satoru has been your childhood sweetheart & fling for years. you're not getting any younger, but you're certainly getting tired. and yuta's gotten old enough to want to change that.
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. age gap ( reader & satoru are in their 30s and yuta's in his 20s ) :: first year teacher/former student!yuta :: scarjo :: post-shinjuku :: angst :: smut :: forced proximity :: friends with benefits :: so much yearning from everyone :: m.masturbation :: p in v :: dirty talk
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ always had a complicated relationship with you. too intimate to be friends and too ignorant to be lovers. he held your heart from that clumsy smile in first year. with his glasses wobbled over his nose and his hair a mess of leaves. looking up at you with eyes that everyone adored— yet they dazzled for you.
you wished you never smiled back at him that day.
maybe it would have saved you the pain in your heart and heels. from this endless will-they-won't-they-waltz. you were gojo satoru's. in his apartment, on his accounts, in his arms, his kisses, his body, and in waiting—
but never his. not in his heart. you didn't think so.
it was physical. the frustration of his kiss after a long day and the passion of his fingers that memorised over the years how to melt you. lay you out bear for him. raw in a way that had become second-nature. sex was the most vulnerable you'd seen him.
but never, ever, would he allow you to see the true fragility of his heart.
the relationship was made only worse after the shibuya incident. where a moment of weakness nearly cost him his life and he still wore the scars as reminders. still, you waited. endlessly, hopelessly, picking at the crumbs from his palms and hoping they'd caress you as something more than the infinity between friend and lover.
it didn't matter how scarred he was. nor how long he'd strung you along. you wanted him. and he always had you in a way that he never deserved.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ had always wanted you in the way that he shouldn't have.
from the moment you smiled at him, all warm and comforting during his first day of class. your tender hands that guided him through the art of his blade. how you softened your voice when speaking to him— like he was fragile and you valued vulnerability.
he wondered if it's because you too, were fragile.
he saw it now. the tiredness in your eyes. the weariness in your smile. things he never caught when he was student and your priority. you'd taken care of him in the same way that satoru did. nurtured the boy with a monstrous onslaught of cursed energy and taught him control, calmness, confidence— and here he was now. twenty three and a teacher for the first years at jujutsu tech. guiding students the way you'd guided him.
he'd always felt more than just the affection a student has to a teacher. 'a puppy crush', is what inumaki called it. he was embarrassed in his youth, naturally. you're— what? ten years older than him? the thought kept him awake with a pounding heart and red face staring at the ceiling on nights he'd focused a bit too much on how close you were to him earlier in the day.
nowadays, he doesn't really care about the age gap.
his feelings hadn't faded like his peers told him they would. if anything, they grew with every passing year. the closer he got to you, the more he got to work with you— and now he was able to teach beside you? see you in your element and how attentive you were to every aspect in your life?
no, if anything, okkotsu yuta thinks he's in love with you now.
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ broke your heart on the weekly. the sex was good— more than good. he'd arrive at your doorstep in a storm, kiss you in a blur, feel his hands all over you like they were simply tethers and you were the only answer.
he'd have you under him. skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart. gripping, and groping, and grinding so deep that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt him in your very soul.
he'd play with your clit. stir your spine into a curve and keep it there with his cock fucking so deep that he rattled your heart. until your cunt squeezed him so tight and your voice called for him even more desperately—
he'd tear you apart. under his teeth, his tongue, his nails and cock. he'd pound you into the sticky sheets all night long, call you his filthy girl on your ear until you repeated it back in choked whines.
but he'd never call you his girl.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ saw the hickies on your neck when your collar would slip when you weren't looking. dark and red. all over your neck. like a mark— a claim— but they'd fade.
he'd see the dreamy look in your eyes when you'd sometimes leave a classroom, or satoru's office, or even a closet on a few occasions.
he felt the racing in your heart. the dreamy look in your eyes. the temporary smile on your lips. and he knew, of course he knew. even a person with one eye could see that you and satoru were something. more than friends, less than lovers, something that told others to back off.
but what yuta also saw amidst all the haze?
the void in your heart.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ took care of you in ways you never noticed. your coffee was always on your desk, a habit he'd started in fourth year. documents were always neatly in your office. you never walked home late or took the night train alone. he'd nudged his shoulder closer when you'd fallen asleep beside him on the ride back home. helped you to your apartment and made sure you locked the door after.
your apartment was an address he'd memorised. popping by with takeout and treats at the end of the week. leaving before you could question it too much.
if there was a mission on the roster that was particularly daunting, yuta would make sure he was there to assign to it first. he knew of your habit of trying to lessen the load on satoru's shoulders. and while he found it admirable— you were a person too.
he carried an extra water bottle. made sure you took your lunch breaks. helped with your students. he took care of you not because he wanted you to see him as anything more, but to simply repay you for the way you'd taken care of him in his younger years. he did it because he cared. not because he was waiting.
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't take care of you in the way you wanted. he couldn't be the one waiting for you after school or on your train platform. couldn't show up to your apartment with emergency packages because missions were always more important.
not more important than you. never more important than you. but definitely more important that vulnerability, which directly involved you.
he couldn't be the shoulder you leaned on. he was just the body you were supposed to take your frustration out on. not the hand that held yours, but the one that held yours down as you both burst in that wrecking, temporary passion.
temporary, limited, fleeting. but in those moments— you were his.
he gave you what he could, because he cared. of course he did. but he couldn't commit. so instead he'd keep you waiting.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ felt a little at ease when you were both assigned to the latest mission. but that faded the second he noticed how tense you were. it was easy to do so; or maybe he'd just grown accustomed to your tells. he knew when you were happy, sad, tired, stressed—
right now, the way you sat in the backseat of the assistant manager's car beside him. arms folded and leaning on the door, staring out of the window as your thoughts were faster than the cars zipping by.
you seemed upset. drained. yuta wondered if it was because of another argument with him again.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ didn't really have the time to ask you if were alright. you were thrust head-first into the mission. sorcerers never really delved in the matters of curse users, but it seemed today was one of those special occasions.
these kinds of missions often called for stakeouts. controlled cursed energy and reduced residuals. a steeled mind and a steady heart.
and right now, it was taking all the endless, thousands of hours he'd spent training to keep his heart from thumping straight out of his chest when he had you with your back to his chest, pressed into every inch of him and your shampoo in his nose.
stakeouts. right.
the supply closet was more than just cramped, it was a test of his resolve. here you were, the woman he'd had heart eyes for since the first day he showed up all dull-eyed and bushy-tailed, now pressed against him in every meaning of the word. his knees against your thighs. your shoulders on his chest. his spine hunched to accommodate with the tiny closet but in turn flushing him further up into you.
he didn't know where to put his hands. so they were flat on the wall in front of you. which— wouldn't you know? trapped you even further against him.
his breath was thin. eyes unblinking. every internal thought praying to whatever was listening for him to think about something. anything. but the softness of you up against him. the scent of your shampoo. the feel of your breath, your thighs, your ass—
stop.
stop. stop. stop it.
think about flowers.
your hair smelled like flowers. . .
NO. think of something else. think of curses. scary things. disgusting things.
his mind was certainly thinking disgusting things. thinking how he wanted to press you into the wall and kiss you like a curse. until your soul left your body and he could swallow it. hold you, caress you, have you.
fuck.
his eyes squeezed shut. he sucked in a breath. he could do this. he'd worked so hard on his nerves. he could put on a mask. focus on the mission.
that was until, he heard your heart racing.
wait.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ wanted to take a peek at your thoughts. just for a moment. he'd trade anything in the world for just a second. just to know why your body was so stiff, why your breath was shallow, why your heart— was pounding.
little did he know how you stared at the wall. unblinking too. little did he see how your palms sweated as they too were pressed on the wall, between his.
his hands had gotten bigger, you'd noticed. hell, yuta had gotten bigger. when did he get so tall? tall enough that he had to crook in the supply closet and somehow he still loomed over you?
you tried to steady yourself. tried to think. think of anything else but the heat spreading on your face and the way your feet pressed closer. why. . . why were you feeling like this?
were you flustered?
not a cold day in hell. you'd never be flustered. not over your former student. not over yuta okkotsu, the boy you'd taught how to use a sword. who looked up at you with those big puppy eyes and followed you around like one too back then
no. absolutely not.
"you remember the plan, right?" he murmured to your ear.
fuck. when. when did his voice get so raspy?
it was low, emphasising the rasp that stuttered your heart. muttering to your ear as to not give away your hiding spot. he spoke about the plan of action. refreshed you on what his stance would be. what yours would. everything vital for the mission to go smoothly.
but all you could think of was. . .
when did yuta grow into such an attractive man when you weren't looking?
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ had his mind racing by the time you both returned to the hotel. he entered his suite, shut the door, pressed his back to it and drew a shaky breath. fuck. was he thinking things? did he hear wrong? was it just the fantasies?
he's always been so acutely aware when it came to you. so he knew without a doubt: your heart was racing.
not only that, but you weren't listening. he swore he saw the tremble in your knees. heard the hitch in your breath. you were flustered— and that thought excited him, as it wedged into his own stuttering heart and bloomed possibilities.
were you attracted to him?
could he actually have you?
he wanted to be a good guy and say that he shook the thought off. chastised himself. but yuta was hardly the boy that he once was. still sweet— but with an edge. so tossed off his jacket. sat on the bed. nurtured the thought like a flame dancing in his palms. dangerous, scandalous, and everything in between.
long legs kicked onto the bed. his dark hair that had grown out a bit since his teen years splayed over the pillows as he stared at the ceiling. recalling your softness that pressed into every inch of him. the weight of your back on his chest, your hands trembling between his, your perfume enveloping him.
fuck. you were so close. so right. it took everything within him not to bury his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent. drag his lips on your pulse. seize your waist.
wait.
wait wait.
stop it.
he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as that familiar, uncomfortable strain tightened his pants. no— he wasn't gonna do it. he wasn't. he wasn't about to touch himself to the thought of you when you were on the other side of the wall.
it's a miracle his dick even behaved in the first place when it was wedged up against your back like that. your ass— shit.
he needed some relief. just a little. lest he drive his cursed energy into a spiral and have you knocking on his door to check on him cause you sensed it. he didn't think he'd be able to hold back at all then.
so he reached down. slowly. stroked his thumb along the bulge in his dark pants and hissed a soft breath. slow. gotta go slow.
the callouses from his swords-wielding dragged over the curve of his erection. pushing his thumb to his already leaking tip through the fabric. rubbed slow and steady. shattering his sanity bit by bit. as he gulped down moans and whispered whines.
dark, hazy eyes fluttered. blinking up at the ceiling as he tried to imagine your face. tried to pretend it was your soft hand wrapped around his dick. your thumb swiping on his dripping slit and jerking him off so messily.
no— you wouldn't be messy. nothing about you was clumsy. not like him. not like the way he fucked his fist and chewed his lip so hard it broke skin. not like the way he grunted, and panted and whined your name from the back of his throat.
no. you were perfect. so so perfect. it's why he was able to spurt all over his hand without so much as a few minutes. his mind spinning, breaths ragged and his eyes hazy hearts. for you. only you.
he needed to have you. in any way he could. and now that you'd given him an in? he finally had hope.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ decided he was going to start small. whether you made the move or not, he wanted to show you that there were other options. safer ones. warmer ones. that didn't involve you getting your heart shattered every friday.
it started with being there for you more. being there in the morning when you clocked in for work to give you the coffee himself. bringing you lunch. walking you home and making sure he finished missions as early as possible so that he could.
he'd carry your bag for you. fill out extra paperwork so you wouldn't have much to do. offer to grade any outstanding papers from your classes for you.
yes, every action was more charged now. every time he saw you relax there was a brighter flicker of hope within him. but this was more than just trying to show you a better option— no. it was intimacy.
intimacy in the form of taking care of you. showing you his love in small, meaningful acts. showing you he was there. that he cared. because love was earned. much like trust. and he was willing to do whatever it took to show you that he could be trusted.
that he could take care of you.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ got a little bolder. just slightly. not pushing— never pushing. but persistence. he locked eyes with you whenever he could. held the state until you looked away or he absolutely had to. let you know that he was seeing you. that he always saw you.
his hand would brush yours as he handed you your coffee. shoulders nudging, fingers feathering. in all the ways that were natural but there. enough to notice. enough to get a reaction out of you.
he listened close. always. listened for your heart. looked at your eyes. for signs of discomfort. for something that told him to stop. but there was none.
did you feel it too?
the spark when his hand cupped your shoulder to guide you into your apartment? when his arms wrapped around you to give you a hug every morning? when your knees leaned on one another on the train ride back home?
he saw it. you were beginning to realise. beginning to entertain that flame that danced between the both of you. tempting. alluring.
but why— why, why. why.
were you denying yourself?
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ found himself frustrated when he was alongside satoru and his mentor let something slip.
he's always looked up to him. appreciated him. cared for him. nothing would change that. hell, satoru was the one who saved his life. gave him a home. satoru was the reason he met you in the first place.
but that didn't change the fact that he was still the reason you shed tears.
it was silly, really. fleeting. satoru probably didn't even realise that he had said it with how absentminded it was as he walked down the hallways alongside yuta.
"you know how woman can be. hard to please."
hard. to please?
it was a pleasure to please you.
"you know, sensei," he couldn't even begin to stop himself. his voice lower than intended. eyes deader than he realised as he glanced over at satoru who spared him a small look. probably surprised at the tone.
but that hardly stopped yuta, as he spoke flatly. too bluntly.
"you really should appreciate the things that are right in front of you more."
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ had always appreciated it. he would never not appreciate you, the girl from his childhood who chased him down when he stole her dango and offered her shoulder for him to bawl into whenever the world became too much.
satoru had always wanted you. in a way that was dangerous for the person he was raised to be. it was selfish.
which was exactly why he couldn't.
there were too many risks. too many possibilities. too many things standing in the way of him, you, and the life he'd always wanted to give you. something other than the sorcerer world and endless missions and never a concrete forever.
vulnerability was weakness. and even if he could get over that; he never would be able to give you everything that you deserved.
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ knows it was even more selfish to keep you around even when you deserved so much more than him. deserved to move on and find something that wasn't his scarred body or his weapon soul.
he loved the sex. loved the velvet of your skin against his. the sin of your lips on his. your body, everything about it— but he wanted more. craved it in the fantasies that he laid awake thinking about when you occupied the place that sleep should.
right now though, sex was the only way that he thought he could have you in. in the raw physicality of it all. outside of feelings, and heart, and soul. outside of the risks, the complications. when you were under him. nails scratching on his back and voice calling for him so sweetly, so sinfully, like he was just satoru rather than gojo satoru.
just his. in that temporary, aching way.
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated leaving you the morning after. when you were your most beautiful. covered in his scent, his marks, his love. yes. the love he denied time and time again even when it'd branded itself in his heart.
you were beautiful when you slept. curled in the sheets and hugging around a pillow he'd substituted himself for. he couldn't bear it. to have you reach out for him while he'd love and leave you all over again.
but he was afraid.
so maybe, keeping you at arms' length was the better option. selfish, yes. but chaining you to a broken and dutiful being like him felt even more selfish.
˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated the fights, but he always got so overwhelmed. he never learnt how to regulate those emotions. not when you're raised in a clan and given everything you want— and the times that you aren't resulted in painful punishments if you asked too much.
he always said the wrong thing. always wound himself up. let all the thoughts bunch in his head and boil over until he was spitting fire at you.
he remembered everything single fight. everything single thing he'd said to you. every time you tried to pretend you weren't crying and all the times you couldn't.
he'd remember this fight, too. as you stood in the centre of his living room. your face twisted as much as his. your hands gestured while his balled. when you both clashed it was ugly. like metal scraping on metal and trying to shatter the other.
he'll remember what he told you. when it all got too much and everything zeroed it. when he told you to get the hell out of his house, and snapped a piercing blue glare over his shoulder at you.
"you're just an overgrown friend."
cutting— stabbing. aimed to carve out any fight in your heart and poison it with the lie that he thought you were a bother. that he'd outgrown you. that you were just a leach of the past.
he'll remember how you stormed out of his apartment.
he'll remember your tears on his carpet.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ nearly dropped the files in his arms when he'd answered the call to your sniffling.
"are you— are you okay? hey, hey, shhh." he hushed over the line, brows pinching and mouth frowning. how he hated hearing you cry.
"I'll be there, okay? just wait for me, deep breaths." it took everything within him to bite back an endearment at the end and hang up.
he was there in twenty minutes. with your favourite takeout in one hand and dessert in the other. but when you answered the door, with glossy eyes and a blotched face— he nearly dropped both in favour of bundling you up into his arms.
once yuta got his arms around you, he wasn't sure he was ever letting go again. not with how you curled into him and you both sat on the couch. as you clung to his jacket and trembled. how you sobbed into his shoulder as if you'd choke up your heart.
he held you. close. protective. one large hand to the back of your head while his other arm wrapped around you. tucking you under his chin and hiding you away. shielding you from the world that dared to hurt you.
"it's okay, I'm here. I promise I'm here." he murmured to your ear. as he listened to your hiccups and chokes. as you spilled everything that happened between you and satoru.
he was so glad that you were too shaken to notice how his cursed energy crackled.
but he sucked in a breath. shut his eyes. counted to five. calmed down because he didn't need that right now. not when you needed him.
he held you until you were calm. cuddled you until your tears were dry. listened to whatever you wanted to say.
he was there for you. in every definition of the word.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't impressed when your phone lit up on the coffee table beside the couch with satoru's name on the screen. what did he want? after making you cry your eyes out like this he shouldn't even be breathing your name, let alone trying to talk to you.
what frustrated him even more was how you shifted. like it was automatic. like it was fucking natural to just let the guy who hurt you over and over back in yet again. he felt your arm move, knew you were reaching to answer.
his grip tightened. "you don't have to answer that, you know." he spoke, soft. soft enough to mark the twinge of irritation. "you deserve to be upset too."
you sniffed. rubbed your eyes and nodded your head before you leaned back on his shoulder. clinging to him. close to him. in a way that was hardly appropriate but none of you cared to admit in the moment.
the ringing stopped. his grip loosened. yuta nuzzled his head into yours and enjoyed the silence, even if your broken heart spilled in it. he simply held you. loved you.
and then the blasted phone rang again.
and then you hesitated again.
and then you reached out. fucking. again.
"what if it's something important," you murmured. he hated how naturally you could make excuses.
"well then he'll show up," yuta tried to offer. tried to steer you away as you shifted in his arms. reaching for satoru, slipping from yuta's fingers. as you always did.
"you really shouldn't answer—"
"just let me hear him out."
it should have ended there. he should have let you. should have just shut up and listened as satoru apologised over the line and you forgave his every sin because you never realised how much more you deserved.
yuta couldn't take it. not anymore. so as your fingers slipped around the phone— his shot out.
his arm around you had snapped over. easily outdoing yours as your hand was dwarfed by his. snatching the phone and gripping tighter. steeling it from your hold.
he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. not again. not even when you snapped your stare over to him and jerked to face him. that same strict look from when you trained him striking in your stare.
defensive, weren't you? for what— satoru?
"who do you think you—"
but you hadn't realised. that as you jerked to face him you abruptly shoved closer. too close. too close for someone who was about to scold him as if you were still his teacher when you flushed up against him in a way that was anything but.
your breath hitched. he heard it. just like he heard your heart stutter. again.
for him.
yuta didn't flinch. even as your face brushed dangerously close. as your glare quivered. as your chest flushed into him.
his brows narrowed. eyes darkened. not with anger, not with frustration, but something more deadly:
love.
"why do you insist on hurting yourself over and over again? you deserve something good." he spoke, even. calm. like a man who meant every word and how to give it to you.
you hesitated.
you did that a lot with him.
why? because you felt it too? because you knew it in your heart that only ever said satoru's name?
you cleared your throat. not flinching away but not pressing closer. even as his fingers curled around your shirt and his arms steeled you into him.
even as he stared into your eyes with his half-lidded ones, as if he was trying to crawl into your very soul and hold it as his own.
even as your breaths mingled. your hearts slipping into the little space between you both.
skipping.
yearning.
"and how—" you steadied yourself. pressed your lips together. bracing that pesky resolve—
"how would you know what I deserve?"
"because I want to give it to you."
— as his shattered all together.
and his lips crashed onto yours.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ kissed you.
he kissed you.
hand bunching the back of your hair and the other clinging to your waist. his mouth molding on yours and your breath stolen in his lungs.
like a collision of stars. hot, burning, and oh so messy.
he kissed you with everything that he had. everything that he was, everything that he wasn't, everything that he wanted to be for you.
because you deserved more than being forgotten.
deserved something good.
something new.
yuta hadn't kissed many people in his life. it showed in the way his knuckles cramped. you noticed it in the clumsiness of his kiss that doubled down as roughness. in the way he hardly let you breathe before he pulled you back in. like he was trying to gulp down your very soul.
his lips were soft. his kiss was scathing. he pulled away to hear you gasp on his mouth only to drag you back in.
you should push him away. push him away and tell him to leave. push him away. push him away.
instead, you melted.
into something ruinous, something raw, something ravenous for love from the depths of your very soul. and you— kissed him back.
like he wasn't your former student. like he wasn't ten years younger than you. like he wasn't the relative of the reason tears were dried on your cheeks.
your fingers curled around his jacket. gasping for air as he parted. trying to call his name— to grasp reality— to stop yourself.
"don't," he rasped. fingers coiling tighter. eyes whispering the abyss yet alluring you all the same.
"just let me have this. just once. just let me love you, please."
and then he kissed you again. hotter. rougher. an inexperienced mouth, and yet it sought to worship you. tongues tangling and teeth knocking. as his blunt nails dug into you and flushed you into him.
old against new. inexperience against experienced. scared against sure.
skin-to-skin. heart-to-heart.
you whimpered. broken, ashamed, raw and — wanting. god. what were you doing?
it ended softer than it began. his kiss melted off of your lips. left your heart hammering and soul shaking.
dark lashes fluttered. pupils dilated. his lips just as swollen as yours.
yuta whispered something against your mouth.
three words.
sinful. scary.
oh, so, sure.
and you shattered.
˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ looked confused when you told him to leave. when you shoved at his chest and pulled away from him. curled into the corner of the couch as you ripped yourself from his embrace.
did he have the wrong impression? did he hurt you? force you?
no.
no, you kissed him back.
and that was the problem.
"you—" you choked, tucking your head away. like you couldn't bear to look at him. "you should leave. please leave."
he listened.
because he respected you too much to oppose. loved you even more to disobey you.
"okay," he spoke, soft. steady. as if you both hadn't crossed a line. well over danger and knee-deep in scandal.
as if his mouth wasn't on yours.
as if it didn't feel so right.
"okay, I'll leave," he assured. tender as he put space between you both. eyes selfishly lingering on you even as you quivered. holding yourself back from the reality that you both already knew.
he stepped away. easy. too easy. heading for the door and giving you your space. because loving you meant listening to you.
but not before he called from the door.
"just don't regret it, okay?"
not scared, or sinister, or even smug.
serene.
sensual.
"don't ever regret wanting something new."
he left. with his kiss still a ghost on your lips. and his words a phantom that would haunt your very being.
Needy BabyDaddy! — Bleach Men Headcanons (a little long tbh) fem!reader
starring: Ichigo Kurosaki, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Izuru Kira & Kisuke Urahara
MDNI
Light Smut
Enjoy
Note: I’ve been really sick these past few days but wanted to get this idea out of my head before I lost the hype, so sorry if it’s not my best work lol.
Planning to maybe do a Part 2, if you want to see any other character, let me know :3
Ichigo Kurosaki
there was nothing more beautiful to him than watching you walk around the house with that round belly, adorable, perfect, the way you wore loose pants sitting low under it and tight tops stretched over it.
You had gained a bit of weight, completely natural during pregnancy, and when you mixed that with your smile, or even with your little pouts when you couldn’t get that strange craving, it only made you look more beautiful.
Ichigo never once doubted giving you everything you needed, even when that included the most pleasurable sex possible. Even when it meant having you straddle him, his long, thick cock already buried deep, touching everything you needed to satisfy that wild hormonal appetite, his hips moving for you, not rough, no.
Even if you begged, asked in every way possible, soft or desperate, he never gave in to losing control. He made sure you felt all of him in deep, controlled thrusts, absolute restraint.
And still, you couldn’t help but smile between moans when you noticed one of the reasons for his carefulness, when his hands caressed and adored your round belly in the most tender, considerate way, and even in the smile in his eyes you could see how much he enjoyed one of the most beautiful stages of your life.
But now, things had changed slightly. Having to care for a baby, so small, so needy by nature, was exhausting for both of you. Though for him, you were always the one carrying the heaviest load, and without hesitation, without refusing even for a second, he was always by your side, ready to support you.
Sometimes he would just watch you softly hum little melodies while the baby still cried, searching for comfort. He admired your calm in the face of desperation until, finally, that little bundle of happiness fell asleep peacefully in your arms before you laid him in his crib.
The problem? He couldn’t help missing you.
Two months had passed since you gave birth naturally, since he held your hand and felt it nearly break his. And during that time, he had religiously respected the 4 to 6 weeks protocol of no penetration.
Now, your footsteps approached the bedroom. He heard them after you went to get a glass of water, after making sure the baby was in his deepest sleep in the crib.
his gaze landed with a hint of shame on his erect cock beneath his sleep pants, rising up, straining against the elastic waistband. There was no real reason to hide it, after all, he was your husband, you already had a child.
Sex between you was one of the best things you shared, a blessing for both of you, but even so, he still felt shy about his desperation, about the way his cock throbbed with need while he tried to respect, sacredly, your rest, your time, your needs.
Priority.
“Ichi?” you called as soon as you stepped into the room. Your hair was slightly messy, held back with a head band, your torso covered by one of his old shirts slipping off one shoulder, making your figure look small, very small. Finally, you were wearing those maternity pants you refused to stop using because of how comfortable they were, though by now they hung loose on your constantly changing body.
And his eyes lifted to you.
“Y-yes?!” he asked quickly, eyes widening when he snapped out of his trance.
The trance of watching a goddess cross a threshold.
“Everything okay?” you asked with a small smile as you moved closer to the edge of the bed. “he is finally asleep,” you nodded with a soft laugh, lifting one knee onto the bed on your side.
“E-everything’s fine, yeah,” he nodded, pushing himself up with both hands to sit against the headboard. “Come… rest,” he sighed, a small smile too nervous to ignore.
“What are you hiding from me, Kurosaki?” you asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his cheek, comfortable, warm, gentle. “Oh,” you murmured, lowering your gaze to the unattended problem.
The thick, long shape strained upward beneath his pants, and it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him try to hide it, something he used to do when you were younger.
“Back to your old tricks?” you teased with a soft laugh against his cheek, feeling his quiet sigh as his cheeks flushed pink. “If you wanted that… you could’ve asked, Kurosaki,” you added, brushing your nose against his.
“Please,” he whispered with the relief of someone freed after years of sentence, lifting a hand to your jaw, and with that, you let him take your lips in a kiss, completely desperate.
Their lips crashed together in desperate kisses, almost like a silent cry for help.
He wasn’t usually like this, he wasn’t usually this needy, and even your heart tightened at the thought of how much he must have been holding back as his tongue explored every part of your mouth.
“Let me take a shower—” you murmured between kisses when you felt his other hand start to wander to the front of your pants, slipping past the waistband and underwear, unable to resist any longer. “Ichi—!”
“No— please,” he breathed against your neck, his words muffled and shaky as his hips pressed into you, searching for friction. “Give me— this,” he whispered when you felt his fingers sink into that slit he had missed so much, into the wetness already waiting for him.
But then—
Whaaa! Whaaa!
The cries echoed through the walls like a full-blown emergency alarm, and soon a small, frustrated whine escaped his lips against your neck. He shook his head for a few seconds, like a child who didn’t get what he wanted.
“Looks like the little one doesn’t agree with this,” you murmured with a small smile.
“I’ll go,” you whispered, feeling his hand slowly leave your warmth.
“I’ll go,” he cut in, standing up in one quick motion, shaking his head sharply before giving himself a light slap on the cheek.
“Stay awake— that kid is going back to sleep.” he said with a determination you hadn’t seen in a long time, probably not since Renji had challenged him to a sparring match with his usual banter.
“Good luck, champ,” you laughed, watching him leave the room.
“Don’t you move!” he shouted from the hallway over the crying.
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez
Grimmjow was a born extremist.
From the moment your belly started to grow and the inevitable became completely real right in front of him, his attitude changed, and...well..., his words hadn’t, at least.
Because even if your body begged for it, demanded it in that burning need between your legs, he had his own stupid way of protecting you.
“You’re weak. You’ve got a small being inside you that’s going to be my successor as ruler of Hueco Mundo, if he’s not a weakling and manages to defeat me,” he would snap every time you so much as tried to climb onto him, just to feel him against your swallowed clit in the smallest touch that might help your unruly hormones. “If I do anything to you, I won’t be gentler just because the kid’s there, and you won’t be able to handle me with a plus one.”
