Hey! I wanted to ask if you could write something with Bunta? Being in a relationship with him and age gap?(reader adult), i love your work btw🩷 if you don't want to you can ignore. Thank you!
Quiet Kind of Love (Bunta Fujiwara)
Gender Neutral reader
a/n: YESSS THE FANS YEARN FOR BUNTA
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You never had to ask him to fix your car. It was how he told you he loved you. Not in so many words, but in the way your engine purred smoother than it had in years. The way the creaking door suddenly stopped groaning. The way a rare, high-performance part you definitely couldn’t afford just showed up under your hood.
“Did- did you do that?” you’d ask with a hint of fluster, brows raised.
He’d grunt and light a cigarette. “I was had nothin' better to do.”
But being unoccupied didn’t explain why he waited until you were busy at work to do it. Or how he never let you pay for anything. Or how your oil was always fresh, your tires rotated, your timing belt replaced before it ever had a chance to snap.
He wasn’t the type to say "I love you" out loud. Not once. But he kept a picture of you tucked into his wallet, behind his license. He’d glance at it sometimes before heading out for a drive, like a quiet ritual.
“Taken a look at the engine yet?” he’d ask his old friend, Yuichi, motioning to your car with a chin tilt.
“Yeah, I just took a peek. Geez Bunta, you spoil em'.” The Esso gas station owner would reply with a small shake of his head.
“They've got no idea,” Bunta would mutter, lips curling around his cigarette, eyes on the road like he could see the whole Akina pass from memory.
He never made a show of the things he did for you. Like the time you thought your alternator was going bad. You mentioned it offhand once—once—and the next morning, your whole engine bay looked like it had come out of a performance shop catalog. You blinked at it in disbelief.
“This is… this is from the GReddy catalog,” you whispered, tracing your fingers along the sleek piping.
He leaned against the frame of the garage, cigarette smoke curling up in the morning light. “Old friend owed me,” he said, like that explained how your car now had a turbo system that was worth more than your monthly paycheck.
At night, you’d sit with him outside the tofu shop. The cicadas droned. The town lights blinked softly. And he’d lean back in his chair, hand resting on your thigh, firm and warm and there. He wasn’t a talker, but when he did speak, it cut through all the static.
“You drive like shit when you’re distracted,” he muttered one evening, not unkindly.
You scoffed. “And whose fault is that?”
His lips twitched in a rare smile, eyes half-lidded from the smoke and the hour. “Guess I’ll take the blame this time.”
You never minded the age gap. People sometimes whispered, small town gossip, but you knew what you had. He didn’t play games. He didn’t waste words. He fixed things. Protected things. And when he looked at you, you felt safer than you ever had in your life.
He was a man in full: flawed, grounded, skilled, and yours. Not in a flashy, possessive way. But in the way he always waited up when you drove home late. In the way he remembered the sound of your engine better than you did. In the way he never once let you leave with low tire pressure.
“Don’t thank me,” he’d grumble when you kissed his cheek.
So you didn’t. You just kissed him again. Longer this time.
The chair creaked beneath him as he shifted, turning just enough to let you settle more comfortably against his side. The night was thick with summer heat and the buzzing of the world slowing down. You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder now, eyes half-closed, body heavy in that safe, sleepy way that only came when you were near him.
“Too quiet tonight,” you mumbled, fingers curling around his wrist where it rested on your thigh.
He gave a low grunt in response, noncommittal but content.
“You ever miss it?” you asked after a beat. “The racing. The noise. Being out there.”
He took a long drag of his cigarette, the tip flaring orange in the dark, then exhaled slow. “Not really.”
You tilted your head up to look at him. “Really?”
Bunta shrugged. “It’s all muscle memory now. Like breathing. Doesn’t mean I need to do it every night.”
His fingers twitched, tightening gently against your leg, like a subtle reassurance that he was here. Not chasing ghosts down a mountain pass. Not running from anything. Just here, in the still night with you.
“I like this,” he said finally. “The quiet. You.”
The admission was small—so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t listening for it. But your heart stuttered all the same.
“I like you too, old man,” you teased softly, nudging him with your nose. “Even if you complain more than the Impreza does on cold starts.”
His lips quirked into a dry smirk. “That’s ‘cause she’s got fewer miles on her than I do.”
You laughed, that bright, easy kind of laugh that always made him glance your way, even if he tried to hide the fondness behind a puff of smoke.
Then the porch light flickered and buzzed out above you, plunging the step into dim amber glow from the shop window.
You looked up at him, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes softened by the dark, and reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. He didn’t pull away. He never did.
“Come inside,” you whispered. “You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”
“It’s August.”
“Still.”
He didn’t move at first, he never rushed for anything. But after one last drag, he stubbed out the cigarette in the little tin can on the stoop, then stood, pulling you up with him like you weighed nothing.
And just before you reached the door, he paused, hand still tangled in yours, and looked down at you.
“You make the place quieter,” he murmured.
Your brow furrowed. “Quieter?”
“In a good way,” he said, voice rough from smoke and time. “Like… peace.”
Your heart ached in the best way. So instead of saying anything back, you rose on your toes, cupped his face, and kissed him again—no thank yous, no words.
Just you, and him, and the kind of quiet that didn’t need anything else.
Hello my friend; I just came across your account so I wanted to say that I love your stories and everything! I also wanted to know if you are doing any stories requests or anything?🌺❤️🔥🍹😘✨
Hiya! Thanks for the kind message!! <333 And YESSS I AMMMM feel free to send in whatever your heart desires! I'll respond to it as soon as I can.
You leaned against a tree, eyes narrowed at the field in front of you, tapping your fingers against your arm in a slow rhythm. The air was thick with the scent of the forest, a little damp but still crisp. Tanjiro was a few paces away, his hands clasped in front of him as he watched you with that patient, kind expression of his. You could practically hear the thoughts behind those eyes of his.
"Hey, Kamado," you called out, your voice low but carrying in the quiet woods. He straightened up, his eyes flicking to you. You’d been traveling together for a while now, and while you never really talked about your past or what you did—hell, you barely talked about anything, to be honest—you both worked well together. Too well, in fact.
"Yeah?" Tanjiro's voice was warm, full of that trademark kindness he wore like a shield. It was strange, sometimes. Like he could see right through people. It made you uncomfortable and a little annoyed sometimes, but it was also... well, sweet. You didn’t have to think much around him, because he made everything feel like it was okay, even though you weren’t sure how or why.
"Stop staring at me, it's creeping me the fuck out," you muttered, pulling yourself upright. Your voice wasn’t harsh, not really, but it held that sharpness you always carried with you. That toughness you used to guard yourself. Tanjiro’s face shifted, like he was caught off guard, then looked down at his feet sheepishly.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
You raised an eyebrow at his response, eyes rolling. "No need to apologize for looking at me, dumbass. I just—shit," you cursed under your breath, shoving a hand through your hair. "Forget it, I’m just in a bad mood today."
Tanjiro didn’t answer right away. He shifted his weight, looking conflicted, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. You weren’t exactly one for small talk, and he could probably smell that you didn’t really want to talk anyway, so he just stayed quiet, as usual.
"God, are you really just gonna keep being so... goddamn nice all the time?" you spat out, trying to break the tension. "Do you even know how to stop being so fucking pure?"
You could feel his eyes on you again, but this time there was something more to it, something softer. You weren't sure if you liked it, but you didn't acknowledge it. It wasn’t like you had the emotional bandwidth for this kind of shit anyway. You had a wall for a reason.
"I- uh-"
"You don’t need to explain anything to me, Kamado," you cut him off, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "You’re not my therapist. Stop looking at me like you’re trying to fix me, I’m fine." Your voice was steady, but the underlying irritation was obvious. Tanjiro, however, didn’t seem deterred. Instead, he just nodded slightly.
It pissed you off. It was as if he could see through all your layers of bullshit and bullshit excuses, but you couldn’t get a word in edgewise to make him stop looking at you with that look of... what? Compassion? Respect? You didn’t fucking know, but it bugged the hell out of you.
But something else bugged you, too.
It bugged you that the more you spent time with him, the less you felt like you needed to pretend to be the person you put out there for everyone. The asshole, the rough girl who didn’t give a damn. He made you feel weirdly vulnerable, and the last thing you needed was to start caring about someone. Because, like it or not, that’s what you were doing. And it pissed you off.
"You know, you're really starting to piss me off," you muttered under your breath, turning your back to him as if the simple act of facing away could stop whatever weirdness had been building up between you two.
But Tanjiro didn’t stop. He never did.
"Why?"
You blinked, confused by the question. He was standing there, head tilted with that same innocent smile on his face, as if he couldn’t understand why you were so irritated. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" you asked, voice laced with frustration.
"Because you’re important," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And because I know you’re going through something, but you’re not alone, okay? I’ll stick by you, no matter how hard you push me away."
You froze for a moment, your mind shutting down as you tried to figure out how to process those words. It wasn’t like you’d never been told something like that before, but hearing it from Tanjiro felt different. It felt... real. Something about the way he said it, so fucking genuine, like he wasn’t even trying to make you feel better, just... telling you. It hit you in a place that you didn’t know was even there.
"Whatever," you said quickly, turning away from him again. "You don’t know me, Kamado. Don’t try to act like you do."
Tanjiro didn’t press you, but you felt him step closer, and then you heard his voice again, quiet but steady.
"I don’t have to know you to know that you're a good person," he said, and when you glanced back at him, his eyes were sincere. "I just... want you to know that."
You were speechless for a second. This stupid kid, with his stupid smile, and his stupid, unwavering belief in the good in people—especially you—was really starting to mess with your head.
"Fuck off," you muttered, but there was no venom in it this time. You turned away again, leaning your back against a tree and crossing your arms.
Tanjiro didn’t move. You could feel him still standing there, his presence a quiet comfort you’d never admit you needed. You cursed under your breath, because, shit, maybe you did need him. You just weren’t ready to let anyone close enough to get under your skin.
"Whatever, Kamado," you said, your voice quieter now. "You’re really starting to annoy me, you know that?"
But when you heard his soft chuckle, you couldn’t help but feel something flicker in your chest.
"I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
"Dumbass." You grunted, reaching up to pull your cap over your blushing face.
Could I request the Kamaboko trio with a Hashira reader the view as a mother. They follow her around like a baby duck and seek her attention and approval
They’re just babies 😔 they need a nice hug and a good meal
Our Dear Sensei (Kamaboko Trio)
fem reader
a/n: haven't written for these guys in a HOT minute!!
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The wind whispered through the trees as you walked along the dirt path leading back to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. The sky was a soft lavender hue, the first stars beginning to twinkle above. It had been a long mission, but at least it had ended in victory.
You barely made it past the first torii gate when you heard it—a rustling, then hurried footsteps.
“Y/n-sensei!”
Three voices, in unison, calling out to you.
You didn’t even have time to turn before a weight slammed into your side. Tanjiro, ever so gentle despite his strength, buried his face in your shoulder. His breath hitched, relief clear in the way his hands clutched your haori.
“You’re back,” he murmured. “We were so worried.”
A second body crashed into your other side, significantly less gentle.
“Where the hell were you?! We’ve been starving without you!” Inosuke’s voice was loud, muffled only slightly by the way his forehead was pressed into your shoulder. “These idiots didn’t let me run into the mountains to find you!”
And then, Zenitsu. Clinging to your arm like a desperate child, his wails loud enough to alert the entire estate.
“Y-Y/n-sensei! You can’t just go off on dangerous missions without us! What if something happened to you?! Who would cook for us?! Who would make sure Inosuke doesn’t punch a Hashira in the face?! Who would protect us?!”
You sighed, though your lips curled into a fond smile. These three were more than just your students. Somewhere along the line, they had become your ducklings, following you around wherever you went, seeking your approval, your presence.
With a chuckle, you ruffled their hair one by one.
“I missed you too,” you admitted. “And I’m fine. You know I’m a Hashira, right? It’ll take more than a few demons to take me down.”
“B-But still!” Zenitsu sniffled.
“Enough whining,” Inosuke grumbled, though he was still very much glued to your side. “She’s back, and now she can feed us!”
Tanjiro laughed softly, finally pulling back, though his hands still clutched your sleeve. “Are you hungry too, Y/n-sensei? You must be exhausted.”
You hummed, pretending to consider it. “I could use a meal. How about we all eat together? My treat.”
Zenitsu gasped, tears sparkling in his eyes. “I knew it! You do love us! You do care!”
Inosuke pumped a fist into the air. “FOOOOD! Finally!”
Tanjiro’s smile was radiant, his exhaustion melting into quiet happiness. “Let’s go. I’ll help cook.”
And just like that, the three of them trailed behind you, sticking close like ducklings to their mother.
You couldn’t help but feel warm at the sight.
Yes, they were warriors.
Yes, they were strong.
But at the end of the day, they were still just kids.
And you would protect them, feed them, and care for them as long as they needed you to.
The kitchen at headquarters was already warm when you arrived, and despite their exhaustion, all three boys eagerly helped prepare the meal.
