of patience. he’s hungry—greedy, starved—and when his hands finally find the bare, soft curve of your stomach, he growls, low and guttural.
“fuck, sweets,” he hisses, voice dripping with want. his palms slam against the curve of your belly, cupping it hard, feeling the softness of it under his touch, and there's something about the way he holds you—so roughly, so possessively—that makes you shiver.
his lips taste like fire and want, and his snake piercings catch your bottom lip every time he pulls back, sending jolts of sensation through your whole body. every inch of him is on you, and you can’t breathe—can’t think—your entire world shrinking down to the feel of his hands, his mouth, the sharpness of his piercings against your lips. he pulls you closer, pinning you against the wall, the heat of him burning into you as he crushes your body against his.
his thigh slips between yours, presses hard against your clothed pussy, and you jerk—already soaked and sensitive. he growls at that, loosing his mind.
the kiss turns brutal: you moan into his mouth, biting his lower lip, tugging hard on the lond black strands of his hair just to make him grunt. and he pushes closer, grinding his thigh up until you're squirming, your hips chasing friction like a shameless thing.
“look at you,” he says, diving onto your neck and leaving open mouthed-kisses. “nerd girl's this needy, huh? all that brainpower and still dumb on my thigh.”
your hands claw at his back, nails dragging over ink. your voice is barely above a whisper, “shut the fuck up and use that tongue to good use, would you?”
to your surprise, that makes him laugh—mean, breathless. his teeth scrape your collarbone. “trynna order me around, pretty? hope you can handle what you're asking for. 'm not feeling nice tonight.”
before you can retort, his hands are sliding down—one gripping your ass, the other behind your thigh, and he lifts.
“wh—” you gasp, arms locking around his neck and your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “what the hell—”
“shh,” he murmurs, amused. “thought i couldn't handle all this?” he squeezes, fingers digging in shamelessly. “'s cute, sweets. should have known better.”
you blink, stunned, heart pounding harder from this than from his thigh earlier—and that had felt like drowning already. but this, being manhandled like this, it does something ugly to you. makes your pride burn and your core clench with something molten.
no one's ever dared.
he walks to the couch like you don't even slow him down, then sits, bringing you with him, straddling his lap, still holding you in place. your knees dig into the cushions, chest pressed to his, lips parted with surprise.
you want to say something—some smart ass quip, some demand—but your brain's fizzled out entirely.
“aww,” he mocks with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “did i break your brain already? and here i was hoping you'd last longer.”
geto doesn't bother pretending to be gentle, his hand moves between you with a rough, hungry kind of focus, yanking your panties to the side. “fuckin' soaked” he mutters, almost to himself.
and then he moves—shifting, lowering himself to the floor with a single-minded hunger that makes your stomach flutters with anticipation. his hands grip your thighs again—harder, more impatient—guiding you upward, lifting you until your cunt hovers over his face, with your knees on the couch.
“right on my face.”
you blink, dazed. “wha—”
“on. my. face.” his eyes gleam as he looks up at you from between your thighs. “i want all of you. i want the weight. don't hold back. if you sit like you're scared, i'll drag you down myself.”
your pulse jumps. “n-no one's ever—”
“i don't care,” he cuts in, almost snarling. “i'm not ‘no one’. i said sit.”
he doesn't wait for your answer.
hands clamp around your hips, and he pulls.
you collapse onto it.
you brace one hand on the back of the couch, the other on your thigh, shocked by the intensity, by the sheer greed in the way his mouth finds your cunt and devours you. tongue hot and unrelenting, nose nudging your clit just right, his low groans sending vibration through your whole body.
you try to shift your weight off a little, unsure, but he growls again and digs his fingers in harder. “i said,” he pants between licks, “don't you fucking dare hover. you ride it. all of it. now.”
the heat in your stomach twists hard. your thighs tremble as you let yourself go, sinking down fully onto his mouth. geto moans like you just gave him oxygen after being starved.
“good girl,” he rasps, voice muffled against your pussy, and then he goes back in, ravenous.
your thighs are trembling, slick coating them, dripping down onto his face. his grip never lets up, fingers bruising into your hips, keeping you right there, locked down against his mouth.
his tongue is fucking wicked—the cool press of that piercing sending shocks straight through your core every time it drags over your clit. he knows what he's doing. knows exactly how to make you squirm, to make you whimper his name like a prayer and a curse all at once.
his hands slide further, gripping your ass, spreads you open and groan right into your cunt at the sensation of all that squishy skin. “mmph-fuck,” he chokes out, violet eyes locked with yours as your sweet slick coated his tongue, drowning his taste buds.
you do try to lift up, but he won't let you—each time dragging you back down with a low growl. his tongue thrusts into you, filthy, wet, messy—spit and slick dripping down his chin and onto his chest beneath his shirt. his hair's splayed out around him, strands clinging to his face, his neck, your thighs.
your hand finds it—tangled, damp—and you grab a fistful, yanking hard enough to make him grunt into you. his reaction is instant, hips twitching up. and then he shakes his head, tongue moving in these obscene little circles—dragging the metal around your clit, making your vision go white at the edges.
“suguru—fuck—” you sob, thighs squeezing around his head as your orgasm hits like a truck, messy and soaking and completely ungraceful. you swear you gush on his face, and he doesn’t even flinch. just groans louder and sucks on your clit like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.
he lets you ride it out—ride him—until you're slumping forward, weak, sweating, mouth parted. and when he finally allows you to lift up, he licks his lips—sticky with spit.
his lashes are heavy, lips swollen. he grins lazily and his voice wrecked to gravel when he finally speaks “did i use my tongue right, huh?” he pants, tongue flashing that silver bar again as he licks back into your folds—still starving.
his mouth latches onto you, faster and greedier—he's shamelessly making out with your cunt, snake bites cold against your fat lips. you flinch, whimper, hands holding his hair for dear life.
it's just too much—and keeps getting too much as you feel the cool press of metal of his rings, thick and cold as they slide into your heat. two fingers, no easing, no teasing—he sinks them slow but deep, stretching you just enough to punch another broken moan out of you.
“oh fuck—”
he hums against your clit, the sound reverberating through his piercing and into you like static. the calluses on his fingers grind perfectly against your walls, wet sounds filling the room as he pumps them in and out, curling just right, wet squelch echoing with every stroke.
you're drooling—mouth open, lip trembling, spit trailing down your chin—his fingers feel way better than any other's boy cock you took.
geto glances up, lips shiny with you, that long black hair stuck to his cheeks, his forehead. his eyes are glowing with need. “c'mon, nerd girl,” he growls into your cunt. “don't go shy now. you wanted it smart—take it like you mean it.”
you whine, wordless, overstimulated to hell, and he crooks his fingers experimentally onto that sweet spot inside you. “that's it. all those grades, all that brain, and you're just a messy fuckin' toy on my tongue.”
his tongue drags up, slow and filthy, pierced tip flicking over your clit with precision. you jolt again. your breath comes in gasping, high-pitched hiccups, and tears start to sting from how intense it is, how endless.
your hands scrabble for purchase—his shoulders, his hair, the couch—anything. but there’s no ground anymore. just his rings tickling your entrance, his mouth never letting go, and your body falling to pieces again.
one more stroke of his tongue, one more slow thrust of his fingers, and you’re gone.
you sob through your orgasm—wet, helpless, coming hard, slick gushing around his hand. he keeps fucking into you, slower now, just to feel the way you twitch and spasm and clamp down on his rings. you collapse forward, trembling all over, your face buried on the couch, drooling.
and under you, geto laughs—low, ragged, fucked-out himself just from tasting you, like a man who just got the first hit of an addiction he’ll never shake.
“good girl,” he murmurs, voice shredded. “but we’re not done.”
after two orgasms—your limbs are jelly, your mind's blank. “c'here” he rasps, chest rising fast. he grabs your hips and flips you over like nothing, tossing you onto your back on the couch. your shirt's still clinging to you, riding up just beneath your tits, soaked with sweat and drool.
his eyes drag down your body, ravenous. he doesn't hide it.
“you're not keepin' this one,” he says as he lifts the hem of your top and tugs it up over your chest with a rough yank, he's definitely tired of waiting. “wanna see 'em bounce.”
he grins when your tits spill free, slow and filthy, like he already knew you wouldn’t be wearing a bra. smart girl, he thinks. smarter than she looks when she's whining on my tongue.
he also removes his shirt, and that's when you catch the gleam of silver on his chest. a piercing right through his nipple, glinting against ink and muscle.
but what really fucks with your mind is lower down—when his pants slide down and his cock springs free. the sight makes you dizzy—it's thick and veiny, a pretty brown tip leaking down the shaft. and right near the tip, another barbell—obscene, beautiful, glinting on something that shouldn't be that much pretty—promising destruction.
your stomach flips. your cunt clenches like it knows it’s in trouble.
geto catches the look on your face and smirks. “betta than you're stem boy, right?”
you huff, trying to push your hair off your forehead, still trying—trying—to hold on to something smart, something dry. “well who knows,” you manage, cocking an eyebrow. “he's probably better than you. he surely knows how to use his cock, making me hit ninth cloud in record time.”
you don't know how you said all that—especially when you believed none of what you just said. especially when geto's cock is ridiculously long and mean with a dragon tattoo curling over his hip, licking toward his pelvis—obscenely hot. and a sexy happy trail you want to bury your face in it, soak it, lick the salt and sweat from every line of ink stamped. your pussy is already pulsing, aching to be split open.
and maybe, just maybe, you said it to provoke him. just to see what he'd do.
and maybe, was it the worst idea ever.
you'd tried to act smart—tried to poke at him, bait him. thought you could tease. what a joke.
he stares at you—quiet, still—and his eyes, those deep violet irises, go flat. something shifts in them. that usual lazy playfulness is gone. what's left is cold, dark and feral.
he moves without a word, pushing you back onto the couch, body caging yours in. his chest brushes yours as he leans in, dragging one palm slow and heavy down your stomach until he reaches your inner thigh, spreading you open.
he looks down at your slick folds, glistening and fluttering—a mess from your previous orgasms.