But really, it was just his way of saying…
I don’t want to hurt you. Or you. Or the baby.
Even if he always had to wrap it in some clumsy, stupid attempt at degradation you couldn’t even take seriously anymore.
You were left stunned by the way he took care of you. He let you do many things, sometimes he even fought with you, or helped you train, but no matter what, it wasn’t the same at all. His fights weren’t intense anymore, they weren’t long or brutal, because according to him he “got bored.”
Something you clearly didn’t believe, because…
Fuck. It’s Grimmjow.
Or maybe it was the way that, even though he let you walk freely to get whatever you wanted, food, something to drink, a shower, or just to go to the bathroom, his eyes never left you for even a second.
He thought he was being very slick and careful.
But you could still see his light blue hair peeking from the edge of the door when you just wanted to take a piss.
And even if he refused to penetrate you with that long, thick cock, curved just enough to find that spot in such a sweet way, his fingers pleased you every single night you whispered for it against his neck.
Before sinking two fingers into your wetness, his hand always caressed your round belly first, like it was a perfect little routine, until finally, with those fast but flawless movements of his fingers, ones you’d stupidly underestimated once, he managed to make you come as many times as you needed.
Until even he had to stop you, because “you’re not thinking straight, the little brain in there needs to rest too.” And you’d just smile against his lips, laughing softly at his strange way of worrying about you two.
And when his little baby girl finally came into the world, a precious girl with hair in that same electric blue shade, and features unmistakably her mother’s, the world shifted around her.
Grimmjow’s ambition changed in the way he acted. Partially.
Yeah, he still carries her everywhere with one hand against her chest, letting her small, chubby limbs dangle freely in the air no matter how much you try to tell him how dangerous that could be.
Something far more dangerous than the future ruler of Hueco Mundo had been born. Another ruler had come into existence, one who would rule the heart of someone willing to burn the universe down just to keep his queens safe.
Still, not everything was flowers and roses. No. Not once some time had passed after you gave birth to that beautiful little being.
He had been patient. Too patient, even for his own good, doing his best not to overwhelm you.
Even though he was the one wanting to rip his own hair out after having to get up almost three times a night just to help your daughter sleep beside you.
Because maybe he wasn’t the best at holding her and letting her sleep in his arms, not because of his naturally rough nature, but he never missed a single night where he watched you rock your baby softly into sleep, murmuring quiet hums.
A night like this one.
Watching you from the doorway, leaning against it with nothing but loose, comfortable pants meant for sleeping and driving you crazy. His face was adorned with that mask, dangerous and attractive in equal measure, his tired eyes fully focused on you.
On the fact that you were wearing only a loose, partially transparent robe, highlighting your natural curves, beautiful after giving Grimmjow one of the greatest blessings of his life. Still keeping your habit of sleeping in just panties and a bra with him.
Because he never held back from telling you how beautiful you looked.
Every damn day.
In happiness.
In exhaustion.
In pain.
In peace.
“You’re—” his growl came out like a dangerous purr, “perfect. Fuck.”
And every night he repeated it, like a thank-you to the universe.
His universe.
His arms were crossed over his bare chest when the crying finally stopped, and he allowed himself to push off the doorframe and walk toward you. Until his hands fell to your hips, a small squeeze from those rough fingers, as his lips brushed your neck softly.
“She’s asleep now,” he purred with a smile against your skin as finally he pressed fully against you. You felt that hardness against your round ass, needy, deliberate, grinding against you shamessly.
“That’s true,” you whispered with a soft smile, lowering your gaze to the baby.
Your body bent slightly as you went to place her in the crib, your hips pressing back into him at the same time, enough to draw a furious growl from his lips.
But before you could lay her down…
The crying returned like thunder, shattering the atmosphere you’d created entirely. Her tiny hands flailed, searching for something to hold onto, the warmth she sought from a body like mom’s.
Or dad’s.
“No… that’s not possible, no,” his voice came out shaky, completely incredulous as his eyes widened at the baby. “Do we have to fight for mom now? Is that it?” he asked, raising a brow as he looked at her over your shoulder. “This isn’t fair, y/n. I didn’t sign up to feel my balls twist and be about to explode like this,” he muttered, his growl failing to hide the desperate whine underneath.
“Love, that’s something you think about before you come inside your woman repeatedly,” you murmured with a small smile, your arms making gentle movements with the baby. “Hey,” you called softly. “Sit down.” You pointed toward the couch, still smiling.
“I don’t think sitting is gonna fix this boner,” he muttered, obeying with an irritated look before finally dropping onto the seat you ordered.
But just a few minutes later...
You were leaning against the doorway.
Smiling, proud, in love, completely lost in the sight.
His head thrown back against the couch, bare torso exposed, your baby resting peacefully against him as if that was all she truly needed for a good night’s sleep, his large hand supporting her tiny back.
“Maybe tomorrow,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly with a smile.
Izuru Kira
His eyes always held that relaxed shape. More than relaxed, really, almost permanently tired. And yet, no matter what, they never looked exactly tired when you were in his line of sight.
relief.
It wasn’t just the way the corners of his lips lifted into a small smile for you, but how his eyes themselves found the peace needed to smile too. And now, he wasn’t smiling only at you.
Ever since the tiny bump, the smallest proof of what you had created together, began to show on your belly, his smile became inevitable every time his gaze dropped to it.
And of course, there was no one more attentive than your husband at this point. Entirely devoted to your needs every second of the day. Even when you could still perform your duties as a shinigami, it didn’t matter, he was always there, just behind you, even when you couldn't tell. Never suffocating, never making you feel restrained or breathless. Just present.
The way he’d leave strange little snacks in your barracks at different hours of the day. Knowing your cravings completely.
A kiss to your lips.
A kiss to your round belly, still covered by your uniform.
Before finally returning to his own duties.
Still, his behavior worried you sometimes. The way he tried so hard to respect your space while also wanting to serve you, almost as if he belonged at your feet. You could see his nerves in everything, in his movements, his words, his hands. Every day he prepared himself more and more to receive your baby girl, consuming every piece of information he could find about pregnancy and newborns.
You were completely certain of one thing: he was going to be the best father in the world.
Assuming he didn’t faint from sheer nerves the first time he saw her in your arms. Or the first time you placed her in his.
Throughout your pregnancy, he never once hesitated to show you, every possible way, that you were living one of your most beautiful stages. Even when you said you didn’t look good, that you’d gained weight, that your breasts had grown too much.
He didn’t argue.
He showed you.
Sometimes it was in the way he smiled while you applied creams to your round belly, trying to prevent stretch marks if possible. The way his eyes followed your body when you wore nightgowns purely for comfort. The way, even when your hair was messy from exhaustion, he would whisper in your ear that you looked beautiful, radiant, as he brushed it for you.
always.
Thanking you for being so divinely strong for the blessing inside you. For her. For him.
He even showed his gratitude in the way he searched for the best positions to satisfy your deepest needs, the ones that didn’t forgive exhaustion, long days, or aching backs.
The way he lay on his side, his long member, slender, yet undeniably prominent, sliding inside you in soft, deep thrusts, restrained pants spilling from his lips. He was never aggressive.
Just as intense as he was gentle.
A balance only he could achieve.
The way his hand brushed hair away from your sweat-damp cheek, leaving wet, needy kisses that sometimes dissolved into his own moans. Filling you every time you needed it, as if making you pregnant again were even a possibility in that same moment.
After your baby girl arrived, Izuru became the most attentive father, especially to you. He let you do what was necessary, like breastfeeding her, but the moment you finished, he was the one who took her to give those gentle pats on her back, making sure she burped properly.
He allowed her to fall asleep in your arms, but once you placed her in the crib, he always stayed a few minutes longer. Just to make sure she was truly peaceful in her sleep.
Giving you the space to take care of yourself, as you deserved, after being such a wonderful mother to his daughter.
Time passed since the last moment he could pour his love into you in that raw, burning intimacy.
His body couldn’t ignore how good that simple outfit looked on you, the one you wore around the house since your squad granted you maternity leave. Or how, when you removed it to shower, your hips, softer now from pregnancy, presented themselves before him like the most beautiful torture imaginable.
But he also noticed your exhaustion. Not just from caring for the baby, but the mental fatigue of constantly being alert, responsible for something so fragile. He knew your body was still recovering, sensitive nipples from breastfeeding, mild complications, but present.
He noticed all of it. And he helped with everything he could. Everything he had.
Until, pathetically, he reached his own limit that night.
One night, he couldn’t help it. He asked if, just for that night, you could put the baby to sleep on your own. Said he had 'a bit of a headache.' A lie that embarrassed him deeply, but one you accepted without question.
When you returned to your room, your baby already fast asleep, the bed you shared was empty. Soft sounds came from the bathroom.
Your steps were quiet, deliberate, as you approached the door.
And then you heard it.
Moans
thin, small, sharp gasps. Tiny, broken whimpers from inside.
Your hand lifted gently, pushing the door open, neither of you ever locked it, finding him at his most vulnerable.
In the shower.
Water running down his back, soaking his blond hair and plastering it to his face.
His cock wrapped in his hand, the swollen, reddened tip slick with pre-cum, shining obscenely. His back arched as his hips twitched in small, desperate spasms with his other hand against the wall.
“Y/N!” His eyes went wide. He shut off the water quickly, grabbing a towel and covering himself. “I’m so sorry—I… I’m sorry.” He turned his face away, cheeks burning with shame.
You said nothing.
You only smiled softly and stepped closer, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor without hesitation. His eyes followed you, stunned.
“Why didn’t you call me?” you asked gently. “Izuru, I’m your wife. And you know nothing would make me happier than putting our daughter to sleep, just to return the favor after all the months, no, years, you’ve taken care of me.” You nodded as your feet stepped into the wet floor of the shower, one after the other.
Your hand knocked the towel aside, letting it fall outside the shower.
“I—I didn’t want to—” he murmured weakly. “If you’re tired…”
“You’re an amazing father, Izuru.” You smiled as your hands rested on his lean, defined body, sliding up his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “The best father of all. Can we still enjoy the fact that you’re also the best husband?” You kissed him softly.
And yes.
you enjoyed it.
Very much.
That night, Izuru allowed himself the reward of everything he had held back. And he probably slept better than his own daughter, wrapped around his wife after reminding himself, in the rawest, most intimate, most pleasurable way, that you were the perfect team.
Kisuke Urahara
There was no man more excited than Kisuke Urahara when it came to your pregnancy.
He didn’t hide it, not even a little.
The way he wrapped himself around your round belly every chance he got, wearing the softest, widest smile, completely unashamed.
Nothing held back.
He couldn’t hide it in the way he talked to the tiny little person growing inside you, morning, afternoon, night. He always had something to tell her. Sometimes about an experiment he was working on, or worse, about some strange, probably-not-baby-safe toy he was already promising her before she was even born.
His world revolved around the two of you in a way that was utterly devoted, completely given.
Always ready with a clever comment to stop you from doing anything that required even the slightest effort, because he could do it. Or some clumsy explanation wrapped in scientific jargon that somehow made perfect sense coming from him.
And you couldn’t help laughing every time his limbs moved too fast trying to attend to you, the way his eyes widen in panic when you simply get out of bed to pee with your bladder under constant pressure.
You couldn’t stop admiring how tender he was. How genuinely excited.
Almost to the point of suffocating, but you forgave him for it, because he was so damn attractive in every stage of your pregnancy.
Even when his libido grew to match your raging hormones, his body completely at your disposal at all times.
You could take whatever you needed, no, that was too much effort.
He would give you everything.
After all, you had already given him something so beautiful, growing inside you, making you more and more breathtaking by the day.
He even found himself worrying, thinking, about when you might get pregnant again after the first. And though he would never pressure you…
He would absolutely make sure you wanted it, and that your body could endure something as exhausting as it was satisfying.
Still, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the views he was blessed with were the most beautiful he’d ever known.
Seeing you in the morning, lying on your side, one hand resting on your large, round belly, his own hand covering yours, sharing warmth, fulfilling his constant need to be connected to you.
Helping you put on your shoes. Or, more shamelessly, the grin that spread across his face when you asked him to help you shave there.
Giving everything so your desires were met perfectly, like the low bed he built for a very specific purpose. Letting you rest like a queen while he knelt on the floor, parting your legs and taking you deeply, intensely, savoring every part of it.
The way your tight entrance wrapped around his needy cock. The way your back softly arched, perfect position for him to watch your eyes glaze over with pleasure, all while making sure nothing ever pressed against your round belly.
Until your little princess finally arrived.
The moment he held her in his arms, allowing himself, just a little, to be selfish.
“Kisuke… she needs to eat,” you murmured with a soft smile from the bed.
“Mhm,” he hummed, his voice calm, gentle, playful. His eyes fixed on her chubby limbs twitching clumsily, tiny fists trying to grab onto something. Her lips parted, searching instinctively.
Him already knowing he had lost against a pair of breasts.
And what a pair of breasts.
Carefully, he placed her into your arms. Moments later, her lips latched onto your nipple, tiny sucks following while her eyes stared up at you, as if trying to memorize you completely.
“So jealous,” he murmured with a crooked smile, his voice slipping into a soft purr.
He gave you time, real time, to recover after birth. Time for both of you to adjust to the new reality. Even so, Kisuke ached to feel you again. Your warmth. The way your soft walls clung to him when he pleased you, when he simply existed inside you. Seeing your face melt under the pleasure only he could give you.
“Kisuke…” you warned softly, a teasing seriousness in your tone. “You’re not keeping those comments in front of your daughter.”
“Well,” he sighed, stretching his arms and back as he stood, smiling, “she does fall asleep pretty fast after stealing what’s mine— I’m ready anyways.”
“Ready for what?” you asked, adjusting the small bundle against your chest.
“For the little thief to go to her bed and let me reclaim what’s mine,” he said casually, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll need a serious conversation about breast appropriation.”
“Kisuke!” you hissed, laughing quietly.
Soon enough, the pressure on your nipple eased. You covered yourself again, looking down at your baby, completely satisfied.
Kisuke took her into his arms with firm confidence and endless care, lifting her to his chest. He grabbed a small cloth, resting it over his shoulder as he gently patted her back, taking his time with each healthy burp.
And you could never deny how attractive he looked like that.
“All good, pretty girl,” he whispered, pressing his cheek softly to her chubby face as her eyes fluttered shut against his chest. “Don’t change,” he added, pointing at you. “I want you exactly like that, in my pajama top. Which you haven’t changed in two days.” He smirked. “Don’t move.”
He took longer than expected to return.
Not because of his needs, but because his heart was still full, overwhelmed by the beauty you had brought into the world with sheer strength and stubborn determination. Nine months of cravings, pain, doubt, fear.
He would never be able to thank you enough.
But when he came back—
His eyes softened.
You hadn’t obeyed.
You lay asleep on the bed, wearing nothing but small black panties, hugging a pillow to your chest. Bare. Peaceful. Exhausted.
When you stirred, trying to wake, trying to protest, he hushed you with sweet murmurs in your ear.
“Hush… time to sleep.” He dressed you in his clothes, soft, familiar, yours by now. Until your tired body finally relaxed completely.
Even with the ache still pulsing between his legs, this was heaven.
@koalaoffandoms @mx-feratina hope you like ittttt :3
Hello hello
Part 3 of the needy baby daddy series!
Tbh, it came out really different than what I originally had in mind, but… I don’t know, I’m still kinda proud of the result lol. It took me a bit longer to finish because I had some procedures done, and more than physically, I was mentally ruined and couldn’t bring myself to write womp womp :c
i hope you all enjoy these baby daddies hehe, first time writing for these three :0
lots of lots of kisses
Part 1 -> Ichigo Kurosaki, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Izuru Kira & Kisuke Urahara
Part 2 -> Kensei Muguruma, Shūhei Hisagi
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Shunsui Kyōraku
╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯
Shunsui was completely in love.
Like the first day? No, not at all.
Because with every passing day, he found himself more and more in love with you. With his queen. With the woman who guided his heart in a way that was as chaotic as it was genuine.
Contrary to what many once believed, that if someone like Captain Kyōraku ever truly fell in love beyond his usual jokes and playful flirtation, he would choose peace above all else. A gentle woman. Elegant. Perhaps a little distant. Someone who could offer him calm, open her warmth only to him. Everyone thought he would choose peace in the form of a personality that could give it to him completely.
But that wasn’t the case.
No.
Because Shunsui fell in love with you. Completely.
Peace? Well, of course peace existed. Of course you could give him peace.
When, at night, you lay atop his sturdy body, tall and broad, muscles no longer hidden beneath layers of clothing, when you traced warm lines along his skin, felt the soft hair on his chest between your hands while you talked about nothing more than the day itself.
He fell in love with your ability to ground him. With the way you walked beside him, keeping pace, yet still bringing order to his days like no one else ever had. He fell in love with every morning you woke him with warm kisses, only to push him out of bed moments later when he tried to slip a hand between your thighs, telling him to shower and start his duties as captain.
Though, honestly… you always joined him in the shower anyway.
He fell in love with the way you scolded him when he came home late after drinking and gambling with Captain Ukitake, fell in love with that bittersweet welcome home. Because afterward, he would make it up to you by ignoring dinner altogether, burying himself between your legs instead and making you his meal.
He fell in love with watching you sleep so peacefully in the mornings, curled atop his chest, sometimes drooling just a little, before he’d pretend to stay asleep, just to receive your warm good-morning kisses. Your soft words cooing him awake, making him feel like he’d reached heaven.
And perhaps things changed when your belly finally began to grow, because he only fell deeper in love with those he cared for.
Now
There were two queens ruling his daily life now, and he obeyed them.
Well… partially.
Unless Nanao was present and could take on one task or another that might otherwise fall to him.
Like those days when you wandered into his office, knowing full well that if anyone had the responsibility of dealing with your wildly unbalanced hormones, it was your own husband.
“I’m really hungry,” you whined as you entered his office, closing the door behind you. You knew it was one of his lighter days, few reports, little to attend to. “I want… I want… what do I want?” you continued, pouting, just as he finally lifted his gaze to you with a small smile.
“Oh—” he murmured, shifting slightly away from his desk to give himself more space. “Cravings?” he asked softly as he opened his arms for you, guiding you carefully onto his lap. He wrapped you into his frame, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Is my sweet Y/N having some cravings? Is that why that pretty face is all teary?”
“I’m not a baby, I’m carrying your baby,” you shot back, rolling your eyes mercilessly as his quiet laugh slipped out.
“All the more reason why every single one of your cravings should be fulfilled,” he nodded, leaving another soft kiss on your cheek, a low hum vibrating in his chest. “Nanaoo~,” he called sweetly.
“Hey!” you protested immediately, eyes widening. “You don’t have to call Nanao every time you need something—especially not for me.”
“What’s the problem?” he replied calmly, lowering his gaze to your round belly beneath the uniform you still wore, despite already being cleared to rest during your final weeks. “Sweet Nanao won’t mind helping while I have a very important conversation here.” He leaned closer, speaking softly to your belly. “Right, darling? You need to give mama a little break with the cravings, okay? I’m not sure I can keep funding this luxurious lifestyle if your mother keeps asking for those chocolates from the human world.”
“Oh, very funny,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips.
“Yes, Captain?” Nanao appeared in the doorway, calm as ever. “Good afternoon, Miss Kyōraku. Are you feeling well? Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“No, really, everything’s fine,” you tried to protest.
“We’ll need a small—well, not so small—supply of those chocolates my lady has been craving from the Human World,” Shunsui announced with a smile.
Thunk!
Your knuckles tapped gently against the top of his head.
“You don’t have to go get them, Nanao,” you said softly, turning toward her. “Shunsui will take me to the Human World himself,” you added, shifting your gaze back to him.
“Sweetheart, my love, my everything—I think—” he tried to interrupt, but your eyes were already locked onto him with the most intimidating expression a man could face.
The look of his pregnant wife.
And a slightly irritated one at that.
“…We’ll go to the Human World,” he nodded with a nervous laugh.
As you turned back to Nanao, you shared a small wink, an unspoken understanding between the only two women capable of controlling a captain with nothing more than a look.
Sometimes… with a little more than that.
Beyond all of this, Shunsui couldn’t quite tell whether your hormones and heightened libido during pregnancy had been a blessing or a curse.
He couldn’t deny you anything.
He never could.
But was his body truly capable of enduring the unrestrained desire of his pregnant wife?
“Darling—I—ugh!” A deep, rough breath tore from his lips when you were suddenly straddling him, your legs on either side of his, eyes locked onto your true objective.
His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, broad muscles slick with sweat, thick droplets trailing down his skin. His hair had long since slipped free from its usual tie, strands sticking to his face as he exhaled shakily.
“I just think… maybe we could—aren’t you hungry?” he asked, nerves creeping into his voice.
But his hips betrayed him first, a reflexive roll as your hand moved over him, slickened by your own saliva before your fingers pulled back the skin covering the head, revealing a slightly lighter shade beneath.
Your hand took its time, tracing the long, prominent length until it fully freed that fat tip, no longer merely reactive, but eager and responsive. You felt him grow firm in your grasp, swelling obediently to your movements, to your needs.
“I promise that—” he breathed softly as your hand brushed that sensitive spot, the small slit already beginning to leak beads of pre-cum. “Darling, hey—are you listening in there?” One of his fingers rested over your round belly, stroking it gently before his palm settled there fully.
A deep moan escaped him as your hand began to move with intent, following the thick veins along his length, now aided by his own slick.
“Can’t you tell mommy that daddy’s losing his soul right now?” he murmured between soft gasps. “Maybe she’ll listen to you—oh!” His head fell back just as you sank down.
Your tight cunt wrapped around that fat tip, clenching around just the first inch, soaking him in that sweet wetness you always had for him, the kind that left him completely, utterly weak.
But with time, things changed naturally. The arrival of your baby girl meant change, exactly as you had expected. You didn’t face it with fear, no. You welcomed it with excitement.
You found beauty in sharing that path together. In sharing nights when the baby cried, seeking her mother’s warmth. In sharing days where you traded roles, when you nursed her, and he paced the room with that tiny baby cradled in his large hands, patting her back gently to ease her burps.
And Shunsui fell in love a second time, differently.
He fell in love with every small moment, and you could see it in every second.
In the way he refused to put her down in her crib even after she had fallen asleep. In the confidence with which he read reports while holding her against his chest, his large hand supporting such a tiny back. In the way his hands, so big, were the gentlest when it came time to bathe her, washing her small body with careful strokes, smiling all the while to make it easier for her.
But the truth was that Shunsui never forgot who his first love was.
If anything… that love only grew.
Seeing you was a gift.
Seeing you every day, caring for your baby girl. Watching the delicacy with which you held her while nursing, the soft way you spoke to her in that gentle voice as she rested against your legs on the bed. And even through exhaustion, Shunsui was blessed with the sight of you in loose, comfortable clothes, rocking your baby gently to sleep against your chest.
Not to mention that it had been quite some time since you last allowed yourselves a moment like those nights of passion, there was no denying it. It had been a while since you’d shared something just for the two of you.
And Shunsui’s body had begun to speak.
So had his lips, because he would never feel ashamed of desiring his wife.
“Do you know how good you look like this?” he murmured when you felt his large, muscular body settle behind you, the warmth of his skin against yours as your eyes lingered on your baby sleeping peacefully in her crib beneath the soft light that hadn’t yet been turned off. “She looks very asleep to me,” he added with a low hum, a small smile in his voice.
“You think so?” you asked, one of your hands lifting to rest gently at the nape of his neck, fingers slipping beneath the loose tie holding his hair back.
Your hips pressed back instinctively, feeling his length, already hard and prominent, slide along your lower back, conspiring with the heat that began to pool between your legs.
“Mhm,” he answered softly as one of his hands slipped down your loose robe, finding the opening and disappearing beneath it. “I missed this wetness of yours, always reacting so beautifully,” he murmured as one of his thick fingers found your slit, gliding through your slick juices. “Do you remember everything you did to my poor body when you still had that round belly?” he teased lightly. “I think it’s my turn to return the favor. I’ll be gentle—I promise… well, no, I don’t promise.”
Your hand had to grip the wooden edge of the crib when your knee buckled at the soft pressure of his finger against that needy bundle of nerves, sensitive and aching in that moment.
“You were blessed by my pregnancy hormones,” you shot back, your breath turning deeper, more uneven.
“That’s true,” he agreed, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw. “I don’t think I appreciated it enough,” he purred playfully. “Maybe we should go for a second, bring back those wonderful nine months of cravings from the Human World and an insatiable woman. I volunteer.”
“Shunsui,” you whispered with a small laugh, cut short by a soft moan when his finger finally slipped inside that pliant entrance, your thighs tightening around his wrist.
But then—
The cries began. The sudden wail filled the room, demanding all the attention it deserved in those first fragile months of life.
“What timing, sweetie,” he muttered with a quiet growl toward your baby. “Go to the bedroom, wait for me there,” he told you gently. “I’ve got this.”
You obeyed, not without pressing a soft kiss to his lips first.
Left alone in the room, it didn’t take him long to lift his baby into his arms. Only seconds after being held against the warmth of her father’s chest, her cries softened, eyes blinking up at him with something close to amusement.
“I like attention too, my sweet girl,” he said with a small smile. “And I’m starting to think crying like that might just get it for me too.”
When her chubby little hands lifted, tugging gently at the loose sleeping kimono Shunsui wore, she found one of his prominent pectorals and gave it a small tap.
“Ah,” he murmured, smiling. “I don’t think I can help you with that,” he added with a quiet laugh. “But yes, I also desire your mother’s boobies right now,” he confessed softly as he stepped out of the room with her in his arms.
Knowing that…
most likely…
tonight wouldn’t be a lucky night either.
︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒦
╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮
Isshin Kurosaki
╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯
“What are you doing?!” he shouted the moment his eyes caught your movements.
“Uh… reheating some Indian food we had left from yesterday,” you answered casually.
“Do you know how dangerous it is to stand that close to the microwave waves?!” he asked, already placing his hands gently over your round belly, hidden beneath one of his loose T-shirts draped over your smaller frame. He guided you away from the microwave with care as you looked up at him, smiling softly.
Isshin wasn’t just protective, he was beyond that. He was utterly devoted. Because his life was you, one hundred and one percent. You were his vision, his starting point, his future. He walked for you and would keep walking for you, because your smile had claimed parts of his heart he hadn’t even known were missing. Because it was you who drew him in, with your jokes, the way you teased him, and the way you protected him just as fiercely in return.
The way you made sure he ate the best meals, breakfasts, lunches, dinners. The way you supported him with the clinic in every way you could. The little details, remembering the movies he wanted to see, buying the tickets so you could go together, knowing exactly which soda he’d order. The way you noticed the smallest sign of discomfort in his body when a cold threatened to arrive, and how you fought his stubbornness to take care of him the way he deserved.
Now, Isshin didn’t just return that care.
Having a little baby growing in your womb, born of deep love and one impulsive, emotional night, only multiplied the way he showed his devotion.
And yes, sometimes it could be overwhelming.
Like when you insisted on assembling the crib yourself and he didn’t want you to because of the effort it required, something you understood and didn’t fully argue against.
But at the same time, he hated the idea of taking away the agency and independence that defined you. He loved watching you continue your days, carry on with your routines.
For example, when you went grocery shopping, if he was busy at the clinic, you’d go alone. As long as it didn’t involve carrying anything heavy. A silent agreement you both understood.
Because you weren’t careless.
And that awareness, that intelligence, was something he valued deeply. He trusted you completely, aside from the occasional moment when something he read in a book or magazine sent him spiraling.
Even then, the question never failed to come: “Do you want me to do it instead?” And he knew better than to argue if you said no.
All things considered, your pregnancy had been one of the best periods of your life.
You would never forget the way Isshin talked to your round belly, and no, it wasn’t just small talk or excited rambling about the baby. He told him everything about his day, step by step.
Even things like,
“And now I’m thinking about mom,” he said casually, lying on his side with one hand supporting his head, elbow propped on the bed. “About how sexy your mother looks when she wears my pajama pants and has to hold them up at the waist so they don’t fall.”
“Hey!” you snapped, lowering your gaze to him, pulling it away from the magazine in your hands.
“What?” he replied with a sideways smile.
Embarrassment? About what, exactly?
And that was before you began to feel the heat of his words spreading through your body, before he pushed himself up from the bed, bracing one hand against the headboard, giving himself the perfect angle to kiss you.
Softly, yes, but with a hunger that grew from desire, from the beauty in front of him, from the brilliance of your essence. From your strength, even on the harder days, when your back ached, when physical changes felt difficult to adjust to.
He reminded you what they meant. The love carried in your slightly wider hips, your cheeks a little fuller. The strength behind every ache that forced you to pause your day.