Tanjiro, ever reliable, was already washing rice and cutting vegetables. Zenitsu grumbled about being forced to help, but his hands moved skillfully as he worked on seasoning the fish. Inosuke, surprisingly, listened to directions—for the most part. He still insisted on “hunting” ingredients, which really just meant charging into the pantry and coming back with an entire bag of flour like it was a prized kill.
“Y/n-sensei! Look! I got this myself! Now make something good with it!”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Inosuke, put that back. We don’t need flour for-”
“Don’t waste my bounty!”
Zenitsu groaned. “You absolute barbarian! You can’t just bring random things and expect them to work in the meal!”
“Yes, I can! And Y/n-sensei is the best! She can cook anything!”
You sighed but patted Inosuke’s head, making him freeze in place before puffing up proudly. “I appreciate the enthusiasm. How about next time we bake something?”
The wild boar boy nodded sagely. “Hmph. Fine. But only because you said so.”
Dinner was simple. grilled fish, miso soup, fresh rice, and vegetables. Nothing fancy, but by the way the three of them practically inhaled their portions, you would have thought it was a feast.
Zenitsu let out a dramatic sigh, clutching his stomach. “I could cry. This is the best meal I’ve had in forever.”
Tanjiro, cheeks slightly puffed with rice, nodded in agreement. “It’s really good, Y/n-sensei. Thank you.”
Inosuke, on his third serving, was too busy stuffing his face to respond verbally. Instead, he let out a pleased grunt.
You shook your head fondly. “Honestly, what would you three do without me?”
can i req gn vampire reader x diego where reader is always pestering diego and visiting him at night throughout the race and sometimes reader will take care of any wounds hes sustained (this is just how reader checks up on him :3)
Blood and Bandages (Diego Brando)
Gender Neutral reader
a/n: I've never payed much attention to Diego before (srry xoxoxo) so I hope I did this justice!! :33333
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Diego sighed, adjusting the bandages on his arm as he sat by the dwindling fire. He had sustained a few minor injuries during today’s race—nothing major, but still enough to be an inconvenience. His muscles ached from riding, and his patience wore thinner with each passing night.
And yet, just as he started to relax, he felt it.
That familiar, eerie presence just beyond the firelight.
“…You can come out now,” he muttered, voice edged with irritation but lacking real bite.
A moment of silence. Then, from the shadows, a chuckle.
“You always notice me too fast, Diego. It’s no fun,” you teased, stepping into the glow of the fire. Your fangs caught the light briefly before you grinned, fangs slipping away just as fast.
Diego rolled his eyes, though he kept his guard up out of habit. “Maybe if you weren’t always lurking in the dark like a creep, I wouldn’t have to.”
“Oh?” You tilted your head, stepping closer. “Then should I visit you during the day instead?”
Diego scoffed. “You’d burn to a crisp before you even got within ten feet of me.”
“That’s what makes the night so much better,” you mused, crouching next to him. Your gaze flickered to his arm. “Speaking of which… you’re hurt.”
Diego stiffened as you reached out, your cool fingertips ghosting over the bandages. He should have expected this by now—your strange little habit of checking up on him, always hovering over his wounds like some overprotective spirit. It was infuriating. And yet… he never stopped you.
“It’s fine,” he muttered, looking away. “It’ll heal on its own.”
You hummed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t trust you to take care of yourself.”
Diego clicked his tongue. “I’ve made it this far without your babysitting.”
“Mm, barely,” you shot back, plopping down beside him with an infuriating smirk. “Besides, what else am I supposed to do at night? It’s not like I need to sleep.”
Diego exhaled sharply. “Maybe you could stop bothering me.”
You gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your heart. “You wound me, Dio.”
“You’ll live.”
“And so will you, if you let me fix that properly.”
Before he could protest, you reached into your coat, pulling out fresh bandages and a small bottle of some kind of medicine. He narrowed his eyes.
“…Where the hell do you even get that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased, carefully undoing the haphazard bandage on his arm. Diego hissed as the cool air hit his wound, but he didn’t pull away.
Your touch was gentle, far more than he deserved. You worked with practiced ease, as if you’d done this a thousand times before. Maybe you had. How long had you been watching him?
The realization made his stomach twist.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, voice quieter than before.
You glanced up, tilting your head. “Doing what?”
“This,” he gestured vaguely. “Following me. Checking on me. Patching me up.”
You were silent for a moment, tying the last bit of bandage securely. Then, with a small smile, you replied,
“Because you’re interesting.”
Diego scoffed. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” you said simply, gathering your supplies. “I just like seeing you survive.”
Something about that made his heart stutter.
He turned away, scowling. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
You chuckled, standing up. “And yet, you never tell me to leave.”
Diego said nothing. Because you were right. He never did.
You gave him one last look, something unreadable in your expression, before stepping back into the darkness.
“Goodnight, Dio,” you murmured, voice just barely reaching him before you disappeared into the night.
Diego sighed, staring at the spot where you had just been. His arm felt better now, properly bandaged. His exhaustion felt just a little lighter.
And despite himself, he found himself already waiting for your next visit.
Could I request some nsfw of wataru Akiyama (initial d :p) with a trans ftm reader? I love your blog by the way!!!!
So cute... (Wataru Akiyama)
NSFW
Transman AFAB Reader
a/n: haven't gotten any notifications about new asks for some reason until I checked my inbox, so I apologize for the wait!! dude, tbh I never think abt Wataru but really looking at that mf, he's HOT. like I could definitely take him (not behind a wheel ofc 🤭). I'm gnna make this kinda nyastyyy lol. I haven't written smut in a hot minute so I gotta unleash the beast😼
cw: mention of top scars, dirty talk, Dom Wataru, Sub reader, fingering, cunnilingus, use of the word boyc*nt/boyp*ssy
tags: @dreamcastgirl99
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Your heart raced as you walked to the closest parking lot on campus. It was a little embarrassing how excited you got every time you made your way over there despite doing this on a daily basis.
But I mean, if you were dating Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome, you would certainly be eager to see him after a long day of lectures and uncomfortable seats.
Your eyes scanned the rows of boxy sedans and somewhat sleek compact cars, searching, looking for one beater in particular. A black and white levin with a familiar face sitting in the driver's seat caused you to flush and fight down a little grin.
Wataru's eyes caught yours as you grew closer to his ride, and he gave you a subtle smile, nodding in greeting as you opened the side door.
"Hey, baby." He chuckled, eyes never leaving you as you slid into your designated spot.
Heat rushed to your cheeks, chest fluttering at the nickname. A bashful smile graced your lips when you turned to him. "Hi. It's been a while."
He softly snorted as he started the car, the floor rumbling beneath your feet. "I had lunch with you."
"And I missed you every second after that, Wataru."
You watched as his high cheekbones dusted pink, your words clearly affecting him. Knowing that you could do that to him, make him blush with your sincerity, gave you a rush of pride with a hint of possessiveness.
The next day came too quickly, and despite the lingering warmth from yesterday's ride with Wataru still buzzing faintly in your chest, the familiar grind of lectures and note-taking dulled it a little. You were lost in the monotony of it all—half-tuned in to the professor's droning voice, half-daydreaming about the way Wataru's voice had sounded when he called you baby. Low and smooth, like a car engine purring at idle.
The thought alone made you smirk a little to yourself.
By the time class let out, you were shuffling out with the crowd, making your way across campus when you heard a voice behind you.
“H-hey! Excuse me!”
You slowed and turned, glancing over your shoulder. One of the girls from your lecture jogged up beside you, her backpack bouncing slightly against her shoulder. She was cute in that casual, university-student kind of way—choppy bangs, loose sweater, and a bright-eyed look that made her seem a little younger than she probably was.
She smiled sweetly, a little breathless. “Hey, um…” she started, fiddling with the strap of her bag. Her eyes flickered toward the parking lot where you knew Wataru’s Levin was probably waiting, the image of him sitting with you in the car yesterday still fresh in your mind.
“I was just wondering…” she bit her lip slightly, her voice lowering shyly. You were starting to suspect that you were about to be asked out, judging by her actions.
Until she said something that threw you completely off.
“…could I get your cute friend’s number?”
For a brief moment, your brain didn’t fully process her words. Her soft tone made it sound like she was making a polite, casual request, but it hit you square in the chest like a gut punch.
Your cute friend.
She was talking about Wataru.
The realization sank in slowly, but heavily.
You blinked, feeling the words get caught in your throat. It was such a simple question, so casually asked, but something about it made your stomach flip uncomfortably.
Your fingers curled slightly around the strap of your own bag as you forced a polite smile, one that probably came off more awkward than you intended.
“Ah… sorry, he’s- he’s taken.”
The girl’s brows shot up slightly, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh! Oh, I didn’t know,” she stammered, clearly flustered, quickly waving her hand. You could see the disappointment in her eyes clear as day, even if she was trying to play it off.
Before you could respond, she was already retreating with an embarrassed wave, leaving you standing there, still processing the whole thing.
You exhaled sharply, more from the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding in your chest than anything else. Your feet carried you toward the parking lot automatically, but your thoughts were still tangled up in the conversation.
You didn’t mention it when you slid into Wataru’s car.
You didn’t say anything as he greeted you with his usual smooth smile, his eyes warm and easy as he leaned over slightly to brush his knuckles against your knee.
But your replies were shorter than usual, and your gaze lingered a little too long out the passenger window, the subtle weight of the earlier conversation still making your chest feel tight.
Of course, Wataru noticed.
You felt his gaze flick toward you as he shifted gears, his hand deftly working the shifter with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. His fingers tapped the steering wheel lightly as he casually glanced at you again.
“Hey…” he murmured, low and smooth. “What’s with the face?”
You blinked, caught off guard.
“Face?” You forced a clueless look, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Mm.” His lips twitched slightly. “You’re making that bratty face.”
You shot him a look, the faintest flush crawling up your neck. “I am not.”
That earned you a deep, throaty chuckle that made your stomach flip and your core grow warm.
“Oh, you definitely are,” he teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slow smirk. He kept his eyes on the road, but you could feel him watching you out of the corner of his eye. “What, you mad at me or something?”
Your fingers clenched slightly around the fabric of your jeans, and despite yourself, the words came out a little too quickly, a little too huffy.
“Just don’t… let any other girls flirt with you,” you muttered, voice lower than you intended.
For a second, the car was silent, except for the low hum of the engine.
Then, he snorted softly, followed by a low, disbelieving laugh.
“Wait, wait.” He shot you a slow, almost playful glance. “Are you jealous?”
You turned sharply toward him, but his smug grin was already firmly in place.
“I’m not jealous,” you mumbled, glowering slightly, feeling the heat rush to your face.
“Oh-ho…” His voice was all rich amusement now, the deep timbre making the warmth in your chest spread lower. “You are.”
He shifted gears fluidly, one hand on the wheel while the other slid casually over to your thigh, his thumb stroking small, lazy circles just above your knee.
"What happened baby? Did someone ask you about me?" Wataru hummed, eyes facing forward.
You didn't say a word, only letting out a small grumble until you felt him squeeze your thigh, wordlessly demanding an answer.
"Some girl asked me for your number. She probably saw you picking me up yesterday or some shit." You huffed, clearly bothered by the earlier interaction.
"Mhm. Probably. And what did you tell her?" He questioned, calmly looking deeper into your feelings.
"That you're taken... I wasn't just gonna give you away. Hell no!" You bristled, possessiveness for Wataru taking over.
Wataru’s lips parted slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the glimmer of surprise in his dark eyes. But then, almost immediately, it melted into something warmer, something softer—pleased. His thumb paused for just a second against your thigh, before he slowly resumed those lazy, tantalizing circles, this time a little slower, a little heavier, more deliberate.
“Mm…” he hummed, voice low and utterly pleased with himself. “That so?”
The weight of his gaze settled on you, and you could feel the slow, deliberate drag of his eyes as they traced over your profile—the stubborn set of your jaw, the faint flush that still painted your cheeks. You could feel him drinking it all in, savoring every bit of your flustered state.
You felt him lean over, his chin pressing on your shoulder when he stopped at a red light.
“You’re cute when you’re huffy, you know that?” he murmured, voice low and teasing against your ear.
You squirmed slightly in your seat, but his hand tightened gently on your thigh, keeping you still.
“You got no reason to be jealous, baby,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing against your jaw. “No one else makes me feel the way you do.”
You let out a tiny moan, unable to control the shivers of pleasure running up your spine from his touch, his warmth, his warm breath tickling your skin.
He chuckled, a tone filling with sin. "You like that, don't you pretty boy?"
You didn't answer, too flustered to form a coherent thought. Instead, you swallowed and didn't dare show him how red you had gotten. But you were sure he could see the blush formed on the tips of your ears to the high of your cheeks.
He leaned back into his seat, one hand still on the wheel while the other slowly stroked up your thigh, growing so close to your aching heat. "Don't worry honey, we're almost home. I wanna see how horny my baby got for me."
The bedroom door barely had time to click shut before Wataru had you pressed against it.
His lips were already on yours, hot and unyielding, swallowing the small gasp that slipped from your throat. His hands were on your waist, rough but reverent, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your shirt as though he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold you close enough.