“keep talkin' like a smart bitch,” his voice is low. “go on. let's hear what that mouth's good for—besides moaning.”
his eyes are blown wide, rimmed in dark lashes, pupils eating up the violet, “you wanted to rile me up? that was your play? you're lucky i don't tie you up and leave you dripping for hours.”
he strokes himself once, guiding his cock to your entrance, and the way he looks down at you, brows drawn tight with hunger and restraint. you see it in his face: the way he’s fighting not to just shove all of it in, stretch you raw.
his teeth grit. his jaw flexes. that vein in his temple pulses.
“you feel this?” he mutters, dragging the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds, the barbell of his piercing catching your clit just to drives you deeper in pleasure—tapping it meanly against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
you nod, or try, at least.
he doesn’t warn you before pressing in.
just a push—a deep one—and the first ring of resistance hits like a brick wall. your breath catches, back arches, and your hands fly up to brace, but geto just grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.
“relax,” he says, his hips pressing forward again, splitting you inch by unforgiving inch. “didn’t i prep this tight pussy enough before stuffing you full?”
your mouth opens but nothing comes out—a miserable attempt to answer.
your eyes are wet, mouth open in a silent cry as he stretches your cunt wide, forcing her to make room for him, and geto groans at the heat. his eyes go sharp, fixated on the way your pussy stretches around him, swallowing inch after inch of his cock. his lips part, a breath hissing through his teeth, and his brow furrows like it physically pains him to go slow.
“shit,” he pants. “you’re choking me. this tight little pussy really thought some weak-ass nerd could handle her?”
you try to answer anything—but he bottoms out and your mouth just drops open, a silent scream caught in your throat. he reaches in deep, his piercing dragging over your cervix, and your whole body spasms beneath him.
"look at that,” he whispers, his hand squeezing yours above your head. “eyes rollin’. cunt twitchin'. what happened to all that sass, sweets?”
your nails dig into his hand pinning yours, throat tight with sobs you can’t even form.
he loves it. loves how you're fighting to take it. loves how broken your sass has become.
he pulls out a little—not enough to give you relief though—and rams back in harder, hips snapping cruelly. your tits bounce from the force. your pussy’s a soaked mess, clenching and twitching around him like you don’t know whether you want to cum or pass out.
“keep squeezing me like that, keep milking it like a slut and i’ll stuff you full 'til you’re leaking down your legs.”
his hips snap forward like a weapon, pounding into you with a pace so savage your head knocks against the couch's arm with each thrust. the slap of skin is loud, wet. and he’s not even trying to be kind.
“you said" slams “he could” slams "make you cum?” slams he spits, hand wrapping tight around your throat now, thumb pressing just enough to make your vision pulse. “where is he now, huh? he ever make you drool like this? fuck the sense outta your skull?”
sweat drop on his brow, his teeth catch his lower lip when you flutter around him.
geto feels like a beast, driven by need and lust, your body, your warm, it takes the worst of him and he can't stop, his hips snap harder, faster, in need to imprint his cock into your guts and ruin you for any other man that would dare to approach you.
"that’s what it means to get fucked. say it. say it’s mine.”
you sob. “y-yours—”
“louder.”
“yours, geto, it’s yours—!”
he looks insane—hair a mess, spit slicking his bottom lip. “don't look away,” he buries his cock so deep. “you wanted to act big. wanted to provoke me. so take it. take all of it.” his hand slide from your neck down to your breasts bouncing, holding one in his rough palm.
“those are perfect, sweets,” his ring drags over your sensitive nipple, pressing in. “fuck, wanna worship ‘em. they’re so soft, so beautiful, so mine.” his tongue flicks your nipple, the piercing brushing against it as he swirls around, holding your gaze.
that's how another orgasm crashes down on you suddenly. one of geto's arm lock around your waist the other still holding your breast for him to taste as he keeps fucking you through it, cock still hard, still punching every overstimulated nerve like he’s trying to burn them out of existence.
you barely register when he finally pulls out—leaving your nipple shining with spit. your legs fall open on instinct, cunt fluttering around nothing, slick and cum dripping out onto the couch. you’re boneless. and you should be done by now.
but geto just sits back next to your exhausted body, cock hard and glistening, dragging his palm along the length of it with lazy strokes. he watches you with that same half-lidded, smug look.
“get over here,” he says, voice low and sharp.
you blink, slow, dazed. “wha—?”
he slaps his thigh. “c’mon, nerd. get on. you’re gonna ride me.”
your thighs twitch at the command—surprisingly something in your gut coils tight again. you drag yourself off the cushion on trembling legs, slick dripping down the insides of your thighs, and make your way over.
geto strokes his cock slowly as you straddle him,"that's it," he mutters, dragging your cunt over his cockhead, teasing you both. “gonna let me watch that fat little body bounce for me now, yeah?” he lines you up, the stretch hits all over again.he doesn’t ease you down. he holds you firm and makes you take it.
“fuck, look at that,” he groans when you sink halfway. “pussy still so tight. thought i fucked it loose, but she’s still clenching like she don’t know what to do with it.”
“ride it,” he says. “i want to see every inch of you shake.”
you do just as he says—slowly at first, bouncing on his cock with stuttering, messy little movements, slick squelching loud between your bodies.
he leans back, lets you struggle for a bit, arms crossed behind his head while he watches the way your tits bounce with each grind, the way your soft belly jiggles, how your face twists up so sweet when you try to hold back tears from the overstimulation.
“s-suguru…” you whine, pace faltering—ego throwed to the bin. “need…h-help.”
you drop your eyes, too lost in pleasure—only to be meet with the inked dragon moving elegantly on his hips, flexing each time he shifts.
“what's that pretty?” he says, mocking and gentle at once. “don't tell me you're tired already?” he tilts his head, almost disppointed.
your eyes are wattering, your cheeks pink from how much you're hating up, and how much you cried. “'m s-sorry…”
you don’t even realize you’ve stopped moving until he shifts beneath you.
he sits up, planting his feet to the floor as his inked hands grope your ass, holding you in the air.
he slams back up to your warm core. the pace changes instantly: fast, brutal, relentless. his hips drive up into you like a machine.
“this—” a hard thrust, “is how we fuck.” Another. And another. “you want help? of course i'll help my pretty girl.”
your head falls onto the crook of his inked neck, hands clawing at his shoulders as your vision blurs. each mean thrust knocks the air from your lungs, the impact jolting through your whole body. you’re no longer riding—geto is using you like his personal fleshlight, with no mercy in sight. his arms flex with the effort, and his pupils are so dilated that the violet almost disappeared.
the look on his face…
his lip ring catches the light when he grins, teeth bared, eyes dark with hunger. there’s something wild in his expression, primal. the dragon tattoo flexes along his side with every thrust. His voice is a low growl in your ear.
“you're doing so good, sweets. takin' all that without complain, you're perfect. perfect for me.” he drops one hand down, fingers finding your clit, swollen and abused by his hands, tongue and happy trail brushing against it. “feel how this pussy still wants it. still suckin' me in, even now?”
geto pounds, loosing his rythm as his climax approaches. his hand grip your ass harder—hips rolling into yours in quick, desperate motions. your cries go hoarse, high-pitched, your cunt too full, too sore, too overstimulated—but it’s not stopping him. if anything he just goes impossibly harder.
“one more, sweets. gimme another one. just one more.”
you wail—actually scream, back arching—your walls spasm around him again, soaking his cock all over again. you’re crying now, tears mixing with drool, hips bucking. your cunt squelches with every thrust, mess spilling out of you down onto his thighs, pooling on the couch, dripping onto the floor. it's loud. filthy. every stroke is slick and wet and relentless, his rings glinting where his fingers grip your thighs, your hips, your throat.
“'so fuckin' wet for me,” he murmurs, voice dark and gone, leaning down, his tongue dragging up your neck. “you hear that? goddamn. so messy. all this for me?”
his hair—long, black, half-stuck to his face—is swinging into your chest, and when he leans in, it brushes your nipples. he bites one, just enough to make you cry out.
“…t-too much,” you breathe, voice shaking. “can’t—can’t—”
“you can.” his teeth graze your jaw, “yeah… just like that. take it. fuck, you feel so good—so good—”
and then he slows, just a little, breathing ragged, hips grinding in deep as he presses you flush against his chest. you can feel it—the twitch of his cock, the low, wrecked curse against your shoulder as he cums deep inside you, warmth spilling out around the stretch.
the couch creaks under the weight of it. of you. of him. your weight drops heavy into his lap, body boneless. head rolls to the side. eyes fluttering shut.
he catches you, both arms wrapping around your waist, holding you upright as his cock slips free of your dripping cunt. the loss of heat is jarring, but your body doesn’t even react. you’re gone. heavy and spent, your face slack, lips parted.
“pretty?” he lifts your chin gently, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where spit still cling.
your eyes are heavy, breath shallow and uneven, head lolling just slightly to the side. a soft sound leaves your throat, nothing coherent, just breath and daze. you're not gone. just fucked-out, somwhere between sleep and extasis.
he exhales through his nose, dragging a palm over his face and holding you tightly against him. he leans in close, lips brushing your temple—not tender, exactly, but grounding. quiet.
almost like apology, almost like awe.