“You’re—ngh!” A low, deep growl tore from his lips as his eyes locked onto you, onto the way pleasure overtook your gaze while his hips moved with intent. “B-beautiful,” he finally moaned, his hand lifting to cradle your cheek gently as you felt his movements slow.
His length, aching and needy, pushed into you with an initial urgency, careful yet matching the rhythm you asked for, what you wanted. But then the motion shifted.
Your parted lips let out soft, delicate moans, almost little whimpers, when the hand that had been holding your thigh left it, gliding slowly down your calf until he allowed himself to press a gentle kiss to your shin before moving again.
Your hands reached for him, and he took it as a clear sign, interlacing your fingers with his, drawing your hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss there.
“Don’t—don’t stop,” you pleaded softly, and he obeyed.
Without stopping, his thrusts grew deeper. That aching tip kissed the deepest part of you, brushing your cervix as raw, obscene sounds filled the room, your tight cunt clenching around him, pulling him in desperately, trying to take everything he had to offer.
“I-Isshin,” you moaned, lifting your gaze as your body twisted toward your peak.
“So tight,” he growled, brows knitting as your pliant walls became the sweetest torture, yet he kept his hips careful, controlled.
Because that was who he was.
Completely careful, even when it felt like his body might shatter right then and there.
With the arrival of your baby boy, Isshin’s role as a father became more defined than ever. While you felt increasingly confident navigating each stage of your baby’s development, you couldn’t help but find a deep tenderness in Isshin’s almost divine concern.
The way he could still quote every baby-care book he had read, each one vividly present in his mind, as he gave everything he had to be the father he wanted to be. A father worthy not only of the blessing that had entered his life, but also of you, as a husband, just the same.
And you were endlessly grateful to him. More than words could express. Grateful for every night he got up to tend to the crying while you slept peacefully. For how he cared for the little post-partum aches that haunted some of your days, your headaches, your discomfort, the careful attention he paid to your well-being during breastfeeding.
You couldn’t have asked for a more ideal husband.
Or father.
But that ideal father was still a husband who needed his wife, on some nights, especially. Nights when you were the one tending to the baby, who cried more than either of you had expected, giving Isshin a moment to breathe. And those “breathers” often turned into long showers, attempts to quiet a body that missed yours, the only one that could truly satisfy him.
One night
Your baby decided to be merciful, falling asleep early, at least for a few hours before demanding attention again. And you were just about to step into the shower. The bathroom door was never locked, but you trusted the privacy of your home.
Standing in front of the mirror, you wore only the comfortable underwear you’d grown used to, full coverage, hovering on that thin line between panties and diaper, threatening to cross it at any moment.
Your eyes traced your body, the way your breasts had swollen from breastfeeding, nipples slightly irritated; the softness in your hips and thighs; your abdomen not quite flat yet; the marks now tracing the lower part of it.
Knock, knock.
“Everything okay?” Isshin asked from outside, his voice tinged with concern.
“All good!” you answered quickly, turning toward the shower, ready to turn it on.
You did, adjusting the temperature to your liking, before turning back to grab a towel from beneath the sink.
“Isshin!” Your eyes widened when you caught him peeking through the door, curiosity clear as his gaze instinctively traveled over your body. You quickly grabbed a discarded T-shirt from the floor, covering yourself. “Did something happen?” you asked, startled.
One of his brows lifted.
“Why are you covering up?” he asked, not invasive, just curious. “Are your nipples more sensitive? Did something happen? Sometimes during pregnancy—”
“No, Isshin, no,” you shook your head with a small smile. “It’s just that…” you sighed softly, looking down before meeting his eyes again. “I think I need to change my eating habits a bit… maybe go back to the gym.” You said it firmly. “I want to get my body back… the pretty body.”
“Get what back?” he asked, stepping into the bathroom with you, water still splashing softly behind you. “Y/N, you already have a beautiful body,” he said without hesitation. “I understand if you want to be active again or make some changes, but—God, I swear you look more beautiful every single day.”
“Oh, shut up,” you rolled your eyes, feeling heat bloom across your cheeks. “how can you say that when I’m wearing these grandma panties and carrying extra weight? And don’t even get me started on my skin, I need to make changes.”
“Y/N, I’ll support any change you want to make so you feel comfortable,” he said, eyes darkening with a need he no longer bothered to hide. “But fuck—it hurts down here every night not being able to touch you when you look this gorgeous just breathing.”
“Isshin!” you gasped, your blush deepening.
“Yes, even with the grandma panties,” he nodded with a crooked smile, stepping closer. He tugged gently at the T-shirt until it fell to the floor, revealing you again. “God… those grandma panties,” he added with a teasing grin before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Completely, undeniably sexy.”
The shower was shared.
And yes, you might still want to make those changes to your body.
And yes, he would support you every step of the way.
But he’d also support you by fucking you dumb every night, just so you never forgot that, no matter what, you were fucking beautiful.
︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒦
╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮
Sōsuke Aizen
╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯
Aizen’s eyes always spoke far more than his scarce words ever did. It was in his nature, a man of few words, but when he spoke, each one carried immense weight. And you had always found yourself completely captivated, in love with precisely that. With being able, in your own way, to read him in silence.
And he knew it.
He fell in love with you from the very beginning, not because of your ability to unravel his mind in an instant. It was never about that. It was about the way every step he took was understood by you. About the fact that, when the time came, he had to prove himself, and he did so sufficiently.
Not so that you would be worthy of him.
But so that he could be worthy of you.
Because Aizen’s love existed far beyond the familiar concepts of devotion. It was something colder, more distant, yet surgical in its precision. A silent, desperate devotion expressed not through words, but through action.
Aizen does not love by conventional standards.
And you never had to change who you were. You remained gentle, generous, humble, someone capable of connecting with others through warm conversation. Though you could never deny that your preference was always to spend your time with your husband.
He was not controlling.
Not exactly.
He had no need to demand that you remain by his side all day, yet you were the one who stayed whenever you could. You liked being with him, at all times. Even when you merely accompanied him with your presence while he focused on his duties or the objectives of the day. You liked watching him concentrate, feeling the warmth that bloomed in your chest at the effort he poured into his work, just as you felt another kind of warmth pool between your thighs when, without looking at you, he would rest one of his long hands on your leg and leave it there.
He was always aware of your presence.
And in his own way, he appreciated it.
The idea of having a family was never a thought that kept you awake at night. You did not resent it, it simply felt unlikely. He was deeply focused on his ambitions, and you were there to support him in whatever he needed.
Your life was not empty.
Even if much of your day unfolded at his side, silent companionship as you watched him work, or quiet tea shared together, there were moments when he entrusted certain tasks to you.
Did it bother you not to do more during the day?
No.
You found it comfortable.
And you would never deny how good it felt to be his princess.
Because being his princess did not mean lavish gifts or a life of excess, though those existed, especially at night. Your title was written in the way he made you feel seen. Present. In the silent gratitude he offered for your company. In the way he thanked you through action, serving your coffee with the precise amount of sugar you preferred, guiding a hand along your lower back as you walked through the corridors, trusting you with his plans laid bare, heart open.
But it was that night.
The night you knelt naked on the bed you shared, obediently positioned on your knees atop the vast mattress, your skin catching the moonlight as it spilled in through the window.
So close to the edge, your hands moving softly over his chest. Lightly defined muscle beneath your touch, a body far more slender than most, elegant even. His cool, pale skin under your palms as you allowed yourself to simply adore him.
One of his hands reached out, taking your wrist with quiet certainty. He looked at you with that determination, with that pride that only surfaced when his gaze rested on you. He brought your wrist to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there, then another to your palm, and finally a delicate one to the back of your hand.
“Y/N,” he called softly, noting the way your eyes lifted to meet his. “I have considered our future. I have considered everything that is yet to come.” His voice remained calm as he released your wrist. “And I cannot abandon this idea… the one I have indulged.”
His hand lowered then, until only the tips of his fingers brushed over your abdomen.
“I want you to carry my child.”
The certainty in his voice was unmistakable.
And the moment your lips gave him the clearest yes, his body moved, guiding you through every step required to make it happen. A night he would never forget. One where a deeply buried desire took shape with every thrust against your body, with the way every part of you clung to his length as he murmured against your ear.
“You’re going to be full of me.”
“You’re bearing my child in this beautiful, perfect body.”
And even when it was over, when your legs trembled, when tears of overstimulation slipped down your cheeks, born of his insistence on every possible attempt, his gaze never left you. Nor did his intention.
When his precise, almost surgical eyes fixed on the white cum beginning to spill from your abused, delicate entrance, it was his fingers that gathered the slick and pressed it back inside you, accompanied by a quiet whisper.
“No, no, darling,” he murmured at the corner of your lips as you heard the soft squish of his fingers sinking back in, sealing any trace of leakage. “We can’t waste anything. Is that alright?”
“Mhm,” was all you could manage, nodding weakly as your deep breaths slowly faded into exhaustion.
And when the pregnancy truly took hold, when your belly began to grow in a way that was unmistakable, part of him growing inside you, his protection over you intensified.
It was no longer quite the same as before. Certain errands he used to entrust to you alone were no longer an option; if he wasn’t available, you were always accompanied. People like Gin or Tōsen would walk with you whenever you needed to handle simple tasks on his behalf. Aizen understood your need to remain at least moderately active throughout your days.
It didn’t bother you.
You took it as what it was, care. Affection. And it was undeniably charming.
The way he made sure every single one of your wishes was fulfilled to the letter, always attentive to your comfort. Like having a piece of furniture specially built for you in the places he frequented most during the day, his own hall where he worked through his plans, so you could lie down and rest properly while remaining near him.
The way he ensured that any craving, no matter how impossible it seemed in a place as distant as Hueco Mundo, was satisfied one way or another.
He would bring the moon to your feet if you asked for it in the morning.
Anything, for you.
And still, you preferred spending your time with him. Not just out of habit, or because you accompanied him through his days, but because of who he became when you were present.
This new experience changed something in him. And compared to what you might have imagined Aizen would be like while awaiting his child, one thing truly surprised you: the attention he paid to your growing belly.
He began taking more frequent pauses just to approach you, doing the unthinkable, like kneeling before you so he could cradle your belly gently and ask how you were feeling. If you needed anything. If you were comfortable.
“You’re doing so well,” he would whisper to your belly, his lips nearly brushing the fabric of your uniform. A small smile would appear, one filled with certainty and unmistakable pride. Pride in you. In what was growing inside you.
And when your child finally came into the world, a baby girl, you had never felt safer than with the man holding your hand through it all. He never expressed it in words. He never had to. It was in his actions.
When the baby rested in his arms, an admirable gentleness took over him. He looked at her with the faintest, most genuine smile, whispering soft shhs to calm her cries.
He wasn’t distant from her. Quite the opposite, he was far more present than you had expected. For the first few months, he nearly abandoned his usual duties altogether, dedicating himself to her completely.
And yet, you noticed something important.
It wasn’t only about the baby.
Aizen never forgot that he had been a husband first.
The way he cared for you. The way he asked you to wait in bed while he carefully placed the baby in her crib, only to return and help you move around the room. The way he wouldn’t let you shower without first ensuring the baby was resting safely, then joining you to help wash you. Not because you couldn’t do it yourself, but because he was devoted to caring for the body he loved most. The being he adored most. Giving you the attention you deserved. The love you deserved.
When you nursed your baby, he stayed by your side, making sure she latched properly, that she didn’t hurt your sensitive nipples or cause any complications.
Every night when the baby cried, he was already at your side, helping you up with infinite patience. His hand would rest against your lower back as you walked together to the next room, quieting her cries side by side.
Still, given that Aizen’s priority was your well-being, your complete comfort, and mindful of how your body might have been affected by pregnancy and childbirth, his movements were careful. He was a controlled man.
But he was still a man.
Every night you slept against his chest, he had to remind himself that you deserved rest. Even when the pressure between his legs became unbearable, sensations spiraling through his body, when the tent beneath the sheets betrayed him, and he was grateful you were asleep so he wouldn’t have to endure that small humiliation.
Though there was nothing small about it.
“Darling,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered open, gaze drifting downward to that familiar problem you usually took care of so well. “Do you need…?” you asked sleepily.
“Excuse me?” he asked, turning his head toward you with mild curiosity.
“You’re… hard,” you murmured with a small smile, eyes already threatening to close again still.
Your hand began to slip beneath the sheets, aimed with purpose.
“Hey,” he called softly before you could reach him fully, before your fingers could find his length at its peak, slick with his own need, leaking for you. “No,” he said gently, smiling.
“Why not?” you pouted, lifting your gaze to him.
He turned onto his side to face you, a calm smile on his lips before he tucked his face into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there.
“You’re tired,” he murmured, kissing your jaw. “You had bad headaches this afternoon,” he added, leaving another warm kiss on your cheek.
Until his nose brushed yours, and your lips hovered close, almost touching.
“You need to rest, alright?” he asked quietly.
“I need you,” you whispered against his lips, your hands finding his chest beneath his sleepwear, caressing him the way you knew best. “And I can tell you need me too, let me make it up to you for being the best husband and father.” You paused. “I know you need it.”
He simply shook his head, smiling softly.
Then he pressed a warm, brief kiss to your lips, audible in its gentleness.
“I don’t think I’ll die from not having sex, love” he murmured with a quiet laugh. “Or maybe I will—but I’ll find out in the morning.”
He wrapped his arms around you then, drawing you close, hiding his face in your neck.
“Rest, love” he whispered.
And you could only smile as your arms curled around his head, fingers threading through his soft hair, finally closing your eyes, surrendering to that night of peace.
This fic was inspired by @pinguwuuuu 's ABSOLUTELY SCRUMPTIOUS Shinji art. As evidenced by the below, it sent me into quite the h*rny spiral...
Check it out here and GO SHOW IT THE LOVE AND HYPE IT DESERVES !!!
Without further ado - TW: smut! alcohol! and Shinji himself!
You had thought a night out would be the perfect way to de-stress, but were quickly proven wrong. The alcohol didn't loosen you up in the way you intended, having the opposite effect and only winding you tighter, bringing the worst to the surface. No matter how many drinks you downed, you dwelled on the same worries, increasingly fussed over the same insecurities, and grew more and more miserable with each passing moment. If anything, the negative thoughts got louder, more pressing, drowning out any chance you had of enjoying the evening.
On top of your already awful state of mind, it seemed everything else had to go wrong as well. One of your friend's left early after getting into a fight with her boyfriend, and the other met someone who she wanted to leave with, and who were you to drag her down with you? She didn't ask twice when you told her to go on ahead, you'd be fine. You hadn't been fine the whole night, and now you waited impatiently for the bartender, who seemed keen on ignoring you, so that you could close your tab. At least this would be the end, you attempted to console yourself with that thought. No matter how long it took, this would be it, and you could try again tomorrow.
Along the wall, neon pink lights beckoned, shaped into the words, "Stay awhile." You felt mocked by them. No, I don't think I will. You were getting antsy, the snobby crowd, shitty music, and dim lighting making you dizzy and irritable. You pulled at the bottom of your tight dress, a fashion choice you now regretted in a room full of stuck-up assholes, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting about nervously, knowing realistically that nobody was paying attention to you but simultaneously feeling as if all eyes in the room were on your lonely self. You were hoping not to have to raise your voice over all of the noise to get the bartender's attention, but this was getting ridiculous.
Just when you were working up the courage to assert yourself, there was a presence at your side, uttering such an incredibly corny pickup line, you almost thought you were hallucinating.
“Hey Doll, are ya tired? Cuz’ you’ve been runnin’ through my mind all day."
You snapped your neck towards the unsuspecting victim, ready to tell him to get lost.
Or not?
Your body betrayed your mind, coming alive at the sight of him, heart fluttering, throat going dry, and an odd churning of heat in your stomach. He looked like trouble, this stranger, unlike any other man in this bar, adorned in a satin, animal-print, button-down, belted dress pants, and a wolfish smirk. Even his sunshine blonde hair was styled into an odd cut with angled bangs that fell around his face with the way he tilted his head at you.
Pairing his eccentric looks with his equally strange and humorous greeting, you were curious about him, to say the least, curious enough to forget about looking for a bartender and to forget that you were supposed to be dejected, not captivated, ready to leave, not ready to stay. The "Stay Awhile" sign glowed brighter, pulsing, like it was laughing at you. You both loved and hated that whatever he had going on was working on you. He'd easily ensnared you, and you had to give him bonus points for being able to do so when you were in such a sour mood too.
Still, you weren't going to let him off that easy, not with how smug he looked.
"Doll?" You challenged, raising your eyebrows at him. "And how could I have been on your mind all day? We've just met."
He straightened at your stiff tone, lifting his elbow off of the bar, cheeks reddening ever so slightly under your cold gaze. "Would you prefer I call you something else?"
Cute. You almost decided to go easy on him, with how unnerved he looked.
"Buy me a drink." Now it was your turn to grin, suppressing laughter at the panic in his dark, glazed-over eyes. "Then you can call me whatever you want."
His lips broke out into another smirk, his confidence returning. "Careful," he crooned. "What can I get ya?"
You told him your usual, and he waved the bartender over smoothly. Had you not been distracted by something glinting inside of this mystery man's mouth, you would've glared at the guy behind the bar who had refused to acknowledge you this whole time but eagerly came running over to him. After he ordered himself and you another round, you interjected, asking to close your tab. Surely there was no need for you to keep it open now.
"Wish I'd've found ya earlier." He moved in closer, practically sliding towards you. "You wouldn't have had a tab to pay."
You smiled cheekily, too distracted by the glimpses of silver you were catching each time he opened his mouth. "Is that...?" You bit your lip, shyly pointing at his lips. "Is that a tongue piercing?"
"Sure is." He stuck his tongue out for your viewing pleasure, making you gasp and giggle excitedly. "Ya like it, doll? Can I call ya that now that your drink's being made, or do I have to wait till it's in front of you?"
"I do like it," you complimented flirtatiously. "I think the bartender hates me, so it may be awhile," you added, laughing sheepishly. "So I suppose it's fine to call me that now."
"Hates you?" He laughed with you. "What'd ya do for him to do that?"
"Existed. I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I've been waiting here forever trying to close out my tab so I could go."
"He's an idiot." He downed the rest of his drink before continuing, pushing it forward along the bar. "Don't know how he, or any guy here for that matter, could ignore a pretty thing like you. Guess I should be glad I was the one to catch ya before you left, though." He smiled lazily, unabashedly letting his eyes drift up and down your figure.
You shivered under his sultry eyes, interrupted when the rude bartender returned, sliding your drinks across the bar and letting your receipt clatter down in front of you without so much as looking your way, already off to service the next stuck-up-looking schmuck. The man at your side scoffed, puffing his chest up, looking ready to say something, but you quickly signed your receipt and grabbed his attention again before he could start any sort of confrontation.
"So, are you going to ask me for my name or will I always just be doll?" You batted your lashes at him, enjoying the attention you were receiving after the shitty night you had.
You were sure that had any other man in this bar approached you the way he did, it wouldn't work out in their favor. His unconventional looks and ways were wildly attractive and made you feel special to have reeled him in without even meaning to. The girl you were now seemed entirely different from the one you were just before he came over. He hadn't even known that he had completely flipped your night upside down. You had been ready to bite someone's head off, and now, you were relaxed again, easing into your soft and feminine side when he naturally made you feel like you were the only woman in the room.
"What's your name, pretty?" He asked, clearly having a thing for all the classic pet names, though you certainly didn't mind.
"(Y/N). What's yours?"
"Shinji."
"Shinji." You nodded to yourself. "Do you use goofy pick up lines on all the girls, Shinji?" You teased.
"Only the cute ones in sexy little dresses," he teased back.
"I was actually just thinking this dress was a bit much," you confessed, subconsciously reaching to tug it down again.
"And you were trying to leave." Shinji narrowed his eyes at you. "You weren't having a good time tonight?"
"Not really." You shrugged, anxiously chugging your drink.
"How come?" He asked softly, frowning and seemingly genuinely concerned about you, this stranger.
"I've just been really stressed lately," you explained. He nodded in understanding, and you hesitated before opening up to him more, giving him a few more personal details about what's been on your mind. You avoided looking at him, taking more sips of your drink, a little embarrassed about drunkenly oversharing to him, but he was the first person to truly listen to you all night.
"Come on," he said, extending a hand.
"Where?"
"To de-stress." He smirked.
It was vague, possibly dangerous, and still, you slipped your hand into his, letting him drag you away from the bar and along the floor, heading to a back room where there were more bodies, more bass, more noise. As the space got more crowded, you released his hand, grabbing onto his bicep instead and tucking into his side. You felt him laugh against you and curl his arm slightly to squeeze you in closer.
"You're gonna make me dance?!" You yelled to him over the music, nervously observing the people near you, some with friends, others with lovers, flailing about chaotically or grinding against one another.
Your eyes widened as a girl nearby was bent over, face down, ass up, a man behind her looking all too proud. Shinji followed your gaze and chuckled.
He leaned in, inches away from your face. "Do you want to dance?"
His scent, expensive and comforting, flooded your senses. As appealing as moving your body against his sounded, it wasn't exactly what you had in mind, at least not here right now in front of everybody. You'd rather be tucked away somewhere, having to stay close to hear each other, so close where you could let that scent of his infiltrate your mind and make you forget all your worries.
"No," you said into his ear. "I just want to be close to you."
A look of surprise ghosted over his features before settling into relaxed confidence once more. "I've got ya."
He pulled you along the dance floor, through the sweaty bodies and drunk patrons, not stopping until he found a small booth tucked away in a dark corner, precisely the kind of spot for the pair of you. You shimmied your way in and he settled in next to you, thighs bumping together and feet tangling under the small table.
"So did it hurt?" You asked, resuming conversation up close so that you could hear one another, greedily inhaling his cologne.
"When I fell from heaven?" He snickered.
"We're done with the pickup lines," you scolded playfully. "I'm asking about your tongue piercing." You took a sip from your drink, eyeing him.
He shrugged. "Sure. It hurt initially, and then a little soreness after. Nothing I can't handle."
Like a pervert, you silently wondered if he had a complex, a sort of thing for pain. Maybe you'd find out. Maybe you wouldn't.
"Do you have any piercings?" He asked, nudging you, interrupting your unseemly thoughts. The tiniest bit of contact from him only had more unseemly thoughts flooding in to replace the others.
"Just my ears." You pulled your hair away from your neck to show him the couple of jewels poked through your lobes. "When I was in college, I actually went with a few of my friends to get my nipples pierced," you giggled to yourself. "My friend went first and freaked out so bad, it freaked me out. There was no way I was gonna do it after that."
"So ya bailed on her?!" He laughed at you.
"I wasn't the only one doing it with her!" You defended. "There was a third of us, and she actually went through with it and took it like a champ. It's better I didn't get them pierced. I don't think I'm that kind of girl." You blushed hard, thankful for the minimal lighting.
"And what kind are you?" Shinji looked you up and down, as if already making his own assessment.
"The kind who plays it safe," you admitted, albeit with a little bit of shame. "I'm very good at chickening out."
"You're a good girl," he said it in a way to compliment you, erasing your shame. "I like good girls."
"Wouldn't you get bored with someone like me?" You gulped your drink, a bit of your insecurity still leaking through.
"I don't get bored, no," he said seriously and finitely, taking a generous sip from his own glass. "Besides," he leaned in closer, "good girls are more fun in that way. They usually have a lot to hide, and it's quite the opposite of boring getting to find all that stuff out."
You smiled coyly, appreciating the way he was reading you, slithering in and making bold assumptions like that, bold assumptions that made you feel desirable. You needed him to know that the desire was mutual.
"You smell good," you finally told him, looking down at his lips and back up at his sharp, perceptive eyes, if you were being bold with each other now.
"So do you." He tilted his head, letting his nose just barely brush against your ear, his breath hitting your neck as he inhaled and exhaled. "Like a picnic."
"A picnic?" You laughed.
"In a field of flowers with lots of sweets," he explained, lightly brushing his lips against your neck. "Cakes, cookies, peaches, cherries...just wanna take a bite."
The wind was knocked out of you.
"Should we go?" You practically panted. "I - I mean after we finish our drinks?"
"We'll have to pay the jackass at the other bar one last visit so I can close out my tab," he sighed, "but yeah," and then smiled seductively. "Let's get out of here."
Prancing out of the bar with your hand wrapped around his bicep again felt like an act of rebellion, a resistance against the previous grievances of the night, and a defiance against your usual proper and modest ways. Maybe the alcohol was finally working in your favor, or maybe it was just that Shinji had a way of bringing out your carefree, playful, and humorous nature, your very best. You felt happiest when you were laughing, and now, as he whispered silly remarks about random passerby's in your ear and tripped over nothing and kept saying and doing stupid things just to make you grin, your face hurt from smiling so much. You didn't care where you were going, as long as it was with him, and the night that you were so desperate to leave behind had turned into one that you never wanted to end.
As expected, you ended up at his place. Like him, the inside was both suave and eccentric. He kicked off his shoes, flicked on dim lights and moved through the kitchen, going to get himself another drink as he asked your distracted self if you were hungry or thirsty, ever the gracious host.
"Water's fine," you mumbled haphazardly, discarding your heels at the door and taking in your surroundings.
He had an artfully messy collection of vinyl records, a desk with both organized and scattered papers and files, bookshelves full of fiction, history, and magazines. The furniture was dark and refined, like it was straight from an old speakeasy where they played nothing but smooth jazz and made strong, pretty cocktails. The space was a comforting combination of carefully arranged pieces and evidence that it was truly lived in. It was homey, and it was so him, spontaneous yet calculated, different yet beautiful.
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting guests tonight, much less a pretty lady such as yourself," he commented self-consciously as he handed you a glass of water. "I haven't cleaned."
"No," you shook your head at him, "it's beautiful. I'm sorry for snooping around, I just really like it." You beamed.
"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Mhmm," you hummed contentedly, wondering what his bedroom looked like.
He must've been a mind reader, draping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in that direction. "Well in that case, let me show you more of it."
Your mouth parted. Dark silk sheets and a large mirror on the wall, right in front of the bed, had you clenching your thighs together. His scent was everywhere in the room, like an aphrodisiac, hypnotizing you. He left your side to set his glass on the nightstand before leaping into his bed, posing on his side with his head propped up on his hand. "So, what do ya think, doll?"
You guffawed at him and clapped your hand over your mouth. "I think you're a real piece of work." You shook your head at him, suppressing a grin. "Your bed's nicer than mine is."
He was wearing a crooked, devilish smile, knowing that he was a piece of work, and you still wanted to fuck him. "Well? You coming in here with me or not?" He patted the mattress.
You bit your lip to contain your excitement, taking your time to carefully place your glass of water on the nightstand and toss your purse into a chair in the corner, just to tease him. You crawled onto the soft sheets, mirroring him and propping yourself up on your side. His eyes followed the curve of your figure, all the way down and back up, landing on your cleavage.
"Perv," you taunted.
"You love it," he practically growled.
"And what if I do?" You purred back.
"Then that makes you one too." He winked.
You fell into silence with him, eye-fucking each other.
And then the bed shifted as he moved toward you, coming to place his hands on either side of you, caging you in beneath him before dipping his head, taking your lips into his.
Shinji tasted like liquor and risky choices. You eagerly opened your mouth, taking that risk, letting him violate your mouth with that tongue of his that you were so enthralled with, curiously searching for his piercing to see what it would feel like. His knowing laugh vibrated through you, making you whine with embarrassment. He pulled away to kiss along your jaw and neck, surprising you with a lick to your throat, the jewel scraping against your tender skin and making you gasp. While he kissed and licked and sucked lower and lower, devouring you, his hand drifted up your thigh, dangerously close to where the bottom of your dress crinkled, just over your panties.
You squirmed and fussed. He was doing this purposely, dragging his piercing in between your breasts, massaging circles into your thighs but refusing to go any higher. You were not-so-subtly rubbing them together, both trying to hint to him that you needed to be touched and to create some sort of friction in the meantime. He continued to taunt you, chuckling into your chest before pulling his hand away completely, sitting up to pridefully take in your defeated state beneath him.
"You look so cute right now," he said, squishing your cheeks in his large hand. "You should see yourself."
You could hardly think of what you must've looked like right now, too infatuated with him towering over you, his pants tightening around his cock. With your face cupped in his hand, eyes glassy with carnal desire, he was giggling quietly to himself as you stared. You hadn't properly been touched yet, and you were already melting into his silky sheets.
"Come here." He released your face and beckoned with his finger.
Confused, you slowly sat up, watching him spin around to sit at the edge of the bed and nod towards his lap. You furrowed your brows before catching sight of that damned full-length mirror. You had almost forgotten about it, and how could you?! Crawling over to him, he helped you get seated into his lap, one arm wrapped around your upper abdomen, and the other above your hip, a hand resting on your stomach and another just below your boob. With your dress bunched up and almost exposing yourself, your bum was seated comfortably atop the bulge in his tight dress pants. The hand beneath your breast reached up to grab your cheeks again, directing your gaze forward where your wide-eyed reflection looked back at you. You throbbed at the sight, his manspread and the places his protective hands were positioned, your skimpy dress and cleavage littered with love bites.