You barely had time to think—barely had time to breathe—before he was tugging your shirt upward, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it over your head and toss it aside. His lips were back on you instantly, trailing down your jaw, your throat, and lower still, leaving a searing path in their wake.
You let out a shaky exhale, your back pressing into the door, fingers trembling slightly as they fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his hands, warm and calloused, splay against your bare chest, stroking along the soft, sensitive skin, his thumbs circling slowly and deliberately over your scars, over the tissue you still felt self-conscious about.
But he didn’t hesitate—not for a second.
If anything, his hands were hungrier, more tender, cradling you with so much care it nearly made you dizzy. He wanted to touch you, to feel you. All of you.
Your breath caught when he dipped his head lower, his lips brushing softly over your chest—featherlight kisses, slow and reverent, his breath hot and shaky. He pressed a lingering kiss just below your collarbone, then another, then another, trailing lower with agonizing slowness, as though worshiping every part of you.
“So fucking handsome,” he murmured softly, the word low and reverent against your skin.
The sound of it made your throat tighten, made your chest feel warm and full, and you curled your fingers into his hair, tilting his face back toward yours. You kissed him hard—desperately—letting the weight of your affection pour into the press of your lips, into the way your hands trembled slightly against his face.
He groaned softly into your mouth, his hands sliding down your back, gripping your waist firmly as he guided you toward the bed. His steps were slow and deliberate, never breaking the kiss, walking you back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.
You sank down onto the bed, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling heavily as you stared up at him.
Wataru stood over you for a moment, catching his breath, his lips slightly parted, his dark eyes heavy with desire. He made no move to rush. He only stared at you—devoured you—with a look so raw, so utterly worshipful, it made your stomach tighten with want.
“God, you’re perfect. My fucking perfect boy,” he muttered, voice low and breathless, almost like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.
Your lips parted slightly, a faint, shaky breath escaping you at the words. Your chest felt tight with warmth, your face flush with heat.
You reached for him, your fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, and without a word, he let you tug it up over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side.
You drank him in—all of him. The smooth expanse of his broad chest, the lean, sculpted muscle, the dips in his collar and plunge of his v-line into his pants. Your eyes traced over every inch of him, your heart thudding wildly in your chest.
He lowered himself onto the bed, bracing himself over you, his hands caging you in on either side of your head. You felt the heat of his breath against your lips, his dark hair falling forward slightly, brushing against your skin.
“You still all riled up, baby?” he murmured softly, his lips barely grazing yours.
You let out a shaky whimper in response, your hands moving greedily over his bare chest, your fingers tracing along the hard lines of his torso, dragging your nails lightly down his back.
He hissed softly through his teeth, his arms trembling slightly from the sharp sensation. His eyes darkened, a low, satisfied rumble rising in his throat.
“Mm…” he purred, his lips brushing along your jawline, then lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. “That eager, huh?”
You clenched your jaw slightly, your hands fisting the bedsheets as he shifted lower, his tongue dragging lazily along the curve of your collarbone, making your back arch slightly beneath him.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. Your brain was too fogged, too clouded with heat and want, with the feel of his lips on your skin, with the weight of him pressing down on you.
But he didn’t need a response.
The way your body responded to him—the way you squirmed slightly beneath him, the way your nails dug just a little harder into his back—told him everything he needed to know.
And he relished it.
“God, you’re so good for me,” he muttered lowly, his voice strained with hunger as his lips dragged lower still. His hands slid down your sides, his fingers trailing along your skin with deliberate slowness, making you shiver beneath him.
"So fucking cute..." He mumbled against your skin, the vibrations making you shiver.
His hands found the waistband of your jeans, and with slow, deliberate movements, he unbuttoned them, taking his time, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes as he dragged the zipper down.
"Let's see that needy cock of yours," he chuckled, tugging down your pants along with your underwear.
His lips parted slightly, and he let out a low, shaky breath as he slowly eased the waistband down over your hips, his eyes trailing hungrily over every inch of newly exposed skin.
You watched him, chest heaving slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow pants. You were trembling faintly beneath him, your thighs clenching slightly from the way his gaze roved over you, heavy and heated, devouring you whole.
You squeaked at the cold rush of air hitting your slick boypussy, your sensitive clit twitching at the sensation.
“Fuck…” he exhaled softly, the word nearly a groan as his eyes went up and down along your slit. He could feel his mouth begin to salivate at the thought of his tongue doing the same thing.
You watched with half-lidded eyes, lips gently parted as you admired how utterly sexy he looked worshipping you.
And then, with agonizing slowness, he pressed his lips against the side of your puffy pussy. You let out a sharp gasp, feeling his tongue give a swift little lick up your skin, not even touching your aching bundle of nerves.
"Wanna see you take my fingers, sweet thing." He mumbled into you, voice muffled by your skin. You could feel yourself gush at his words, face red and heart pounding from every sound that left his lips, every press of his skin against yours.
"Please..." You weakly whined, hips jolting when you felt his fingers tap the entrance of your cunt.
"So fuckin' cute." He hummed, leaning back to watch himself play with you.
He used both hands to gently spread your walls, your hole squeezing around nothing and clit twitching as if vying for his attention.
Moving one hand, he gently pressed his index and middle fingers on your sensitive button, rubbing tight, slow circles. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you clamped down on nothing. Your nails dug into his arms and your eyes squeezed shut, body trembling with pleasure.
"Oh, god…" you managed to whimper, eyes opening slightly, needing to see him. Your needy, lust-drunk eyes met his, and he smirked, his eyes filled with affection for how much you were enjoying yourself.
He continued rubbing, his lightly calloused fingers sending warmth and sparks where they touched you. You felt yourself tense and your hips begin to shake against his grip.
"Wataru…!" you cried, not really sure what you wanted.
But he knew.
And with a low, satisfied hum, he used his other hand to slide a single finger into your boypussy.
You felt it in every molecule of your body. Your vision began to blur, your muscles tensed and your whole body shivered as you felt that satisfying stretch that always drove you so wild.
"Ah!" You cried out, head falling back and hips clenching around him.
He fucked you with that single finger, the pace quickening as he watched your face. You could hear your wetness every time he thrust in and out of you, the sounds making you blush harder and your toes curl from how dirty it all felt.
He let out a groan from above you, hips rocking into the air as he watched his fingers play with your tight heat.
"Fuckin' hell… You're so tight," he mumbled to himself, unable to keep his eyes off your pussy. He felt his own cock growing thicker, needing to be touched as badly as you. He slid his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly loud click, giving you a few moments to catch your breath.
"I'm gonna finger you until you cum," he said, voice deep and thick. His eyes looked up at you, filled with desire and lust.
His fingers slid back into you, this time it being two fingers. You let out a desperate whine when he started fingering you again.
"Oh god, Wataru-!" You cried, hands reaching for him and digging into his shoulders.
He pressed his lips to yours as he fucked you harder, his tongue meeting yours in an eager dance as his fingers curled inside you, teasing your sensitive inner walls.
The pace got quicker. The friction of his fingers dragging in and out of your tight cunt sent waves of pleasure up your body, your hips bucking desperately into his grip.
"Ahhh…!" You moaned into his mouth, the pleasure too much to contain. Your head fell back, your mouth falling open with a silent scream.
"Oh god, you're gonna make me cum so hard," you managed to say, your voice tight and desperate. Your legs clenched around his hand and your nails dragged down his arms, making him gasp and buck his hips into the air once more.
You looked back at him with lust filled eyes, lips swollen from kisses and flushed from how long we had been making out.
He pulled out his fingers, the slick sound of his digits leaving your boypussy loud in the quiet room. You cried out with the sudden emptiness and whined when his fingers stroked your abused walls.
"Stay still, baby boy. M'wanna watch you cum." He ordered, voice husky from arousal.
He used his fingers to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves, your legs clenching around his hands once more and your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt yourself approach climax.
You let out a small whine and tried to writhe beneath him, but he held you still with a firm hand on your stomach.
"Look at me," he demanded, voice thick and breathy.
You opened your eyes, looking at him with a dazed, lust filled expression. Your hands reached for his head as you felt your climax nearing.
His fingers moved faster, your slick juices making a wet, obscene sound with every touch.
"Ahhh, fuck…!" you gasped, hips jerking desperately into his touch. "Wataru, I-!"
"Come for me," he grunted, voice filled with need, watching you closely for any sign of your release.
You gasped and your body began to tense. Your muscles clenched, your whole body shaking as you came. Your whole world disappeared from the sheer pleasure and your legs squeezed tightly around his arms. You cried his name out through clenched teeth, your boycunt spasming and your back arched off the bed.
He leaned over, his lips pressed gently against your ear.
"That's it, sweet thing, cum all over my fingers." His voice was deep and filled with need. You felt your muscles shiver at his words, the sound of them sending sparks through your sensitive pussy.
As you came, his fingers continued stroking your over-sensitive clit, teasing out as much pleasure as possible. Your body twitched and you whimpered from the too much pleasure but Wataru refused to stop.
You panted heavily, your skin sweaty and warm, muscles feeling limp and boneless from how well he had fucked you. He slid his hand away from your sensitive pussy and let you rest for a moment.
He laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms so that his front pressed against yours. He kissed along the nape of your neck, nuzzling into your soft skin and holding you tightly. You felt him twitch against your leg, his arousal not yet sated.
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.
"Wataru," you murmured, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He leaned into the touch, his expression softening.
"Yeah?" he mumbled, voice sleepy sounding from how much he'd pleased you. His nose brushed against your cheek, nuzzling you gently.
"Thank you," you said softly, your hands curling into his hair.
He smiled against your skin—a gentle, soft smile that made your chest feel full and warm.
"Don't ever thank me for fucking you, baby," he whispered softly, his lips grazing your ear. He moved lower, his mouth brushing along the curve of your jaw, then lower still to find the spot on your neck that always made you go weak in the knees. "You deserve to feel good." His voice was warm and thick, filled with a kind of deep, sincere affection that always made your heart skip a beat.
His hands slid up your sides, making you shudder at the feel of his palms against your skin.
You leaned into his touch, your fingers slipping down the back of his neck. He let out a soft, pleased sound as he felt your fingers curl against his skin.
“Wataru,” you murmured softly, your lips parting slightly.
He kissed along your throat, his breath warm and gentle on your skin.
“Yes?” His voice was muffled against your skin.
“I love you,” you whispered, your heart full to bursting with emotion.
His lips stilled against your skin for a moment—just a moment. And then, he pulled back to look at you, his eyes soft and searching.
You met his gaze without faltering, your heart pounding in your chest as you held his stare. The room was silent but for the sound of your breath, and the feel of each other’s heartbeat.
And then—just when you thought you might collapse from the intensity of it all—he smiled.
That slow, lazy smile—the kind that only he had ever given you—that made your stomach flip and your chest feel full.
“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice soft and gentle. His lips pressed against yours, his kiss soft, and sweet, and warm.
And with that, everything in the world just seemed to melt away. It was just him, and you, and this moment. The kind that would last forever.
How about a story with Bunta where the reader is with him romantically? Age difference. Smut. I really love Bunta. 👉🏻👈🏻
The Tofu Vendor is a Silver Fox!
NSFW
a/n: OHHHH I've been waiting for another ask omg. YES MY FELLOW BUNTA LUVR, I could never say no to a Bunta smash request <3
cw: age gap (older man, young woman), daddy kink, pussy talk, dirty talk, cream pie, unprotected sex, afab reader, Bunta calls you his "little girl" (no age regressing tho)
Want to get tagged? Fill out this form: ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚
The smell of fresh tofu mingled with the crisp scent of the Akina mountain air as you leaned against the counter of Fujiwara Tofu Shop. Bunta stood a few feet away, cigarette lazily perched between his fingers, his other hand expertly kneading dough for tomorrow’s tofu batch. His calm, stoic expression was something you’d come to adore—a stark contrast to your own animated personality.
"You're staring again," he murmured without looking up, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement.
You didn’t even try to deny it. “I can’t help it. You’re ridiculously handsome, Bunta. That salt-and-pepper hair, those sharp cheekbones... you’re the definition of a silver fox.”
He snorted, shaking his head, but you caught the faintest hint of a smirk. Bunta wasn’t one to show emotions easily, but over the months you’d been together, you’d learned to spot the subtle ways he expressed himself.
“Silver fox, huh?” he teased, his voice gravelly and smooth, a sound you could listen to forever. “I’m just an old man making tofu.”
“An old man who’s still the fastest on Akina,” you shot back, walking over and wrapping your arms around his waist. You pressed your cheek against his broad back, feeling the faint vibrations of his quiet chuckle. “You’re more than just the fastest. You’re mine.”
He set the dough aside, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face you. His thin, steel eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside the shop faded away.
“You’re too good to me,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His calloused fingers lingered against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch, your heart fluttering the way it always did when he let his guard down.
“And you’re too modest,” you countered, grinning up at him. “You’re also the most gorgeous man in Gunma. In all of Japan, actually.”
“Flattery won’t get you out of delivering tofu in the morning,” he teased, but the tenderness in his gaze betrayed his words.