“you're still here,” he whispers more to himself than to you. his hands comes up and cups your cheek.
your skin's hot. damp. marked.
his thumb slides slowly along your jaw.
“you did good pretty,” he says resting his forehead against yours. “my pretty nerd.”
the room was hot. wet. your thighs were trembling and spread wide, draped over the edge of the bed while yuji knelt between them, face buried between your legs like he was trying to drown in you. his tongue was everywhere—sloppy, eager, loud—lapping at your folds with messy devotion, like the taste of your cunt was the only thing keeping him alive.
“fuuuck, you taste so good,” yuji moaned against you, lips glistening, nose pressed against your clit as his fingers held your thighs apart like he was scared you’d run away. “like—like better than anything. ever.”
your back arched at the warmth of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue flicking your clit just right, the whimpers he let out with every moan vibrating through your core. he was too good at this. too eager. his tongue slid down to your entrance again, fucking you slow with lazy circles before dragging back up, slurping so loud it made you whine.
“y-yuji—ah—” you gasped, head falling back. “s’too much—”
“nope,” he muttered, breathless, “not done yet.”
megumi, meanwhile, sat off to the side on the mattress, one brow raised, jaw tight, watching with a thin veil of patience. he was already flushed, hard under his pants, hand visibly twitching in his lap as he watched your slick dribble down yuji’s chin like some kind of pornographic crime scene. and yuji had no intention of stepping aside.
“…are you gonna let me get in there?” megumi finally asked, voice low but sharp. “or are you just planning to hog her all night?”
yuji looked up, eyes wide and mouth shiny. “huh? dude, i’m just—she tastes so fucking good, bro. you gotta give me a minute.”
megumi scowled. “you’ve had a minute.”
“hey, it’s not my fault she keeps making those cute noises,” yuji shot back, grinning like a kid who’d licked the icing off someone else’s birthday cake. “she’s squirming, look at her. how’m i supposed to stop?”
“you’re supposed to share,” megumi muttered, inching closer.
yuji immediately shifted, blocking him with his shoulder. “w-wait, just—one more—one more taste.”
megumi’s eye twitched. “you said that five minutes ago.”
you let out a moan as yuji dipped his head again, tongue flattening against your clit and swirling tight, fast circles. your whole body jerked, fingers grabbing the sheets.
“y-yuji—!”
“see!?” he said, glancing back smugly. “she wants me down here—”
megumi growled. “she’d want me, too, if you’d get your fucking face out of the way for five seconds.”
yuji opened his mouth to respond—but megumi was done waiting.
he grabbed yuji by the back of the shirt, tugged him sideways hard—not enough to hurt, but enough to knock him off balance, forcing him off your pussy with a wet slurp. yuji stumbled, blinking, lips pouting like someone had ripped a lollipop out of his mouth.
“hey—!”
“my turn,” megumi said coolly, already lowering his head.
he didn’t ease in. he was slow in general, calculating, but now? after being edged out by yuji for the last ten minutes? he was ravenous. his tongue slid along your folds in one long, firm stroke, drawing a gasp from your throat, and then he was sucking your clit—hard—just to prove a point.
“fuck—! m-megumi—!”
yuji sat there dumbfounded, watching megumi devour you. his hands gripped your thighs like he needed an anchor, but he wasn’t blocking anymore. just staring. red-faced. jaw slack.
“damn,” yuji muttered, then bit his lip. “okay… okay, i deserved that.”
megumi didn’t even answer. he had two fingers in you now, curling them just right, tongue still swirling your clit, his dark eyes flicking up to yours, focused and intense.
you moaned loud, legs shaking, hips twitching.
yuji groaned from beside him, visibly harder, eyes glued to the way you squirmed for megumi’s mouth. “you really didn’t have to go that hard, man…”
megumi finally looked at him, lips wet, smug.
“i did,” he said. “you were being a brat.”
yuji’s eye twitched. “oh yeah?”
then he dropped down beside him again, shoulder to shoulder, his own tongue licking right beneath megumi’s fingers, sliding over your entrance like he wanted to be involved again whether megumi liked it or not.
“i’m still hungry,” he grinned.
you gasped as both mouths worked together now—megumi on your clit, focused and devastating, yuji below, licking into your pussy like he was trying to drink you dry. their tongues brushed occasionally, but neither of them stopped. not even when they bumped into each other. not even when your thighs trembled hard enough to knock against their cheeks.
“f-fuck—too much—i’m gonna—!”
“good,” megumi murmured, fingers curling harder.
yuji just moaned into you, hands gripping your hips, greedy and wild and needy all over again.
and you came—loud, messy, full-body shudders as both of them kept eating like they weren’t done, like they couldn’t be done.
they still didn’t agree on sharing.
but on making you cum?
Shin is a painfully vanilla guy but tries his best to let you live out your kinky fantasies. You have a breakdown when you try to indulge his very normal one.
(Or: 3 times Shin humoured your kinks + 1 time you humoured his.)
11.5k words, sequel to situationship. nsft tags: fingering with the power glove, free use, somnophilia, domesticity kink + breeding kink. all sex is consensual (sometimes veers into cnc territory, shin relies on esp to obtain consent), none of it is rough or mean. toward the end of the fic, the narrative focuses on anxieties and/or desires about starting a family. chapter 203 spoilers. dividers by @/cafekitsune!
IMPORTANT: the reader is hypersexual due to off-screen sexual trauma, which is not explicitly described, but is discussed. there is also one non-graphic nightmare related to this trauma that turns into a horny dream about shin (lol). 20% of this fic is a psychosexually strange healing narrative, 80% of it is just silly porn.
Sometimes, Shin is glad that he can hear all your thoughts.
Mind you, it's not like he doesn't want to give you some privacy. God knows he's tried a million times to tune out your internal monologue the way he can normally do with other people, and god knows you’ve tried your hardest to imitate the cognitive trick that Nagumo does to keep his mind hidden away from Shin. The reality is, though, that your feelings always overpower any psychological barrier that the two of you attempt to create. Your thoughts are always too loud for him to ignore, usually because you're either too happy or too horny around him to keep them quiet. Apparently Shin has that effect on you.
But often he doesn't mind it. It’s sometimes even convenient. Helpful for all the stuff that you want to do in bed, for example.
Now, Shin’s known from Day 1 that you're kind of a freak. He’s seen enough of your psyche to understand the exact nature of your sexual fantasies, and on the day that you became an official couple, he went home and googled how you're supposed to have safe, sane, and consensual sex with a person who dreams of doing the exact opposite of that. Although Shin is himself a strictly vanilla guy, and the two of you were already having perfectly nasty vanilla sex that was satisfying you—he likes you a lot. He wants to treat you right, give you nice things. This includes everything from flowers to chocolates to exciting orgasms for the rest of your life, even if it means he’ll need to get a little freaky about it.
Shin’s since ended up learning a lot about BDSM, and he’s also ended up trying a lot of basic BDSM practices that don't really work on you. You are shockingly bad at enforcing your boundaries. You always get too horny to remember your safeword (Resident Evil—you chose it yourself), find it too much work to use nonverbal cues, and you dry up whenever he tries to use the traffic light system.
“It doesn't matter,” you once whined at him, “it’s not like I’d ever not wanna have sex! You can do whatever you want to me.” Which was an insane thing to say, and exactly why Shin feels like you should know how to use a safeword. But when he tried to explain this to you, you’d crawled into his lap and begged him to fuck you anyway. His dick got so hard that he could only say yes, though he first made you understand that it would be regular sex, not the stuckage roleplay you'd been asking him to try.
Regular sex. You're only supposed to be having regular sex.
There is no reason why you should be in tears right now, desperately trying to stop yourself from cumming on Shin’s fingers—and all over his power glove.
This is mostly your fault. Mostly. Ever since seeing Shin nearly kill someone using the thing, you've fantasised about him having it on in bed. Specifically, you’ve fantasised about him wearing it while his fingers are knuckle-deep in your dripping pussy. Shin wasn't ever planning on humouring those daydreams, but, well. He likes you a lot. He wants to give you nice things. If you want to have a mind-blowing orgasm while you're grinding your clit against the power glove, he'll let you—on the condition that you don't ruin it.
You've been having a lot of difficulty fulfilling this condition.
You're breathless, broken. Face tight from the effort of holding back your orgasm for so long. You’ve cum nearly twice now, and only didn't because Shin decided not to force it. Not yet, anyway. He admits he's being a little mean: every time he curls his fingers and rubs your sweet spot, he feels your cunt drip for him and he can’t help but do it more. The tears pearling up at the corners of your eyes and the way you're trying to squirm away from his hand would ordinarily make him stop—even make him worry—but then he hears you thinking, right there, right there, feels so good Shin you make me feel so good do that again, and then of course he has to comply.
“Shin,” you whimper, “I’ll cum if you don't stop that.”
You try to pull away again, hips jerking back from his touch, but your pussy is begging for him—tight and wet and greedy for more. His fingers are soaked, as is the black steel encasing his palm. Part of Shin feels like the glove has already been ruined; the rest of him is too horny to care. Completely unrepentant, his thumb rubs gentle circles into your clit, and he feels his cock throb at the noise you make.
“Shin,” you whine, “don't.”
He glances up at you. “You want me to stop using my fingers?”
No. You bite your lip. Pretend to look distressed. “I… I’ll make a mess if you don't.”
“I'll slow down,” he promises, and when he eases the pressure on your g-spot, your inner disappointment is so loud that he knows what he should do next.
When Shin lowers his face between your legs and pushes your thighs open with his free hand, you squeal.
“Shin!”