"See?" He nipped at your ear. "So cute."
You sighed softly as heat simultaneously flooded into your nether regions and your plush cheeks, squished under his delicate fingers. Being forced to watch yourself get played with, it was equal parts sexy and humiliating. You were burning up in his hold, painfully aware of his erection pressing so near to your dampening panties. You dared to spread your legs a little wider, making yourself moan as you moved against him.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He feigned concern.
"Please," you begged him pathetically. "How much longer are you going to tease me?"
"If ya want something from me, all ya gotta do is ask," he baited you.
You huffed. "Touch me! Please!"
"I am touching you," he murmured into your neck, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his hand into your stomach for emphasis.
"No!" You pouted, clawing at his arm wrapped around you. You grabbed his hand and put it high on your thigh. "Pleeeease," you slurred.
"You have to say it." He grinned.
You sobbed, embarrassed. "Fine! Touch my pussy!" You winced at your own words.
"Atta girl," he chuckled, amused by your discomfort. He reached for your panties under your dress. Pressing a kiss to your glowing cheeks. "Don't be so afraid to tell me what ya want. I want to hear that pretty little mouth of yours say nasty things."
You lifted your hips to help him as he dragged the fabric over your hips and down your thighs. You shook them off of your legs, watching in the mirror as they fell to the floor.
"Spread your legs," Shinji demanded.
Whiny sounds of struggle escaped your mouth as you opened them over his lap, gasping at the sight of yourself in the mirror, and at the way he was watching too. Now that he'd had you flustered enough, he didn't waste any more time, wrapping an arm back around your waist to hold you up while he reached in between your legs with the other, running a finger through your weeping slit. You squeaked at the contact, reaching up to wrap an arm around his neck for support.
"Fuck," Shinji cursed under his breath as he pushed a finger inside of your walls. "You're so wet." He groaned as he started to slowly push it in and out of you, watching your lips part and chest heave with shaky breaths. "This is why I like good girls," he reminded you. "Acting so sweet and obedient while your pussy was drooling over me this whole time, huh?"
His filthy words made you cry out. "Oh, God, yes!" You confessed. "It was so wet. I needed you so bad."
"Shit, keep talking like that, sweetheart," he panted, positioning his hand to better curl his finger in and out of you while his thumb massaged your clit.
You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands as you made a mess on his slacks, rotating your hips into his palm. He hissed as your ass grinded down onto his crotch, involuntarily bucking up into you as he gripped your torso with fervor, trying to hold you into place.
"You're gonna make me cum in my pants, baby," he whimpered. "Squirming against me like that."
"Are these good pants?" You asked dazedly, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Does it matter?" He laughed viciously. "You don't need to worry about that, just keep fucking yourself on my fingers, sweetheart."
You moaned and mewled sweetly while you obeyed him, eyes fluttering open and closed as you observed your shuddering body in the mirror. Shinji continued looking too, going back and forth between watching your flushed face and his soaked fingers moving in and out of you, your reflections making intense, intimate eye contact a few times. Each time you met his eyes, you thought you may explode right then and there. You were dripping so much that there were squelching noises coming from between your thighs, growing louder than your shared pants and moans. The way he moved his fingers and the pace he adopted had you thinking he was doing it on purpose, trying to embarrass you again with how sloppy your pussy sounded while you locked eyes with him.
"You look so pretty," he whispered as your eyes met again. "All blushy and vulnerable and messy in my lap."
"I feel so pretty with you. You're so hot," you wailed, hardly able to finish your sentence, but you knew it'd drive him crazy, hearing you spew filth. "Wanna see how pretty I look when I'm taking your dick?"
"Oh, fuck," Shinji groaned, the pace of his fingers on you and in you faltering. "Alright." He pulled his fingers from you, making you pout and protest at the sudden loss of contact, though it was your words that brought this upon yourself. "I'm about to fucking burst. Will you be a doll and lay back so I can get us out of these clothes?"
You didn't want to move, but listened anyway, clambering off of him and onto the sheets beside him. You watched him with longing and impatience, an ache growing between your legs where he was working you up only to abandon you. He unbuttoned his shirt with shaky fingers before undoing his belt, tearing it loudly through the loops of his pants. He hurried out of them, ignoring the damp patch of your juices at the groin to focus on getting out of his socks and boxers as well.
While you witnessed him undressing, his long, pretty cock springing free, your hand had mindlessly wandered back down to your heat, finding your clit to give yourself some sort of satisfaction while he made you wait. The minute he caught you, he was wrenching your hand away and ripping your dress off of you so roughly you were getting whiplash, not that you minded.
"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, allowing himself a moment to admire your nude form before manhandling you into position in front of the mirror again, on all fours where you could watch him take you from behind.
Anticipation made your legs twitch as he nudged them apart slightly, opening you up a little further to take him. "Ready, cutie?" He ran a hand down your spine, grabbing your hips.
"Yes," you moaned, before looking back at him and cheekily wiggling your hips. "Please fuck me."
"Not such a good girl now." He slapped your ass, looking pleased.
Already painfully hard and leaking, Shinji grabbed himself and entered you, starting slowly but not giving it much time before he began thrusting into you at an animalistic pace, cursing and grunting and groaning. You thought you'd be fine to take him with how much he had already prepped you, but pain tore through you as he snapped his hips against yours. Each time he speared into you at this angle, you felt as though you were being ripped apart, a swell of pressure too intense to be pleasurable repeatedly plunging into your core. You bit your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to take the pain in hopes that it would soon turn to pleasure, but he was too big to be going this fast already.
Unable to stand it any longer, you released a yelp of pain, gripping the sheets in your fists and looking away from the mirror. "Wait! Hurts! It hurts!" You cried.
"Shit." Shinji pulled out immediately, lifting you into his arms and holding you tightly in a sort of protective bear hug. "I hurt you, baby? Tell me what I did, was I too rough?"
In his embrace, your pain faded away, only to be replaced with guilt. You knew you hadn't done anything wrong, but that insufferable, tiny voice in your head was yelling at you for ruining the mood.
"I'm sorry," you panted, looking away from his concerned gaze shamefully. "It's not your fault. It just hurts from the back sometimes."
"No, it is my fault," he said sternly, petting your hair. Speaking more gently now, "I got carried away and was way too rough with you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," you promised him, able to face him now. "Maybe we can try from this angle?" You suggested, still wanting him to pound you, especially after seeing how gentle he could be with you. "And a little slower, at least to start?"
"You sure?" His brown eyes were full of worry. "You don't need me to work you open a little more?"
"No, I still want your cock. Now," you said eagerly, gripping his arms.
"Alright." He smiled sweetly, kissing your temple with care. "Slower."
He wrapped an arm around you, using his free hand to reposition himself at your entrance for the second time. Your thighs quivered once more as you felt the tip prod your entrance, rubbing through your folds before he gently pushed back into you, filling you halfway before dragging out. He was much more cautious now, afraid to break you, and it was blissful and torture at the same time. You needed more.
"You can go deeper," you encouraged him, knowing that he was trying to be soft with you.
"Tell me if I hurt you again," he commanded before filling you up further. "You promise you will?"
"I promise," you assured.
With your word, he sunk deeper into your cunt, and at this new angle, you found it easier to take him, leaning your head back against his shoulder and whimpering into the air. You remembered the mirror and opened your eyes, watching his length glide in and out of you and your ass and thighs rippled with each gentle thrust. He whined into the crook of your neck, starting to increase his pace little by little, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort all the while. You kept nodding to him and letting him know to keep going, more, more, more, faster, harder. You let your sobs of pleasure grow louder and more shrill, struggling to hold yourself upwards as he fucked into you.
"Shinji," you whined for him.
"What's wrong?" He fretted.
"Can I," you were falling apart, finding it increasingly difficult to get the words out. "Can I suck on your fingers?"
He groaned in response, bringing his hand to your mouth and watching in the mirror as he shoved two fingers past your lips, letting you drool and swirl your tongue around them.
"Shit." He shut his eyes, tucking his nose into your neck, breathing in nothing but you. "I'm gonna cum."
You hummed with approval around his fingers. He pressed them against your tongue as he thrusted into you with more vigor now, chasing his high. Your eyes were fluttering closed over and over again, but you forced them open, wanting to watch him as he came, his hips stuttering against yours and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he moaned and groaned and took staggered breaths.
He pulled his fingers and his cock out of you, collapsing back to shoot white spurts of his seed onto his stomach, working himself empty with his hand. You crawled to his side, watching in awe as his dick twitched as if having a mind of its own. You waited until he was finished to dip your head and bring your tongue to his stomach, licking up the remains.
He made a high-pitched sound of surprise that made you giggle. Watching with wide eyes and an almost pained expression as you licked him clean.
"I think I'm in love with you," he announced breathlessly. "Lay down." Despite how exhausted he looked, he forced himself to sit up, that sunshine hair dancing around his flushed face. "It's your turn."
"I don't need to, Shinji, really." You shook your head, clamping your thighs together.
"No, fuck that." He mindlessly pushed you down into the mattress. "I'm eating your pussy until you're cumming on my face, so do as you're told and lay back."
You squeaked, head spinning as he yanked your legs apart and buried his face into your already ruined pussy. He meant business, finding your clit and sucking on it, lapping his pierced tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips were bucking wildly, already having endured so much stimulation, he had to pin you down, pressing a hand to your stomach to prevent you from lifting your hips.
It was the quietest he had been all night, aside from the lewd slurping noises, so determined to make you see stars. He didn't care how long it took, or how tired he was at having his own orgasm ripped through him. He wasn't going to stop until you'd had your fair share, pumping and curling his fingers in and out of you again.
"I - I think I'm close!" You cried to him, still twitching and squirming about in his silk sheets, at least as much as you could with him pinning you down.
He groaned against you in reply, sucking on your clit hard and twisting his fingers in and out of you at an impossible pace. Moments later, your senses exploded, ceasing to function properly. You saw white and heard static, floating in another realm until you landed back in this one, with Shinji brushing your sweaty hair from your face and caressing your cheek. He sounded distant at first, laughing quietly and kissing away tears from overstimulation.
Then you heard him clearly again. "You okay, doll?" Doll. The damned pet name that started this whole mess, Shinji's favorite thing to call you, it seemed.
"Yeah, I'm okay." Your body was cold, like all the energy you had stored had been expended. Without realizing, you were curling into him, seeking his warmth. "I'm so sleepy."
"Yeah?" He chuckled affectionately at you, his voice hoarse. It was a sound you wish you could store in a jar and take with you everywhere you went, to listen to whenever you wanted. "Me too. Ya wanna go to bed with me?"
"Shouldn't I clean myself up a bit?" You croaked, though as you uttered the words, you weren't sure how you were going to get your limp body into motion. "Wouldn't want to ruin your fancy sheets." You smiled lazily.
"Don't you worry about that," he cooed. "I'll go get a warm cloth so you can feel nice."
You watched his skinny figure half-saunter half-stagger from the bed and to the bathroom, missing his warmth already. As you lay atop his fine sheets, you had the thought that you never wanted to leave. This stranger's home had become your new favorite place, this stranger your new favorite person. Goofy, witty, protective, unique, easygoing, and definitely good in bed...you were so damn glad he used that stupid pickup line on you at the bar.
At the sound of the distant running water, you let your eyes shut, stirring only when you heard him come back, the bed shifting under his weight. He gently pulled your legs apart and cleaned up the sticky mess the both of you left behind, grinning a tad when you flinched and twitched, still sensitive and slightly sore.
He hurried away to toss the cloth in the hamper, coming back to hit the lights and throw the sheets over your naked bodies. You wasted no time finding him in the dark, snaking an arm around his chest and lifting your leg to drape across his waist. He sighed contentedly, pulling you into him and running his fingers along your side.
The gesture must've reminded him of where his fingers had been earlier. "What was that fingers in the mouth business about? You like sucking on stuff?"
"I thought we were going to bed?" You pouted, avoiding his question.
"Alright, alright," he laughed, falling back into silence momentarily.
But Shinji didn't know how to shut up for long. "Looks like my pickup line was pretty effective," he muttered pridefully.
You giggled tiredly at him. "I guess it was, dork."
"It will be a great story to tell our kids in the future," he said.
4 O’ Clock: Hot ‘n Cold (Grimmjow x Reader) 18+ NSFW
AN: So, something was calling me to write a grimmjow fic and yk what? If grimmy wants to get down in the middle of a cold winter morning, why tf not! 👊 I’m down. I wanna hear him mumble, whisper and groan in my ears lol. Wouldn’t you? Ok bye. 😭 Ps. Sorry for the long ass fucking wait - I’m a little rusty ahhh.
Synopsis: it’s a cold Winter morning and Grimmjow just feels like snuggling with you in between your legs bed.
*Pics are from Pinterest!
WARNING: GRAMMAR, pacing, mellowed out tybw grimmy, smut, dominant panther, quiet lazy sex but leads to a bit rough sex because it’s grimmjow, nipple play, foreplay, spooning cuddles, fondling your biscuits, kissing, cowgirl-humping, wet…squirting, more squirting, multiple orgasms, penetration, doggy style. And more! 🤓
Take your time reading due to pacing and dive into the story! 💙
4 AM
The howling winds of winter cried out around the house. It sounded like werewolves singing in melody as the snow fell down like rain drops. The inside of the house was barely bright,the beauty of the white snow piercing the long curtains all around the house — in the hallways and rooms. The aging radiator was still fighting to keep the house warm. It whistled, it blew off steam while the cold eerie winds blew over the sky.
It helped you sleep better at night.
…Crrreak…
…crrreak…crrreak…
The wooden floors groaned quietly as someone walked across it in the upstairs hallway. The tall silhouette had just teleported into the hallway and walked steadily toward your shared bedroom. He was met with your presence, sleeping soundly in the bed with a thick blanket nestling your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes observed your form that was so delicate, seeking warmth in the already warm room.
It’s too fucking hot in here. He thought to himself. But he did leave you alone for a while he took a stroll around the neighborhood - during a blizzard. You never knew where he went or when he’d come back home from his random walks. You never liked being alone in your bed. His blue eyes glowered in your direction when you pulled the blanket over your head as the sound from the old heater started clicking in his ears, ultimately making him tread towards you.
He took off his t-shirt and threw it across the room as he walked to his side of the bed. Slowly, he lifted the covers and his body gently dipped into the bed and carefully wriggled over to your side as the sheets shuffled under his feet. His chest pressed against your back and his legs hooked behind your own, he had you secured with ease. You shifted a bit to the newfound feeling and outstretched your neck. He quickly dipped his face into the small space, warming his nose and breathing in your flowery scent. A low groan came from his throat, piquing your ears as he rubbed his face against your flushed skin. But you remained asleep.
A few minutes passed by and the two of you wallowed in each other’s warmth. His arm was bent under your breasts, cupping your them underneath the satiny material. A soft, quiet huff brushed your skin, stirring you from your sleep. “Mm.” You started gathering yourself; the blue panther felt like a furnace next to your body.
Too hot…
“Mm.” You hummed again, shifting in his embrace and pulled the covers off your shoulder.
A high pitched whine from the old radiator was whistling in the air. You reveled in the way his chest risen and fell against your back, making you blush in his grip. Your fingers slithered down to his forearm that was securing your breasts from underneath, and you brushed the smooth skin lazily. His brows furrowed to the feathery sensations of your fingertips grazing against his skin. His arm flexed a bit, squeezing the two flesh more, telling you that he’s enjoying it.
He pulled away from your neck and started planting soft kisses on your shoulder slowly. It was warm, followed by a wet sensation. The languid pace stirred your senses. Soon after, he shifted behind you, leaning closer to you to kiss your neck. His nose rubbed your soft skin as he marked you with soft wet kisses. “Mm.” Your pulse was fluttering when he kissed your favorite spot. The soft wet pops of his lips rang in your ear as he did, making you press the side of your face to the pillow while your cheeks were getting warmer. Your lips were tucking in as his warm weight was slowly pressing your body into the bed while he focused on his task. Marking you as his, like always. You always surrender to his cuddles — even at random times.
You didn’t even realize that you were leaning back into his chest and how outstretched your neck was until his bangs were brushing underneath your chin. He way too into your neck. “Unh…” you sighed softly, heeding his soft lips pressing against your fluttering neck. “Mn.” You bit your bottom lip. You soft gasps made him apply some more of his weight on your back. “Ha..!” You gasped, pressing your ass against his groin when your pulse suddenly palpitates swiftly, violently sending you goosebumps.
A smirk crept from his lips when you shivered after the fact. He pulled back and untucked his arm underneath your breasts. You already knew your neck was purple from his ministrations. Suddenly, you felt his fingers pull the top of your dress down, slowly revealing your round plush tit hidden beneath the satiny material. A subtle groan came from his throat as he eyed the soft flesh. Your eyes remained closed while he gently hooked the top underneath it, securing it in place.
Suddenly, your senses sparked immediately when his firm hand cupped the soft fat gently. It was hot and brawny against your skin, making your blush hard while he fondled it tenderly. A low hum sounded from your lips from the burning sensation that it made him smirk.
Look at you…, he thought.
He squeezed it gently as if it was a stress ball.
He watched you twitching as he squeezes the round breast delicately. “M-mm.” You twitched again when he switched to stroking the flesh with his fingertips in circles. “A-ah~” he stared down at your quivering form as he did before focusing his finger on the pebbled flesh — your nipple. Your soft whimpers filled the air as the winter breeze howled out from the sky. “Grim~” you whispered, relishing the calloused pad circling the plump nipple lightly. It sent shocks all over your body, pushing your back against his chest as you basked in his lazy strokes. Your fingers slid up to the back of his hand as he did and you shivered in his warm embrace. Slowly, softly and gently…making you squeeze your legs together under the blanket. “M-mm..!” You managed to look down at his finger while you couldn’t stop twitching. It’s true that you have very sensitive nipples. One touch of his fingers and your senses are stirred. Your hazy eyes watched as he stroked it in lazy circles.
The violent howling winter winds mixed with your gratifying sighs filled his ears. it was hard as a rock against his finger. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the erect flesh. “Oh~” he sucked it with a wet pop before pulling back and spreading its wetness around his fingertip. He leaned over again and started flicking it with his crafty tongue, earning a quivering sigh from you as his bangs brushes your skin.
He expertly lifted his head up and kissed your lips before muttering, “come here.”
Without hesitation, the sheets shifted below your feet as you turned to face him and he laid down on his back. The bed groaned as he helped you shift your body on-top of his, straddling him under the duvet. His legs spread out a bit to feel your warmth above his cock. You felt his bulge poking through his boxers. Your fingers lifted the straps off your shoulders and your gown puddled your hips. His sharp eyes glowered as he stared at your big nipples. Always hard and suck-able. They felt cold in the air since the heater had been off for a few minutes. His fingers slithered up to your back, encouraging you to lean forward. “Mm.” You rubbed them across his chest slowly, making your pussy flutter. “Hmph.” He huffed as he watched your task, getting goosebumps every time your nipples brushed his own. “Mm.” You hummed softly as your soft lips wrapped around his and kissed him.
Slow and soft kisses echoed in the air in the dim winter morning. The skies were getting a bit brighter, piercing through the curtains as the two of you wallowed in each other’s warmth. His head was gently pressed in the pillow as he matched your languid pace. The bustling winds whistled through the sky - ringing yours and his ears while both lips smacked against each other softly. He hooked his fingers to the back of your thighs and pulled them up more to relish your sweet warmth. “M-mm.” You shivered when his calloused hands began stroking the back of your legs, steadily. “U-unh~” you shivered again, your pussy fluttering and your toes spreading out from the prickly sensations. Your trembling lips enveloped his again as he did, your pussy sadly clenching on nothing before he kneaded them.
His warm exhales flared through his nose, brushing your face while you kissed him softly. “Mm…!” You quivered, furrowing your brows as you focused on his soft fingers treading up to your soft round ass cheeks dangerously slow. “Mmm~” his fingers strokes the curves of your ass as he enveloped your trembling lips effortlessly. “Ha…ha…” you broke the kiss, gasping softly from tender touches. You threw your head back, shivering every time he teased you by prods your wet entrance almost playfully before switching to grabbing both cheeks just to stir you up more. “A-ah~” his fingertips brushed your folds, quickly switching between grabbing your ass gently and stroking your pussy teasingly - back to back.
So wet…he thought, feeling your oozing warmth cover his fingers every time he lightly thrummed your flesh.
Just one more swipe and you knew you were going to cum…
However…
His warm calloused hands slid up to your waist and pulled you down to his hips. “Ugh…” you shivered when you felt you his girth get sandwiched between your plump pussy. the sheets shifted around you as you were getting comfortable in this position. His firm grip resting on your hips as you seated yourself more properly on it, resulting in making your clit throb against the hidden warm source. “Good girl.” He muttered and slid his feet up, grounding himself to feel more of your sweet warmth. “M-mrrm~” you purred when he began rolling his hips up to your heat slowly. “Unh~” you sighed softly, gently bucking your ass down to his girth in the same rhythm. “Mmmm~”A low throaty moan from him made your pulsate. “Such a warm pussy, baby.” He whispered gravelly while he thrusted lazily. Your cheeks started to feel hotter as his praises came out like growls, sending you butterflies in your stomach. “Unh~” you breathed out, humping it steadily each time he rolled his hips up. “That’s it..”His crafty fingers slid up your waist to cup your soft tits. He looked down at his task, the murky room helping him see your puffy pussy lodging his cock.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5 AM
“Ahhh…” he sighed, followed by a low hiss.
*smack* he slapped your ass gently.
“Uuugh…” he pushed his head back into the pillow as his body bounced from the bed steadily.
The cold winter winds whistled all around the house while The bed springs squeaked steadily from his meek thrusts - poking your needy pussy. “Fffuck…” he whispered venomously, eyeing your pussy as he listened the filthy squelching sounds coming from in between your legs. “Mmm…” The sounds of his satisfying hums mixed with the steady squeaky surface filled your ears.
*Creak*
*Creak*
*Creak*
“Ah~” Your plump tits were bouncing in his peripheral. “Unh~” you sighed softly, pulsating as his warm, hidden cock rutted up to your wet pussy.
“Mm~.” You arched your back deeply from a particular thrust and leaned down slowly to kiss him. Your lips smacked against his lovingly, ringing in the dim lit room as he humped you gently. “M-mm~.” The smooches were so clear as he anchored you in his calloused hands, warm and firm while your body was jiggling to his gentle thrusts. Eventually, you leaned back. Your cheeks were starting to feel hot as you listened to your sloppy arousal slapping on his underwear, making you feel more putty in your legs. “Mm~” your trembling lips pulled in, pulsating from the feathery sensations. You couldn’t see it but grimmjow stared hard at the thick strings of your arousal slobbering the fabric, soaking his aching cock every time you met his thrusts. It felt so lewd when you smothered your throbbing pussy on your own mess.
The two of you were on cloud nine.
“U-uh~” your eyes didn’t miss it when his hand shift in between your legs and quickly pull his cock out. He wrapped his fingers around the thick length and rested it against your warm puffy pussy. “Rub on it.” He muttered half sternly, feeling how warm your flesh felt against the aching head.
Slowly, you began to circling your hips, spreading your plush petals out as the tip seamlessly founded its way in between your puffy folds. “Unh~” your hips twirled around the tip lightly, smothering it with your glistening prurience. “That’s it…” He whispered and sighed, looking up at you as his hands slid back up to your waist. “Ahh…” his eyes rolled back several times as you did. He looked half drunk. “Yeah…” his chest heaved from your sweet warmth. “Ugh..” A warm knot was beginning to form in his stomach. “A-ah…” you shivered at another gratifying moan, circling your pussy around the head as his fingers gripped your hips deeply. “So fucking warm.” He gritted his teeth, revealing his sharp canines. “Mm~” he emphasized when he started rolling his hips up languidly. “Unh~”. A soft sigh left your trembling lips as the tip bumped your pulsating clit. It felt so warm and wet against your slit. Ultimately making you clench on nothing, painfully.
His whispers of sweet nothings filled the air as the cold winter winds around the neighborhood.
“So…” he glared at you, he grounded his hips for more of that sweet sweet friction. Your dainty fingers suddenly gripped the sheet on either side of his head as you humped it greedily, making your pussy clench excitedly. “yeah…like that…rub it on my cock.” his mouth widened slightly, pressing his digits into your skin as it had gotten too good. “Ugh…ssss.”He pushed his feet in and breathed out heavily, feeling you slobber the tip thickly as his body bounced slightly on the bed. “Yeah…YEAH! ” he growled half loudly, grounding his hips in the bed from the perfect amount of frictions. The glazing tip felt like a sloppy lollipop. “Mmm~” He licked his lips and rubbed the tip against your entrance greedily, earning a whimper from you. “You want this, baby?” He whispered hotly, grinning heinously. You nodded shyly and listened to his drawled sigh as you slowly sunk on his thick length. “Hehe…” he watched his cock disappear. “ So warm all around me, baby.” His abs pushed in deeply from how tight you feel. Soon after, his sharp blue eyes flickered up to yours violently and he started slamming his hips up feverishly. “U-ugh!” You cried out messily, gripping the sheets for balance.
The rough skins slapping rang rapidly in the air as the bed creaked beneath him. “Unh! U-ugh!” You gasped, trying hard not to be loud at his pace as you held on for dear life. Your low choked up cries and messy breathing encouraged him to go faster. “G-grim..!” His fingers were deep in your skin. You were a complete jiggling mess. “M-mm-mm!” You moaned messily as the mattress squeaked incessantly. He shoved his cock in just the way you like it. Greedy. You felt so warm in between your legs; you didn’t realize you were leaking so much of your arousal onto him as he rutted into your sobbing cunt - Drizzling down his sack.
He felt so so good.
The wet sloppy become sounds clear. “Ugh..!” He groaned shakily, relishing the perfect frictions as his thighs slapped against the back of yours - wet and hard.
“Ssss...ahhhhh…” he sighed hotly in the murky room, heeding your sloppy pussy as he thrusted roughly. “Ah-ahhh~” you sighed shakily, your pussy feeling stretched and filled so well rapidly.
“That’s it …take it.” He panted in a whisper as he anchored you by your hips.
Yours and his silhouettes blended in the early morning darkness; the early signs of morning peaking through the curtains. If he goes on like this for another two minutes, you were going to cum. A messy one.
Suddenly, he stopped. Your glassy eyes looked at him, slightly pouting. You whined lowly.
“Grim-“
“Get on your knees.” He interrupted.
The sheets shifted under yours and his feet. Your gown met the floor along with his boxers. Your breasts met the warm sheets thanks to his body heat. You stared down at the messy sheets, your arms standing like pillars as the male shifted behind you. His calloused fingers slid down your hips and pulled you back slightly. “Unh~” your head lifted up when he started rubbing the tip up and down in between your folds. “U-Unh~” you shivered, spreading your knees out a bit more, digging them into the bed from the sensations. “Ugh…” he groaned, relishing the way the tip was grazing your warm entrance. You were clenching for him to fill you up already. “Unh…” he sighed, throwing his head back as he slowly pushed into you. Your fingers curled into the blanket from the familiar stretch, giving you butterflies in your tummy. “Mmm~” he hummed and started bucking his hips slowly.
He rocked his hips slowly, weakening your legs in seconds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Clap..clap…clap..!*
His hips slapped against your ass steadily. “Unh~” Your quivering form felt so putty as he bucked his hips against you your ass, forming a coiling knot in your tummy. “M-mm~” You reveled in his firm hands gripping your hips pulling you back. “Ahhh…fuck.” You shivered at his breathless moans, making you wetter. “Ahhh…ssss...” His head fell back from the sweet friction.
Your mind was hazy, bobbing messily to his controlled thrusts “Unh~” you pussy pulsated his thrusts, constantly poking your g-spot without fail. “Mm.” You managed to look back at his pelvis, deep lines complimenting his rutting hips. “Ah~” you arched your back and threw your ass back at him expertly. “Ah~” you sighed softly again, savoring the veins around his thick shaft stroking deeply into your gummy walls - every. single. time. “Hehehe…” he looked down, watching your jiggling ass slapping against his hips tenderly.“That’s it throw it back to me..nice and slow baby.” He whispered following a moan as he shoved it in with some force every time you did.
*smack!*
“Unh~” your walls trembled from the contact, earning a shaky groan from the blue haired male. Your cheeks grew hotter hearing those breathless moans. “Mmm~” he hummed, looking down and smirking, reluctantly stopping his hips. He pressed his hand down to your back, making your tits touch the soft sheets. “Mm.” You whined against the pillow when as he leaned forward, applying some of his weight onto your lower back. “There…Good.” He sneered at you like you were in bitch in heat. Respectfully.