You laughed, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “I’ll deliver tofu for you every day, as long as I get to come home to this face.”
The afternoon sun was warm as you tugged at Bunta’s arm, practically dragging him toward the car. He stood firm, an amused yet exasperated expression on his face as he puffed on a cigarette.
“You really need me to drive you to the next city just to shop?” he asked, his tone dry but affectionate.
“Need? No. Want? Absolutely,” you replied with a grin, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Come on, baby! We’ll make a day of it. You can grumble all you want, but I know you secretly enjoy spending time with me.”
His lips twitched, and though he tried to hide it, you could tell he was already caving. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
“Mm-hmm. And you love me for it,” you shot back, slipping into the passenger seat of the Subaru Impreza before he could argue further.
By the time you arrived in the next city, the bustling streets and lively atmosphere had put you in high spirits. Bunta, on the other hand, was as stoic as ever, though you caught the occasional glint of amusement in his eyes as you flitted from store to store, holding up clothes and asking for his opinion.
“What about this one?” you asked, holding up a skirt that was a little shorter than your usual style. You swished it playfully, grinning at his raised eyebrow.
“You’re going to make every man in the city turn their heads,” he said, his tone flat but his eyes lingering just a little too long.
“Not every man,” you countered, stepping closer. “Just one.”
He didn’t reply, but the way his gaze darkened told you all you needed to know.
As the afternoon wore on, your teasing escalated. You’d "accidentally" drop a bag and bend down to pick it up, knowing full well the view you were giving him. Or you’d twirl in a new skirt, letting the hem flutter just high enough to catch his attention.
“Keep it up, and we’re cutting this shopping trip short,” he warned, though his voice was tinged with something far from irritation.
You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bunta.”
By the time you’d finished shopping, the sun was beginning to set. The drive back to Akina was peaceful. Well, as peaceful as it could get with Bunta in the driver's seat. You were already used to his insane handling, but it never failed to make the adrenaline rush through your veins nonetheless.
“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, leaning back in your seat and stretching your legs just enough to let your skirt ride up a little.
He shot you a sidelong glance, his jaw tightening. “You know exactly why.”
You giggled, sliding your hand over to rest on his thigh. “You’re so easy to rile up. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
His hand left the wheel for a moment to capture yours, holding it firmly. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man,” he muttered, though the way his thumb traced circles on your skin belied his words.
“Patience is just one of your many attractive qualities,” you teased, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Along with being a total silver fox.”
He huffed out a breath, the tension in his body growing more obvious with every passing second. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely. In fact…” you trailed off, smiling wickedly as an idea occurred to you. You leaned over, running your hand up his thigh and brushing your mouth against his ear. “I think maybe I’ll tell you just how much I love your sexy dark hair…”
You paused, feeling his entire body tense beside you.
“And maybe I’ll describe exactly how much I like the way it brushes over my skin when you kiss me…” you continued, sliding your hand closer to his groin.
His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles white. “I swear…”
“And maybe,” you went on, trailing your hand higher as you felt his hard length straining through his jeans. “I’ll tell you every single thing I want to do to your hard cock.”
“Damn it,” he growled, the Impreza swerving slightly as his hands left the wheel for half a heartbeat. "Is- is Takumi...?"
"At work. Then off to his little team. Said he won't be home until later tonight," you hummed, leaning over to kiss Bunta's jaw, inhaling his pleasant natural scent. "Mm, you're making my mouth water. Smell so goooood...."
You peppered his jaw and neck with kisses, moaning softly all the while. You then whispered into his ear, so low but oh-so sweetly.
"I bet your cock smells even better."
He bit back a groan, a low rumble heard from his chest as he grunted. “If you keep this up, you’re going to drive me insane.”
You grinned, pulling back to rest your head on the headrest and gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “That’s the plan,” you purred, leaning back and sliding your legs further apart.
He made a low noise in the back of his throat, eyes darting from the road to your face, then lower.
“Are you wet for me, little girl?” he asked gruffly, though you knew he didn’t really have to ask. He could see it in your eyes, read it in your body language.
You bit your lip, squirming in your seat as you thought about all the things you wanted him to do to you.
“Yes,” you admitted, your voice soft and sultry. “And I’m going to stay that way until you take care of me.”
He snorted, shaking his head but still unable to tear his eyes away from you. “You’re a little brat,” he accused, though there was no real heat in his words. “When we get home, I’m going to make you beg.”
You smiled, raising one leg and letting the skirt slide further up your thighs.
“You won’t have to try very hard,” you whispered, letting your hand trail down over your body to rest on your inner thigh. “I like begging for you.”
Your fingertips brushed the edge of your underwear, and you watched his face tighten as his gaze followed your movement. “But maybe…” you slid your fingers under the fabric, biting back a soft moan. “Maybe I’ll make you beg first.”
He grunted, adjusting his grip on the wheel as the Impreza sped up. “We’re going to be home in five minutes,” he said gruffly.
“That’s more than enough time for me,” you said with a giggle, sliding your fingers through your wetness and then bringing them to your mouth.
Bunta cursed softly as he watched you lick your own arousal from your skin.
“Tempting me again, brat,” he murmured, taking a sharp turn that had you moaning and bracing yourself on the seat.
“Just giving you a little taste,” you purred, slipping your fingers back to your wet heat and circling your clit. “Mmm…”
“Damn it, that’s…” he trailed off with a groan, turning another corner before hitting the gas and speeding up even further. “Goddamn it.”
The rest of the drive was a blur of teasing and anticipation, his hand occasionally leaving the wheel to slide up your thigh and pull your underwear aside as you both watched the road rush by.
By the time the Impreza pulled into the driveway, you were practically panting, body tense and needy from being teased for so long.
Bunta parked and shut off the engine, then leaned over to yank off your underwear. He tossed them to the floor, his eyes burning as he took in the sight of your spread legs and glistening pussy.
“You were a brat,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “What do I need to do to punish you?”
“Use your tongue,” you moaned, arching your back and slipping one hand up under your shirt to tug at your breast.
He hummed, his gaze flicking to the window. “In broad daylight?”
You moaned, squirming and tugging at your own nipples in an attempt to distract yourself from the ache building between your legs. “Please, Bunta. Please.”
He hummed again, his expression unchanging as he popped open the door.
“I’m going to give you exactly what you want,” he said, leaning down and scooping you up into his arms. “Because you asked so nicely.”
He slammed the door shut, then turned to carry you into the house.
“Bunta,” you whined, wriggling against him.
He smirked, biting your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. “Patience, little girl,” he admonished. “Remember, patience.”
You huffed, but didn’t argue as he carried you upstairs to your shared room and set you down on the bed.
He watched you squirm for a moment before stepping back, his movements slow and deliberate as he removed his own clothes. His hard cock sprang free, and he gave it a few slow strokes as your mouth watered.
“Spread your legs wider,” he said, crawling up onto the bed to kneel between your thighs. “Show me how wet you are for me.”
You obeyed, sliding your legs further apart and letting him take in the sight of you. Your thighs were slick with your own arousal, pussy lips swollen and twitching under his gaze.
“Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to slide his cock between your lips. “Look how wet my girl is.”
You moaned at the feeling of him rubbing his cock against you, the tip of his cock bumping your clit with every stroke. You let out another whine, digging your nails into his thigh.
“Bunta…”
He chuckled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your hip.
“What was that?” he asked, nibbling the skin just above your pelvic bone. “Did my sweetheart want something?”
“I need you inside me,” you confessed, pulling at his hair. “I need you to fuck me.”
He hummed in approval, shifting back to kneel between your legs.
“You want my cock, baby?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to have to beg,” he said, reaching down to stroke his cock.
You whined, spreading your legs as wide as they would go. “Please,” you pleaded. “Please fuck me, Bunta.”
“Not good enough,” he said, shaking his head. “If you want my cock, you’re going to have to show me how badly you want it.”
You gasped, sliding your hand down between your legs and circling your clit.
“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, moaning as the sensation shot through you. “Please fuck my pussy.”
He groaned, reaching out to shove your hand away. “You do that again, and you won’t be getting fucked at all,” he warned.
“I want it,” you begged, spreading yourself open for him to see. “Please. I need your cock inside me.”
He let out a low groan, his control slipping. “Damn it, baby…” he muttered, leaning over you and pushing his cock deep inside.
You gasped, arching your back as he stretched you open. His cock was so big, so hard. It felt so good to finally be filled.
“Good little girl,” he praised, thrusting into you slowly. “Good job begging for your Daddy.”
You let out a soft mewl of pleasure, tugging at his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.
You let out a soft mewl of pleasure, tugging at his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.
“M-More,” you squeaked. “Pl-please! More.”
He obliged, picking up the pace until he was fucking you hard and fast, pounding into you with all the pent-up frustration of being teased in the car.
You mewled and whined, clawing at his back as your body began to shake.
“Good girl,” he muttered, pounding into you. “I’m going to make a mess of your pussy. Make you come all over my cock.”
You nodded, digging your nails in harder as you began to peak. “Yes,” you hissed, toes curling as his cock pounded against your cervix. “I- I need that.”
He grunted, gripping your hips and lifting you up into the air.
“Da-Daddy!” you cried, feeling yourself clench around him as your orgasm took you. "M'- Cumming!" Your nails dug into his back, your body shaking violently as your hips uncontrollably spasmed against him.
Bunta grunted again, thrusting even harder as your tight pussy clenched around his cock. “Fuck,” he cursed, his grip on your hips tightening. “Damn…”
You clung to him, gasping as he bottomed out inside you and let out a low groan. You felt him twitch and shudder, filling you with his hot, sticky release.
When he finally stilled, he collapsed on top of you, his breath warm against your neck.
“You little brat,” he murmured, wrapping himself around you. “I love it when you push my buttons.”
You giggled, rubbing his back as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
“Love you, too,” you purred.
“I know,” he said smugly, shifting to the side and pulling you with him. His arm was draped possessively around your waist, holding you close as though he had no intention of letting you go.
“You’re insufferable,” you teased, plopping your head on his hairy, plush chest. God, what a man. “Always so smug.”
“Can’t help it,” he replied, his voice low and raspy. “You make it too easy.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. "You make it easy for me to tease you."
He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Because you’re cute when you’re trying to rile me up.”
You pouted playfully, propping yourself up on one elbow to meet his gaze. “Cute? That’s it? I was going for irresistible.”
Bunta smirked, his hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. “You’re that, too.” He pulled you down for a kiss, slow and deliberate, making your heart flutter in your chest as you let out a content sigh.
The night was electric, filled with the scent of burnt rubber and the roar of engines, but the tension in the air had an edge to it. The moon hung low, casting a silver sheen across the twisted mountain pass. Keisuke Takahashi was behind the wheel of his legendary yellow FD, his eyes focused like a hawk, watching the road with an intensity that bordered on feral. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white. He was ready for this.
Tonight wasn’t just about proving himself as the best—no, tonight was personal. The other team had crossed a line, taunting him with insults, calling out everything from his driving to his pride. But the final insult, the one that drove him to the edge, was when one of the rival drivers casually mentioned what they’d do if they won.
“If we take this race, I’ll make sure to take your chick with me, too.”
That was the last straw. His blood boiled. His grip on the wheel tightened even more. Nobody disrespected him, and nobody would ever lay a hand on you. Not while he was breathing.
The engines roared again as the race began, but Keisuke was no longer racing just for victory. This time, he was racing for you. He pushed the limits of his FD, throwing it through corners, every motion aggressive, calculated, and precise. His mind was clouded with nothing but fury, and every turn became a punch thrown at the world that dared to mock him.
The rival car stayed neck and neck, but Keisuke was relentless, pushing harder, faster. He could feel his opponent trying to play games, weaving in and out of his lane, trying to throw him off course, but Keisuke wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. His thoughts flashed to you, the way the bastard had spoken about you. His stomach twisted, his anger surged, and he stomped harder on the gas.
The final stretch. Keisuke floored it. His foot was heavy, his pulse racing in time with the engine’s roar. The rival car tried to pull ahead, but Keisuke wasn’t having it. With a final aggressive swerve, he sent his opponent flying into a skid. The tires screeched, the rival car lost control, and Keisuke sailed across the finish line, victorious.
He barely slowed down when he reached the top, the roar of his engine still ringing in his ears. His heart was still pounding, not from the thrill of the race, but from the anger that hadn’t quite settled. He parked the FD with an almost violent force, slamming the car into gear before throwing the door open.
You were already standing at the top of the pass, waiting. You hadn’t seen the exchange or heard the insults, but you could tell by the look in Keisuke’s eyes that something had ignited within him. You approached him cautiously, taking in the way his muscles were still tense, his jaw clenched.
Before you could speak, Keisuke’s voice cut through the air, rough and strained. “Get in the car,” he commanded.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you didn’t question him. You simply nodded and followed him to the FD, slipping into the passenger seat without a word. Keisuke slammed the door shut, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, the tension in his posture like a coiled spring.