“What? I’m not using my fingers. Should be fine, right?” He doesn't need to wait for a response—he already knows what you're thinking—so he leans down and puts his mouth on you the way he's been wanting the whole night.
You whine when you feel his tongue on your clit. Clench immediately around his fingers—more Shin please I want more please touch me the way I like, you know where—so he curls them again, and the way you cry makes him want nothing more than to get on top of you and fuck you properly.
But that's not how you want to cum. You don't want to cum on his cock; you want to finish on his fingers, soak the sheets, and probably ruin Natsuki’s day with a repair call. So Shin closes his eyes and starts sucking at your clit, and he’s relentless about it—even though you try to push him away, even though you start keening and telling him to slow down, even when you’re panting hard and pleading with him to give you a break. “Shin,” you say, voice breaking, “Shin, no, I can't, please, I'll—I’ll cum, you gotta stop, no no no, I can't, I can't—”
You sob. Fully cry as your back arches, and Shin groans as you gush all over his fingers. Can’t help but watch as you fall apart for him, the way you’ve been wanting the whole time. He admits that it was hot seeing you cum despite the fact that you were begging not to, knowing that he was the one to make you lose control. Still, Shin is a vanilla guy; as soon as you've calmed down, he's wiping away your tears and studying you carefully.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Was that alright? I was reading your mind the whole time and did whatever you were saying to me, but I was still a little worried that—”
You throw your arms around him and shut him up with a kiss.
Once Shin gives up on the use of safewords and starts relying on his clairvoyance, the free use thing also becomes a lot easier.
Now, it isn't like you aren't beaming into Shin’s mind—whether at the store, in your home, or even on the train—that you want him to fuck you at all times. It isn't like he's happily obliging whenever he's over at your place, as many times as his dick will allow. But he likes to ask first, and he likes to hear you say yes first. Unfortunately, you have the specific fantasy that Shin doesn't care what you want—you just want him to manhandle you and pull you onto his cock whenever he feels like it. Also, it's apparently very important that he takes you by surprise, and that he keeps going even if you complain about it?
Shin truly doesn't get it. He's not opposed to having frequent sex. He likes you a lot, wants to give you nice things. You want his cock inside you at all hours of the day? Sure, he’ll give it to you. But why do you want him to be so rude about it? Whatever happened to saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’?!
So anyway, he does it.
It’s hard catching you by surprise. His ESP tells him that you do want—and now expect—to be fucked nearly every moment of every day. You want it in the morning, when you wake up in bed and heat starts curling in your belly at the sight of him next to you. You want it when you're in the kitchen, trying to focus on making dinner while you squeeze your thighs together and try to relieve some of the heat between your legs. You want it as you clean the windows, your panties soaked and thighs messy with slick, thinking of the way Shin fucked you against the glass just the day before.
Want you inside me, Shin, you think nearly all the time. Want you to use me. Please?
This is how you find yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, all the dishes in the sink forgotten as your pussy squeezes around his dick. How you find yourself warming his cock as the two of you watch TV, your focus on the screen wavering as his fingers circle your bud. How he ends up interrupting you when you’re trying to read, pulling down your top so he can squeeze your breasts and tease your nipples through your bra. Stress relief, he calls it, which is true. There are fewer things that take his mind off his ex-assassin troubles than playing with your tits as you squirm on his lap, listening to you squeal and whine as you try to read. Sometimes he can get you to cum that way, too—just by licking and pinching your nipples and letting you grind yourself on his thigh.
It takes him a long time to actually get you off-guard, though.
He finally manages it when he comes home after a late shift in the store, wound up from nearly (but not actually!) killing two hitmen. It wasn't the violence that had bothered him, really; it was the fact that those pricks had knocked over an entire shelf in the store in the process of attempting murder. Couldn't they have attacked Mr. Sakamoto outside?! It took fucking forever to clean up and restock all those cooking wines and soy sauces. Assholes.
To his significant shame, Shin spent his entire commute afterward thinking of coming home and seeing you. Not to kiss you and cuddle with you, which was the sort of thing he wanted to do at the start of the relationship—but to pull you onto his lap and hear the cute noises you make whenever he plays with your body. Apparently that's now his stress response after several weeks of your free use policy, which makes him want to die a little bit. But as this been your explicit goal, he also decides not to fault himself for it too much.
By the time he's stepping into your apartment, he's already hard and thinking about which positions he’ll fuck you in.
In a miraculous twist of fate, Shin catches you while you're folding laundry and thinking about the news, rather than the way his dick felt inside you last night. He knows then that this is his moment: the stars have aligned, and he can finally fulfill your favourite fantasy.
“Shin,” you say, face lighting up. “Welcome home! I didn't hear you come in.”
When he kisses you, you beam at him in a way that's so pretty and innocent that it makes his cock twitch and has him feeling bad about what he's about to do. The two of you could have a wholesome night in for once. You're in the mood for it. He can tell from the way you’re chattering at him about your day off with Lu, and how you’re thinking about maybe doing a trip to Hakone with him because of a travel ad you saw on the subway. I've only ever been once on a mission… it would be nice to go as a couple next time. I wanna go to a ryokan with Shin…
Shin would definitely enjoy a couple’s trip with you. Not just to Hakone, but everywhere else in the world too. Maybe it can be an annual thing, something to do for anniversaries. (Though it's not like he’s thought of destinations for your next five anniversaries or anything. Nope. Not at all.)
Ordinarily he'd start trip planning with you on the spot, but this is an unprecedented opportunity, and his dick is throbbing from the sweet way you keep looking at him. You're in the middle of talking about plans for the rest of the evening, still folding laundry, when Shin's hands slip beneath the hem of your t-shirt.
He feels like a creep doing it. It's rude, right? It's so rude. You were thinking just now about making some popcorn and cuddling up to him and watching John Wick tonight. You weren't expecting to feel his palms sliding up your sides and cupping your breasts. Or for him to start kneading them.
But after a moment of shock, Shin hears a mental cheer from you that’s so loud that it nearly has him laughing.
Of course, you don't voice your enthusiasm. “Shin,” you whine instead, squirming as his fingers start circling your nipples, “I'm—ah—trying to get these chores done.”
“I’m sure they can wait,” he says, pulling you backwards. His cock presses against your ass and your thrill is palpable in his neurons. “This’ll be quick. I promise.”
You don't give in immediately. You chide him a little, then make a half-hearted attempt at continuing at your task. Your hands shake as you pick a shirt out of the basket and start folding it, all while you're being groped and teased and rutted against like a toy. You’re opening a drawer when Shin’s hand wanders between your thighs and he runs his fingers along your shorts. They're thin enough for you to feel his touch through the fabric, and you shudder when he starts rubbing your pussy through them—with a precision that has you melting, because he can hear it when you think about how good it feels when he touches your clit like that, especially while he's ignoring your complaints about it. Who knew you had it in you, Shin? you giggle internally. (Definitely not him, he wants to reply.)
He slides a hand into your shorts, and that's when you drop the laundry and give up.
Shin finds himself fucking you for the better part of the night, first from behind, then from beneath you. The sight of you bouncing on his cock drives him so crazy that he has you pinned underneath him not too long later, moaning and drooling as he drives you into the mattress. He only stops when you start thinking that you're starting to feel too sore. (You can keep going anyway, Shin, you tell him, but he knows he wouldn't be able: it kills his boner whenever you're in any kind of pain.)
But even if you’re a bit uncomfortable, you're practically glowing by the time he's finished.
“That was so fun,” you say as you kiss him. “You should do that more often.”
Shin snorts. “I don't think we can have sex any more than we already do without my dick falling off.” He gives you a curious look, suddenly worried. “Is this really not enough for you, though? ‘cause I can do other things if you want. Use my mouth, or toys, or whatever…”
You seem confused. “Well, it's not really about how many rounds we go…”
He blinks. “It's not?”
“No.”
“Then what is it about?”
You tilt your head. “Haven’t I said it? I mean, I've definitely thought it. It’s about being treated like a ho—”
“I know,” Shin interrupts, deadpan, and you giggle. But then he's studying you intensely; if he wants to give you exciting orgasms for the rest of your life, he'll need to understand what makes you tick.
“What’s the appeal of, uh… being treated that way? If it's not just about how many times we do it in a day?”
Shin encounters one of the major limitations of ESP: if you can't form a coherent thought, then Shin can’t read it. He can only see the knot in your brow, feel the discombobulation in your mind as you try to make out the exact shape of your desire. See it in your face when you can't.
“Who knows,” you finally say. “It's just hotter the way we did it just now, I guess? Like, it's a whole genre of porn. Tons of people like it.”
He frowns. Shin truly doesn't get it, and he wishes he did. But he doesn't need to understand your fantasies to humour you, as long as it makes you happy.
Though... there is one free use scenario he can't deliver.
No matter how many times he’s tried and how many times you've begged him, Shin can't bring himself to have sex with you in your sleep.
He feels a bit bad about it, honestly, because you clearly really want it. You've pleaded with him to try it out for the past twenty nights in a row, slept in exceptionally revealing lingerie just to tempt him, and have recently begun a diabolical routine of teasing him every night. You make out with him, rub yourself on him like a cat in heat, and grind your core on his aching cock through your tiny little panties—all before rolling over in bed and knocking out.
But despite your new habit leaving him with the worst case of blue balls in the world, Shin just can't bring himself to touch you in your sleep.
He doesn't get how it's supposed to work in the first place. It's a kink you probably picked up from all the fanfiction and doujinshi that's rotted your brain, and it doesn't make sense at all when applied to real life. A trained assassin is the worst person to try somnophilia with: “You're a light sleeper and your first instinct is to kill anyone who startles you,” he’d pointed out once. “How am I even supposed to touch you in your sleep without you waking up and accidentally stabbing me?”