Your soft pants filled his mind, anticipating his next move as he slowly thrusted in and out of your core. Before you knew it, he began slamming into you quickly. “M-mm!” You groaned heavily, pressing the side of your face pressed into the pillow. “A-ahhh.” He sighed heavily, your fingers gripping the sheets roughly for some control. “Ssss! Agh fuck!” He whispered thickly, ramming his hips roughly against your own.
The bed shook violently as he thrusted greedily into your tight pussy.
His hot breathed brushed your glistening back as you were rocking in the bed messily. “U-Unh!” Your quivering breaths came out messily as you savored his deep controlled thrusts stroking you so well. “Unh~!” He pressed his hand down more on your back, pushing your aching knees into the bed deeply for a much deeper arch. “Ugh!” He couldn’t help it - your pussy felt so fucking good.
Tight, warm and quivering. Just how he likes it.
“Ahh. Fuck.” He breathed out heavily, watching his bucking hips with full attention. “Mmm~” he hummed, quickly switching to resting his hands on either side of your head like pillars.
*Clap!clap!Clap! Clap!* He increased his pace.
“Ahhhhh~” You were a quivering mess below him, sighing so gratifyingly against the pillow whilst drooling. “Oh gri-m-myy~” your back and knees were aching painfully but it quickly subsided everytime he slid it back inside, clouding your thoughts. “Ahhhh~” you let out another pleasing sigh as your head bobbed on the pillow rapidly. “Heh.” He smirked heinously at your mouth wide open, your drawled sighs filling his mind, encouraging him to go harder. “U-ugh!” Your brows deepened, your mouth widening on his pillow when you started to feel sharp prickles in your pussy. “Unh! Mm!” a violent shiver shocked your body, resulting in your pussy to convulse erratically.
He grinned, lowering his chest on your back. “Thaaats it, baby.” He whispered in your ear. A-aghh…” you groaned weakly as you squirted your fluids while he thrusted. “Unh Yeah…”He closed his eyes, reveling in your sweet orgasm putting a vice grip around his cock. “Ahh…”He almost felt light as a feather from your tight grip, squirting while he still thrusted roughly into you. “Ahhh…ssss.” He moaned close to your ear as he kept going, poking your g-spot. “M-mm..!” You twitched and squirted on the sheets again.
The wet skins slapping were distinct, mixed with the bed creaking beneath your form. He leaned back, quietly staring at your jiggling ass as he starts to slow down a bit.
The steady slapping sounds were testing his patience while you called out for weakly. He wanted to be rougher with you…much longer like he usually does, which the two of you normally prefer, but he was only being mindful of his…surroundings.
He leaned on your back again, switching to rolling his hips down dangerously slow. “Oh god~grim~” a warm knot formed in your tummy. “Agh~” He knows you so well. He knows how body surrenders to him. “Mmm~” he hummed lowly, resting his lips on your temple while he rolls his hips down slowly, slapping your ass gently. “O-oh.” You croaked, gasping lovingly at each long stroke. The shape of his curved cock just sliding in and out your sobbing flesh at a good angle, your weak hips lifted up to follow his lazy strokes. “Hmph. That’s it.” He clicked his tongue lightly next to your ear, sliding his hands down to your waist as hips moved like waves. “Mm.” His lips met yours, gently smacking as he pulled your ass back to his length steadily and thrusted long and deeply. “Ah~” Your neck was aching as he kissed you, whilst fucking you lazily. “M-mmm~” his hand slid down to rubbed your clit, clenching him as a reward.
“Mm~. “ Thick passionate kisses rang between you two. “Hmph.” He quickly broke the kiss, stretching his and your saliva out and quickly started slapping his hips down your ass. Your face scrunched up in satisfaction. “Oh fuck..!” You gasped, the bed squeaking to his thrusts. He stared down at you as he fucked you feverishly, gripping the sheets on either side of your head. “Agh! Shit.” He spat out thickly and gripped your thighs for control. “G-grim~!” You gripped the pillow roughly for dear life when he thrusted feverishly. Your sore pussy craved more of his greedy cock. “Ah fuck yeah.” He breathed out, bucking roughly into your warmth.
“A-ahhhh….”
“O-ooo yeah~”
“Grim~!”
Your quivering sighs of relief filled the air as he pounded in you unashamedly. The sheets were soaked with your fluids as more and more rushed out. “U-ugh…sss..ugh…
!” he groaned, heeding the thick wet sounds of your pussy as he reaches his high. “Ha…ha..ha!” His mouth widens, gasping heavily when he’s about to cum. “Uh! Uuuugh” he pressed his hips to your ass, shooting his cum inside of you. “Unh~!” You shivered, your hole fluttering from the sensation as he paints your walls white.
“Shit.” He panted heavily, sliding out of your creamy pussy. “U-ugh.” He watched as he slid back in and shivered. “Mm.” Your arm reach to his glistening abs as he cools down, caressing it. “Mm~” you hummed again gently rocking to his lazy thrusts. “Fuck.” He muttered, watching you fondle his and as he did, making you giggle softly. “You okay baby?” You smiled weakly at him, his sharp eyes meeting yours.
“Oi. Ask me that one more time and you won’t be able to walk for the next few days.” He threatened but there was no sting behind it. “Okay~” You giggled at his retort and fell on your back weakly. His eyes glowered in response.
“Wha-!”
He quickly pulled you down to his hips close and caged you in with his arms on either side of your head, only seeing him. " I mean it." his brows furrowed in annoyance. “And I love you too” you smiled, cupping his cheek. “Tch.” He leaned down and kissed you.
Your silhouettes were clear as day as the morning winter sky light pierced the curtains.
“Unh~” he rubbed you slit while you circled your hips. “Fuck.” you cupped his face, humping the digit steadily. “U-ugh..!” You cried out, squirting on his fingers, earning a chuckle from him. “Unh~mmm~” Your lips gently smacked his own, circling your hips again for more. “H-ha..!” You quickly broke the soft kiss and breathed out heavily, feeling a rush of relief coming fast. “O-o-oh!” You were pulsating uncontrollably as he fondled your clit. “Unh!” You rocked your hips side to side and all around until you cummed, grabbing his wrist to stop. “Ah…gri-“
Beep beep! beep beep! Beep beep!
Your alarm started going off. “Tch. Stupid fucking Clock.” He reached out to your side of the bed to turn it off. “Oh.” You blinked, blushing as you watched him.
It was 7am and you had to get your son, Aoi, ready for school.
“Mm.” You got up but your sore muscles said otherwise.
“I’ll take care of it. Go to sleep.” He mumbled, kissing your forehead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
7:45 AM
“Alright, go say bye to your mom.” He told the tiny blue haired boy after he zipped up his winter puffer jacket. The energetic toddler ran down the hallway to your shared bedroom. On his tippy toes, he turned the knob and opened the door. There, he saw you lying in bed. His scurried footsteps peaked your ears, waking you up and then meeting him at the side of your bed. “Hi mommy ~ Bye mommy~teehee” He whispered and leaned over to plant a light kiss on your forehead. You smiled and rested on your elbow to adjust his jacket collar. “Bye cutie pie~ Have fun in school today, ok?” He nodded and you kissed his forehead shortly after.
“Alright let’s go, Kid.” A little growl came from the tall male standing impatiently in the doorway. “Is mommy also gonna pick me up from school today?” He walked to his father, his round eyes looking at him innocently.
“No.” His eyes flickered up to you. “She won’t be able to, kid.” His lips formed a devious smirk. “There’s something I gotta do when I come back…a bit more rougher this time.”
Can’t lie can’t lie can’t lieeeeeee this took way too long to produce (I’m in vet school and shit bout to get HECTIC). But here’s your aphrodisiac Grimmjow huhuhuhuhu
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✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
The apothecary stall had been a last-minute detour on your way home, a place you only visited when you needed something particular. Today, it was a simple intention: You remembered you were running low and needed to restock your usual tea blend before the cold crept too far into your bones. The walls were lined with glass jars of herbs, dried flowers hanging from the rafters, and the air thick with spices you couldn’t name. The old man behind the counter had a fox’s grin, the kind that made you feel like you were already halfway convinced of something you didn’t yet want.
“Something to warm you up?” he’d asked, eyes glinting. When you’d raised a brow, he leaned in closer, voice dropping low. “And maybe a nice young man at home, too, yes?”
The comment landed sharper than you expected. Grimmjow had said he’d be coming over tonight, in that lazy, confident way of his that always made heat curl low in your stomach. He never announces when he was coming, unless he wanted you to prepare yourself, if you know what that means.
You laughed it off, but the old man slid a small cloth pouch across the counter anyway. The faint aroma of something sweet and floral curled into your nose as he told you it was called “fireleaf,” a rare shipment he’d just received. He swore it would “turn the body into an instrument of flaming temptation.”
You rolled your eyes, but your fingers were already closing around the pouch. Curiosity, you told yourself, and you bought it.
When you got home, you tossed your coat aside and set the little pouch on the counter. For a while, you busied yourself with other things, trying to ignore the cute little tea bag. Eventually, your gaze drifted back to it. You picked it up, the faint sweet aroma slipping free as your thumb traced the stitched edges. Warmth prickled at the back of your neck, the thought of what it could do caused excitement to bubble within you.
You ended up brewing the tea, perching on the counter while you waited impatiently for the kettle to warm. By the time the steam curled into the air, your pulse was already racing. You poured, lifted the cup, and the first sip hit your tongue with a deceptive spice, leaving a faint tingling warmth sliding down your throat.
At first, it was nothing, just pleasant, almost ordinary. But within minutes, it felt like your blood had been replaced with electricity. Your skin buzzed, your shirt clung, and every inch of fabric made you feel claustrophobic.
The knock came just as you’d settled on the couch, trying to calm yourself. But knowing exactly who was on the other side of that door only made it worse. The anticipation sparking hotter, pooling low in your belly until it felt like the tea itself was pushing you toward him. You took a deep breath before standing up.
You opened the door to find Grimmjow, leaning lazily against the frame like he thought you would take longer. The look he gave you made it clear he hadn’t come over with innocent intentions, just as he warned before. Paired with the tea already humming through your veins, it sent a slow, liquid heat curling low, slick gathering between your thighs before he’d even touched you, or said anything. You shifted your weight slightly, trying to mask the movement.
“You’re early,” you said, trying to hide your breathlessness, stepping aside.
He didn’t answer, just strolled in, dropping onto your couch with that effortless sprawl of his legs only he could pull off. One elbow braced on the armrest, knuckles supporting his jaw, the other arm draped across the back. His gaze never left you.
Then his nose twitched, almost imperceptibly, and his mouth curved in faint amusement. “Why the hell are you already horny?”
You froze mid-step. “How did you—?”
He tapped the side of his nose, smirking. “I can smell it, sweetheart.”
Oh my god. You’d completely forgotten. Hollows could smell arousal as easily as blood. Brilliant plan, you thought. Get yourself worked up and invite over the one predator who can smell it before you even sit down.
You tried for nonchalance, sitting on your heels next to him on the couch, hands fidgeting in your lap. “It’s… this tea. Old man at the market sold it to me. ‘Said it’d make things more interesting. For you!— well us.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched you with that still, unreadable expression that always made you feel like you’d stepped into a trap. Suddenly, his mouth curved wider, a plotting, predatory grin.
“Cute,” he drawled, voice low with mockery, like the word itself was a taunt.
He didn’t bother to say more, just tilted his head in that sharp, commanding gesture that told you exactly what he wanted. Come here.
Heat flushed through you, and you obeyed without hesitation, moving to swing a leg over his lap, your knees framing his hips. His thighs were solid under you, his body radiating heat.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, gripping just enough to guide you down to him. His mouth met yours immediately, lips pressing hard, shaping yours to his as his tongue slid past them without waiting for permission. The taste of him was sharp, clean, mixing with the spice of the tea from your own tongue. He moved like he wanted to savor every inch of your mouth, tongue roaming deep and tangling with yours. He teased you, retreating just far enough to make you chase him before pushing back in. He tilted his head, deepening the contact, his hand tightening at your nape until you were fully bent to him. The kiss was all heat, all tongue, a desperate clash that left you gasping against him.
The strap of your tank slid off your shoulder in one tug of his fingers. He didn’t pause, just broke the kiss long enough to drag his mouth down your jaw then over the column of your throat. His lips were hot, his kisses messy, leaving damp trails over your skin. He sucked lightly at the spot just above your collarbone before his teeth scraped over it, pulling a whimper from your throat before you could bite it back.
The other strap was pushed down lower until your shirt slid over the swell of your breasts. His palm came up to cup one, thumb brushing across the peak through the thin barrier before tugging the fabric down further to bare you completely. The cool air made you shiver, but the tea’s warmth was already thrumming through you, heightening every brush of his skin against yours. His mouth closed over your nipple, the sudden jolt of sensation tore a breathy “mmmgh~” from your throat. His other hand kneaded the soft weight of your other breast, thumb circling lazily until your hips shifted on their own. He alternated between sucking hard enough to make you gasp and licking lazily around the sensitive skin, his tongue tracing circles and flicking at the nub that left you panting, your voice breaking on every sound he pulled from you.
His mouth was sloppy, sensual. The tea’s heat and his mouth were a lethal combination. You were wound so tight that you couldn’t sit still—your hips rocked against him, grinding down over the thick outline in his grey sweats.
A wet heat was spreading fast, soaking right through your boyshorts. You knew it had to be getting on him too, the fabric sticking damp between you with every shift of your hips. Grimmjow broke away from your nipple, his breath rough against your skin as his hands clamped tight on your waist. He pushed you back just enough to glance down between you, his gaze locking on the dark, slick patch staining the front of his pants.
“Fuck,” he rasped, smirk cutting sharp across his face, “look at you makin’ a mess.”
Before you could answer, he dragged your hips forward, grinding you down hard against him. The friction was obscene, the wet drag between you making a sticky, syrupy sound that had your head tipping back. A moan tore from your throat, high and broken, followed by a needy whimper when he kept you there, rocking you until every movement sent another gush of slick spilling out of you.
“Grimm—” you gasped, your fingers curling in his shirt, voice trembling with each forced roll of your hips. “I need you—please—ah! I’m so hot—” The words broke apart on moans as your hands moved restlessly, tugging at his white T up to expose his abs and chest like you couldn’t stand another layer between you. “Please,—can’t take it—” you whined.
His chest rumbled under your palms, a guttural sound that was half a laugh, half a growl. “You’re fuckin’ beggin’ me? Ha! Never thought I’d hear that outta your mouth, sweetheart.” His eyes flicked over your flushed face, showing all of his teeth in a wide smile. “That tea’s got you all hot ‘n messy, huh? Can’t sit still, can you?” His hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head back so he could drag his tongue up the line of your throat, teeth grazing the edge of your jaw.
You couldn’t stop making noise. Little “ah!” and “mmh!” sounds as you rolled your hips harder.
Your thoughts were in shreds, need clawing at you until you couldn’t wait another second. You reached between you, shoving your boyshorts to the side yourself, the air hitting your soaked skin making you whimper. Your fingers worked over your clit in messy feverish circles, the grip on the waistband of his sweats grounding you against the dizzy rush of heat flooding your body.
“Ah!~” you cried, cracking into a desperate plea, your hips chasing the rhythm of your hand as though nothing could fill the ache fast enough.
His smirk was sharp enough to cut. “Shit… you’re desperate—” He inhaled deeply, eyes half-lidded with hunger. “—Stinks so fuckin’ good I can taste it. M’gonna fuck you so good, baby.”
“Grimm—” The plea cracked in your throat, your hands flying down the second he shoved his sweats low. The sight of him springing free made your mouth water, your lips parting before you could stop yourself. “Mmh~ you’re so big— I need it— ammh fuck I need it—” The words slipped out in a dazed mumble, almost like you were already drunk off him before you even had him inside. Your fingers wrapped around the thick length, barely able to circle his girth, pumping him frantically, greedy for the weight and heat in your grip. His hiss cut sharp through the air, hips jerking at your touch, but you were already guiding him lower, angling him against your soaked entrance with a needy whimper, lining him up yourself like you couldn’t stand to wait another second. You dragged the blunt head of his cock through your slick before pressing right into where you needed it most. Your breath caught, body trembling, trying to brace for the stretch —only for him to seize control, his hand clamping hard on your hip. With a sudden snap of his hips, he forced himself upward, the thick tip breaching you before you had time to adjust.
The sudden stretch split a raw moan from your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body bowed forward. The sound only made him grin wider, sharp teeth flashing as he leaned in close. “Thaaaat’s it,” he rasped, savoring the way your walls clenched helplessly around his thick meat. He slowly dragged you down onto him, the tea could only help you so far. “Too fuckin’ tight,” his grip locked you in place. Every roll of his hips pushed you deeper onto him.
Your head tipped back on a gasp, a loud, desperate whine spilling out of you before you tried to force your eyes forward, wanting, needing, to watch him disappear into you. You couldn’t decide which sensation you wanted more, the sight of it or the feel of him filling you, and it left you panting, restless, your moans never quiet for more than a second.
You tried to move, hips twitching, thighs shaking, desperate to bounce, but his hold on you was iron. You instead clenched around him again and again, gripping hard like you were trying to pull him deeper. The slick squeeze of your cunt echoed lewdly between you both, each shallow thrust dragging out a wet, messy squelch that only grew louder the harder you clenched down on him. His jaw flexed, a rough groan spilling as he rasped, “Shit—yeah, grip me like that. Fuck— y’greedy for it, aren’t you?”
“Please—Grimmjow, I can’t take it—need you deeper, need all of it, now—please.”
His grip on your hips turned ruthless, hauling you up before slamming you back down on him, again and again. He wasn’t thrusting—he didn’t need to. Your body was nothing more than a toy in his hands, bouncing helplessly on his cock as he buried himself to the hilt every single time. The movement made the wet, slick sound between you louder, your boyshorts bunched to the side and clinging to your skin. His mouth dragged wet kisses across your jaw, down your throat, biting lightly just to feel you jolt, then soothing the sting with his tongue.
“Ahh—!~ hhn— ngh—” The noises spilled past your lips no matter how hard you tried to keep quiet. The tea made every drag of him unbearable, other senses fading and the only thing you could do was feel.
“That’s all you can do? Just whine and beg?” he groaned, grinding up into you harder. “Can’t think when I’m fuckin’ you like this?”
You shook your head, the admission spilling out in a breathless rush. “No— I—“ a cry broke from your lips, “fuucckkk pleaaaseee grimmjow— hngh—“
“S’alright. Cry for it while you ride me.”
He released his grip, one hand stayin as an anchor while the other pulled your shorts farther to the side to give you more space. You lifted enough to sit at his tip before dropping down again, the impact making a sharp “ah!” escape you. You set a faster rhythm, chasing the friction, the heat. Every time you sank down, he met you halfway, plops reverberating in the room.
“Look at you—” His voice was a strained growl now, his abs visibly flexing as he sat back against the couch. “So fuckin pretty.”
You could barely answer, too wrapped up in the steady, pounding pleasure building low and tight in your belly. Your thighs burned from the pace, but every drag of him inside you pushed you closer.
“Mm~ Grimm—!” Your lungs stuttered, the sensation swallowing the air before you could drag it in. Your mouth gaped open, no sound or breath escaping, eyes rolling back as though you were drowning in him.
“Breathe, baby,” he groaned, beginning to thrust up into you, hips snapping harder, faster, as if trying to force you to breathe. “C’mon, sweetheart—make a mess on me.”
He grabbed at your shorts with both hands, the fabric no match for his strength as he tore them apart in one swift motion, the ruined pieces hanging uselessly at your waist. One arm snaked tight around your middle, dragging your chest flush to his, while the other slid down across the curve of your ass, fingers gripping hard as he spread you open, making more room to drive into you. He held you there, locked against him, as he fucked up into you at a bruising pace. Your whole body seized, thighs clamping around him as your climax tore through you, a choked “ah—ahhh—mmmh!” spilling out while you pulsed around him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging like he was the only thing holding you together.
“Fuck, that’s it—milk me, sweetheart—” he grunted, still driving into you through every aftershock, his voice thick with satisfaction.
Your body was trembling above him, thighs twitching as you clung to his shoulders, every aftershock still rolling through you. It was as if you had lost control of every sense, vision going completely white and ears ringing. This was one of the hardest orgasms you had ever experienced. Grimmjow’s arm stayed locked on your waist, holding you in place as he gave a few more sharp thrusts, groaning low at how you kept pulsing around him.
“Look at you… fuckin’ twitchin’ all over me,” he rasped, teeth flashing in a grin. “Didn’t think you’d break that fast.”
You were still gasping when he shoved you back onto the couch—firm, but not careless—forcing you to catch yourself on shaky arms. He stood, towering over you now, rolling his neck like he was loosening up for a fight. His eyes raked down your flushed, sweat-slick body, caressing his chin as if he’s thinking about what to do next.
“Up,” he ordered, voice a rough growl.
Before you could think, his hands were on your hips, moving you until your chest pressed into the top of the couch, knees sinking into the cushions. He bent you forward, pushing your back into a deep arch, your ass in the air for him.
He gave your ass a firm smack, smirking down at you. “Gonna fuck you like this… see how long you last.”
He lined himself up and drove into you in one solid thrust, the force making you jolt forward with a startled “ahhh!”
He started fucking into you, fast and rough from the first stroke, The sound of his hips slamming into you blended with your wild cries, “Ahhh! Hhhhnnnaahhh!! Mmhhhaaahhh!!” The shift in position had your nerves lit up, every drag inside you hitting deeper, harder, making you moan louder than you thought you could. The couch rocked under you, inching back slightly with every thrust.
“Yeah… that’s it,” he taunted, leaning over you so his breath was hot against your ear. “Let everybody hear you. Let ‘em know you’re mine.”
A particularly rough thrust made the couch legs skid, one catching awkwardly on the floor. The jolt threw him forward—his chest slammed into your back, and you both lurched, him somehow going even deeper. He laughed low, breathless, not even slowing.
You were—moaning, whining, trying to push back against him even though your legs were trembling. He kept up the pace, grunting with every drive forward, and you felt yourself getting dangerously close again.
Instinct had you trying to crawl forward, away from the overstimulation—but he was faster. His arm hooked around your waist from behind, right under your breasts, locking you back against him. His chest pressed flush to your back, caging you completely.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re goin’, huh?” he breathed against your ear.
The other hand slid down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit instantly. The contact made you choke out a high, broken “mmmah!”
“That’s it,” he rasped, rubbing in tight, relentless circles while pounding into you from behind. “Stay right here. Take it.”
You could feel his breath on your neck as he licked along the curve of it, sucking at your skin hard enough to leave deep marks.
You were crying now, tears streaming down your face, every nerve raw from too much, too fast. Your thighs shook violently, the only thing keeping you upright was his crushing grip around your middle.
“You gonna cum for me?” he goaded, thrusts getting even sharper. “Come on, baby—let me feel it.”
Your vision blurred as your climax hit—harder than before, a raw, tearing release that had you gasping out incoherent sounds while liquid splashed hot against his thighs.
“Fuck—there it is—” he groaned, grinding against you as you kept squirting, his hand never leaving your clit.
It was too much—your legs gave out, your head dropping forward. You were distantly aware of him still moving, his voice still low and filthy in your ear, before everything went black.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
When you woke, you were sprawled across his chest, your cheek against the steady rise and fall of it. He was lying back on the couch like nothing had happened, one arm behind his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
The smug grin was the first thing you saw. “You fuckin’ fainted,” he said, voice full of amusement. “Thought i killed you. Guess I should be proud.”
Your body still hummed with heat, the aphrodisiac refusing to let you rest. You shifted against him with a whimper, feeling the hard press of him still beneath his sweats.
His smirk deepened. “Didn’t even get to finish,” he drawled. “Looks like it’s time for round two.”
You didn’t even try to play coy, the ache between your thighs flared, and you were already squirming, whining for him again before the words even left his mouth.
The way his eyes lit up told you he had every intention of making you regret this.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
The air was thick with heat, heavy with the sharp tang of sweat and sex. Your arms trembled under you, palms sliding a little against the slick floor, Grimmjow’s grip on your hips from behind was the only thing keeping you up and balanced.
Hours. You’d lost count of how many times you’d come, how many positions he’d pulled you into, how many times you’d thought you were too sensitive to keep going—only for him to prove you wrong. You’re surprised you didn’t pass out again.
Your breath came in shallow, shaking bursts, each exhale breaking into small, involuntary whimpers. You could barely form words; your throat felt raw from the sounds you’d been making. Your thighs shook, the muscles in your core clenching without your permission.
Grimmjow shifted behind you, his chest still rising and falling in deep, rough pulls. Then he bent forward, dragging his tongue in one slow stripe from your tail bone to the nape of your neck. His tongue was hot, the path wet, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he tasted the sheen of sweat covering your skin.
“You taste good, baby” he rasped against your ear, his breath making you shiver harder.
Before you could even process the heat of that, his palm cracked lightly against the curve of your ass, making you jolt and gasp. His low chuckle rumbled behind you as he straightened up, finally letting go of your hips. Without his grip, your arms gave out. You folded down to the floor, cheek pressing against the cool wood, a faint whimper slipping from your lips as your body refused to hold itself up anymore.
“Stay there,” he ordered, though it wasn’t like you could move anyway.
You heard him pad away, footsteps surprising light, and then returned a moment later. Something cool pressed against your lips, a glass of water. “Drink,” he said, and you did, gulping greedily, the cold shocking and perfect against your dry, sore throat.
When you’d had enough, he set the glass aside and scooped you up with ease. Your limbs hung heavy, your head falling against his chest as he carried you toward the bedroom. His skin was hot against yours, still damp from the hours of exertion.
He dropped you gently onto the bed, crouching over you, those blue eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Gotta admit,” he said, voice low but smug, “didn’t think you’d keep up with me this long.”
You managed a weak laugh, your voice a hoarse whisper. “Did I?”
His smirk widened. “Nah, you’ve been fucked good. Can’t move. Can’t talk. I’d say I fuckin’ ruined you.”
You exhaled a chuckle, even in your exhaustion, and he leaned down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.
“Next time,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to let his grin show, “I’m drinkin’ that tea.”
Your eyes flew open, a pale chill replacing the lingering heat in your face. “Grimm—no.”
His grin only sharpened. “Better stock up, sweetheart.”
I will find the time to write one where Grimmjow actually drinks it, but I’m gonna be putting out stuff a lot slower since the semester just started.
♡ Summary: You take Gen home to meet your family for the first time and help with the upcoming festival
You end the call with your mom and just stand there in the dark kitchen for a moment, phone still in hand, staring at the white tile floor like it might offer the answers you seek. Your stomach is a tight knot. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe it’ll hurt him. Maybe he’ll think it’s weird.
When you step into the living room, Gen is exactly where you left him—half-sunken into the couch, wearing his favorite oversized Gundam shirt and sweatpants, a controller in hand, his frown of concentration aimed at the TV. The sounds of gunfire and explosions burst out of the speakers. He doesn’t look away when he asks, “Who was that?”
“My mom,” you answer quickly. Too quickly.
“Mm.” He flicks his thumb across the joystick, leaning forward as if sheer body weight will help him win. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. She, um…” You shift your weight, fiddling with your phone. “She asked if I’d come home this weekend. Help out with the autumn festival prep.”
Finally, he glances at you, brow lifting underneath his messy bangs. “Festival?”
You nod, mouth dry. “Yeah. They’re running a booth. Could use extra hands.”
Gen turns back to his game, but you catch the way his expression softens. “Sounds nice.”
You swallow, heart hammering. This is it. Now or never. “She, uh… also asked if I was seeing someone. And I… told her yes.”
Gen’s game-over screen flashes red, but he doesn’t even curse this time. He sets the controller down, really looking at you now. “And?”
You rub your palms together, suddenly wishing you had stayed in the kitchen. “And… I was thinking… maybe… if you don’t mind… you could come with me? Meet them?”
For a beat, silence. Your nerves spike, the worst possibilities racing through your mind. Reminding him of what he never had, dragging him into something uncomfortable, too much too soon.
Then Gen leans back against the couch, lips quirking into the faintest, lopsided smile. “...You’re serious?”
You nod, chewing your lip. “Only if you want to. I know it’s—”
“—I’ll go.” No hesitation. His voice is steady, quiet but sure. “If your family wants me there, I’ll go.”
Your chest tightens with relief, and maybe something more.
"What? You've been side eyeing me for the past hour. Is it because I chose the wrong clothes? I wasn't sure. I've never been to meet anyone's parents." Gen says defensively, keeping his eyes on the road. You snort. "No it's just...I've never seen you dressed like this." It's not that Gen is dressed particular fancy, he’s wearing a simple brown knit sweater, dark denim jeans, sneakers that he secretly cleaned yesterday evening and a brown Barbour type jacket on top. "I knew I should've worn a button up...I have one in my bag, I'll change before we arrive." He groans.
You squeeze his thigh and he shoots you a quick look. "Gen, you look great. It's just surprising to see you in something that's not your uniform or oversized home wear." The tips of his ears tint pink. "They won't care what you wear, and I know they'll like you. Don't worry so much."