As soon as the engine roared to life, he punched the gas, taking off down the mountain pass at a speed that made your breath catch in your throat. He was driving like a man possessed, the world outside blurring into a streak of lights and shadows. You could feel the weight of his anger in every corner he took, the force with which he accelerated and decelerated. His eyes were locked forward, but you knew he wasn’t seeing the road anymore. He was seeing something else—something that wasn’t just about the race.
“Keisuke…” you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm, your fingers brushing against the tense muscle. “You’re scaring me…”
He didn’t answer immediately, his teeth gritting together. The grip he had on the wheel was almost painful, his knuckles pale against the leather. But when he did speak, his voice was rough, dark with a possessive anger you’d never heard from him before.
“Those assholes think they can take you from me. They think I’ll let them… I’ll never let them touch you.” His voice dropped to a low growl, a warning, a promise. “You’re mine. And they’ll learn not to mess with me, or you.”
You swallowed hard, your heart racing—not from fear, but from something else. Something deeper. The intensity of his words, the way he looked at you, made something inside you twist in excitement and need.
Keisuke was protective, yes, but this… this was a level you hadn’t seen before. This was the side of him that was raw, untamed, and possessive. And you were his.
You leaned forward, placing your hand on his leg, your fingers running up his thigh until you were close enough to feel the heat of his skin. He glanced at you quickly, his eyes dark with a storm of emotions. When he saw the look in your eyes—soft yet full of want—he couldn’t resist.
Without a word, he pulled the car to the side of the road, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. The moonlight hit his face as he turned to you, eyes fierce and full of hunger.
“You want to know what happens when someone tries to take something that’s mine?” Keisuke’s voice was low, every word laced with passion and fury. “I show them exactly how much they’re willing to lose.”
Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding. You melted into him, his taste addictive, his presence overwhelming. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him, and the heat between you both became impossible to ignore. Every movement was a surge of desire, a release of the anger that had burned inside him ever since the race started.
You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The world outside, the tension, the race—it all faded into the background. All that mattered was the fire between you, the possessive passion that crackled in the air.
When you finally broke away, breathless and flushed, Keisuke’s forehead rested against yours. His eyes were darker than before, but there was something softer there now, a vulnerability that made your heart race even faster.
“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his hand cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasted with the fire of his words. “And I’ll never let anyone take you from me.”
There was something in his eyes then that made you want to give in to him, to let him take you, to prove just how much you belonged to him. And it seemed as though Keisuke knew it, too, because he leaned forward and whispered again, his breath hot against your lips, “Spread your legs for me.”
The command was enough to send shivers down your spine. You felt your skin tingle with excitement, your pulse pounding in your ears. Without a second thought, you shifted your position in the seat, parting your legs and inviting him in.
Keisuke made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. His hands teased the lace-trimmed ends of your panties. His thumb stroked a careful stripe up your covered slit.
You gasped, the teasing pressure making you clench around nothing. Slick began to drip from your hole and drench the delicate fabric covering you.
Before you could catch your breath, Keisuke moved forward, his face inches from yours as he kissed you again. His lips were softer this time, but still demanding, coaxing you to open your mouth for him. You did, and his tongue slipped in, caressing yours with a gentle pressure that had you melting into him.
He reached for your shirt then, his hands moving in a rush to slide beneath it to unhook your bra. His touch was still fierce with passion, but now there was something almost reverent in his movements. He reached down to pull your shirt over your tits, his eyes on yours, his mouth still locked on yours. When you were practically naked from the waist up, he pulled back, his gaze sweeping over your body. The look in his eyes made you flush.
Keisuke leaned back slightly, his hands running up your thighs to your hips, pulling your skirt down until they fell beneath your seat. He let out a low groan as his eyes swept over your body. You were wearing a pair of white panties that had the tiniest lace trim along the edges, and when Keisuke saw them, he almost couldn’t breathe.
His hand reached out, slipping beneath the waistband. His fingers skimmed the curve of your hip, his thumb brushing against you with a soft, teasing touch. You gasped, your hips jerking towards him, seeking more.
“Kei—” you moaned, your voice high-pitched with desire. “Please…”
He looked up at you then, a knowing smirk twisting his lips. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice low and dark, his finger trailing closer to your clit.
“You,” you whispered back, your face flushing as his finger grazed your most sensitive spot. “I want you.”
Keisuke chuckled then, his expression predatory and possessive at the same time. “You want me baby?”
“I want you,” you whimpered again, the words almost torn from your throat. “Please, Keisuke. Fuck me.”
His eyes narrowed, a fierce glint in his gaze. He leaned down closer, his breath hot on your skin as he whispered, “You want my cock inside your tight little pussy?”
“Y-yes,” you stammered out, your cheeks burning. “Yes, Keisuke—”
“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dark and possessive as his fingers pushed your panties aside and began stroking up and down your exposed slit with a thumb. “Say you want me in that sweet pussy.”
“I—I want you,” you gasped out. “In my pussy—”
Keisuke let out a sound that was almost a growl as his mouth crashed against yours again. The kiss was brutal, devouring, and full of possessive fire. You moaned into it, the desire burning hotter and hotter with every passing moment. Your hips jerked towards him, desperate for more.
As though he could feel your need, Keisuke reached down and tugged at your panties, pulling them down until they joined your skirt in a pool on the car floor. His fingers slid up your thighs again, his touch torturously slow. He parted your legs even wider, his mouth still locked against yours as his fingers ghosted over you.
“Fuck,” he groaned out, breaking away from the kiss to look between your legs. “Your pussy’s so fucking wet for me.”
You whimpered, your skin flushed, your clit throbbing with every word. “I’m always wet for you,” you confessed, your voice high and breathless.
Keisuke groaned at the words, his hand sliding further down until his fingers were stroking between your folds. “Then let me take care of it for you.”
His words were laced with hunger and promise. When his fingers closed around your clit, he began to rub it in firm strokes. The sensation sent your head falling back against the headrest, your breath coming out in sharp gasps.
“You like that?” he asked, a low growl in his voice, his fingers still moving with a sure rhythm. “You like it when I touch your pussy?”
“Yes,” you admitted, your hips jerking with every stroke, your body arching up towards him. “I love it.”
Keisuke murmured a low noise of approval. His mouth dipped lower, his lips kissing down the curve of your throat, over your chest, and further until they were over your breast. His tongue laved against the sensitive skin, the strokes of his fingers against your clit matching the soft flicks of his tongue against your nipple.
He sucked softly, slowly going harder and rougher with your tits until they grew overstimulated from the assault. Nibbles and gentle bites continued, Keisuke sucking as if to draw out milk.
You moaned softly, your body taut, every nerve alive. His mouth finally unlatched from your breasts and moved further down, his tongue trailing a heated path down your abdomen until he was between your legs, his mouth hovering over you.
“Keisuke—” you gasped out, your fingers threading into his hair as he began to lick at your clit. “Oh fuck—”
The words were torn from your lips as his tongue began to work you over, his fingers sliding down your slit until two slipped into your hole. He fucked you slowly with his hand, his tongue torturing your clit, licking and sucking and biting until you couldn’t catch your breath. Your body tensed, your pleasure building to the brink of explosion.
“Keisuke, I—”
You gasped out his name just as the pleasure tipped you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as a wave of release crashed through you, your moans ringing out in the night air. Keisuke groaned against you, the sound vibrating against your clit, and you let out another sharp cry as the pleasure rippled through you again.
Finally, when it had faded to aftershocks, Keisuke pulled his mouth away. His eyes were dark as he watched you, his fingers still buried inside your pussy as he stroked your oversensitive walls. His movements were slower now, more gentle, but no less torturous for it.
“Again,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and sending shivers down your skin. “Come for me again.”
The words were a command, his fingers moving again as his mouth found your clit once more. You cried out, the sensation almost too much, but it was also exactly what you needed. His fingers fucked you deeper, his tongue moving faster as he sucked your clit into his mouth and began to nibble gently. His teeth grazed your swollen skin, and you moaned again, your body beginning to arch up towards him once more.
You were so close, the pleasure building like a tidal wave inside you, your pussy clenching around his fingers. Then he spoke again, his voice muffled against your skin, but the words making your pulse skyrocket all the same.
“Come for me,” he growled, his tone possessive and dark. “Let me feel your pussy clench around my cock.”
The image his words brought to mind was almost enough to send you over the edge again. His cock inside you, filling you up and fucking you until you came screaming his name. But before you could get there, Keisuke decided he wanted to watch you come for him one more time. He pulled away, his fingers and tongue slipping from your body as he leaned back and reached for his zipper.
His cock sprang free, hard and ready. Keisuke stroked himself with a slow, deliberate stroke, his eyes never leaving you. The sight of him like that, so big and hard and thick, made you feel hot all over again. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples tightening with renewed desire.
“Please,” you whispered again, desperate to have him fill you up.
He chuckled softly then, the sound low and predatory. “We can’t fuck in the passenger seat,” he said. “But maybe if you get into the back, we can make it work.”
Your pulse leapt at the words, your breath catching in your throat. You nodded eagerly, his possessive tone sending shivers up and down your spine. Without a word, Keisuke climbed over you and moved to the back seat, his hard cock still held in his fist. He waited for you, and when you slipped into the seat, he grabbed your thighs and pulled you towards him until your legs were spread wide around his hips.
“Now this is a good view,” he purred, reaching forward to stroke your pussy with a knuckle. “This tight little pussy, just waiting for me to fuck.”
Your skin was flushed, your hair a wild tangle from earlier, but when Keisuke’s fingers stroked against your oversensitive clit, your eyes locked with his.
“Fuck me,” you begged. “Please. I need you inside me.”
The words were almost a whine, but he seemed to like that. He grinned, his hand stroking you again as he shifted forward, his cock poised at your entrance.
“You want my cock,” he murmured, his voice laced with dark promise as he began to push inside you. “You want it deep in this tight pussy?” The question was a taunt, his gaze locked on yours as he slowly filled you up.
“Y-yes,” you gasped again, your hips rocking back to meet his tip as he finally buried himself inside your cunt.
“Good girl,” Keisuke growled out. His arms braced on either side of your hips. He pulled back slowly, his cock dragging against your walls before he thrust back in, hard and deep. The motion made your breath stutter, your tits bouncing as he slammed inside you again and again.
His cock filled you completely, the stretch a welcome sensation that had your pussy clenching tightly around his girth. It made him groan, his hips working even harder to get deeper inside you.
“Fuck—” he gasped out, his eyes half-lidded as he watched the place where you were joined. “Your pussy feels so good—”
You moaned out encouragement, your body rocking to meet him with every thrust. His cock began to work faster, the slapping sounds of our bodies filling the car. Your nails dug into his arms, the only thing holding you up as Keisuke continued to fuck you. It felt incredible, your body tense and burning with pleasure. When his hand slipped between your legs to tease at your clit again, you knew you were a goner.
“Keisuke,” you panted out, your pussy tightening around him. “I’m going to—” The words ended in a soft cry as your orgasm ripped through you, clenching tight around his cock and milking him with a vice.
Keisuke’s groan matched yours, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you up with his release. Your hips jerked against his, your cunt pulsing around his still-hard cock until the last drops of his come were milked from him. Then, as though boneless, he collapsed against you, his arms wrapping tight around your waist and holding you close.
When your breaths began to slow, your bodies still locked together, Keisuke finally lifted his head and stared down at you. There was a fierce protectiveness in his eyes, but also something softer, something that made you heart skip a beat. His mouth dropped to yours for a kiss that was nothing like the others. It was soft and slow and full of affection, and it made your heart soar.
When Keisuke pulled away from the kiss, his hand stroked gently against your cheek, his lips curving into a small smile.
“You’re mine,” he murmured. “And you’ll always be mine.” The words were possessive, but also full of promise. And from the look in his eyes, you knew that he would always keep that promise. He would protect you with every part of his being, and you would love him just as fiercely.
“I’m yours,” you replied, the words torn from your heart.
He smiled again, the look full of warmth and affection. “That’s all I need to know,” Keisuke murmured as his lips met yours again.
It was a quiet afternoon at the Esso gas station, and Takumi was in his usual routine—filling up tanks, wiping windshields, and zoning out as the hours dragged on. Iketani and Itsuki were off to the side, sharing a laugh over some minor argument. Yuichi, as always, was stationed inside the office, half-watching the television and half-dozing off.
Suddenly, the jarring screech of brakes outside snapped everyone’s attention to the sleek black car that had just pulled into the station. The driver stepped out, and the air in the station shifted immediately. She was striking—dressed in casual but stylish clothes that still managed to scream celebrity. Her hair was tucked under a hat, but there was no mistaking her face.
“Wait… isn’t that…?” Iketani squinted, trying to place her face. Itsuki, never one to be subtle, audibly gasped.
“THAT’S HER!” he shouted. “That’s—oh my god, it’s her! That J-Pop star! She’s like… everywhere!”
The woman smiled politely but didn’t address them. Instead, she scanned the station until her eyes landed on Takumi, who was completely frozen in place.
His heart pounded in his chest, knowing full well he couldn’t just pretend not to know her.
“Takumi!” she called, waving as she approached.