In response, you started to take benadryl and melatonin before going to bed, and you promised that you would absolutely, 100% not stab him if you woke up in spite of that. (Okay, it might be more like 90%, but Shin can just use his ESP to see the future and dodge, right?) This flabbergasted him, but also didn't really surprise him.
It also didn’t really help.
The heart of the problem is that somnophilia is truly just too freaky for Shin. Despite everything he's tried with you, nothing really hits like vanilla sex. Even when he's enjoying the more adventurous stuff, he can only do so if he knows without a doubt that you're fully into it, and that's just kind of impossible if you're asleep when he's doing it. What if you wake up and realise that you didn't want any dick that night, actually? What if you wake up and you feel complicated, empty—not as good as you thought you would?
“But I’m always going to want it,” you insist, “and I'll like whatever you do with my body! You don't have to worry about all that.” Which is, again, an absolutely insane thing to say—but Shin doesn't know how to explain that to you. Your mind buzzes with frustration and something that feels a little like heartache whenever he tries, a knot in your chest that you don't really understand yourself, and it makes him feel so bad that all he can do is kiss you until your sadness ebbs away.
So Shin keeps his hands to himself, even when you're having the horniest dreams he's ever seen.
He doesn't mean to peer in on them. It's just impossible not to when you're next to each other in bed and your subconscious is making you think and feel crazy things. The sad dreams are probably the loudest ones, but the wet dreams are a close second. And this current dream is both very wet and very loud. Whenever Shin closes his eyes, he sees it clearly: some faceless man is on top of you, inside you. With each thrust of his hips, you shift in your sleep—thighs pressed together, hips twitching. Hot breaths, little whimpers. Your body is begging to be filled.
Shin doesn't take it personally that you're dreaming of some random guy instead of him. It's part of a particular kind of free use fantasy for you—the idea of anonymous men using you impersonally, like some kind of gloryhole. You used to think of it so much in your waking hours that it's lost all shock value to him. It doesn't turn him on, either—it's just not his thing.
So he lies down next to you and prepares to fall asleep to some pretty mundane gangbang visions. He's nearly drifted off when something happens that makes his eyes open wide—
You start to feel uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable, uncertain. You've just realised that you can't recognise the face of the man on top of you, that you aren't sure if it's Shin. You’re squirming, wanting to get away, because I don't want anyone other than Shin to touch me, I don't want anyone other than him to use my body, I don't want anyone other than him inside it. A sense of panic grips you, and now the whimpers you're letting out don't sound needy anymore.
You sound afraid.
Shin is on you immediately. A hand on your cheek, his voice soft so as not to scare you. “Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. I'm right here. Wake up for me, okay? C'mon.”
He shakes you gently, and then not so gently, and now he's wondering what ungodly cocktail of sleep meds you took to stay unconscious like this. But even if you aren't awake, you can still hear him, his voice cutting through the fog of your sedative-fueled dream—and that's enough to comfort you. You can make out his features now, which are so handsome that you can't help but calm down.
Oh, your dream self says, it is you. Hi, Shin.
Shin sighs. “Hi,” he says, voice full of relief. “Yeah, it's me.”
The little smile you give him is so tender that his heart lurches. I'm so glad, you sigh. I don't want anyone else to do this to me.
This dream version of you is chatty. Infinitely chattier than your real self. I wouldn't have minded some other guy on top of me in the past, you know? you tell him as he undresses you. As long as I came, I didn't really mind whoever was inside me. It's not like I got to choose anyway. I was using my body for missions, so I only slept with whoever I got assigned. Cumming was a nice bonus though.
The Shin in your dream kisses a path from your jaw to your neck to your breasts, ignoring you. (The real Shin would never do this—he would probably start crying if you ever talked about any of this stuff out loud to him, actually.) He doesn't reply as you keep babbling about what sex used to be like for you, about all the stuff that Shin’s seen in your sadder dreams. Not that you think they're sad; you don't know that you sometimes cry in your sleep. You don't think it's too strange that the kind of sex you had for missions sometimes made you pretend that you weren't in your own body, that the kind of things being done to it weren't also being done to your heart. As long as your body had an orgasm, then you were probably enjoying it—that only makes sense, right?
But then you started sleeping with Shin, and sex always feels so different now. Shin doesn't just make you cum; he makes you feel like you're melting. Like you don't want to be anywhere in the world except in his arms where he can hold you and kiss you and hopefully fuck you a second time.
I never liked going multiple rounds with other people the way I do with you, you observe. I kinda feel like I maybe didn't like having sex at all. But you like it if it's Shin. All the things you hated doing with other people—being held, being kissed, being used—you always enjoy doing them with Shin. You’re actually pretty sure that you were doing them all wrong before you met him, and it's nice that your body feels right whenever he touches you now.
That's what you like most about when he fucks you, actually. You can always trust Shin to make your body feel right.
That's when it clicks for him: the shape of your desire, the reason your heart twinges when Shin starts talking about safewords and boundaries and how he can't just do whatever he wants with you. It makes him feel an ache in his own chest, and he finds himself leaning down to kiss your forehead, and then—after a long, thoughtful pause—the silky contour of your mouth.
The Shin in your dreams moves in lock-step with him. Kind of. He kisses you as well, his hands wandering all over your body. But then he gets wildly out of character. Shin goes bright red when he hears the porn dialogue he's been assigned. He wants to wake you up so he can tell you that he wouldn't ever call you his cum dump (what the hell), but it's making you wet that you're being treated like one—and to his utter shame, Shin’s dick is starting to twitch too. Something about you squirming underneath him, desperate and vulnerable for him even when asleep, is making his brain short-circuit.
When you start begging him to touch you—please, Shin, I was so scared I need to feel you now, need you inside me right now, want you to use my pussy, only you and no one else—Shin feels something inside himself snap.
And he touches you.
He starts with your breasts, because that seems least likely to disturb your sleep, and god knows he doesn't want you to wake up and witness him doing something so deranged. But your eyes stay closed even though you feel his touch in your dreams, your nipples pebbling as he teases and pinches them. Your brow dips and you whine, and you only get louder when his tongue starts swirling around a nipple—but you stay fully asleep.
When he reaches down, he's unsurprised to find your panties soaked through. Not just from your juices, but also from all the cum he left inside you earlier in the day. He strokes you through the ruined satin, a thumb rubbing your swollen clit, and he’s startled to feel you get even slicker. His dream self wonders at how sensitive you are, how needy your pussy is, and Shin cringes at hearing himself saying all that—but he also agrees. You always make a point of using toys to keep yourself stretched out for him if he's not around to do it himself, and your body is at this point practically trained to expect his touch—but even then, it's shocking how ready you are to take him even when unconscious.
When he pushes your panties to the side, he sees your hole is fluttering around nothing—both here and inside your dream. The sight makes him lose any shred of self-restraint, and he frees his dick from his sweats and starts fisting himself until his length is slick with his own pre-cum. Your subconscious can't quite recreate the feeling of taking his cock, leaving you panting and unsatisfied, and he fully intends to fix that.
He lines himself up with your slick folds—and he pushes into you.
Shin can hardly believe that you're still sleeping right now, all while your pussy helplessly swallows his cock. He'd feel bad if he didn't know how blissed out you were, your subconscious flooding with euphoria, your body overfilled with pleasure. He's being pretty rough with you in your dreams, but he's careful with you in reality, the way he's always told you he'd be.
Plus, he really doesn't want you to wake up.
But despite his best efforts, your eyes open. You're groggy, confused, not understanding what's happening and how come your breasts are exposed or why is there a cock inside you—and then your eyes are going wide as your pussy starts pulsing around him, and you're gasping and crying as you feel yourself soaking everything.
By the time you figure out what's going on, Shin’s come back to his senses. He blurts an apology on instinct, launches into a garbled explanation of why he was fucking you—but you just give him a dazed smile, a sweet little kiss, and then you turn over to spread your dripping pussy for him.
“Keep going, Shin,” you say, voice drowsy but no less clear. “You're still hard, right? Use my body until you feel better. Promise I'll like it.”
Shin sucks in a breath, feels the last threads of his sanity snapping. He's a vanilla guy, after all. Nothing hits like hearing you ask to be fucked out loud—except for maybe the sight of his cum dripping out of your swollen, needy pussy, your cunt fluttering around nothing and clearly wanting his cock back inside it. The combination is driving him wild.
You don't end up getting any more sleep after that.
The two of you do a lot after that. Way more than Shin ever thought he would in bed, including the most embarrassing roleplays in the world. There was the stuckage roleplay, the sex worker roleplay, the school classroom roleplay, the french maid roleplay, and—perhaps the worst of them all—the chikan roleplay.
(Yes—the two of you tried the free use thing in public, with Shin feeling you up during a commute home as you squirmed and pretended to ignore it. He'd tried to be subtle, telling himself he would stop if anyone noticed what you were doing, but you kept thinking that you really wanted him to keep going, so of course he had to oblige. Shin now can't take the Yamanote line without wanting to die from shame, nor without thinking about you instantly cumming on his fingers when he told you that you were being watched.)
But despite all those insane sex acts, nothing scares him as much as when you ask about his kinks.
“I don't have any specific fantasies,” he says quickly. “I'm a vanilla guy. You know that.”
“Uh huh. Sure. I also know that you're lying.”
He tries not to sweat.
“It’s okay, Shin,” you say delicately. “You don't need to be embarrassed. Breeding kinks are very common and respectable. It's the most normal thing out there, if you think about it. Humans need to procreate somehow, don't they?”