He huffs. "That's easy for you to say...but...I want them to think I'm...worthy I guess."
You give his bulky thigh another squeeze. "That's for me to decide. And my conviction is that you are, and no one gets to meddle with that." Gen blushes even more, then nods.
"Just around the corner, you can park in the driveway behind the big gate." You instruct and Gens eyes widen as he pulls up to a fenced in complex of traditional wooden houses. The cars wheels crunch on the gravel as he parks it effortlessly. "This is...a dojo?" He mumbles. "Hey, why didn't you tell me you grew up in a dojo?!"
You shrug. "Didn't think it mattered."
“What—of course it matters! That’s so cool!” Gen blurts, eyes wide and sparkling with genuine awe. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
You shrug lightly, glancing up at the curved rooflines and wooden beams. “I never thought of it as special. The dojo’s been in my family for generations. Growing up, almost every classmate had something similar—a shrine, a dojo, a tea house. That’s just how it is out here in the countryside.”
Gen lets out a low whistle, gaze sweeping across the courtyard. “Still… yours feels different. Feels like it has so much history.”
Before you can reply, two small figures dart out from behind the main building, voices bright and high. “You’re here! You’re here!”
You laugh as they crash into you, arms wrapping around your waist. “Hey, Hanako! Kanao! You’ve both gotten so tall!”
They peer up at Gen with wide, curious eyes, whispering loudly to each other before one finally blurts, “And who’s that?”
You glance up at him. He’s standing there awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, trying to look smaller than his broad frame will allow.
“This is Gen,” you say, voice warm. “My… boyfriend.”
Gen bows instinctively. “Nice to meet you both.”
The twins exchange a look, then giggle. “Boyfriend! Oooooh.” They scurry off toward the main house, shouting, “Auntie! She brought her boyfriend!”
You groan softly, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, that’s it. The entire family will know in five seconds.”
Gen laughs, the sound bubbling out of him. “I think they’d find out anyway. You said ‘boyfriend’ pretty loud, you know.”
You elbow him gently, though your cheeks are warm. “Don’t start.”
The sound of sliding doors announces your mother’s arrival, a towel draped over her shoulder and an apron tied around her waist. Her expression brightens immediately. “You made it! And you must be Captain Narumi. I’ve heard plenty about you.”
Gen straightens up so fast it’s almost comical. “Ma’am, thank you for having me.”
Your mother’s smile softens. “Oh, such polite manners. You’ll fit right in here. Come, come—your father’s already setting up the booth for the festival. We could use some strong hands.”
“Strong hands? You’re in luck,” you tease, glancing up at Gen as he follows your mother into the courtyard. “I brought the strongest one I know.”
Gen snorts. “Don’t jinx it, or I’ll accidentally drop a booth wall on myself.”
You grin. “That’d still impress Dad more than if you didn’t try at all.”
Your mother leads the two of you through the open courtyard, the old wooden boards creaking softly beneath your feet. The scent of cedar and tatami fills the air, carried by the crisp autumn breeze. Paper lanterns hang from the eaves, half-finished, ready for the festival.
From the corner of your eye, you can already spot your father, in his old indigo gi, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hammering away at a wooden stall frame with focused precision. He doesn’t look up until your mother calls out, “Dear! They’re here!”
Your father straightens, setting his tools aside and wiping his hands on a rag. His sharp eyes land on Gen immediately. For a moment, he says nothing. Just studies him. You feel Gen tense next to you, shoulders drawn back like he’s standing at inspection.
Then your father smiles, slow and approving. “So, this is the one who’s been making my daughter smile lately.”
Gen bows, deep and respectful, you've never seen him like this. “Yes, sir. Gen Narumi. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Your father’s grin widens just a touch. “Hmm. Good stance. You train?”
“A little,” Gen admits, rubbing at his neck. “Mostly combat drills, nothing traditional. I’d probably embarrass myself here.”
“Every man embarrasses himself the first time in my dojo,” your father says, chuckling. “It’s what makes him better the second time.”
You watch as the two of them shake hands — your father’s strong, calloused grip meeting Gen’s equally rough one. The gesture feels like a test and an acceptance all at once.
“Come,” your father says, gesturing to the half-built booth. “If you’re going to steal my daughter’s time this weekend, you can make yourself useful.”
“Yes, sir,” Gen replies instantly, already rolling up his sleeves. You catch the faintest trace of a smile tugging at your father’s lips as he turns away.
Your mother leans toward you with a grin. “He’s wonderful,” she whispers, before heading off toward the kitchen. Luckily she gets to see the behaved side of him, not the screaming tantrum throwing toddler that he can be and that somehow, you also love just as much as the rest of him.
And as Gen starts helping buildingthe wooden booth to sell traditional candy, hammering boards into place and stringing decorations, you catch your cousins spying from behind the sliding door, giggling again. Every time you glance their way, they vanish in a flurry of whispers and tiny feet.
Gen notices too, smirking. “Are they always like that?”
“Only when they think they’re being sneaky,” you reply, trying not to laugh.
“They’re terrible spies,” Gen says under his breath, his eyes soft with amusement. “Cute, though. Guess I’m not as scary as they thought.”
You tilt your head, watching him tie a beam into place with practiced ease. “You? Scary? Not when you’re smiling like that.”
He pauses, glancing over at you, that small, genuine smile still lingering. "Like what?" He asks playfully, and you asnwer "Like an idiot."
He chuckles, “Then I’ll make sure to keep smiling. Don’t want to ruin my first impression with the in-laws.”
You snort. “You’re doing great already.”
While Gen stays outside helping your father assemble the booth frame, you head into the kitchen, where the air is filled with the smell of simmering broth and sizzling tempura oil. Your mother and aunt are in their element — aprons on, sleeves rolled up, moving with a kind of wordless rhythm only people who’ve cooked together for decades can have. You feel like a small girl again, standing beside them, admiring and hoping to get handed some snacks to bridge the time to dinner.
The moment you step inside, though, both pairs of eyes land on you.
“So,” your aunt begins, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “If you mean Gen—yes, that’s him.”
Your mother hums thoughtfully, stirring the miso soup. “He’s very polite. A little stiff, but that’s to be expected. He’s nervous.”
“He’s cute when he’s nervous,” your aunt adds. “But more importantly—” she points a wooden spoon at you “—he treats you right, doesn’t he?”
“Yes!” you say quickly, holding up your hands as if to defend him. “He’s the best, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever been treated with this much patience before.”
Your mother pauses mid-stir. “Patience? You mean he’s kind to you when you’re upset?”
The lump in your throat forms before you can stop it. You glance at the steaming pot, watching the way the light reflects off the surface. “Yeah… I had a bad episode a few months ago. My ex—he showed up at work. Things got… ugly.”
Your aunt’s eyes narrow instantly and she frowns. The type of expression she'd look at a rodent with. But to her, your ex and a rodent are one and the same, perhaps he's even worse. “Ugly how?”
“He said some cruel things. I panicked and blacked out. Gen—he got to me right away, stayed until I woke up in the infirmary. Apparently, he… might have broken my ex’s nose.” You smile faintly at the memory. At the secret satisfaction you had felt. “I’ve never seen him that angry before. Not even when fighting Kaiju. But afterward, he was just...gentle. Took care of me. Never blamed me for anything. Just said he was glad I was safe.”
Your mother and aunt exchange a look, a soft kind of approval passing between them. “You two really love each other, don’t you?”
You nod, cheeks warming. “Yeah. We do.”
And right on cue, the sliding door creaks open behind you.
Strong arms wrap around your waist, a familiar warmth of a muscular chest pressing against your back. “Booth’s done,” Gen murmurs against your neck, his voice low and content. “Dinner smells great, can’t wait.”
You laugh, leaning into him. “You’ll have to. Another thirty minutes at least. Go relax in the living room, alright?”
He hums in acknowledgment and presses a kiss to your cheek before letting go. “Yes, ma’am.”
Your aunt watches him leave, shaking her head. “He really doesn’t take his eyes off you, does he?”
You can only smile. “Not if he can help it.”
When you finally go to call everyone for dinner, you stop in the doorway. The sight that greets you makes your heart ache in the sweetest way.
Gen is sitting cross-legged on the tatami, surrounded by your cousins and an army of Kaiju and Gundam figures. He’s mid-story, dramatically reenacting a battle scene with full sound effects and gestures. The kids are hanging off every word, eyes wide and sparkling with wonder.
“And then,” Gen says, holding up a toy mech suit, “the Captain swoops in—bam! Right hook! Kaiju down!”
The kids cheer, clapping and bouncing in place. You lean against the doorframe, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.
Your mother appears beside you, whispering softly, “He fits right in.”
“Yeah,” you whisper back, eyes never leaving him. “He really does.”
The dining table is laid out beautifully — lacquered bowls, steaming plates of grilled fish, vegetables, and rice, the smell of home and hearth mixing with faint sandalwood from the tatami mats. Everyone settles in, cross-legged around the low table, and you can tell Gen’s trying very hard to sit politely despite being far too tall for the setup. His knees are nearly touching his chest, and you have to bite back a grin.
Your father raises a cup of sake. “To family, and to the festival tomorrow.”
The others echo the toast, and then chopsticks clatter and conversation fills the air.
It doesn’t take long before the focus shifts.
“So, Gen,” your aunt starts innocently, and you already feel your stomach sink. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
Gen swallows a bite of rice and smiles. “All good things, I hope?”
“Oh, mostly,” your mother chimes in, exchanging a mischievous glance with your aunt. “Though we’ve heard you have quite the temper when it comes to protecting our girl.”
He blinks, startled for just a second before his hand finds your thigh beneath the table. His thumb rubs slow, grounding circles against your skin. “Only when someone deserves it,” he answers smoothly.
Your uncle chuckles. “That’s fair enough. You’ll need that spirit for the festival setup tomorrow.”
Conversation drifts to the food, the weather, the dojo… until your aunt can’t help herself. “You know,” she says, setting down her chopsticks, “she used to think the west wing of the dojo was haunted.”
You groan softly. “Auntie, please—”
“She was convinced,” your mother adds, laughing, “that there was a ghost monk wandering the corridor. Wouldn’t go near it even in broad daylight.”
Gen’s shoulders shake with barely-contained laughter. He bites the inside of his cheek and still manages to giggle. “You? Afraid of a ghost monk?”
“I was seven!” you protest, but the damage is done, the whole table is laughing now, and Gen’s grin is wide and fond. He leans toward you just enough to whisper, “Don’t worry, if the monk shows up, I’ll protect you.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “You better!”
Your father clears his throat with mock seriousness. “She wasn’t afraid of everything, though. In fact, she used to be the best Kyudo archer in the prefecture. Her aim was flawless.”
You wave a hand. “That was ages ago.”
Gen looks genuinely impressed now. “You never told me that.”
You shrug. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
He shakes his head. “Everything about you matters.”
That earns him a few soft “awws” and a teasing whistle from your cousins. You can feel your cheeks warming, but his hand squeezes your thigh again, reassuring and steady. The smile he gives you, so bright, boyish, and adoring, makes the rest of the teasing fade into the background.
By the time the dishes are cleared and laughter still lingers in the air, it feels like something has settled, like Gen has quietly, seamlessly become part of this space. The old dojo, the family, the warmth.
It takes some convincing, but after dinner your father insists on pouring Gen a glass of sake “for the road to bed,” which turns into three. The laughter grows louder, cheeks flushed all around. Gen’s laugh, low, warm, and unguarded, mingles with your mother’s, and for a second it’s hard to remember that this man kills Kaiju for a living. Here, he’s just… part of it. Part of you.
When you finally stand, swaying just a little, Gen loops an arm around your waist. “We should probably call it a night before your uncle brings out the good bottle,” he murmurs against your temple. You giggle, bid everyone goodnight, and stumble up the narrow stairs together, trying your hardest to keep quiet.
Your room is exactly how you left it. The same pale walls, the soft lamp, the collage of photos tacked above the desk—friends, family, and a few younger versions of yourself. A row of stuffed animals guards the headboard, and the bed looks comically small compared to Gen’s broad frame.
He steps inside, blinking at the sight. “This is… cozy.”
“Tiny, you mean.”
“I was trying to be polite.”
You snort, setting your bag down. “It’s just for sleeping, so keep your thoughts clean, Captain.”
Gen raises a brow, mouth twitching. “What, no ‘welcome home’ sexy time in your old bed?”
“Not with my cousins sleeping next door!” you hiss, swatting at his arm.
He grins, hands up in mock surrender. “Right, right. Pure intentions only.”
You both change, him in a simple T-shirt and sweats, you in one of his shirts that’s somehow found its way into your overnight bag. The wooden floors creak softly as you climb into bed, and you can’t help but laugh when he follows, folding himself into the small space like a contortionist.
“See? Fits just fine,” he mumbles as you end up half on top of him, legs tangled. His chest is a solid pillow beneath your cheek, the steady beat of his heart syncing with yours. His hand finds your back, tracing idle patterns over your spine.
After a while, in the quiet hum of the countryside night, Gen’s voice rumbles low. “Your family is…”
“A lot?” you mumble sleepily, smiling against his chest.
He chuckles. “I was going to say warm. Welcoming. They made me feel like I belonged here.”
You tilt your head up to look at him. “You do. This can be your family too, if you want. Does it… hurt? Remind you of what you didn’t have?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, staring at the ceiling. When he finally speaks, it’s soft. “No. It just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Like I get to have it now… with you.”
Your chest tightens at the honesty in his voice. You curl closer, brushing your lips against the skin of his throat. “Then it’s yours. Always.”
He hums, arms tightening around you until the world narrows to the smell of old wood and the sound of his heartbeat.
It’s strange, you think as your eyes flutter shut, how seamlessly Gen Narumi, your lazy, stubborn, paper-avoiding captain, has slipped so easily into the role of perfect son-in-law. Everyone took to him instantly, as if they’d been waiting for him all along.
Maybe he’s not the best behind a desk, but he’s perfect at this—at belonging, at loving, at making a family feel whole again. And as you drift toward sleep, his warmth and the sound of the crickets outside are all you need to know that he’s home now.
Sunlight filters through the paper shoji, a soft warmth brushing over Gen’s face. His first groggy thought is that the pillow smells like you. His second is that you’re not there.
He blinks himself awake, hair sticking up wildly, the faint echo of laughter floating in through the open window. Downstairs, someone’s clattering dishes, and the air smells faintly of miso and rice. He drags on a fresh T-shirt and a pair of shorts, runs a hand through his messy hair, and heads out, blinking against the crisp morning light.
Your mother spots him from the garden, hanging laundry. “Ah, Narumi-kun! Good morning!” she calls, cheerful as ever. “You slept well?”
Gen rubs his neck, sheepish. “Uh, yeah. Sorry for… sleeping in. Think the sake took me down.”
She laughs softly. “No need to apologize. She’s over at the archery range, the twins begged for a demonstration. They’re just across from the dojo building.”
“Archery range,” he repeats under his breath, smirking faintly. “Of course she’s showing off already.”
The morning air is cool and bright as he crosses the courtyard, gravel crunching under his feet. He hears it before he sees it, the twang of the bowstring, the quiet gasp of the twins, and then the crisp thunk of an arrow hitting the target.
You stand at the end of the range, clad in a black hakama, hair tied back neatly. The long bow gleams under the sun, and your posture is flawless, balanced, steady, graceful. You loose another arrow, and it sinks dead-center.
The twins cheer, jumping up and down, and you laugh, an easy, bright sound that makes something warm settle in Gen’s chest. Perhaps the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.
He leans against the doorway, grinning. “If I’d known you’re this good at shooting,” he calls, “I’d have hired you as a soldier instead of my secretary.”
You turn, raising a brow, bow still in hand. “You didn’t hire me at all, Captain. Eji did.”
Gen snorts. “Technicality.”
You smirk. “No, fact.”
He strolls closer, hands tucked in the pockets of his shorts, eyes running over the targets lined up at the far end. “Guess I should be glad, though. If you’d joined the ranks, you’d have my job by now.”
“Probably,” you say lightly, teasingly, not missing a beat.
He laughs, shaking his head. “God, you’re cocky when you’re holding a weapon.”
You ready another arrow, your lips quirking. “And you’re mouthy for someone who knows I could outshoot him blindfolded.”
That earns a low chuckle from him, warm and genuine. He stands behind you now, close enough that his shadow spills over yours. “Show me again,” he murmurs, softer. “How you breathe before you shoot.”
You glance at him over your shoulder, a teasing glint in your eyes. “So now you want to learn from me?”
“Maybe,” he says, voice low. “Or maybe I just like watching you do something that makes you shine.”
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. The twins giggle nearby, oblivious, already asking for another round. You step back to let them try, and Gen watches, arms folded, a fond look softening his sharp features.
For a man who’s spent his life fighting monsters, he looks utterly at peace here, watching you laugh in the sunlight, bow in hand, surrounded by family.
By the time the sun starts to dip, the festival grounds are nearly ready. The air hums with the sound of cicadas and laughter, paper lanterns swaying gently from the eaves. From somewhere near the house, the smell of grilled yakitori drifts through the air.
Your mother and aunt had swept you away hours ago, insisting you had to wear one of their old kimono. It’s deep crimson silk, soft against your skin, tied with a cream obi that your mother adjusted at least three times. “You’ll steal his breath,” she’d murmured proudly, and you rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite fight the smile tugging at your lips.
Meanwhile, your father had apparently taken it upon himself to make Gen presentable. You hear faint curses from down the hall, his voice muffled, exasperated, followed by your dad’s easy laughter.
You’re halfway down the engawa when Gen looks up from where your father is fussing with the collar of his borrowed kimono. The world stops.
The chatter, the cicadas, the smell of grilled yakitori somewhere beyond the garden — all of it just fades. For a beat, there’s only the soft rustle of silk as you step into the light.
He blinks once, twice, as if his brain needs time to catch up. The deep brown of his borrowed hakama suddenly feels too warm, too heavy. You’re radiant, the deep crimson of your mother’s kimono blooming with cream colored leaves and gold thread, hair pinned up with an ornate hair pin so a few strands brush your neck. The late-afternoon sun catches on you like it’s jealous of your glow.
“...I might just go down on my knees,” he mutters before his brain can filter the thought.
Your eyes widen. “Don’t you dare,” you whisper, cheeks already burning.
“Can you blame me?” His voice comes out rough, half a laugh, half a confession. “You look— I don’t even have words. You’re like…” He trails off, shaking his head. “You’re unreal.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. He takes a hesitant step closer, the wood creaks softly beneath his sandals. When his hand finds yours, his thumb brushes over your knuckles with a trembling gentleness that betrays how undone he is.
“You clean up pretty well yourself, Captain,” you tease, eyes gliding over the dark fabric that suits him far too well. “Didn’t think traditional wear could look that good on a soldier.”
“Don’t say that,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to where your fingers rest against his chest. “My heart’s already working overtime.”
You can feel it, that wild, erratic thump beneath your palm. He laughs quietly, breath unsteady. “It’s embarrassing,” he admits, leaning closer so only you can hear. “Every time I look at you, it feels like I’m being hit by something big. Like a kaiju-sized emotion I can’t fight.”
You tilt your head, meeting his eyes. They’re wide and soft and so full of you. “Then don’t fight it,” you whisper softly.
For a second, it’s just the two of you, the smell of cedar, the weight of his heartbeat under your hand, the distant laughter of your family somewhere behind you.
Gen exhales slowly, the sound almost reverent. “You’re going to kill me,” he says, smiling, voice breaking with affection. “And I think I’d die happy.”
You can’t tell who moves first,, maybe it’s both of you, pulled in by the same invisible thread. Gen dips his head, his breath brushing against your temple before his lips find the crown of your head. It’s barely a kiss, just the softest press of warmth and reverence, but it sends something fluttering through you all the same.
He lingers there for a second longer, breathing you in, grounding himself in the scent of your shampoo and the quiet hum of the moment. His hands tighten around yours, thumbs still tracing idle patterns like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he stops.
Then—
“Alright, lovebirds!” your aunt’s voice cuts through the still air like a blade.“Pictures! Before the light’s gone!”
The spell shatters.
You jump slightly, face heating, while Gen straightens so fast he nearly trips on his own kimono. His ears are bright red.
Your mother’s laughing softly from the porch, waving her phone. “Come on now, get closer! You two look like you just walked out of a wedding catalogue!”
Gen blinks, mortified, but your father’s already ushering everyone into place, the twins tugging on Gen’s sleeve, the aunts adjusting your sash, your grandmother fussing about how tall he is and how well he fills out the kimono.
And then it’s all laughter and shuffling feet and the clicking of cameras, but even as Gen wraps an arm carefully around your waist for the photo, you can feel the faint tremor in his hand, the afterglow of that quiet, private moment still echoing between you.
When the flash goes off, you glance up at him, he’s still looking at you, smiling like he can’t quite believe any of this is real.
By the time the lanterns are lit, the whole town feels dipped in gold. The air hums with the sound of drums, laughter, and the faint crackle of food stalls heating oil. Paper ribbons flutter from bamboo poles, and the smell of grilled squid, sweet soy, and roasted chestnuts laces the night breeze.
You walk beside Gen, your hand tucked easily into his, though “tucked” might be generous. His hand completely engulfs yours, warm and protective, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rhythm that matches the music. Every time someone calls his name, one of your cousins or the festival volunteers, he gives a polite nod but never really looks away from you.
You stop at a takoyaki stand, the vendor already smiling at you knowingly. “A couple’s portion?” he teases, and you both stammer out denials that fool absolutely no one.
Gen tries to blow on one of the steaming balls and promptly burns his tongue. You can’t help laughing, and he glares, or tries to, cheeks puffed, eyes watering. You offer him one from your own tray, holding it out with the toothpick, and he leans in obediently, lips brushing your fingers as he takes it. The tiny, accidental touch makes you go still for a second.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” you mutter.
He grins, a little sheepish, a little smug. “Maybe.”
From there it’s easy, games, snacks, the rhythm of taiko drums echoing somewhere in the distance. He wins you a tiny plush fox at the ring toss, then insists it’s good luck and clips it to your small bag. You laugh so hard your cheeks ache.
When the fireworks are about to start, you tug him toward a small hill at the edge of the festival grounds, away from the crowds, where you used to sit as a kid with your friends to watch the lights. The grass is cool beneath your feet; the night sky stretches wide and waiting.
Gen lowers himself beside you with a sigh, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms. For a moment, it’s quiet, just cicadas singing, distant chatter, and the soft sound of your breaths falling in sync.
Then he breaks the silence, voice low. “Thank you.”
You turn to him, surprised. “For what?”
He glances at you, eyes reflecting the lanterns below. “For bringing me here. For… letting me have this.” His hand gestures vaguely toward the glow of the festival, the laughter drifting up the hill, then toward you. “For giving me a family. For being my family.”
Your chest tightens, warmth blooming behind your ribs.
He swallows hard, gaze dropping. “I didn’t know what I was missing until I saw it. All this noise, this warmth. It’s like my world just… got bigger.”
You squeeze his hand. “Then I’m glad. Because you’re stuck with us now.”
His head tilts, eyes soft. “That’s the best thing anyone’s ever told me.”
The first firework cracks open the sky, a bloom of gold and silver that spills across both of your faces. You turn to look at Gen, just as he turns to look at you, and the world seems to still between one heartbeat and the next.
For a moment he just watches you, his eyes searching, reverent. The lights flicker across his features, highlighting the faint curve of a smile, the softness that’s rarely visible in daylight. His hand finds your cheek, rough thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing every inch.
Then, quietly, like a prayer, he leans in.
His nose brushes yours first, a small, almost clumsy touch that makes you both smile. The scent of summer rain and faint smoke lingers on him, familiar and grounding. He hesitates, his breath catching, a silent question, and when you tilt forward, closing that last sliver of space, his breath leaves him in a sigh.
The kiss is gentle at first. Warm. Testing. The kind that speaks of awe more than hunger. He kisses you again, slower this time, his hand sliding from your cheek to cradle the back of your head, holding you like something precious.
The fireworks explode above, painting the night in red and blue, their light flashing behind your closed eyelids. It feels as though the whole world has folded down to this, his mouth moving softly against yours, his heartbeat thudding steady under your palm, your breath mingling in the narrow space between.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath trembling with something too big for words. You can feel his smile, the faint curve of it brushing your skin.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice roughened by emotion, “I think this is what peace feels like.”
You smile, your thumb tracing the stubble on his jaw. “Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still closed. “Me too.”
Another firework bursts overhead, showering you both in light, and when you open your eyes, his are already on you, full of wonder and quiet devotion, like you’re the brightest thing in the whole world.
A/N: Yayy another part and another opportunity for me to remind you all of the fact that Gen is an orphan ヾ(*'ω'*)ﾉ tee hee
I hope y'all like it ;) and sorry if Gen is out of character...I do think he'd be a big softie in a relationship tho
sum: even the strongest needs a gentle hand sometimes
warnings: 18+ comfort smut, post mission softness, shower care, praise, slow grinding and riding, nipple sucking, pnv, creampie, cockwarming
a/n: i feel like im bringing narumi to show and tell like hey guys look at my pretty toy he’s so cute :)
w/c: 1420
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You’ve been staring at the set of doors for hours now, phone gripped tightly in your hand. You haven’t heard anything which can either mean Gen’s mission is going really well or really bad. It never gets easier waiting for him. He always comes back to you but your brain never settles until he walks through those doors.
The door pushes open and you’re on your feet, grabbing his arms and pulling him in. You click the door shut behind him and pull back to look him over. He’s still got his jacket and suit on. Boots layered with blood and debris creating tracks you don’t care about because he came back.
He looks down at you with heavy eyes and you swipe your thumbs underneath them softly. You start to tug off his jacket and place it on the chair, next starting on his suit. He lets you strip him out of his clothes, layer by layer.
Your hands trail over his body, searching for any wounds or anything that needs tending to. He grabs your hands and brings them to his lips, placing soft kisses across your knuckles.
“Wearing my shirt like I wasn’t coming back.” he chuckles, eyes trailing over your form draped in one of his graphic tees. “Would you have cried?”
“Stop.” you hiss, taking your hand back and smacking his chest.
“I’m kidding.” he pulls you against him. “I’ll always come home to you.” his eyes bore into yours.
“You better.” you wrap yourself around him, squeezing him tight. “Bath? Shower? Both?” you press your lips to his chest.
“Shower.” he pulls you in the direction of the bathroom.
“Just sit down.” you usher him into the shower, pressing on his chest until he sits on the little bench. You turn the water on and the steam starts to fill the bathroom. “Gonna grabs some candles.”
You're rummaging around in the vanity trying to find your sweet smelling candles. Once you have a couple lit you dim the lights and pull off your shirt. You step into the shower again and walk over to him. His hands find your waist and he looks up at you.
“C’mon.” you cup his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You lead him under the stream of water, watching his shoulders slump and his muscles relax. His eyes shut, a small groan leaving his lips as the water pours over him.
You start to massage soap into his hair, letting your nails scratch against his scalp. His arms wrap around you again as you start to wash the bubbles out of his hair. You smooth the conditioner in, running your fingers through it to get any knots out, once again massaging his head.
“Feels good.” he mumbles.
“I’ll brush your hair when we get out.”
He hums, leaning closer to you. You grab your loofa and spread a generous amount of your soap on it before bringing it to his skin. You gently swirl the bubbles around his skin, letting your other hand follow in its wake, massaging and loosening the muscle underneath.
The loofa is put back and you start to wash the soap off his body. He drapes himself over you and you hold him closely, letting the water wash over the both of you. You slowly trail your hands up and down his back, whispering soft words up to him.
After a couple of minutes you turn off the water and pull him out of the shower. You wrap him in a fluffy towel, slowly drying him off and having him sit at your vanity. You wrap a towel around yourself and stand behind him.
You grab a couple of products and apply them to his hair to soften it even more before you start to brush. The first drag off the brush pulls a low hum from his throat. His eyes flutter shut as you continue to brush through. You abandon the brush and use your fingers to tousle it and put it back into place.
“Let’s go to bed.” you softly tug on his hair.
You blow out the candles and lead him back into the room. He sits on the edge of the bed and watches you turn out the lights before walking back over to him. He grabs your waist and pulls you between his legs.
“Need anything else?” you cradle his face.
“Can you like..” he tugs your towel. “Ride me?” he pushes his bottom lip out. “Please?” he bats his eyes lashes.
“Sit back.”
He nods and tosses his towel on the floor and watches you do the same. You crawl into bed after him and climb into his lap. Your thighs are on either side of his and he looks up at you with blown pupils. His hands settle on your waist, slowly sliding up and down, pulling you closer.
“You’re so brave and so strong.” you hum, brushing your fingers through his hair again. “The best our country has to offer.” you nod, noting the faint flush on his cheeks. “Everyone’s protector.” your words a whisper.