Iketani and Itsuki’s jaws dropped. Yuichi popped his head out of the office, confused by the commotion.
“Wait a second,” Itsuki hissed, turning to Iketani. “Did she just say Takumi?”
“She must’ve mistaken him for someone else,” Iketani muttered, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Hey,” she greeted softly, her voice as sweet as the melodies that dominated the radio stations. “I stopped by your place, but your dad said you were working. Thought I’d come by.”
Takumi wiped his hands on his uniform pants, his face red as a tomato. “Uh… you didn’t have to… I mean, I could’ve come by later…”
She laughed, the sound like music itself. “And miss the chance to see you in action?” she teased, glancing at the pumps and the station. “It’s charming.”
Itsuki couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Wait, wait, WAIT. Takumi—what is happening right now? Why does she know your name? Why is she here?”
Takumi sighed heavily, knowing there was no avoiding it now. “This is… my girlfriend.”
The declaration hung in the air like a bomb dropped in the middle of the station. Iketani choked on his own spit, Itsuki clutched his head like the revelation was physically painful, and Yuichi stepped outside fully to see if he’d heard that correctly.
“YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!” Itsuki screeched. “HOW? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?”
Takumi frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s, like, famous!” Iketani added, his voice a mix of shock and something that bordered on awe. “How did you even…?”
“It’s not really a big deal,” Takumi muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Not a big deal?!” Itsuki continued, waving his arms around dramatically. “You’ve been hiding this from us?!”
Yuichi, surprisingly calm, walked up to her and offered a polite bow. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Yuichi, Takumi’s boss. I’m guessing you’ve been keeping this a secret?”
She smiled warmly. “We’ve tried to keep things low-key. Takumi’s not exactly the type to… well, shout things from the rooftops.”
“That’s an understatement,” Iketani muttered under his breath, earning him a sharp glare from Takumi.
“Anyway,” she continued, turning to Takumi, “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I just wanted to see you while I was around.”
Takumi nodded, his expression softening. “It’s fine. I’ll finish my shift soon. We can talk later.”
The simplicity of his tone, the way he looked at her—it made everything clear. Despite her fame and glamour, she was just her to him, and that’s all that mattered.
As she waved goodbye and drove off, Itsuki collapsed onto the ground dramatically. “I can’t believe this. Takumi Fujiwara—our Takumi—is dating her. This is unreal.”
Iketani shook his head. “Man, you really don’t know someone until they blow your mind like this.”
Yuichi clapped a hand on Takumi’s shoulder, his expression approving. “Good for you, kid. You're definitely set.”
Takumi simply nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. Maybe letting out his secret wasn't such a bad thing after all.
The rest of the shift at the gas station was a mix of chaos and teasing. Itsuki couldn’t stop talking, rattling off every song he knew from her discography while occasionally breaking into snippets of her lyrics.
“I just can’t believe it!” Itsuki said for the fifteenth time, pacing like he was trying to piece together a mystery. “How did this even happen? Takumi, you don’t even talk to girls! Let alone famous girls! Were you kidnapped and forced into this relationship?”
Takumi groaned, wiping down a pump handle. “It’s not like that. We met through a friend of my dad’s. She’s normal, just like anyone else.”
“Normal?” Iketani raised an eyebrow. “Takumi, she’s the most famous singer in Japan right now. I’ve seen her posters in every convenience store, every ad on TV. I bet people are lining up just to get a glimpse of her.”
“Well, I didn’t line up,” Takumi muttered, keeping his voice calm but firm. “She’s just… someone I care about.”
“Someone I care about,” Itsuki mocked, swooning dramatically. “Wow, listen to him! This guy’s out here living the dream while the rest of us are stuck in reality.”
Iketani leaned closer, grinning. “So, how long has this been going on, huh? You’ve been sneaking off for late-night drives with her instead of just delivering tofu?”
Takumi sighed and rubbed his temple, trying to stave off the growing headache. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. She’s busy with her tours, and I’m busy with… everything else. That’s why we kept it private.”
“That’s actually pretty cool of her,” Iketani admitted, crossing his arms. “Most people in her position wouldn’t want anything to do with a guy from the sticks.”
Takumi’s expression softened at that. “She’s not like that. She doesn’t care about that stuff.”
Before they could ask another question, Yuichi stepped outside and clapped his hands together. “Alright, boys, enough interrogation. Let the poor kid finish his shift in peace.”
As the afternoon wore on, Takumi couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The secret was out, but the reaction—while chaotic—hadn’t been as bad as he feared. Iketani and Itsuki were loud and nosy, sure, but at least they weren’t treating him any differently.
When Takumi finally got home, the house was quiet. His dad was reading the newspaper in the living room, a cup of tea in hand.
“She stopped by earlier,” Bunta said without looking up, casually flicking ash into an ashtray. “That girl of yours.”
Takumi froze mid-step. “You didn’t say anything… weird, did you?”
Bunta glanced at him, a rare smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Weird? Nah. Just told her you were working at the gas station. Figured she’d find you there.”
Takumi groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You could’ve just said I wasn’t home.”
“Why?” Bunta’s smirk deepened. “You hiding her or something?”
Takumi muttered something under his breath and headed for his room, ignoring his dad’s amused chuckle. The smell of oil and gas still clung to his clothes from the day, and all he wanted to do was shower and forget how Itsuki had practically screamed in disbelief at the gas station.
You were still buzzing from the day’s events, flipping through the limited TV channels in your hotel room. The static-filled picture only half distracted you from the memory of Takumi’s coworkers—wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and utterly shocked when you showed up. You couldn’t help but smile.
The landline phone on the desk rang, startling you. Reaching over, you picked it up, already knowing who it was.
“Hello?” you answered, leaning back in the chair.
“It’s me.” Takumi’s voice was quiet, a little awkward, as always.
“Hey,” you said warmly. “How was the rest of your shift? Did your friends recover?”
Takumi sighed on the other end. “Barely. Itsuki wouldn’t shut up about it. You’ve got no idea how much you threw those guys for a loop.”
You laughed softly, imagining the scene again. “I didn’t mean to cause a stir. I just wanted to see you.”
His silence stretched for a moment before he replied, “Yeah, I know. And… I’m glad you came. I just—well, you know how I am.”
“You don’t have to explain,” you said, your voice gentle. “I get it. You like to keep things private. I do, too, when I can. But it’s nice to not have to hide it anymore, even if it’s just with your coworkers.”
Takumi let out a small, almost relieved chuckle. “Yeah. I guess it wasn’t so bad.”
You smiled, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “Not bad at all.”
Later that week, you were scheduled for a live interview with a popular show host.
The studio was bright and bustling, a small audience seated in rows of chairs while cameras adjusted their angles. You sat on a plush chair opposite the host, a microphone pinned discreetly to your outfit. The set was styled with soft lighting, pastel tones, and a backdrop of your latest album cover.
The interview had been breezing along—questions about your tour, inspirations for your music, and even a few lighthearted ones about your hobbies. You were charming and articulate, the perfect blend of approachable and mysterious, as always.
But then the host leaned forward with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Now, we’ve all been hearing these rumors,” she began, her tone teasing. “Word on the street is that our favorite pop star might have a special someone in her life. Care to confirm or deny?”
The audience buzzed with excitement, leaning forward in anticipation. You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming.
“Well,” you began, your voice playful but sincere, “I guess the rumors are true. I am dating someone.”
The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers, the host grinning as she leaned closer. “Do tell! Who’s the lucky guy?”
You laughed softly, raising a hand as if to calm the eager energy in the room. “He’s… amazing. Sweet, humble, and the cutest guy I’ve ever met.” Your eyes sparkled, the thought of Takumi warming you from the inside.
The host’s grin widened. “That’s adorable! So, is he in the industry? An actor? A fellow musician?”
You shook your head, your smile turning fond. “No, he’s nothing like that. He works at a gas station, actually.”
The room quieted for a moment, the revelation unexpected. Then the crowd began murmuring again, intrigued and even more curious.
“A gas station?” The host looked pleasantly surprised. “That’s so refreshing! Not what I was expecting at all. He must be pretty special to have caught your eye.”
“He is,” you said earnestly. “He’s not the kind of guy who likes the spotlight, so I want to respect that. For now, I’ll keep his identity a secret. But trust me, he’s worth all the love and attention he’ll get when he’s ready.”
The audience cooed at your heartfelt response, and the host clapped her hands together. “How romantic! I’m sure he’s very lucky to have someone like you in his life.”
You chuckled, feeling a little shy now. “I think I’m the lucky one.”
The interview aired that same evening, and while Takumi wasn’t one to watch TV, Itsuki and Iketani made sure he saw it.
“Takumi!” Itsuki burst into the gas station’s tiny breakroom, waving his arms. “She talked about you! She said you’re the cutest guy who works at a gas station!”
Takumi blinked, mid-bite of his onigiri, and glanced at Iketani, who was grinning as he leaned against the doorframe.
“It’s true, man. She really did,” Iketani confirmed.
Takumi set his food down, his heart thumping in his chest. “She… said that on TV?”
Itsuki nodded furiously. “On a national broadcast! You’re basically famous now!”
Takumi groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s the last thing I wanted.”
“Aw, come on,” Itsuki teased. “Don’t you think it’s kind of cool? Your girlfriend’s a J-Pop idol, and she called you amazing on TV. Girls all over Japan are probably swooning over you right now.”
Takumi shot him a glare. “That’s exactly why it’s not cool.”
Iketani chuckled. “Relax. She didn’t say your name or anything. She just mentioned the gas station.”
Takumi sighed, leaning back in his chair. He appreciated that you were protecting his privacy, but the thought of your fans—or anyone, really—connecting the dots made him uneasy. Still, he couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through his chest.
“She said you’re the cutest guy she’s ever met,” Itsuki said, wiggling his eyebrows. “What’re you gonna do about that?”
Takumi’s lips twitched into a rare, subtle smile. “Guess I’ll have to live up to it.”
Hi! A request for initial d. Getting a drunk confession from Keisuke. Thanks :)
A Drunken Confession || Keisuke Takahashi || GN!Reader
a/n: heya!! sorry for the wait! I just got done with my second chem exam of the semester lol. I <3 chemistry but it also kicks my ass fr. women in stem problems!
You and Keisuke had been friends for what felt like forever. From the days when he was the loudest, cockiest kid on the block, running around with that reckless streak, to now—still just as bold but somehow calmer, more grounded. There’d always been this… thing between you. Neither of you ever acknowledged it out loud, and maybe you liked it that way, the secret thrill of a friendship with hints of something more. But tonight, all those years of playful flirting and unspoken feelings would surface.
Keisuke leaned against the couch, cheeks flushed from the few drinks you’d shared, a grin plastered across his face as he looked at you. “You know,” he slurred, sounding unusually tender and sloppily dramatic, “if I weren’t so amazing, I’d say you’re the most amazing person I know.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a new one. Are you actually calling me amazing, or is that just the beer talking?”
“No, no,” he said, waving his hand dramatically and almost tipping over. You reached out to steady him, and he grabbed your hand, squeezing it tight as he looked into your eyes. “You’re, like, really amazing. Best friend I ever had. And maybe… maybe more.”
Your stomach did a small flip, though you tried to brush it off with a laugh. “Is that right? Well, someone’s had too much to drink tonight.”
Keisuke just gave you that cheeky grin of his, half-lidded eyes sparkling with some wild mix of admiration and sincerity. “I mean it,” he said, squeezing your hand a little tighter, and then—out of nowhere—he pressed it to his chest, right where his heart beat fast and hard beneath your fingertips. “Like, you’re all I think about, you know?”
You laughed nervously, not sure where to look, and feeling the heat rise to your own face. “Okay, Casanova. Just how many times have you practiced this speech?”
“Only… like… every day,” he murmured, his voice lowering as he suddenly grew quiet, gazing at you as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He brought his hand to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with a gentleness that made your heart clench.
But before he could say another word, he slumped forward, the weight of the alcohol taking hold. He muttered your name with a. tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. “You know, I… I…”
He looked like he was fighting his way through a fog. With a little sigh, you realized he was too far gone to be having this kind of heart-to-heart. He needed to get home, and there was only one person you knew who could wrangle him out of this.
You took out your phone and dialed Ryosuke, who answered in his calm, even tone, “Hello, everything alright?”
“Hey, uh… sorry to call, but Keisuke’s kind of, um… well, he’s really drunk, and I think he needs a lift. Would you mind coming to pick him up?”
Ryosuke sighed, sounding slightly amused. “I’ll be there in ten. Don’t let him break anything while you wait.”
When you hung up, you turned back to Keisuke, who was gazing at you with a kind of intensity you rarely saw in him, even when he was sober. “Hey,” he whispered, sounding almost painfully earnest, “do you ever wonder why we never did anything about us?”
Your heart skipped a beat. His words hung in the air, charged, fragile. You wanted to answer, to tell him everything, but before you could say a word, there was a knock at the door.
“Saved by the bell,” you muttered, feeling the warmth drain from the moment as Ryosuke stepped in, his gaze flickering over Keisuke, then back to you.