Shin can't form a response. He’s too busy visualising potential escape routes from this room, of which there are none because you are much faster than him and could easily intercept him if he bolted. When he accepts his fate, he forces himself to look at you and finds himself being stared at. Studied.
“So,” you say.
“S-so?”
“Tell me what flavour of breeding kink you like.”
His face burns. “What do you mean, flavour?”
“Like the kind of scenario where the breeding is happening. Like omegaverse, or hybrids, or those stories where someone's chained up and forcibly bred. You know.”
Shin realises then that he absolutely cannot tell you the fantasy that has him furiously jacking off when you aren’t around. He just knows you wouldn't understand it, and possibly you'd also read too much into it. Maybe you'd even freak out and break up with him. He’ll need to keep this a secret and carry it to the grave—or at least for another five years, after which it might make more sense to bring up as a serious conversation.
But you're very, very persistent about asking, and around five weeks later, he caves and tells you everything.
“Pleeease, Shin,” you beg for the millionth time, batting your lashes and giving him wide, pretty eyes you know he can't resist. “Whatever it is, I promise I won't judge. Like—I’m the last person who can make fun of anyone for their kinks. You know the kind of shit I read.”
Shin does indeed know the kind of shit you read—he’s also read it all, secondhand through your thoughts—and he does indeed know that you are in no position to judge anyone else for their preferences. But judgment isn't what he's worried about. It would be easier if it were. If his breeding kink had anything to do with omegaverse or hybrids or the weird dubcon stuff you described, it would be far less incriminating. But given the truth, he coughs and tries to crack a joke—“I dunno, it might be too freaky even for you”—and you give him a look so disappointed that he nearly flinches.
“H-hey—what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I just wish you trusted me. “I’m fine, I promise.” I trust you with my thoughts. How come you can't trust me with yours? “Don't pay attention to whatever you can hear from my mind, by the way. It's not anything you should worry about.” I don't want you to feel guilty.
The two of you have a strict rule, given your lack of mental boundaries: when Shin overhears something that you don't want to discuss, he's supposed to pretend it never happened. Usually he obliges, but this is just impossible to ignore. You have a point: you are willing to be vulnerable around him 24/7. There are no psychological barriers between the two of you. Each moment you choose to be with Shin, you also choose to forfeit all privacy for your heart—an act that confuses Shin as much as it moves him. Because everyone dislikes his uninhibited access to their minds. Everyone has something to hide. Everyone should be at least a little bit afraid of him—you, most of all.
The one time Shin voiced all this, you gave him a funny look and thought, I don't understand what you mean.
Because you don't mind that Shin can hear all your thoughts. You don't mind him knowing your insides, feeling out all the places that make you feel nauseous and bruised and dirtied. You don't mind that he's seen things about you that make you feel disgusted with yourself, things that make you feel like your body is undeserving of love—because you know he won't judge you for any of it. Because Shin is a good person, he’s good to me and he's good to my body, better than anyone else has ever been and will ever be. That must be why I have such mind-blowing orgasms when I sleep with him.
I didn't know how good sex could feel until I met you, Shin. Did you know that?
Shin did know that. He had actually figured all that out some time ago from seeing your dreams, which is only making him feel worse. His access to your thoughts is so unlimited that he understands your desires better than you do yourself. It's only fair that you should also understand some of his, right?
Besides, it's just a kink. A harmless kink. You won't think too hard about it, right?
Right?
He clears his throat.
“I…”
You glance at him, curious.
“I'm kinda into… like, a domestic kind of scenario… with the whole, uh…”
He can't bring myself to say it, so you do it for him: “The breeding thing? Like, you’re into the idea of breeding me in a domestic roleplay?”
Shin is going to die. But he perseveres, because it's you, and you deserve this bare minimum from him: “Yeah… like. You're a housewife, and we… y'know.”
You give him a blank stare, which then gives way to understanding. “Oh! I know what you mean.”
“D-do you?”
“Yeah! Like those doujinshi where there's a lonely housewife and the neighbour cucks her husband by sleeping with her, right? Or her daughter’s boyfriend sleeps with her. Or the husband’s father.” You hum, studying him, somehow not reacting to the way his jaw just dropped. Just what the hell have you been reading when he isn't around? “Or is it one of those wedding NTR scenarios?”
“What? No!” Shin really is going to die. But he comes clean, because he won't be able to live with himself if he gets roped into a roleplay about any of those situations: “I just mean, like. We’re a married couple, and we’re trying for a baby.”
You stare, and he hears the open confusion in your mind. Apparently you can't fathom why anyone would find a life of domestic bliss sexy if it's not about to involve some form of cucking. But you keep your word and don't judge him: “Oh. Well, that'll be easy enough to do.”
Shin blinks. “You mean… you’ll do it?”
“Of course I'll do it,” you say, warm and reassuring. “I wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel, Shin.”
Something in him melts at the words, especially because he can hear that you're saying them with your whole heart. Every response he can think of is lacking, and he's at a painful loss for a reply. But then you cheerfully add, “And anyway, you fingerbanged me on the Yamanote line. This is the least I can do in return,” and Shin goes back to wanting to disintegrate.
Despite Shin’s insistence that his fantasy has nothing to do with the R18 cucking doujinshi that you read, you seem dead set on taking inspiration from them. For the next week, he's subjected to some of the worst imagery he's ever encountered as you “perform research” for the scenario you're planning for him—which is to say, he reads a great deal of ecchi manga through your thoughts. Their contents make him incredibly afraid of whatever you'll come up with, but he's also oddly touched at how committed you are to the whole thing, so he can't help but leave you to your machinations.
And to be fair to you, you do your due diligence by asking him additionally what he wants.
“What’s your idea of domestic bliss?” you say one afternoon, when the shop is slow and sleepy and Lu is mercifully absent. “Like, what do you imagine a happy household looks like?”
Shin knows the answer immediately: Mr. Sakamoto with Ms. Aoi and Hana. Eating a home-cooked meal around a table with them and Lu. Waking up each morning to the scent of miso soup and the noise of a laughing child. Hana running into the store as she returns home from school, carefree and loved. Watching you teach her how to fold origami cranes so you can make some to hang from her ceiling. Seeing you beam when she says, Thank you, neesan.
Being embraced by you when he comes back to the store after almost dying. Feeling you wipe the blood off his knuckles before kissing them. Hearing you say, Welcome home, I missed you, let’s eat dinner. Cooking for you with his hands that he once used only for killing.
That's family to Shin. All of you, in the store, together.
Now, Shin will absolutely die if you use such sacred memories as a reference for this roleplay, so he doesn't voice any of this. Problem is—he doesn't have any other reference point for what a family should be. He grew up in a lab, and then afterwards he watched his father explode on a ship. You can't exactly fill in the gaps for him either, given how you were raised, and he constantly listens to the buzz of your disappointment at having no real material to work with for this roleplay.
“I dunno,” Shin eventually says. “Maybe, like, I come home and you’re in the kitchen? And I help you make dinner? And we eat together and go to bed together. I feel like that's what a married couple does.”
You hum. “Yes, that sounds right. And I'm wearing an apron, right? With a conservative outfit that's still tight enough to be kind of sexy?”
“Uh…”
“And I'm super lonely because you've been neglecting me because of work and we haven't had sex in two years?”
Shin is baffled. You can't even go two hours without asking him to have sex—two years is unfathomable. “Uh…”
“And the neighbour has made several passes at the lonely housewife next door, but I turn him down because I only want my husband’s cock inside me, right?”
Shamefully, Shin’s dick twitches at this last suggestion. Still, he says, “Er, no, I’d really just like you to act as you normally do. I don't need a re-enactment of The Neighbourhood Housewife series.”
“Aw, okay… And you're really sure you don't want me to wear an apron?”
Shin overhears a thought, and he almost snorts. “You're free to wear one if you want.”
“I just feel like aprons do a lot for me.” You give Shin—and his shop apron—a meaningful look. “Don't you?”
Shin tries not to flush. A little afraid that you'll next suggest that he wears an apron and plays a lonely househusband, he hastily says, “Good point. I think you should wear one.”
When Shin gets home that Friday, he discovers that aprons do a lot for him too.
This revelation is shocking for him, given all the housewife-centric porn that he's been forced to read secondhand. He's seen probably half a dozen women in nothing but aprons and hardly reacted to any of them, but the sight of you in a sky blue apron, humming as you chop away at some carrots, is doing something horrible to him.
The setup is getting to him too. There are couple photos placed throughout your apartment (among them is his personal favourite, taken among the cherry blossoms at Himeji Castle), as well as a fake wedding band on your finger (he’d picked out one with you at your insistence, and Shin thought it was funny at the time but now his ears are going pink at the sight of it). The air is rich with the fragrance of cooking rice and simmering curry. New curtains, a vase of flowers on the table, unfamiliar decor and some of his personal effects are placed throughout the living room—all to create the illusion of just having moved in together.
The scene isn't making him feel horny, exactly. It's more like it's making him feel warm.
It’d be nice if the two of you could live together like this, he thinks. If Shin could really come home to this everyday, and if you could really greet him with a kiss and smile, and if you could cook together and spend time together and fuck nasty together, if you could take your husband’s cock every day and get filled up with his—
Oh. Those are your thoughts. Not Shin’s.
He clears his throat, and he half-expects you to crack a joke about your dirty monologuing, but instead you put down your knife and come by to kiss him on the cheek. “Welcome home, dear,” you say warmly, and Shin’s heart jumps at the pet name. You smile as his cheeks flush: My husband is so handsome, you think, and Shin feels like he's about to explode.