“You don’t have to be that here, Gen.” you lean down, pressing your lips softly to his. “Here you can be soft and tired.” you start to kiss down his jaw. “Here you can just be mine.”
You rock your hips slowly, feeling him harden beneath you. His breathing deepens, fingers gripping you tighter as you rub yourself against him. Your lips reach his neck and you suck softly below his ear, pulling a broken moan from his lips.
“Fuck, I need you.” he wraps his arms around your back and holds you closer.
“I know, I know.” you whisper, still rocking against him. “I’m here.” you feel your pleasure starting to pool.
He’s hard and leaking, practically squirming beneath you, letting every desperate whimper spill into your ear. You lift onto your knees and wrap your fingers around his shaft, dragging his tip up and down your folds. He’s staring up at you, panting as you guide him down to your entrance and slowly push him in.
You press your lips to his as you slowly sink down onto him. Each of you swallow the other's noises with each inch he fills you. You start to lift your hips up again, thighs trembling as you’re still adjusting to him.
“It’s s’good.” he mumbles into your mouth.
“Shh.” you pepper kisses all over his face.
You find a slow rhythm, rolling your hips each time you sink down. His hands are sliding all over your body, squeezing and holding you, trying to get you even closer. You pull back to look down at him and he takes the opportunity to attach himself to your chest.
“Gen.” you bury your fingers in his hair.
He presses sloppy kisses all over your chest, licking down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. Your hips jerk against his, still trying to keep your movements languid. His tongue circles your perked nipple, groaning lowly sending a shiver down your spine. He looks up at you when he flicks his tongue before sucking on his harshly.
His hips are jerking up to meet yours, the both of you slowly being consumed by pleasure. He kisses across to your other nipple, quickly sucking it into his mouth. You softly tug at his hair, holding him to your chest as you hump against him. Your pleasure is coiling low in your tummy with each grind of your hips, chasing your high and wanting Gen to follow.
“Gen..” you breathe out. “Gen, baby.. I’m gonna cum.” you’re fluttering around him, holding him closer to your chest.
You gasp and his eyes roll back when you start to fall apart around him. He can’t help his hips jerking up a little faster, pulling more sweet sounds from your lips. He whines into your chest, holding your hips down against his as he starts to fill you. You’re panting above him, fingers raking through his hair wanting to keep him impossibly close.
He finally pulls back from your chest and looks up at you with pink cheeks and round eyes. “Can I stay inside?”
“Mhm.” you nod.
He scoots you both down the bed, one arm still wrapped around your waist while the other grabs for the blanket. He pulls it over the both of you before bringing his other hand around your back. You rest your cheek against his chest listening to his even breathing as you both drift off.
the proposal — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established fwb to fake engagement to lovers, smut, oral (m!receiving), piv sex, creampies, fingering, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism/sex act in a public place, praise, mentions of oral (f!receiving), reader is referred to as 'girl', 'pretty girl', and 'honey', reader is unable/chooses not to have kids, written for the romcom collab run by @bloompompom ! 11.6k words
a/n: i really should've rewatched the movie before writing this but i got carried away! also my first time really writing in soshiro's pov which was an interesting challenge. would i do some things differently? yeah. am i going to share this anyway and apply those things next time? yeah. anyway i hope you enjoy!
Hoshina Soshiro wakes up with a handful of something soft.
It only takes a moment before he realizes what's going on. You've been sleeping over more and more often lately, and your previous activities must've worn you both out more than expected.
It makes sense. Soshiro was a little stressed, and you've always been willing to help him relieve it.
He squeezes your tit and snickers quietly when you grumble at him. You're sleep-warm and utterly relaxed, your body melting back into the solid length of him as you resettle in his bed. It's barely dawn, the room brightening little by little, the light catching on the loose strands of your hair and the sweep of your eyelashes as you scrunch your nose at his teasing. He pinches your nipple lightly.
"Hoshina-kun… I'll dropkick you if you're trying to go again right now."
"You're the one who keeps squirmin'," he points out. You push your hips back against him again in retaliation and his cock twitches with interest. "You sure ya don't want another round? One for the road?"
He watches you consider it, your eyes blinking open and squinting at the clock on his nightstand. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and smirks when your lashes flutter at the feeling, only to bite back a groan when you arch into his touch. Fuck, you're so sexy.
"You just want me reporting to Narumi with your cum staining my panties," you mutter. Oh, now there's an idea. He knows you can feel how hard he's gotten, pressed up tight against your ass. Soshiro won't deny that you're right.
You're naked besides the shirt you grabbed from his closet last night, though the soft material has rucked up around the curve of your waist. He's similarly barely dressed, just the thin barrier of his briefs keeping him from pressing against you fully skin to skin. You're so soft and pliant in his arms, fitting perfectly in the crescent moon shape of his body as his little spoon.
"You'd like that," he murmurs, relishing the little shiver that goes up your spine. In a moment of weakness, you had confessed once that you really liked his morning voice (and his seriously-gonna-kick-this-kaiju's-ass voice, and his follow-my-orders voice, and — but then he'd turned you around and fucked you against the counter muttering praises in your ear as you came all over his cock). "Don'tcha think it'd be fun? He's already gonna know you spent the night."
As evidenced by the many hickies Soshiro's left all over your neck. It might be a little childish, this possessiveness — especially when you're not even his, not really — but Soshiro likes leaving little marks wherever he can, some sort of proof that you were together and that you chose to fall into bed with him.
And you keep choosing him, even as Captain Narumi Gen of the First Division actively pursues you. You tell Soshiro all the time that rank doesn't mean much to you, and it's not like you're sleeping with people for advancing or clout — but you're a platoon leader in the First Division and that means you spend way more time with Gen than with him. It wouldn't surprise Soshiro if one day you decided he wasn't worth the hassle of traveling down to the Tachikawa base on your days off, if you decided that Gen is actually kinda hot and could get in your pants for once.
That'd be the end of your friends-with-benefits relationship. The two of you agreed from the beginning that it'd be exclusive — neither of you wanted to worry about protection, and Soshiro didn't want to bother with the hassle of other partners anyway. It was easiest with you and only you.
"Hey," you mutter, turning in his arms to face him and leaning up to bite fondly at his chin. "You're thinking too much."
He knows he is. The message he received yesterday from the Hoshina clan sits heavy in the back of his mind, though he can kind of ignore it as you suck bruises into his neck.
Soshiro groans low in his throat and leans down to kiss you as you sneak your hand into his briefs. He feels hot and shivery, arousal pooling deep in his gut as all the blood in his body flows away from his brain. You give his cock a few slow pumps, smearing the precum gathering at the tip to help the glide of your hand along his length, squeezing and twisting your wrist just right as he shudders and grabs at your ass. You kiss him hard, seemingly determined to erase his train of thought, dragging your tongue along his teeth and sucking on his lip as you throw your leg over his hip. "Fuckin' hell —"
"You're so hard," you mutter, rolling the two of you over so that Soshiro's flat on his back with your legs on either side of his hips. His hands go immediately to grip your thighs, eyes widening at the wet smear of arousal you leave along his lower abs as you drag his briefs halfway down his legs. He kicks them the rest of the way off as you press down on one of the bruises you left on his shoulder. "Fuck, Hoshina, you're so — you look so — I'm gonna — wanna ride you, 'kay?"
As if he'd say no. As if he'd ever protest anything you want to do when you're grinding the soft folds of your pussy along his cock, practically dripping on it as you adjust the angle and squeeze the base of him in your haste to sit on it.
Soshiro doesn't cum right away, though it's a close call. The wet, sticky heat of you enveloping his bare cock is a feeling he'll never get tired of. It's heaven and hell all wrapped up in you, in being with you, being inside you. You moan as he enters you, a low, rough sound almost punched unwillingly out of your chest.
"Hold on to me," he grunts, offering his hands for leverage. You take the offer gratefully, squeezing his fingers as you bottom out and pant. "Fuck, how're you still so tight?"
"Why're you still so big?" you huff, wiggling your hips a little to adjust to the stretch. Soshiro tenses, groaning as your walls bear down on him. He's not going to cum. He won't. He can last a bit longer. "I thought we went like, three rounds last night," you mutter, "you should be wrung out by now."
Soshiro laughs. "And I thought I fucked ya last night," he says. "Thought I fucked ya good and proper. But you're just too good for me, huh? Too good at bein' so fuckin' perfect."
He punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust, relishing the startled whine you let out and laughing a little more when you shoot him a halfhearted glare. "Quit it," you demand, "let me do this."
You raise your hips and drop down on him carefully, working up into a pace that makes your tits bounce. Soshiro wants to see — wants you naked — and thankfully you don't stop him as he reaches up to pull your borrowed shirt off. The change in angle makes your stuttered moans veer into whines, mixing with the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the morning air. "You're doin' so well," Soshiro groans, hands coming up to hold whatever he can. You grab his shoulders for leverage, back arching as he leans forward to suck one nipple into his mouth.
"Hah — ahh, Hoshina —"
"What'd I tell ya to call me?" Soshiro grunts, switching to your other nipple with a lewd pop. He swirls his tongue around the pert bud and reaches down to rub quick circles around your neglected clit. "C'mon, pretty girl, what'd I say?"
You gush around his fingers, coating his cock in a ring of white as you bounce on it desperately. Soshiro can tell you're getting close — your whines get cut off, your walls get tighter, you dig your nails into his shoulders — and it only makes the coil threatening to snap in his gut tighten harder.
It's too early for this. You're worn out from last night, and pleasure is making your muscles strain. Soshiro can feel your thighs trembling with the effort of riding him. He leans back on one hand to help, timing his thrusts as you drop back down, hitting that spot deep inside you, keeping his other hand at your clit as you sob. The friction is driving him insane — you feel so good. He can usually keep his mouth shut during sex, only letting out rough groans and stuttered moans, but knowing you're affected by his raspy morning voice has him dropping his filter with every thrust.
"Feels so fuckin' good, pretty, you look so perfect on my cock," he grunts. You tilt your head towards the ceiling as you pant, granting him access to suck more bruises into your neck to bloom along with the ones from last night. "You're such a good girl — such a good fucking girl —"
Oh, he's gonna cum soon. You're squeezing him so tight, your wet walls squelching obscenely with every thrust.
"Nghh," Soshiro feels it snap, feels his thrusts get sloppy as he cums, thick ropes of white painting your insides as you whine and cry and cum around him, squeezing him tight, feels the sharp zip of pleasure racing through his body as all his muscles release.
You collapse on top of him and he catches you, breathing hard, sweat beading his temple and dripping into your hair. His arm is loose around your waist and he's trembling holding the two of you up with his hand planted flat on the mattress. "Can't believe you still came so much," you mumble into the side of his neck, "what the hell, Soshiro?"
"It's a going away present," he mutters back, laughing fondly when you pinch his side. "Make sure ya keep it in while you're reportin' to your Captain."
There's only the sound of harsh breathing for a moment as the two of you recalibrate and return back to your bodies.
"I'll need my panties," you say, lifting your head and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Do you know where you tossed them last night?"
Soshiro traces a pattern idly along your bare back, following a few of your scars and smoothing along the sweaty skin. "You don't wanna shower first?"
You shoot him a look and he laughs. "You'll spill out if we do — unless you're planning on going again."
Soshiro hums and leans forward to kiss you, languid and easy. You kiss him back, as naturally as breathing, and maybe there's some post nut clarity involved but the idea he's been floating in the back of his mind seems a little more like a good plan the longer he kisses you.
"What d'ya think about marryin' me?" he asks.
"Is this why you called last night sounding like that?" you ask. Soshiro tilts his head and you copy him, pinning him in place with your pretty eyes. "I came over thinking you needed to talk, but you… distracted me."
Soshiro snorts. You still sound breathless, hazy and floating off the high of your orgasm. "I got a message from my family."
"The entire Hoshina clan?"
"Yeah," he says, shifting you more comfortably in his lap. He's getting soft, but you make no effort to move from off of him. "My dad was askin' me to come back."
"To do what? You're the Vice Captain of the Third Division — surely they've stopped hounding you about quitting the Defense Force to be a teacher." You say it so easily, as if they'd be stupid to bother trying. "You're literally better than Narumi's dumb ass against mini kaiju. Your family should be proud."
"They said something 'bout my future prospects," Soshiro admits. He has no idea why you have so much faith in him, but he appreciates it. "So it sounds like I'm bein' set up with omiai. I was thinkin' it'd be nice ta walk in with a fiancée so I could avoid that whole mess."
You hum thoughtfully, but it's not an answer. Soshiro helps you get off his lap, following you into the bathroom and helping to wipe you down with a wet towel as his cum dribbles out of you. Your panties are located and you slide them on, sighing. "I wish the train ride back was shorter, but there's no way I can sit that long with your cum in me. Sorry, Hoshina-kun."
"You're gonna kill me someday," Soshiro says frankly. He didn't actually expect you to try. You snicker and flick his forehead affectionately.
"You're the one who thought this was a good idea," you point out. "For someone who isn't interested in having kids, you sure love cumming inside."
Soshiro raises an eyebrow. "Pot. Kettle."
You laugh. "Fair point," you say. "Anyway, you just need me to pretend as your fiancée, right? I'm down. Finding another fuck buddy would be a pain at this point, and you piss off Narumi the most, so it works for me. Will I get to tour the famous Hoshina training compound?"
"Yeah, 'course," Soshiro says. There's a funny feeling sitting in his chest, but he doesn't have time to think about it as you give him a sweet kiss and loop your arms around his waist. "It'll just be for a lil while. Just 'til my family gets off my back."
You shrug. "Do you want me to record Narumi's reaction when he finds out your dick game was so good I agreed to marry you?"
Soshiro laughs. You feel good pressed against him like this, hugging him in just your panties. You usually save your physical affection for behind closed doors, so Soshiro's gotten used to soaking up as much as he can before you inevitably leave.
"Go shower," you say after a moment of aimless kisses. "I can make your coffee."
"You're the best," he mumbles into your hair. You tilt your head up to accept another careful kiss to your temple, eyelashes fluttering closed in appreciation. "I'll be quick."
"That's what you said last night, but now I'm all sore," you laugh, pushing him towards the shower. Soshiro obeys, scrubbing up and getting ready for the day. You grab your toothbrush from its spot next to his on the counter to brush your teeth, and then you wash your face with the cleanser he picked up for you the other day. You shoot him a wink through the mirror when you catch him checking out your ass, and then you skip out of the bathroom and Soshiro listens through the open door as you hum absently in his quarters. Captains, Vice Captains, and platoon leaders get the most space, so while his apartment isn't as large or as fancy as Captain Ashiro's, it's still pretty sizable. There's enough space for a small kitchenette, at least, and soon the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts in to cut through the steam of his shower.
Soshiro pulls on his uniform, toweling halfheartedly at his hair as he finds you on his couch. You're nursing a mug with the JAKDF design flaking off — the one you always use, which is why he hasn't replaced it yet — and there's another fresh mug on the table. Soshiro sits beside you and takes a sip.
"Perfect," he says, "thanks, sweetheart."
You've dressed back in your own uniform, rumpled and sleep worn. "That'll cost three kisses," you say, smiling into your mug. Soshiro hums, arching a brow.
"The cost's gone up? What's up with that?"
You shrug demurely. "Inflation. Sorry, but rules are rules."
Soshiro is careful to grasp your mug as he leans over to kiss you, bypassing your softly puckered lips and going for your nose and cheek and forehead instead. Your lashes flutter as you open your eyes to glare at him playfully. He's hovering close enough that he can feel your breaths on his skin. "The cost for not paying up properly is five kisses."
"Ah, well, I guess I'd better pay up," he murmurs, setting your mug aside and kissing the silly smile off your lips. You giggle into the kisses, delighted and giddy, a version of you that Soshiro only sees behind closed doors.
"Your hair's still wet," you say, pulling back with a wrinkle to your nose. A few stray droplets of water slide down your cheek. Soshiro watches, mesmerized, as your tongue darts out to catch it. "C'mon, I'll help you."
You sit up and take the towel from around his neck, fluffing up his hair as he tilts his head obligingly towards you. It's nearly time for you to catch the train back, but you take your time, pressing the water out of his hair carefully.
It's a little too sweet, a little too comfortable and domestic. At the beginning of your friends-with-benefits arrangement, you never stayed the night, and you had laughed when he offered, preferring quick fucks around the base in the limited time you had together. That was about a year ago, and now you show up in the evenings, claiming his pillows and demanding he update you on the latest story he's been reading before getting down to business. Any more of this and he'll start getting ideas.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think ya liked me."
Soshiro peeks up at you from beneath his bangs, a lopsided smirk on his lips, ready to fall back into the easy pattern of teasing and bantering with you. Just like clockwork, he catches you rolling your eyes. "I wouldn't let you or your dick anywhere near me if I didn't like you at least a little bit, Hoshina-kun."
"And 'cause I piss off your Captain," Soshiro says. You nod with just a fraction of hesitation, but that's probably because you're distracted by the towel in his hair.
"Narumi gets so grumpy," you laugh. "You'd think he's never been rejected by girls before."
"He's never been rejected by someone as pretty as you," Soshiro says absently, reaching up for the towel. His hand brushes the back of yours and you drop it abruptly, covering up the moment with a scoff as you turn quickly to grab your mug. "Want me to walk ya to your train?"
"I'm a big girl," you roll your eyes. "I'll be fine." Soshiro watches as you drain the rest of your coffee and rise to bring the mug to the sink. You pad back and lean over the back of the couch to give him a light kiss on his forehead, and then you're sliding your boots on at the genkan and waving with one hand on the door. "See you next time, fake fiancé."
His apartment is quieter, emptier without you, so Soshiro finishes up his own coffee and heads out to face the day. His muscles are pleasantly sore, relaxed in the way he always is after spending time with you, and now that he has a plan for dealing with his meddling family, it's easier to cheerfully put his new rookies through a rough training session.
You send him a message later in the day, a short video clip of you in Captain Narumi's office. Soshiro settles in his desk chair as he watches, mindful of Okonogi searching for some records in another corner of the workspace. The video clip starts off with the front facing camera, where you grin and throw up a peace sign, before it flips to show the First Division Captain hunkered down in a mess of boxes and a rumpled futon, fingers tapping rapidly at buttons as he stares at the television screen with bloodshot eyes.
"Reporting, Captain Narumi," your voice sounds cheerful and Soshiro can see Gen's head twitch towards the sound.
"I'm almost done beating this boss," Gen says hurriedly.
You hum, but it's clear you don't particularly care. "Then I guess I can tell you later about how I'm engaged to Vice Captain Hoshina."
"Hah?!" Gen's controller flies into his blanket as he scrambles up, a pathetic noise coming from the television as a Game Over flashes across the screen. "What did you just — are you recording this?"
"I promised I'd show my future husband," you say sweetly, and damn if the phrase doesn't stir something strange in Soshiro's chest. "Do you have any congratulatory words for us?"
Soshiro brings his phone closer to his face, snickering as you zoom in on Gen's rapidly contorting expressions. The Captain of the First Division seems to refocus, gaze zeroing in on your neck. "You're pulling a prank on me," Gen says. "You look like you got attacked. You two aren't even dating. What about giving me a chance?!"
The video shakes as you shrug. "What can I say? We've been together for a year now, you know. Hoshina-kun's the only one I trust to treat me right. Anyway, I've gotta tell everyone else, thanks, Captain."
The video flips to show your face again, and you give a little wave and a smile to the camera. "See you soon, love!"
It cuts off with a strangled noise from Gen's direction and the bright peal of your laughter in response. Soshiro can't help laughing too, clutching at his side as he scrolls through the rest of your messages to see screenshots of the First Division Captain's face looking like he belongs in several viral memes. And if Soshiro's ears feel a little warm at your new term of endearment for him, well, that's just for him to know.
Okonogi pops up with a stack of files and sets them on the table. "What was that, Vice Captain?"
Soshiro hums, tapping out a response to you. Before he can send it, you send a blurry photo that makes him sit up straight, eyes wide. It's clearly your panties shucked down your thighs, taken from an awkward angle, but even with the shadowy lighting he can see the way your fingers are glistening with creamy white liquid stretching down to your pussy.
Is that… is that his cum from earlier this morning?
You send him a thumbs up emoji. Mission success, you type, as if you aren't giving him a heart attack from several kilometers away.
Okonogi clears her throat as Soshiro locks his phone and rubs at his face. "Sir?"
"Ah, my fiancée just sent me a funny video."
The news spreads across the two divisions rapidly, much to Gen's loudly voiced annoyance and Soshiro's amusement. It isn't exactly a secret that you have an exceedingly friendly relationship with the Third Division's Vice Captain, but the details of your engagement are enough to fuel the communal bathhouse rumor mills for a solid few weeks. Love in the Defense Force isn't rare by any means, but most of the higher ranked members are more focused on their fighting abilities than romance, so it's big news for the Defense Force's strongest miniature kaiju combatant to be involved in something like an engagement.
Time moves differently in the Defense Force — there are daily patrols, training sessions, sporadic days off — but everything gets put on hold when a kaiju emerges in the area. Then it's destruction minimization, civilian rescues, kaiju neutralization and the aftermath of reports and reconstruction and kaiju deconstruction. The First Division gets a few more than the Third's, just by virtue of being based next to the ocean, and it feels like ages and no time at all before Soshiro sees you again.
"What's this?" you ask, shutting his office door behind you with a soft click. "Are you behind that mountain of paperwork somewhere, Hoshina-kun?"
"M'here," he grumbles, reaching up to stretch out the stiffness in his back. Nobody ever talks about how much paperwork comes with going up the ranks. "Thanks for comin' by."
You snicker as he spins to face you, letting him tug you closer by the hem of your uniform jacket. "Did you call me over to rescue you? Sorry, sir, but I have my own paperwork to die under."
Soshiro snorts and tugs you even closer, until your knees bump his. "I needed to give ya somethin'."
He digs around in his jacket pocket for a moment before producing a small box. Your eyes widen, but you don't say anything as he takes your hand and slides the ring into place. It's a simple band, safe to wear beneath combat gloves, but the gem inset is a clear, brilliant amethyst. "Unconventional color," you remark, tilting your hand in the light.
This is somehow more embarrassing than he thought it'd be, but thankfully you don't seem to notice the flush creeping up his neck. "You said once that ya liked my hair color in the light. Since it's just a favor, I figured you'd be alright with somethin' a lil different."
You meet his eyes and grin. "Oh? Is this where you promise me a real ring when we get engaged for real?"
Soshiro's heart kicks in his chest as he coughs his surprise. You laugh, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, mussing up his bangs. He blinks as you comb the strands back into place. "I dunno, you'd hafta move to Tachikawa if we got married for real."
If you're not joking — if you really do feel something else, something more —
You tilt your head, your eyes clear and sparkling as the setting sun hits your face just right. The angle of light swallows your pupils, throws your gaze into something unreadable for just a moment. "You don't think you could unseat Hasegawa-san as Vice Captain? He should probably retire soon, you know. He looks way too stressed."
"Your Captain would never take me," Soshiro scoffs. "Besides, I promised I'd always clear a path for Captain Ashiro."
You're quiet for a moment. Soshiro can feel his heartbeat in his throat. "I guess I could move here," you concede, humming. Your fingers still on his bangs. "The company's not too bad."
"Not too bad, huh?" Soshiro raises an eyebrow, skims his fingers along your waist. The air feels charged with something unspoken, something different — but he knows how to drag it back to normalcy. "I can't say much 'bout the company, but what about this desk?"
Mischief sparks in your eyes and he answers your grin with his own. That's more like it. "The last time we fucked on this desk, Okonogi-chan complained that all your paperwork was messed up afterwards," you point out. "I have a better idea."
Soshiro's eyes widen and a bolt of lust zips down to his cock as you sink to your knees, settling between his thighs with a hum. You shuffle and turn a little, positioning yourself between his chair and his desk. "What're ya doin'?"
"You still need to finish your paperwork, right? How many reports do you think you'll get through before I can make you cum down my throat?" Your eyes flash in the light and he shudders, hips jumping into your touch.
"Ya lock the door?" Soshiro huffs, shifting in his seat as you run your hands along his thighs. Fuck, his pants are getting tight. You shrug noncommittally and drag your finger along the hard bulge of his cock. "I didn't call ya over for this, y'know."
"I know," you unzip his pants and smile as he lifts his hips enough for you to yank the fabric down. His cock springs free and you lick your lips. Soshiro groans. The way you're looking at him — eyes bright, lips wet and shiny, eyelashes fluttering as if you're shy when you reach out to lick the beads of precum on the tip of his cock — should be fucking illegal. "You'd better get to work, Vice Captain."
Oh, fuck you. Soshiro knows you know exactly how to rile him up, and using his title in that tone of yours is one guaranteed way to get him that much closer to cumming. You blink up at him expectantly. "You can't be serious."
You stroke his shaft with your left hand, the cool metal of your new ring sending electricity up his spine. It warms to body heat quickly, but the added texture is enough to keep all of his senses trained on your touch. He grabs a pen as you twist your wrist on the upstroke and he nearly drops the damn thing. "You'd better get them done correctly, Soshiro."
"I hate you," Soshiro chokes out a grunt as you suddenly engulf him in your mouth. His balls tighten and he snaps his pen in half, heat and lust and lightning gathering in a maelstrom below his gut. "Fuck, you feel so good."
You swirl your tongue around the tip as you suck, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing him down without giving him any time to brace himself. The wet, warm heat of you is heaven around his cock, the tight suction of your lips sending him spiraling with every stroke. It's hot in the office — sweat beads at his hairline as you settle into a steady rhythm, the wet, sloppy sounds of you drooling all over him echoing in the quiet room. "Yeah, honey, just like that."
Your eyes widen at the new pet name but your rhythm doesn't falter — if anything, you start moving faster, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat in a way that's driving him insane. Soshiro can't even keep his eyes focused on the paper in front of him, mesmerized by the bob of your head and the gleam of your eyes beneath his desk. He cups your cheek with his free hand, something light fluttering in his chest when you lean into his touch, even as you proceed to suck his cock like your life depends on it.
Tension and heat coils in his gut. Holy fucking hell. You have one hand braced on his tense thigh, but your other hand goes to cup his balls, smearing your drooling saliva on them as he chokes at the feeling. It's overwhelming — you are overwhelming — and he tries not to hold your head in place while he fucks your mouth but your moans are so pretty and you look so hot with your mouth stuffed and —
The click of the door opening is the only warning he gets, but luckily years of honed reflexes saves the two of you as he rolls his seat forward, forcing you further beneath the desk and his cock further down your throat.
"Hah — shit!" Soshiro gasps as you dig your nails into his thigh. He throbs in your mouth. "Ah, fuckin' — sorry, Okonogi-chan, I just hit my knee on the table."
The Third Division's Operations Manager gives him a funny look, but thankfully she stays near the door. "I just came by to ask if your reports are done, sir!"
Your throat is convulsing around his cock and it's the worst thing he's ever felt in his life because if he cums right now, there's no way Okonogi will miss it. "N-not yet, sorry!"
"Well, let me know when you're done so I can add my files. Will you finish them before your fiancée gets here?" Okonogi glances around. "I thought she'd be here by now, actually."
"Nope, haven't seen her!" Soshiro's voice cracks. There's spilled ink staining one of the reports. You slowly pull off his cock, but the lightning rod of tension in his spine just coils harder. "I'll finish 'em soon!"
"Are you getting sick, Vice Captain? Please don't take this the wrong way, but you're sweating a lot and you're all… red," Okonogi says hesitantly.
"Aw, 'm fine, dear," Soshiro threads his fingers through your hair in warning when you make an aborted little sound. He coughs loudly. "I feel just peachy! In fact, I'm ready to zip through all these reports right now!"
You slowly sink down on his cock again, tongue tracing the vein as you go. Soshiro dares to shoot you a warning glare and nearly cums down your throat at the answering gleam in your eye. He's throbbing in your mouth and you don't even care. Fuck you're a menace.
"Well, if you say so," Okonogi sounds rightfully dubious, but she puts her hand back on the doorknob. "I'll check again later!"
The instant the door clicks shut after she leaves, Soshiro slumps into his seat, groaning low in his throat as you swallow him back down. It's dim beneath his desk, but he can clearly see tears gathering at the corners of your pretty eyes, and you moan as he carefully starts fucking your mouth. The tightly wound tension is incessant, a burn beneath his skin, a thrumming in his ears. You're gorgeous like this, choking on his cock and drooling, spit soaking the bottom of the seat as you blink those teary eyes up at him.
"Fuckin' hell, honey, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum," Soshiro groans. "Where d'ya want it? Down your throat? Are ya gonna swallow it all like a good fuckin' girl?"
You moan loudly at that and he huffs out a laugh, the tension so tight it feels like he's going to snap. It's the ring that does it — your hand disappears for a moment and when you bring it back into view, he catches the glint of the ring, glistening with your cum, because of course you're fucking soaked and of course you had to show him with his cock down your throat and —
Soshiro cums so hard he sees white.