“Seems like you two had a good night,” Ryosuke observed with a smirk, as he looped Keisuke’s arm over his shoulders. Keisuke let out a sleepy groan, eyes still locked on you with a strange mix of longing and regret.
Keisuke murmured your name as Ryosuke helped him to the door. “Don’t...don't forget what I said, okay?”
You gave him a smile, nodding as your chest threatened to burst with the feelings you've been holding back for so long. “I won’t, Keisuke. Get some rest.”
Ryosuke gave you a nod as he steered his brother out. You closed the door, heart pounding as you leaned against it, replaying every word, every look, every moment.
Keisuke blinked awake, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. Squinting against the early morning light, he groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been twisted, and his throat was dry like he’d swallowed sand.
But as he lay there, pieces of last night started trickling back. Drinks. Jokes. You. And then… his heart dropped.
The memories sharpened as he let out a strangled groan, now wide awake. He remembered slinging his arm around you, saying things he’d only ever thought late at night, telling you just how long he'd felt something between the two of you. Then Ryosuke showing up, looking around at Keisuke passed out on the couch and likely figuring he’d had one too many drinks.
"Damn it," Keisuke muttered to himself, sitting up and rubbing his temples. He didn’t remember everything perfectly, but the look in your eyes when he confessed… that stayed with him. What was he thinking, springing all that on you, especially when he was just barely holding himself together? He wanted to call you and apologize—maybe just laugh it off and hope you’d do the same. But what if it was different this time? What if he’d crossed a line?
A few minutes later, Ryosuke’s voice echoed up from downstairs. “Keisuke, you’re actually up early. Surprising after last night.”
Keisuke winced, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, well, someone had to pick me up.”
“Next time, maybe don’t drink yourself into oblivion.” Ryosuke’s words had that usual sharp edge, though he didn’t seem to know about the confession itself.
As Ryosuke’s footsteps faded down the hall, Keisuke’s hand hovered over his phone, considering what to do. Call you? Text you? Apologize?
“Coward,” he muttered, scolding himself as he finally picked up the phone and started typing a message:
Hey, about last night…
Keisuke hovered over his phone, staring at the words. Deleting, typing, and deleting again, he finally settled on something simple:
Hey, about last night… sorry if I was out of line. Let’s just say I was way too gone.
Hitting send, he tossed the phone onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. Part of him was kicking himself for even saying anything, but the other part—the one that had wanted you to know—was still there. He had no idea how you’d respond, but he could feel his heart beating faster just at the thought of it.
Minutes passed with no response, and he was ready to drive over to your place just to check that you weren’t avoiding him when his phone finally buzzed. He practically lunged for it.
Your message was… short, but maybe that was a good thing?
Haha, yeah, you were pretty gone. No worries, Keisuke.
Keisuke felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. It was vague, but at least you didn’t seem angry. His fingers flew over the screen before he paused, second-guessing himself. He wanted to say something real, something more than just brushing it off. After a deep breath, he typed out a response and hit send before he could change his mind.
Still meant it, though. Just thought you should know.
This time, waiting for a reply felt like an eternity. He paced around his room, glancing at his phone every few seconds, his heart in his throat. The phone finally buzzed, and he almost dropped it in his rush to open your message.
We should talk about it, Keisuke. How about after the next Project D meeting?
Keisuke felt his heart skip, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He had no idea where this was going, but he couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. It wasn’t the outright rejection he’d feared. If anything, it felt like a step forward.
“Alright,” he whispered to himself, his voice steady with a confidence he hadn’t felt in ages.
Hi!! Can I request obanai and sanemi (separate) x reader who's like mikan from Danganronpa? I saw your one with zenitsu, and I adored it! I also wanted to ask could you write about the reader falling into an awkward position (as mikan does) and like how the boys react to that, possibly some NSFW? *Wink wink*
Thank you! :D
Obanai Iguro and Sanemi Shinazugawa with Reader who acts like Mikan Tsumiki
I couldn't fit the NSFW part im sorryyyy!! but ill def write a separate nsfw part 2!
a/n: hell yea, I had a feeling y'all would like these "reader w ___ personality" type posts lol. hope you enjoy! feel free to send more requests ^w^ (edit: obanai is so damn hard to write for. sum1 dm me and explain the substance behind obamitsu😭)
You were the other head medic of the Butterfly Estate, having trained and learned with Shinobu when the previous Insect Pillar, Kanae Kocho, was still around. After Shinobu rose up to claim the pillar position, you remained her right hand and became an unofficial field medic to the pillars during particularly risky missions.
You had trained hard to assist the pillars during missions, and when you first met Obanai, the air crackled with tension. He was a stoic man with a gaze that could cut through steel, and the way he held himself spoke of countless battles fought. But the moment you stuttered an introduction, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, he frowned in irritation, his annoyance palpable.
“I-I’m y-your medic,” you managed to stammer, and you could see the impatience flaring in his eyes. Your apologies spilled from your lips, each word making his frown deepen until he turned away, a low growl escaping him. It stung, and you wished you could disappear.
However, fate has a strange sense of humor. During the mission, while Obanai was distracted, a demon lunged at him from the shadows. Without thinking, you rushed forward, pushing him out of the way just in time. The creature’s claws grazed your arm, but you managed to stabilize Obanai before he could react.
“W-What are you doing?” he snapped, but the irritation faded as he realized what you had done. Your hands shook as you helped him back to his feet, but the moment of annoyance was gone, replaced with something more profound.
When the battle was over, you knelt beside him, quickly assessing the damage. You felt a surge of panic when you noticed the deep cut on his arm. “I-I’m so sorry you got hurt! I-I should’ve been more careful!” Your voice trembled, guilt washing over you as you cleaned and patched his wounds, tears brimming in your eyes. The shame of seeing him injured because of your reckless bravery crushed you.
Obanai watched you, his irritation melting away as he noticed the sincerity behind your tears. No one had cared for him like this before, and a strange warmth bloomed in his chest. “You… care that much?” he asked softly, and you nodded, wiping your eyes.
“I-I just feel so terrible! It’s my fault you were hurt!” You choked out, the sobs breaking free as you buried your face in your hands. But Obanai, surprisingly gentle, reached out, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.
“Stop that,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It’s not your fault.” As he spoke, his heart ached for you, realizing how deeply you felt for him. He didn’t want to see you in pain anymore, not for him or anyone else.
After the mission, things changed between you. Obanai became protective, his demeanor shifting from annoyance to a fierce desire to shield you from harm. He snarled at any man who dared to glance your way, and though it made you flustered, there was something reassuring in his possessiveness.
One fateful day, while you were tending to some recovering demon slayers at the estate, a series of unfortunate events unfolded. You were called over to offer refreshments, balancing a tray of cups and a jug of water. But as you approached, your foot caught on an exposed root, sending you tumbling forward.
“Ah!” you cried out, the tray flying from your hands. Water splashed everywhere, drenching your clothes and leaving you exposed and vulnerable.
Obanai happened to be walking by, his heart racing as he saw the scene unfold. His eyes widened in horror when he realized you were on the ground, soaked and in tears, surrounded by the gawking demon slayers. In an instant, he surged forward, covering you with his striped haori, his anger igniting like a wildfire.
“What the hell are you doing just standing there?” he roared at the onlookers, his voice echoing with fury. “Help her, damn it!” His protective instinct took over, and he began barking threats, ensuring everyone knew they would regret not assisting you.
As you sat up, shaking with humiliation, you felt your heart sink. “I-I’m s-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to cause a scene!” You cried, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks, your embarrassment overwhelming. Obanai’s expression softened as he knelt beside you, his gaze fierce but filled with concern.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured you, his voice low and steady. “It’s okay.” He helped you to your feet, then led you inside the mansion, calling for Aoi to bring tissues and clean clothes.
“I just… I showed everyone such a horrifying, disgusting sight,” you sobbed, unable to meet his eyes.
His heart shattered at your words. “No,” he whispered, cupping your cheek with a tender hand. “You’re not disgusting. You’re everything to me. Those idiots outside don’t deserve to see you. I don’t even deserve to be in your presence.”
The weight of his words enveloped you, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the shame. Obanai leaned in, placing gentle, bandaged kisses on your forehead, his touch igniting a warmth in your heart. “You are so much more than you realize. I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”
He didn't even feel worthy of you, feeling so undeserving because of his filthy blood. But he wanted to be your rock and make you see how he saw you. How you should see yourself. You were everything to him. And he wanted you to feel how much he cared for you, just as you had for him during your first mission together.
Sanemi Shinazugawa
You first met Sanemi during a training session at the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. It was your first day, and nerves fluttered in your stomach like frantic butterflies. You had always been the type to trip over your own feet and fumble words in the presence of strangers. But you were determined to prove yourself.
“Sorry! I-I’m so sorry!” you squeaked as you awkwardly navigated through the bustling crowd of Demon Slayers. A knot formed in your stomach when you spotted Sanemi, standing at the edge, his aura both intimidating and electrifying. The moment you made eye contact, you felt a jolt, a mix of fear and awe. He was the Wind Hashira—intense, battle-hungry, and undeniably handsome, though his rough demeanor often overshadowed his features.
While trying to maneuver around him, your foot caught on an uneven stone, sending you tumbling forward. Your heart raced as you prepared for impact, but instead, you collided with his chest. “Oh, n-no! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you stammered, your cheeks heating up as you scrambled to your feet.
Sanemi’s expression shifted from surprise to irritation. “Watch where you’re going,” he snapped, though his tone lacked genuine malice. Beneath his sharp words, you sensed something softer—an unexpected flicker of concern hidden in the storm of his frustration.
“Y-yes! Of course! I’m so sorry!” you babbled, bowing your head repeatedly, half in embarrassment and half in desperation to escape his piercing gaze.
As you turned to leave, you heard a low, almost amused growl. “You should probably work on that clumsiness if you want to survive,” he called after you.
You nodded vigorously, your heart racing. “I will! I promise! I’m really trying!”
Days turned into weeks, and your encounters with Sanemi continued to be marked by awkwardness and your apologies. You found yourself drawn to him despite his abrasive nature. Each time you stumbled, each time you found yourself at the mercy of your own nerves, Sanemi was there, his sharp words cutting through the air but somehow comforting in their familiarity.
One day, during a sparring session, you were focused, determined to impress him. Sanemi had been pushing you harder than usual, wanting to test your limits. “Keep your guard up!” he barked, his voice a mix of frustration and encouragement.
You nodded vigorously, trying to keep your concentration. While practicing a series of footwork drills, you overcompensated on your pivot, losing your balance once again. You found yourself falling backward, arms flailing.
“Ah! Sanemi!” you shrieked as you fell, bracing for impact.
But instead of hitting the ground, you collided with him again. This time, your bodies tangled awkwardly, and before you knew it, you were both on the ground, his body pressing into yours. Your face felt like it was on fire, and all you could think about was how embarrassing this was.
“Get off me!” he growled, trying to extricate himself from the awkward position. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his usually composed demeanor faltered.
“I-I’m so sorry!” you babbled, scrambling to sit up and pushing him away gently. “I didn’t mean to! I swear I’m not trying to—”
Sanemi let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his spiky white hair. “You really need to watch your footing,” he grumbled, though there was an unmistakable hint of amusement in his eyes. “What are you trying to do, knock me out with your clumsiness?”
You felt a mix of embarrassment and a strange thrill at his playful jab. “I’m just... n-not very graceful!” you managed to mumble, feeling your heart flutter at his closeness.
As the days passed, the pattern continued. You would find yourself accidentally in compromising positions around him, and each time, his reactions grew softer, almost protective. During one particularly exhausting training session, you tripped while attempting a high kick. Instead of falling backward, you stumbled forward, colliding into Sanemi’s chest once more.
His arms wrapped around you instinctively, steadying you. “You really need to learn how to fall,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.
“I-I’m so sorry! I’ll try harder!” you stammered, your heart racing as you looked up into his purple eyes. He looked down at you, an unreadable expression crossing his face.
“Just… don’t overthink it,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “You’re too tense.”
The tension between you both grew with each clumsy encounter. You often caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking, a strange mix of annoyance and affection playing across his features.
One afternoon, while you were supposed to be practicing your forms, you miscalculated a step and stumbled forward, your sword slipping from your grasp. In a frantic attempt to catch it, you dove for it, but in doing so, you ended up rolling into Sanemi, who had been watching from the sidelines.
You both fell to the ground, you landing on top of him, your face hovering inches from his. His eyes widened in shock, and you could feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” you blurted, scrambling to get off him.
“Damn it,” he grumbled, his voice low and gravelly. But there was no anger in his eyes, only that familiar warmth that made your heart flutter.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at you.
“I—I don’t know!” you stuttered, flustered. “I really don’t mean to!”
A moment of silence hung between you, and for a second, you both just stared at each other. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the weight of his gaze sent your heart racing. Then, with an unexpected softness, he smiled. “Well, at least you make things interesting.”
You blinked, taken aback by the compliment. “Y-you think so?” you managed to ask, surprised by the warmth blooming in your chest.
“Yeah,” he replied, his tone lighter now. “Just try not to land on me next time.”