Somehow, this is harder for him than fingerbanging you on the Yamanote line. That was mortifying, but this roleplay is quickly revealing things about his psyche that frankly distress him. Still, he plays his part, and tries to get into the appropriate mindset. You're his wife right now—his beautiful, pretty, gorgeous wife who he lucked out with and somehow married and now he’s has a home with you, and he's going to start a family with you, and he hopes the baby will have your smile and eyes and hair, and he's going to take so many photos of the two of you, and holy shit he's so glad you don't have ESP.
Anyway, he comes up with an underwhelming response: “H-hi. How was your day?”
“Good,” you say. “Was nice to get a break from work. Missed you the whole time though. You kept me waiting too long.” Wanted to feel you inside me all day, you whine at him mentally, and Shin doesn't know how actual married couples go about their daily lives. If you were really his wife and he heard you thinking like that, he'd probably never leave the house.
(Roleplay, he reminds himself immediately after. This is a roleplay. He shouldn't think about actually marrying you. That would be a dangerous route to go down, and he definitely hasn't thought about it before. Nor dreamt about it. No, sir.)
“I'll make it up to you,” he promises.
“You'd better.” You point at the curry that's simmering on the stove. “You can start by helping me with dinner.”
The way the rest of the night is similar to a regular evening together. The two of you cook together, eat together, and clean together. The only difference is that instead of hearing you monologue in your head about how much you want your boyfriend to fuck you, Shin is instead subjected to fantasies about your life as newlyweds. You beam a false memory of your wedding night directly into his head, and the mental image of Shin fucking you in your wedding dress has him so bricked up that he nearly breaks several glasses.
By the time you've both showered and gone to bed, Shin has been tortured for hours with detailed fantasies about your married sex life. (They involve various sets of bridal lingerie, an amorous honeymoon in Thailand, and sex on every surface in the apartment. All unprotected, of course, and accompanied by tender kissing each time.) Somehow, you don't break immersion even once. Even when Shin joins you in bed, you're thinking about how lucky you are to have him as your husband.
Shin doesn't think he's ever been so hard in his life.
You giggle when you’re straddling his lap, feeling it for yourself through your silk slip. “Someone’s excited.”
“‘Course I am,” he says between kisses. “How couldn't I be?”
How couldn't he be, if you were his wife?
(Roleplay, he reminds himself again. Roleplay. This is a roleplay! It's not good to think in marital hypotheticals. It's stupid, really. But he's doing it anyway and holy shit is it making him horny.)
He reaches under your slip, isn't surprised to find your cunt bare and dripping for him. Stretched myself out for you while I was at home today, you think as you move your lips against his, hot and messy and addictive. Used a toy, but it just wasn't the same as my husband’s cock.
He groans against your mouth as he reads your memories of your day: not a fabrication like the hazy visions of your false wedding and honeymoon, but detailed and heated and real. How you really did feel the frustration of a lonely and neglected housewife and couldn't help but take your favourite vibrator and spread yourself out on your shared bed. How you split yourself open on it and moaned his name as it stretched you out. How you gushed as you came, and how it still didn't feel as good as Shin’s touch because you didn't get to kiss him and feel his arms around you at the end.
He feels crazy when he lays you out beneath him. Insane when he studies your gaze, honeyed with lust, and your pussy, pretty and glistening for him. You give him a smile that's shy—genuinely shy, he can tell from your thoughts, because you've done a million freaky things but you've never acted out anything so tender before. Never played house like this, never imagined a cozy and warm life where you get to have a family.
He's never really thought of it before, either. He never had a cozy and warm life growing up, and he didn't really think he could ever change enough that he could have one. Never thought he could have a family, and maybe this is just a roleplay, but it's the first time he's really envisioning himself starting one.
“Are you gonna put a baby in me, Shin?” you ask shyly, and he nearly cums in his pants.
Shin generally likes to take his time with you in bed. Even if he can hear you mentally whining for his cock, he ordinarily likes to tease you with his tongue and fingers first. But he's desperate to be inside you today, and he can tell that you aren't upset by how quickly he frees his cock and presses it against your entrance. He can feel himself throbbing as he slides between your folds, his cock twitching at the slick and sticky noises from your cunt.
“So eager,” you tease. You break immersion just to taunt him, bedroom eyes turning sly: Wow, you really do get off to this stuff. Never would have pinned you for the type to enjoy breeding someone like this—
“Wife,” he corrects you without thinking, and you blink.
“Huh?”
“You’re not ‘someone’, you're my wife,” he says, fully talking with his dick, “I wouldn't marry anyone other than you, and I wouldn't put a baby in anyone other than you.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed. Shin is vaguely aware of your heart pounding as he lines his cock up with your entrance, your pussy fluttering even as your mind scrambles for words. “O-oh, really? I mean, I guess that is what the scenario-ohhh—aah…”
Your mind goes blank as Shin pushes into you, and Shin’s finding it equally hard to think. He can never get used to how you feel around him—tight and hot and perfect—and it’s even more overwhelming this time thinking that he'll get you pregnant. The thought has him feeling so insane, he can't help but start fucking you immediately.
You gasp when he starts thrusting, driving his cock into you at an angle that has you curling your toes. Pleasure bursts in your mind as he hits your sweet spot, your pussy squeezing around him each time. He's touched you so many times, fucked you into oblivion so many ways, committed every inch of your body and mind to muscle memory—it’s easy for him to take you apart, force you toward a quick finish.
Your hole starts dripping uncontrollably, and your belly tightens in a way that short-circuits your thoughts. Shin reaches between your bodies before you can fully comprehend it, rubbing your clit until you’re whimpering.
Sometimes your mind sounds very needy when you’re about to climax—more more more, right there, right there, don't stop, don't stop—and sometimes you sound pretty depraved—that’s right, Shin, fill me up, wanna be your cum dump—and sometimes you sound very tender—please kiss me, please hold me, please be as close to me as you can—but right now, you just sound shocked.
A-already? you think, dazed, and before your brain can catch up with what he's doing, Shin presses down on your belly and grinds his cock against your g-spot and suddenly you're tearing up as you gush all over him.
It's so hard not to cum with you. Shin nearly has to resort to using ESP on himself to keep it from happening. But he fucks you through your orgasm without pause, and he doesn't really slow down until you're a hazy, fucked out mess. Every inch of your body is so wrung out from pleasure that Shin can't hear a single, coherent thought—just a mindless rush of dopamine—which means you're probably relaxed enough to take his cock just the way he wants.
He brushes his lips against yours, sweet and easy, before he says, “Let me know if this is too much.”
“Hmm?” Not ready to form real words yet, you think, What are you up to, Shin? and You can do whatever you want with my body, you know that now.
Shin answers by throwing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal when he practically folds you in half, grabbing at the sheets when he starts to move again. Your pussy tightens around him as he pumps his cock into you, your body eager for more even though you just came. Deep, you think, gasping, it's so deep—
Shin feels it when he hits your cervix, and he hears you thinking it too. You keen when he does it again, moaning at the feeling. Feels good, Shin, you reassure him, your fingers reaching for your clit. Keep going. It's all he needs to hear before he starts pounding into you again.
He feels like an animal when he fucks you like this. Can't think about anything other than how deep he is inside you and how completely he's going to fill you up, how you're going to be walking around with his cum inside you for days. You’re thinking about it too—please, Shin, want your cum in me, want it in my womb, want you to breed me, please, please, wanna give you a baby—
Shin groans, his hips stuttering to a halt as his cock starts twitching, and soon he's pumping thick ropes of cum into you. You follow not long after, you pussy milking his cock as you gush all over him. He lets it, too—stays inside you the whole time and makes sure that you take it all, the two of you kissing each other hungrily. Only pulls out once you're both spent, and you whine at the emptiness afterwards.
Your hole is stuffed so full that his cum drips out of you almost immediately; you make a small noise as you feel it soaking the sheets. Somewhat predictably, you reach in between your legs, spreading yourself to give him a show.
“You came so much,” you say. “I can’t keep it all inside me.” As if you even tried.
Shin is used to your cumshot displays, but he feels his throat go dry at the sight anyway. “Um…” He licks his lips, and he’s momentarily torn between cleaning you up with his mouth and pushing it all back inside you. “Aren’t there, um. Positions you're supposed to stay in after? To help. With keeping it in. To get pregnant, I mean.” At least Shin remembers this fact from one of the many breeding fics you read over the past week.
“Are there? Oops.” You give him a guilty look. “I didn't know that. I guess we're gonna have to do that all over again.”
Shin snorts. Figures. “I'm gonna need a few minutes,” he says. Then he lies down, pulls you with him. “I wanna hold you first anyway.”
You make a happy noise as you're wrapped up in his arms, his chest pressed against your back as he curls around you. Apparently still committed to your role, you grab your phone as you snuggle up to him and look up post-coital positions for couples trying to get pregnant. Shin watches you type on your screen, idly touching you all the while—his lips kissing your shoulder, his fingers running along the arc of your hip. “Oh, huh, you're right. I'm supposed to lie down and keep my lower body elevated…”
“Elevated?”
“Yeah, people put a pillow underneath their hips sometimes… or sometimes they put their legs up.”
He makes a face as he tries to imagine it. “Sounds uncomfortable. I feel like the pillow thing should be enough… not that I think it's gonna make a difference with how often you like to have sex, anyway.”
You laugh. “Kind of a wonder I'm not pregnant already, huh?” Then you give him a look that's supposed to be shy, but is a touch too playful to be convincing. “But hopefully I will be after this.”