There's nothing. There's sparks and light and heat blooming everywhere. Distantly he hears himself grunting a garbled version of your name, but his brain shuts down so hard he barely has the capacity to breathe as his orgasm crashes through him.
"Soshiro, Soshiro," you whisper, climbing onto his lap and pressing soft little kisses all over his neck and jaw and cheeks. Soshiro comes back to his senses slowly, panting hard as feeling returns to his fingers and legs. "Hey," you whisper, brushing his sweat soaked hair from his forehead. "Are you back?"
"You…" he breathes. His brain is still rebooting.
You giggle. "Me?"
Soshiro grips your waist to hold you steady as you hover over his cock. "Gimme a minute. I'm gonna make you squirt all over this fuckin' desk."
You laugh outright at that, dipping down to kiss him sweetly. He can taste himself on your tongue, but it doesn't bother him. "Okonogi-chan will kill you if we get the reports messy."
Soshiro runs his hands up your sides just to watch you shiver. He still feels hazy, floaty, breathless and loose. "You're stayin' the night?"
"Is that an order, Vice Captain?" you ask teasingly. Your voice sounds scraped raw. He hums, reaching for your dirty fingers. You watch with blown pupils as he licks them clean, his tongue swirling around your engagement ring and his canine tooth catching on your fingertip.
"Let's go back to my rooms so nobody'll hear ya screamin' my name."
He ends up making you squirt in the shower, eating you out messy and lewd as steam fogs up the room. You goad him into fucking you from behind against the door afterward, pushing your ass back with every heavy thrust until you both cum hard enough to warrant a bath. He washes your back and hair in the shower first, building up a lather of shampoo and twisting the strands this way and that as you laugh and complain about the water temperature, but the both of you are relaxed and pliant in the warm water of the bath afterwards.
You cajole him into one of the smaller mess halls afterward, your hair wet and dripping down your borrowed shirt as he sets two trays piled with food in front of you. It's late — way past midnight — and you're soft and giggly and clingy as you drape your legs over his lap and eat. Soshiro drops extra bits on your plate whenever he thinks you aren't paying attention, but of course you're always paying attention to him.
"Quit it," you grumble, "I'm too full!"
Soshiro snickers as you scoop the rest of your food onto his plate. "Whoa, is this what I'll get as a married man? Your leftovers?"
You roll your eyes. "Shut up, you spoiled asshole. When we're married you know you'll be doing all the cooking."
Maybe it's the late hour, but the way you say it — like it's a fact. Like it's a truth, and not a lie to appease the Hoshina clan and keep them from meddling in his life. Soshiro wonders when he started hoping.
"That's true," he says lightly. "You're just as bad as Captain Ashiro with kitchen knives."
"Don't let your family find out, or they'll tell you to find a new wife," you joke. Soshiro snorts, but it's quiet in the empty mess hall. You prop your chin on your hand and watch him chase around the last grains of rice with his chopsticks. "Tell me about your family? Is there anything I should be prepared for?"
"Well, ya know I've got an older brother," Soshiro says. It feels a little strange, mentioning Soichiro after all these years of (literal) radio silence. "He'll be busy captaining the Sixth, so we shouldn't be runnin' into him at the house. My dad's still an instructor, and he'll probably wanna know 'bout your combat levels. My ma…"
"Uh oh," you murmur. Soshiro sighs and takes your hand.
"My ma's always wanted grandkids." He watches as your face goes blank. "Y'know I ain't the type. I've got my hands full with my lil' fledglings already."
"Well," you squeeze his hand and offer a tiny smile, "at least this is fake. Your mom will get her grandkids eventually, even though it won't be from me."
You're quiet and distant on the short walk back to his rooms, but maybe it's just the late hour. Soshiro doesn't know how to break the strange awkwardness that's settling between the two of you — but you seem lost in thought, kissing him goodnight absently and quickly burrowing your face into his neck as if you don't want him to look too closely at your expression.
It's weird. You seem back to normal in the morning light, making his coffee and hugging him from behind while he brushes his teeth, but there's a strange distance in your gaze and your smile drops unnaturally when you think he isn't paying attention. There isn't much Soshiro can do about it, though — you go back to the First Division and your texts are… typical. You agree to take some time off to visit the Hoshina family home together and Soshiro just about wears down the floor of his office with his pacing.
"Vice Captain, are you sure you don't need a break?" Okonogi asks. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but you seem agitated."
Soshiro flops back into his seat and stares at the ink stain he left behind the last time the two of you were in his office together. The ruined report was luckily one of his own, so he just printed another copy, but unfortunately he hasn't been able to scrub the ink out of the desk. "Nothing to worry 'bout, Okonogi dear."
"Are you worried about your family visit? I'm sure it'll be fine, sir — your fiancée is perfect for you," Okonogi says. She adjusts her glasses. "But if you're concerned, you should talk to her. She'd want to know."
Soshiro doesn't think you want to know what's really going through his head — you'd probably run away. Casual. Friends with benefits. You were the one who brought it up, after years of working together whenever your Divisions teamed up, after plenty of teasing and friendly competitions and sharing meals sitting slightly apart from the rest of your officers. You always caught his eye, but of course he'd never assume you were interested, not when you had all those other options (including Captain Narumi) — so it had been a welcome surprise when you confessed that you thought he was hot. That you thought about him at night. That maybe having a friends with benefits arrangement could be good for both of you to blow off steam without any mess.
Soshiro still remembers your first time together — the first and only time you slept together in the First Division. Your rooms were smaller than his, but he hadn't had much of a chance to explore, too busy learning how to elicit those sounds from your lips that haunted his dreams for months afterwards. It was awkward at first, with bumped noses and self conscious laughter, but you had forged ahead as if it would be your only chance and it was so good.
It's always been good with you — good and easy. This weird… distance? It's unsettling. Soshiro can tell something is up, but you message him normally and there's nothing for him to hang this niggling feeling on.
He meets you at the train station a few days later and you smile at him like he's made your day. "Should I be calling you Soshiro-kun for this trip?" you ask, offering a canned coffee from the vending machine. It's early, and of course he hadn't had time to make his own morning coffee, so the can is a welcome weight in his hand.
"Yeah, but don't do it too often or I'll drag ya into a hotel on our way down," Soshiro says, trying not to stare. He pops open the can and takes a sip, eyes dragging down your form as you laugh. It's rare to see you in something other than your Defense Force uniform, his borrowed clothes, or naked — and you've shown up to the train station in a cute skirt and blouse outfit, looking fresh and adorable and not at all like you take down kaiju on a regular basis. Something about the dissonance stirs up a surge of protectiveness in Soshiro, though you'd probably offer to kick his ass if he voices this thought aloud.
"We're meeting your parents, Soshiro-kun," you scold, "keep it in your pants."
But there's a teasing glint in your eye and Soshiro snorts, reaching out to snag your wrist, pulling you close so he can kiss the laugh out of your mouth. The strange unsettled feeling is nudged to the back of his mind as you kiss him back.
The shinkansen ride is a few hours long, but you've packed bentos and seem perfectly content to gaze out the window at the flashing scenery as he reads a book. You doze off a few times, settling into his side as naturally as breathing, and Soshiro keeps as still as possible so you can be comfortable leaning against him. You later confess that the bentos were made from bits and pieces you had begged from the officers on chef duty early this morning and Soshiro teases you about making your bentos in the future.
"You can barely even function without your coffee in the morning, Hoshina-kun, how're you gonna make us bentos?" You're so pretty when you're laughing like this — lighthearted and sweet with your sparkly eyes. Soshiro knows he's staring openly now, but you don't seem to mind, leaning into his space to steal the last bite of tamagoyaki while he's distracted.
"I'm a man of many talents," Soshiro declares, just to watch you snort into your royal milk tea can. "But 'course I'll just make 'em the night before."
"That's good planning," you nod sagely. "I knew I picked a good future husband."
The automated announcements overhead remind the two of you that your stop is coming up, and Soshiro gathers up the trash and your bags in preparation to offboard. Both of you packed light, used to moving quickly through cities on long deployments, and it's nothing for him to sling both bags over his shoulder. You follow him off the shinkansen and through the station, always close enough to touch but careful to maintain a little bit of distance in case someone sees.
It's lucky you do, because as soon as the two of you step out into the balmy southern air, someone calls out his name.
Soshiro feels his shoulders stiffen and you shoot him a mildly alarmed look. "Well, well, well, if it ain't my lil bro!"
What the hell.
"And ya really brought someone! Ma's gonna be over the moon!" Soichiro says brightly. Soshiro watches with dread as his older brother approaches and promptly offers his hand for you to shake. You take it, amusement in the edges of your polite smile. "I'm Hoshina Soichiro, this guy's older brother and Captain of the Sixth Division."
You introduce yourself, shooting Soshiro a wry glance as you add, "and I know who you are, sir. My captain speaks highly of you."
"Oho! You're a member of the Defense Force? Are ya with the Third?" Soichiro asks. If you've noticed that Soichiro and Soshiro haven't actually spoken to each other yet, you don't mention it.
"No, sir. I'm with the First Division," you reply. "Thank you for coming to meet us at the station. We weren't expecting anyone."
"Aw, well, I wanted ta catch up with my lil bro," Soichiro says. Soshiro's mouth twists a little at that, but he faces his older brother and offers him a tiny smile. It makes his face hurt. "It's been a long time since you've been home."
"Things are busy in the Third and I'm further away than you are," Soshiro says. Thankfully his voice stays steady. You step a little closer to him, the back of your hand brushing the back of his, and he takes a deep, fortifying breath. "Is everythin' good at home?"
"Things are peachy," Soichiro says, waving them along as he begins to walk. "Dad's just finished up teachin' a new batch of hopefuls for the Force, and ma's been settin' me up with omiai every time I come home. Is that what you're here for, lil bro?"
"They just told me ta come by," Soshiro admits. "But I've got some news for 'em, anyway."
Soichiro glances back at the two of you walking so closely together and hums. "Yeah, I figured. When ma said you'd be bringin' a guest, I knew I had ta come see it for myself first. It ain't right that ya got such a cute girlfriend, Soshiro."
Soshiro can feel his ears burning, but you just shoot him a grin and a raised eyebrow. Well, if you're fishing for compliments… "She is a cutie pie," he says lightly. "But she's smart, too, and funny as hell. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
He watches you blush prettily and avoid his gaze for the rest of the ride towards the Hoshina compound. Years and years of kaiju fighting and developing the Hoshina clan techniques means the family is pretty well off — Soshiro doesn't flaunt the family's wealth, determined as he is to prove his own worth — but it can't be denied that he grew up well taken care of and pampered in spite of the intense training he put himself through growing up.
The grounds sprawl in a valley nestled between densely forested hills. The buildings are traditional and the yards are all swept clean, tastefully interspersed with rock gardens and ponds full of glimmering koi fish. The sharp clack of practice swords echo in the balmy air as a clan member leads students through exercises, though Soshiro doesn't spot anyone out of the ordinary as Soichiro leads them into the main house.
He pauses before the sliding door that leads to where his parents will be waiting. This is fake — the two of you just need to get through this weekend, and then you can go back to your divisions and pretend none of this happened. His family won't expect any updates for a long time, and by then Soshiro can figure out if you… if you'd be willing to marry him for real. Maybe, by then, he'll finally be good enough for you. So why is his heart pounding so loudly in his chest?
You stop as well, looking wide eyed at him as you shift your elegantly wrapped gift in your trembling hands. "Soshiro?"
"I promise they won't bite," he murmurs, ducking close as Soichiro reaches for the door. He doesn't know if his older brother can hear, but it doesn't really matter as long as you feel better about this meeting. "I'm the one choosin' you, remember."
You blink up at him, close enough for a kiss, your eyes searching his for something before you take a deep breath and nod. "Right. You're the only biter in the family."
He snorts before he can stop himself, feeling hot around the neck and ears as he straightens up. Jumping into the middle of a daikaiju battle would probably be easier than this — than facing his parents with news of his engagement and listening to them tell him to quit the Defense Force. His older brother lets out a quiet cough before he slides the door open. The three of you enter the lion's den.
Soshiro has nothing to worry about. Hours later finds the two of you settling into the room you'll be using during your stay, futon laid out as you sit beside it, your legs tucked to the side with your skirt splayed out. The sliding door leading to the walkway is open, exposing the two of you to a small side yard featuring a koi fish pond, but otherwise the guest room is out of the way of the main buildings. Soshiro won't be staying in the same room as you, even if his parents did approve of the engagement, but there's still some time before lights out and he wants to be with you. You let out a deep sigh and reach for his hand.
"That went well?" you ask carefully. Soshiro squeezes your hand. Watching you interact with his parents, who he loves in spite of the sense of duty that permeates everything they do, and with his older brother, who he knows is so much better than him at everything — seeing you cheerfully and earnestly bringing up Soshiro's own good qualities whenever you could did a lot to ease an unknown soreness in his heart.
"You were amazin'," he says honestly. You blush.
"I just wanted them to know how amazing you are," you say. "You're the coolest Vice Captain in the Defense Force, you know?"
"Just a cool Vice Captain?" Soshiro asks, glancing over at you. He smiles a little to himself as you roll your eyes.
"Did you also want me to tell them you're an incredible lover?"
Soshiro laughs out loud at that, releasing your hand so that he can pull you into his lap. You settle there easily, grinning, looping your arms around his neck as he leans up to kiss you. "We can keep that to ourselves," he says. His heart feels light. "I didn't realize you were payin' that much attention to me. Stroke a guy's ego like that and he might propose for real."
A wall comes up in the depths of your eyes and he falters as he leans in to kiss you, but you close the distance before he can ask what's wrong. You taste sweet, like the daifuku mochi you shared with his ma earlier, and you kiss him like you never want to stop. Soshiro groans into your mouth as you lick into his, your tongue sliding slick against his teeth. You don't pull away as you kiss, merely tugging his lip between your teeth, sucking lightly and tilting your head for better access. You kiss him hungrily, messily, the kind of desperate kissing you usually resort to after weeks without seeing each other, and all of it sends heat lancing through his body and straight to his cock.
You're so fucking soft in his arms — delicate and strong and warm, barely resisting as he crushes you to his chest, wrinkling your blouse and slipping a hand below the waistband of your skirt. Soshiro can feel the rabbit-fast beat of your heart against his, hears the soft gasp you let out when he nicks your lip. A breeze floats in from the wide open door, ruffling his hair, and he suddenly remembers where you are.
"Soshiro…" you breathe, chasing his lips as he pulls back with all the self control he can muster. "Soshiro, c'mere."
Fuck, the way you sound —
"Quit teasin' me," Soshiro grumbles, hands heavy on your hips. He leans back and glares halfheartedly at you, though it's nearly impossible when your lips are spit slick and kiss swollen and your eyes are hazy with want. "Someone could walk by at any moment."
You blink. "Not my fault you're irresistible." You rock your hips slightly in his lap and smirk when he groans at the friction against his cock. "Are you going to jerk off in your childhood bedroom?"
"You'd like that," Soshiro notes breathlessly. "Are ya gonna touch yourself tonight? Here, on our guest futon? Are ya gonna think of me?"
"I always think of you," you confess easily. Soshiro's heart thunks painfully in his chest. You tilt your head and kiss the tip of his nose. "It'll be weird sleeping in this guest room tonight when you're so close by."
"I'll cuddle ya lots when we get back to the base," Soshiro promises. "Whatever ya want."
"Okay, I'll hold you to it," you say, kissing him sweetly. "I guess you should get out of here before we really give something for your family to talk about."
Soshiro laughs quietly and skims his lips along the smooth column of your neck. "You'll hafta let go of me if ya want me to leave."
You slide off his lap with a pout, waving him off with a small smile that drops as soon as he rounds the corner. Soshiro keeps walking, however, because whatever's going on with you is probably something that can wait until you get back to the base. He doesn't want to air out any issues where his family can hear.
After a long day of train travel and the excruciating anxiety of presenting you and your engagement to his family, Soshiro wants nothing more than to sleep. But as he approaches his room, he groans to himself. The light is on, and the shadowy figure waiting for him inside is unfortunately familiar.
"It's late," Soshiro says, sliding open the door and facing his older brother. "Can't this wait 'til tomorrow?"
"Aw, but I've gotta go back to my base tomorrow," Soichiro says. He holds out a bokken and tilts his head towards the yard outside, which is swept clear of rocks and leaves. "Wanna go a round? Or are ya still my lil Wimpshiro?"
The old nickname makes Soshiro frown. He takes the bokken and nods toward the yard. "After you, Bonehead bro."
They don't have any protective gear, but neither of them are really looking to hurt the other. Soshiro feels his muscles tense with familiarity and falls into the rhythm of his childhood — the clack and clatter of blades meeting and pushing apart, the shuffle of feet on hard packed dirt and the low swoosh as the wooden practice sword narrowly misses his hair. He can tell his older brother is holding back, but it doesn't feel disrespectful. Or like he's underestimating him. Unlike in childhood, when Soshiro knew bone deep that he could reach his brother with just a little bit more, now it feels like a mutual agreement not to wear themselves out.
"You surpassed me a long time ago, Soshiro."
The words make him jerk back in surprise. "Don't make fun of me," he snaps. "You aren't even goin' all out."
Soichiro sticks his tongue out and flicks his long braid over his shoulder. "You ain't either, lil Soshiro. I know you hate my friggin' guts, but I'm proud to be your older bro, y'know?"
Soshiro frowns. Keeps himself in a 'ready' stance. "Where's this comin' from?"
"I was listenin' to your fiancée gushin' 'bout your good qualities," Soichiro says, leaping forward with a strike that Soshiro catches with his own blade. "And I was thinkin' it's a damn shame she knows ya better than I do."
Soshiro knocks the next strike aside and falls into a flurry of practiced blows, meeting Soichiro's wooden blade at every twist and turn. "She's my fiancée."
"And she's a good one," Soichiro nods. "Makes sense that she's picked you outta everyone."
But it's fake — it's not a real engagement — you haven't picked him, not for real —
"If ya stay here any longer she might change her mind. Good thing you're goin' back to the Sixth."
It comes out before he has a chance to swallow it down, and Soichiro's next strike misses him by miles. "What're ya talkin' about, ya dope? She'd never pick me."
Soshiro sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. Being around his older brother and facing all these memories again is throwing him off. He walked past one of the training buildings earlier and his father's voice had leapt into his mind unbidden — Soichiro is the Hoshina family's ultimate incarnation — and while he knows it's always been out of love and worry for his safety, he can't stop the bitterness from stinging in his throat whenever he remembers his family telling him to give up on his dreams of joining the Defense Force.
And it seems it's all combining into one awful swirl of insecurity that isn't even fair to you. Soshiro knows you better than to think you'd suddenly choose his older brother over him. Even if Soshiro is used to being a reject… he's never been rejected by you.
"Anyway, I'm lookin' forward to the wedding," Soichiro says, oblivious to Soshiro's inner turmoil. "Ten bucks says you'll cry during the sake sharing ceremony."
"Shaddup, ya bonehead," Soshiro laughs in spite of himself, startled out of his thoughts. "I ain't gonna cry."
"You look at her like she's the whole world," Soichiro says. He slides into a neutral position, his wooden blade pointing downwards. "When she births your first child, you're gonna sob like a baby."
The words are cold water thrown over his shoulders. "We ain't havin' kids."
"Oh?" Soichiro flicks his braid back over his shoulder again. "That's fine. I'll let ma know she can rest easy just dealin' with mine."
"Ma… won't mind?" Soshiro asks.
"Ma just wants ya to visit more often," his older brother says, "and she likes your fiancée. Said she's cute as a button and clearly adores you, which is all ma wants for us boys."
"You're gonna let her keep pullin' ya into omiai?" Soshiro asks, dropping out of his fighting stance as well.
"Not everyone's lucky enough to find a love like yours, lil bro," Soichiro shrugs. "Let your older brother show some dignity for the clan, alright?"
Soichiro finally leaves and Soshiro sits on the deck, bokken resting across his lap. The traditional buildings creak as they settle, a familiar sound as he looks out into the deepening twilight.
One more day. One more day in his family home, and then he'll be back on a train to Tokyo with you by his side. Tomorrow the plan is to give you the tour you wanted, and then catch the shinkansen after lunch. Maybe Soshiro can borrow you for the rest of the evening, too — you can always catch the next morning train to Ariake.
"Soshiro."
"Yeah, honey?"
You bite your lip before you reply, which is Soshiro's first sign that something is up. You acted normally during the morning tour of his family home, walking close enough to brush shoulders with him and smiling without a care in the world, and you snuck in a few kisses on the train ride back to Tokyo. But now you're fiddling with the sleeve of your pretty dress and barely looking him in the eye. The train station is emptying out around you.
"I think we shouldn't see each other for a while."
Soshiro's heart clenches in his chest. This is it, then. You've finally gotten tired of him — you've figured out that you could do better, find someone better —
"I love you, but I can't… I can't give you kids. I know that's what your family expects, and it isn't right to get their hopes up like this. I like them, Soshiro. They love you so much."
Soshiro's brain feels fuzzy.
"Wait. What did you just say?"
You frown up at him. Your eyes are sparkling with unshed tears and he reaches up to thumb at your cheek, brushing along the soft skin there as he stares down at you.
"My ma doesn't care if I have kids," Soshiro says quietly. His heart is beating so loudly he can barely hear his own voice. "They just want me to visit more."
Your cheek warms under his touch. "So I've been worrying about that this whole time for nothing?"
"I only found out last night, talkin' to my big bro," Soshiro says. "Do ya really love me?"
"You're an idiot," you breathe. You reach up to grab his hand and turn to walk down the platform, tugging him along. "You're coming with me. We're going to my place this time."
Soshiro lets you drag him onto the train to Ariake, lets you hold his hand the entire time, his rough palms scraping against yours as you squeeze his fingers. The two of you make it onto Ariake base unscathed and unnoticed. You lock your room door behind you.
"Look at this," you demand, booting up your computer and pulling up a word document that fills the whole screen. Soshiro leans over the desk to read it, eyes widening with every word.
"This is…"
"My request for a transfer," you nod, stepping back and crossing your arms over your chest. "I wrote it a long time ago — before your proposal, actually. I've been in love with you for ages, Soshiro. I just didn't know if you…"
"I love you."
You blink. Your nose wrinkles as you pout. It's the cutest thing he's ever seen. "I had hopes, when you proposed, even though I knew it was fake, but you just… kept making me feel all mixed up."
"I thought I was lucky ya kept choosin' me, but my luck was gonna run out someday," Soshiro says, his voice cracking on the words. "You could choose anyone."
You roll your eyes and the tension pops like a bubble. "Why would I choose anyone else when I love you, Soshiro?"
Soshiro laughs, feeling suddenly weightless and warm and fond. He reaches for you, smiling wide when you step into his embrace easily. Your arms wrap around his waist and he relaxes into your hold, nudging your temple with his nose. "Will ya marry me for real, then?"
"Of course I will, you dummy," you bury your face into his chest. Your voice comes out muffled. "But you owe me a million cuddles first."
"Wow, inflation's really hittin' hard," Soshiro murmurs, laughing when you roll your eyes and kiss him. It starts off as a sweet kiss until you fist the back of his shirt and a bolt of heat sweeps through him. "Can I start payin' up now?"
"Yeah," you breathe, tugging him over to your bed and pulling you both down onto it. Soshiro huffs as he lands on top of you, the sweet scent of you puffing up from your blankets and pillows. "Kiss me, Soshiro."
The way you gasp his name does nothing to ease the lust clouding his veins, but Soshiro has enough presence of mind to obey, kissing you deeply as he pins you to your bed. He keeps one arm by your shoulder to prop himself up, but his other hand is free to roam your body, squeezing your tits and digging into the curve of your waist, dragging the silky fabric of your dress up to your hips. You're tugging at his clothes desperately, popping open buttons and untucking his shirt, but you keep kissing him all the while, as if you can't bear to part with his lips even for a moment.
"You're so gorgeous like this," Soshiro mutters, groaning when you palm his cock over his unbuckled pants. He throbs concerningly in your grip and he huffs a laugh into your neck. "I'm — I'm fuckin' sensitive, honey, hold on —"
"Get inside me quick, then," you murmur, shimmying out of your panties and dragging your dress off. Your bra goes flying off as well, leaving you naked beneath him like the finest feast in the world.
Soshiro pulls off his own clothes but doesn't enter you right away, determined to worship you the way you deserve when you're laid out like this for him. You gasp as he sucks and nips at your neck, arching into his touch as one large hand grips your breast. You squirm when he trails down to flick his tongue against your neglected nipple, kneading the flesh with his hand and switching sides just to suck hard at the other bud. "S-Soshiro you jerk—"
He laughs fondly as he kisses down your tummy, biting affectionately at your hip bone just to feel you twitch. His hands smooth over your thighs before he spreads them apart, scooting down the bed to settle between your legs. "You're so wet already," he says reverently, "is this all for me?"
"Please, Soshiro — ah!"
Soshiro slides two fingers into your wet, slippery heat without preamble, groaning as your walls clamp down on him. He sucks at the inner meat of your thigh as you rock your hips, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out and pressing into the spongy bit of your walls that makes you gush even more down his wrist. He laves attention to your other thigh as well, littering love bites all along your sensitive skin but avoiding where you want him most.
"Are ya close?" he asks, watching intently as you fuck yourself on his fingers. He adds another just to hear you whine, the sound going straight to his cock as his balls tighten. You look so pretty like this, desperate and hot, squirming on the bed as you chase your pleasure with his help.
You catch his gaze and he groans, scrambling up to kiss you hungrily. You moan into his mouth, tongue swiping along his own as your hands leave the bedsheets to dig into his shoulders. "Soshiro, please —"
"My gorgeous, perfect fuckin' girl," Soshiro grunts, removing his fingers from your tight hot cunt and replacing them with the head of his cock. He's leaking at the tip, throbbing and heavy, and you whine as he catches at your clit. "I'm gonna marry ya," he promises, moving his hips carefully as he enters you slowly.
"I love you," you whisper, blinking starry eyes at him as he bottoms out with a moan. Unfair tactics — you've got his heart rate flying off the charts, his entire body warm and tense with adoration and desire as he slowly pulls out just to bully his way back inside you.
"I love you, too," Soshiro says, fucking into you carefully so that he's nudging that spot inside you that makes you clench harder around him. "I'm gonna — gonna make ya happy. And proud and — I'm gonna keep ya safe."
"Soshiro, you're gonna make me cum," you gasp, giggling a little deliriously as your nails dig into his back. You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer, and something about that makes his body run white hot. "F-fuck, Soshiro — I'm — !"
He cums first, his cock kicking and throbbing inside you as you fall headfirst into your orgasm, bodies shuddering and releasing in unison. Soshiro buries his face in your neck, biting down as he groans, relief crashing through his body as he floods your insides with white.
"I fuckin' love you," Soshiro says, peppering your face with kisses as you pant breathlessly. You giggle and run your fingers through his hair, the sweaty purple strands sticking up as you mess with it.
"You're an idiot if you think I'll ever stop loving you," you say softly. Soshiro meets your fond gaze and smiles.
"First ya call me an idiot, then a dummy and a jerk," he says, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say ya need some new nicknames for your fiancé."
"Hmm, I'll think about it," you laugh.
The two of you stay holed up in your room for the rest of the day, eating the snacks you have stashed around and talking and dreaming and making plans for the future. Soshiro's heart does a traitorous little flutter when you ask him to make love to you a few more times — because it is love, and it's still dirty and hot and you make him cum so hard he goes boneless, but there's love there, as always.
Soshiro wakes up the next morning with a handful of something soft.
"Soshiro… I'll kick you off this bed."
He snickers into the nape of your neck and removes his hand from your breast after giving it a gentle squeeze. You turn to face him, shoving your bare legs against his, and reach to grab his hand. The morning light is seeping in through your blinds slowly, but it still catches on the pretty purple gem and the shiny silver of your engagement ring as you hold your entwined hands up.
"G'mornin', fiancée," Soshiro murmurs. You drop his hand in favor of running your fingers through his hair.
i need these two stray cats to meet and become friends.....i need them too beat the shit out of each other then become brothers for life (bc let's be real here there's no way these two could hit it off right from the start, there will be screamings and punches thrown and pure chaos)
But then after that they'd get along well i think. Gen is from an orphanage, and while he didn't exactly fit in there, it's seem like he have good relationship with the little kids and could take on the role of a (tsundere) reliable big brother. And i bet that Haruka remind Gen of his teenage years as well, before he joined the jakdf!
For Haruka, he might be lowkey happy to meet someone with the same dual toned hair and unusual pupils like him. Also someone who doesn't give a shit about appearance, straight-forward, very very goal-oriented and never doubt himself, Haruka could learn a thing or two from Gen
Though they probably wouldn't last a day without trying to bite each others' head off
gummygunk
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
dededos
annaxmalina
janainaart
areudirty
origamiaround