Heat crawls up his neck as he listens to your thoughts. You're not even imagining anything especially filthy—just thinking about what it'll feel like to carry his child. Shin recognises some of your monologuing from a fanfiction you read two days ago, a lot of which is sort of sensual. But it's really the original, non-sexual bits that are doing a lot for him. Stuff like how you'll probably have really bad morning sickness, but you know Shin will be there to rub your back as you throw up. Or how you're worried about whatever weird cravings you’re going to get, but you know Shin will buy whatever snacks you want. Or how uncomfortable you'll be when your stomach gets huge and the baby starts kicking, but I bet Shin will be excited to feel that, though.
There's a long, heavy pause before you think, You're gonna be such a good dad, Shin. Because Shin is a good person, he's good to you and he's good to your body and he's good to everyone at the store. He’s going to be so good to his child, and he’ll be good to their mother, too.
Shin doesn't realise that his fingers are resting on your stomach until he feels you lay your own over his. He closes his eyes and imagines a life there, cradled beneath the hand that he once only used for killing, the laugh of a child carefree and loved, the sound of your voice welcoming him home at the end of the day—every day, for the rest of his life—and obviously it's just a roleplay, it's a roleplay and he's being a moron for thinking in marital hypotheticals, but he says, “I can't wait to start a family with you.”
You stiffen.
Shin blinks. He listens for your thoughts, but there's only a long, crawling silence, and then you bolt upright and say, “Resident Evil.”
His eyes go wide. He sits up, reaches out for you—“H-hey, what's wrong?”—but you're already slipping out of bed.
“Need to pee!” you squawk. “Don't want to get a UTI, y'know?” And then you're gone and the bathroom door is slamming shut.
Your apartment is small, just like most places in Tokyo. The washroom is well within 400 metres of the bed, so Shin can fully hear you crashing out in there. The thoughts are incomprehensible at first—garbled words, high pitched buzz, flashbulb images. Chain link fence. Bloodied knife. Needle in a child’s arm, a string of cranes hanging above their head. Zombies on a screen, Mario and Princess Peach. An older boy with white hair, pinching a crease into flower-patterned paper. Niisan left me they all left me they never wanted me. Nobody ever wanted me, except for Sei-nii but that was only to use me for missions so many missions I lost count. A dark room full of men, their jugulars slashed. Other men, other rooms over the years. There are so many of them, so many men inside my body using my body has Shin ever looked in my head and counted them all?
The sound of chimes in a convenience store. Your favourite place in the world. Then Shin at the stove, in an apron. He's so handsome. Now he's holding a baby, a little boy who looks just like him.
There's someone beside him, and it isn't you.
You turn on the shower, and the rush of water is loud so Shin can't hear the sad little noise you make with your throat, although you can probably hear everything in my head, right? Sorry. Please ignore me. I'll be normal in a minute.
Shin wants nothing other than to kick open the door to help you, but his guilt stops him. His regret at how invasive his powers are, at how he can't shut out your thoughts, so loud and raw, when you most need privacy. It's the least he can do to respect your wishes and leave you alone.
He sits on the bed, listens as the roil of your thoughts become a simmer and then still. The shower turns off. The toilet flushes. I really don't want a UTI. You wash your hands, count to ten, and you come out looking and sounding so calm that if Shin couldn’t read minds, he'd never guess that you just had a mental breakdown in the toilet.
“Hi,” you say neatly as you sit down, and Shin pulls you into a hug so suddenly that you yelp.
“I said to ignore my thoughts!” you whine, squirming in his grip, trying to get away.
Shin actively stops himself from sighing. “I don't need to hear your thoughts to know something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine! I'm normal. I'm very normal right now.”
He gives you a long, unimpressed stare, but you return it with the look of a prey animal about to bolt, and he realises he has to humour you.
“...alright,” he says, “you're normal. Nothing's wrong.” Shin watches you uncertainly, seeing the tension in your body, hearing the rush of blood in your skull. You're staring at your fingers, remembering how to fold the wings of a paper bird. Trying to focus on the motions and not the person who taught them to you. Trying not to let Shin see all the people you miss and all the things that weren't meant for you.
You find it hard to look at him, so he stares at the wall instead.
“Do you want to be left alone right now?” Shin guesses.
Your voice is very, very small: “...yeah.”
Shin’s brow knots, but he can't hear anything other than a vague emptiness from your heart now, and he shouldn't be listening anyway. Shouldn't exploit the fact that your mind is so defenseless around him.
He's pulling himself away when you say, “Wait.”
You’re visualizing escape routes out of the apartment right now. You'd beat Shin in each one, and you'd be able to disappear from Tokyo long before he could ever catch up to you. But you stay on the bed instead, fidgeting as you stare at your lap, and even though your face is calm, the flood of your thoughts is so scared and sad and hopeful that Shin finds his head and heart aching simultaneously. He wants crush you in his arms and say all the things you want to hear—and then all the things you need to hear, but don't know.
But he stops himself.
“If there are thoughts you want me to ignore,” he says, “then you'll need to say the ones you want me to know out loud.”
You wince. You trust Shin with listening to all your thoughts, but actually voicing them is something you're not very good at yet. Assassins are secretive by nature, and you were raised to be a killer. I’ll throw up if I say this, you think, face miserable.
“You'll throw up if you don't,” Shin points out, feeling your stress response in his brainstem.
You nearly look—and feel—physically pained when you say, “I… I’d like it if you stayed.”
Shin's not sure when his own heart started feeling so heavy, but he's relieved to feel the weight lift. “Okay.”
So Shin settles next to you in bed, and after a moment, you start to relax. The anxious chatter of your mind goes quiet. The old memories stop blinking at you. You try to focus on your boyfriend to further ground yourself. He has a handsome face so it's easy. He goes bright red at the thought, which makes you smile.
Shin cracks a joke, which makes you snort, and after that you crawl pretty eagerly back into his arms. You demand kisses and he happily obliges. Your fingers seek him out and he knows to hold your hand. You rest your head on his chest and you listen to him talk about all the goings-on the store, the upcoming movies he wants to see, the ryokan he's booked for the two of you, and now you're very drowsy.
People's thoughts get slippery and strange when they’re on the verge of sleep. Sometimes it's garbled nonsense, but sometimes it’s their unguarded feelings. Shin hears yours, faint and scared but so very, very tender:
Wasn’t raised for a life like that… Never even thought about it… But if it's Shin…
Shin wants to grab you and make you look at him. If it's Shin, what?! he wants to ask. Suddenly, he’s having insane thoughts about if you’d like to actually live together and when's the right time to get serious and come to think of it, Mr. Sakamoto wasn't much older than him when he got married, right? Maybe he's not crazy for having daydreams where your face is lighting up at a diamond ring that he got you. Not a fool for wanting to come home to you every night. Not losing his mind for thinking that it might be nice to have kids at some point down the line.
Not stupid for maybe sort of really wanting to have them with you.
It did make him feel like he was insane, when he first started having those thoughts. Shin had never contemplated any of that stuff before. He’d grown up in a lab. Drifted through life being rejected for his powers. Shot his own father and watched him die. The only person who looked out for him after that was Mr. Sakamoto, and then he dipped soon afterwards anyway. All this to say, Shin wasn’t exactly raised to expect that he'd someday have a family, either. Never even thought about it, because he was sure he'd never get it.
But even if he’s never expected such a life, Shin can’t help but hope for it when it comes to you.
He would really like to tell you all this, but by the time his own mental crashout is over, you're fully asleep and drooling on his chest. So deep in the REM cycle that when Shin tries to read your mind, he catches you dreaming about kissing him on the Yamanote line, giggling into his mouth as his ears turn red. Typical.
There's a ring on your finger, different from the pretend-play version you left in the washroom. This one’s got a diamond, simple but pretty. It suits you.
Shin commits the design to memory, and he decides to stay up a little bit longer, watching the dream with which you've trusted him.
END
notes: the funniest part of this fic to me is how much build-up was required for shin to try the most standard kinks on tumblr dot com. i am very sorry if you felt misled by the summary/tags, expecting to read something super kinky only to find that this fic was fairly vanilla. i blame shin.
also i know this is not my best writing </3 I actually lowkey wanted to delete it all at the midway point alskdfjsldfkj but we move. please do let me know if you liked it!!!!
the arrangement - gojo satoru was a notorious man across the land. he was the strongest soldier the north had ever produced, the most brilliant of minds, and somebody who slept his way through the noble ranks. his parents set him up in a marriage agreement with you, hoping that a tie with a ring would help save his image. you know gojo never wanted this, and you try to act as if that was normal. but soon, without you or even him realizing it, he comes to the conclusion that while he never wanted this marriage - he’s beginning to want you. (18+)
the arrangement, act two - life was going well. better than you could have ever imagined. the whirlwind marriage between you and gojo satoru that started as an arrangement blossomed into something sweeter and more tender after you both fell in love. but that storybook life you've been living soon shatters when you're told that a bitter king wants you two to separate so gojo could marry his daughter. either that, or he promises a war to follow. you live between selfishness and sacrifice as the fate of the kingdoms rests in your, and your husband's hands.
drabbles: (act one)
gojo never wanted to marry
gojo finds out you weren't supposed to marry him
watching him train
the moments after you two got married
he sees you not wearing your ring
he interrupts you while you're baking
he leaves and you think he won't be coming back
lovey gojo
when you two first met
he's huge
what he thinks
another moment from your teens
a little inexperienced (and that's ok!)
gojo is hyper-masculine
you see him with another girl
what happens after you see him with another girl
gojo introduces you to shoko
what happens when gojo's forced to put up with your family
jealous reader (petty gojo)
your birthday
arguing with him
drabbles (act two)
the news
arranged marriage!gojo tag (everything to do with him)
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
jbbartram-illu
izzy806
prguitarman
kaledo-art