As your training continued, your unintentional falls turned into a source of connection between you two. Sanemi began to approach your mishaps with a level of patience you never thought he could possess. Whenever you stumbled, he would catch you, guiding you back to your feet with a smirk, making light of the situation.
“See? You’re getting better already,” he would say, shaking his head with mock disbelief. “Just keep that clumsiness to a minimum.”
Though your heart raced with embarrassment each time, there was a comfort in knowing that Sanemi’s reactions weren’t purely irritation. He cared, and that realization made each accidental fall worth it.
A rough, hot-blooded Hashira who, despite his abrasive nature, was slowly but surely falling for the clumsy girl who had stumbled into his heart.
Johnny Joestar with GN!Reader who has Keratosis Pilaris
a/n: I was looking at my skin a few days ago and I was like....y'know, they kinda look like bug bites- GASP. Johnny would be such a FREAK for me. also I have body acne, esp on my legs and arms, or sometimes my back. it genuinely brings me comfort that Johnny would find those things sexy lol.
tags: @p1ssmagg0t (wanna get tagged? form here: ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚)
The campfire crackled softly, sending flickers of light into the darkening desert. The day had been rough—another group of Stand users had ambushed you, Johnny, and Gyro on the trail, and you’d barely escaped. The three of you had been covered head to toe in mud and grime by the end of it, your clothes stuck to your skin in a heavy, disgusting mess. It was no surprise when Gyro suggested you all strip down to your undergarments and wash your clothes, airing them out by the fire.
You sat cross-legged on the ground, wiping a stray smudge of dirt off your arm as the heat of the fire dried your damp skin. It was a little awkward, sitting around with barely any clothes on, but the exhaustion from the fight and the shared need for warmth eased the tension.
Johnny, usually a little quieter when Gyro was around, had been watching you for a while, ever since you’d stripped down to nothing but your underwear. He wasn’t looking at you in the way most men would; no, his blue eyes were fixated on something else—the faint red bumps that dotted your arms, legs, and shoulders.
You hadn’t really thought about it. Your skin had always been this way, with tiny red dots peppering your limbs like freckles that never quite faded. It was just something that was part of you, something you didn’t even notice anymore. But when Johnny’s gaze lingered, you became acutely aware of it, like his eyes had brought it into sharp focus. He wasn’t disgusted, though. No, he seemed… fascinated.
Gyro, sitting a little ways off, was busy cleaning his steel balls, but he didn’t miss the way Johnny kept sneaking glances at you. A smirk curled across his lips as he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nyohoho~! Seems like Johnny’s got his eyes on somethin’.”
Johnny’s face flushed as he quickly looked away, trying to hide the fact he’d been staring. “Shut up, Gyro,” he muttered, a hint of his Kentucky drawl slipping through, betraying his embarrassment.
You glanced between them, confused at first, but then noticed Johnny’s gaze returning to your skin. "What?" you asked, your voice casual, trying to brush it off. “Something wrong?”
“N-No, nothin’,” Johnny stammered, but his eyes lingered on the little red bumps again. He swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably on the log he was sitting on. “I just… I ain’t never seen skin like that before. Does it… hurt?”
His voice was softer now, genuinely curious, though there was an undercurrent there—something deeper, something more intimate that he wasn’t saying outright. It made your heart skip a beat, though you weren’t entirely sure why.
“Nah, not at all. It’s just the way my skin is,” you replied, giving a casual shrug. “I call it ‘strawberry skin.’” You laughed softly. “It’s just how my skin is—keratosis pilaris. No big deal.”
Johnny’s heart gave an unexpected flutter at your nonchalant explanation. “Strawberry skin,” he repeated, almost under his breath. The nickname was so… endearing. The tiny bumps scattered across your limbs, something so unique and intimate, only made his heart race more. To him, it wasn’t strange or anything to be overlooked. If anything, it was captivating in a way he couldn’t explain. “That’s… kinda cute, honestly.”
His voice was barely above a whisper, and there was a slight flush in his cheeks. Gyro, who had been quietly observing the whole scene, raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. He’d known about Johnny’s peculiar fascination with things like this for a while now. It wasn’t often that Johnny showed this side of himself so openly, though.
“Cute, huh?” Gyro teased, his Italian accent rolling through the words. “I guess you’ve got a thing for strawberries, eh, Joestar?”
Johnny shot him a glare, embarrassed, but Gyro just chuckled and turned his attention back to the fire, letting the two of you have your moment.
You, still oblivious to the depth of Johnny’s interest, laughed at Gyro’s teasing. “Well, I guess if I’m ever in need of a new nickname, ‘Strawberry’ could work.”
Johnny, struggling to keep his cool, smiled softly. “Yeah, it… it could.” He shifted a bit closer, just enough that his arm barely brushed yours, the subtle contact sending a jolt through him.
His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch, to feel the texture of your skin. “It’s… interestin’,” he murmured. He glanced away, but his blush deepened, his blue eyes flicking back to your arms and legs. “Looks kinda like… like bug bites.”
That caught you off guard. Bug bites? You looked at him, studying his expression, trying to understand what he meant. His face was flushed, his breathing a little heavier than normal, and it hit you: Johnny was into it.
Gyro, sitting nearby, snickered under his breath, clearly enjoying the whole situation. “Johnny’s got himself a little secret,” he teased, leaning forward with a grin. “Seems like he’s got a thing for-”
“Gyro, for the love of God, shut up,” Johnny hissed, though his voice lacked any real bite. He glanced at you nervously, almost like he was worried about what you might think. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
But you weren’t fazed. In fact, you kind of found it amusing—endearing, even. You hadn’t noticed how much Johnny had been drawn to your skin until now, but it made sense in hindsight. The way his eyes had lingered just a little too long, how he always seemed a little flustered when you were around… It was oddly cute.
“You got a thing for bug bites, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. Your voice was playful, not judging, and Johnny’s face burned a deeper shade of red.
“…Maybe,” he muttered, barely audible, but you caught it.
You laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Well, you’re in luck then,” you said, leaning back on your arms and letting your legs stretch out in front of you, showing the full extent of the red bumps on your skin. “Guess I’m your ideal type, huh?”
Johnny’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes glued to your legs as a faint shiver ran through him. He looked like he was about to combust on the spot, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite form the words.
Gyro, meanwhile, was having the time of his life, leaning back and watching the whole thing unfold with a smug grin. “Nyohoho~! Looks like you two might be gettin’ a little closer tonight.”
Johnny shot him a death glare. “I’m gonna kill you.”
But you just smiled, feeling more comfortable now that you knew the reason behind Johnny’s stolen glances. “Don’t worry, Johnny. It’s no big deal.” You gave him a wink, your playful tone putting him a little more at ease. “I think it’s kinda sweet, actually.”
Johnny swallowed again, his blush still evident, but there was something softer in his eyes now—something warm. He glanced at you one last time before muttering, “Thanks… I’m glad you don’t mind.”
As the night wore on and the fire crackled softly, Johnny’s thoughts remained on you, on the beautiful imperfection of your "strawberry skin."
It was all he could think about, and the more he tried to push it away, the more it consumed him, leaving him flustered, aroused, and utterly captivated by you in ways he didn't expect.
im being so fr do y'all still see the pics I include in my posts as giant separate pics?? bcuz they're supposed to be three small squares right next to each other in a row....
how tf do I fix that? 😭
Initial D request! A Halloween party where Keisuke and Ryosuke spots their s/o in a sexy costume without their knowledge. Your writing can take the wheel of what happens next ;) keep up the good work!
Keisuke Takahashi and Ryosuke Takahashi see their S/O in a Sexy Costume
a/n: i could totally see keisuke in a werewolf costume and ryosuke as a vampire or mad scientist lol. no colored pics cuz im lazy lol
The Halloween party was in full swing at the Takahashi mansion. The dim lighting and scattered jack-o'-lanterns gave the place an eerie yet exciting vibe, with music thumping in the background as guests mingled and danced. Keisuke, dressed in a werewolf costume complete with fluffy ears and a fur-lined jacket, glanced around the room for what felt like the hundredth time. He'd been expecting you to show up ages ago, but knowing you, you were probably still perfecting your look—something he found both endearing and mildly exasperating.
He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. They're probably making sure every detail is flawless, he thought, imagining you standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit or adding the final touches to your makeup. Keisuke wasn’t too worried. He knew you'd make an entrance when you were ready.
But an hour and a half had passed since the party started, and still, there was no sign of you. Keisuke leaned against the wall, arms folded, scanning the crowd. His brother, Ryosuke, was chatting with some guests nearby, dressed as a vampire and looking far too composed, as usual. Keisuke, however, was starting to grow a little impatient.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted you. His breath hitched.
From across the room, you stood near the drink table, chatting with a few friends. But it wasn’t just your presence that stunned him—it was the costume. You were wearing something that clung to your figure in all the right ways, dangerously eye-catching and bold. The outfit left little to the imagination, and Keisuke could barely tear his eyes away. His heart started pounding, a heat rising in his chest that had nothing to do with the crowded room.
"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, eyes wide. He hadn’t expected this.
He made his way over to you, weaving through the crowd, his expression shifting between shock, amusement, and a growing sense of possessiveness. When he finally reached you, you turned, flashing him that mischievous smile that always made his heart race.
"You took your time," he said, his voice slightly husky. His golden-brown eyes roamed your body, taking in the costume. "But… damn, I wasn’t expecting this."
You tilted your head playfully. "What, this isn’t what you had in mind?"
He let out a breathy laugh, reaching up to adjust one of his werewolf ears. "Not exactly, but… I’m not complaining."
His gaze flickered from your outfit to your face, then back again. "You really had to come in looking like that, huh? In front of everyone?" His tone was teasing, but you could hear the possessive edge in it.
He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your waist, the fur on his sleeves tickling your skin. "You’re gonna have everyone staring at you, and I don’t think I’m gonna like that," he said with a grin that showed a hint of fang from his costume. His voice dropped to a low murmur. "You’re all mine tonight."
Despite the costume, the playful look in his eyes was all Keisuke. He couldn’t help it—you had that effect on him, always leaving him a little off-balance, and tonight, you’d just upped the ante.
Ryosuke Takahashi
The mansion was alive with the energy of the Halloween party, guests dressed in all kinds of wild and spooky costumes moving through the dimly lit rooms. Ryosuke Takahashi, dressed in a sleek vampire costume complete with a dark cape and sharp fangs, stood by the edge of the gathering, casually sipping from a glass of red wine. He was, as usual, calm and composed, eyes surveying the scene as if everything was playing out exactly as he’d expected.
Well, almost everything.
His mind kept wandering to you. You hadn’t arrived yet, and though he tried to remain indifferent, his gaze kept flicking toward the door. Ryosuke wasn’t one to get impatient, but after an hour and a half had passed, he was starting to wonder what had held you up. Still, he trusted that you had your reasons. Perhaps you were being thorough in your preparations, knowing how much care you put into everything you did.
As he finished his drink and placed the glass on a nearby table, his sharp eyes caught sight of someone across the room. His breath hitched as he recognized you. But that wasn’t the only thing that made him pause.
The costume you were wearing was… well, it was something else. Form-fitting and undeniably bold, the way the outfit accentuated your body sent a shock of surprise through him. It wasn’t like you to be so daring in front of a crowd—at least, not that he’d ever seen. But here you were, standing across the room, talking and laughing as though you hadn’t just sent his normally collected mind into a spin.
Ryosuke composed himself quickly, but his heart betrayed him, hammering in his chest as he made his way toward you with slow, measured steps. As he approached, you turned to face him, your eyes glinting with a playful mischief that didn’t escape his notice.
"Ryosuke," you greeted with a smile, "you finally found me."
He took a moment to respond, his gaze sweeping over your costume before locking onto your eyes. His voice, calm and smooth as ever, carried an undertone of something darker. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."
You tilted your head, playing innocent. "Do you not like it?"
He smirked, his sharp fangs just barely peeking out from his lips. "It’s not a question of whether I like it," he said, his tone both amused and almost predatory. "It’s a question of whether I’m going to let anyone else enjoy it as much as I do."
His words were laced with a teasing possessiveness, though his expression remained as cool as ever. He stepped closer, letting his fingers brush the small of your back, his eyes flicking toward the other partygoers who hadn’t yet realized you were here. "You’ve certainly turned a few heads."
His voice dropped lower, just for you. "But you’re here for me, aren’t you?"
You grinned, your playful energy meeting his calm intensity. "Of course."
Ryosuke’s smirk widened slightly, and he leaned in, his breath cool against your ear as he whispered, "Good. Because I don’t plan on sharing."
A request for initial d where reader meets Keisuke during his delinquent era. It can be your typical bad boy x good girl or however you wanna spin it :) . Keep up the good work!
Delinquent Keisuke and Cutiepie Reader
a/n: hiyaaa sorry for the delay! busy w/ college rn. but I hope you enjoy!!
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"He's here again..." You muttered to yourself, discreetly glancing over at the blonde boy from behind the shelf you were currently restocking.
The cute blonde and his rowdy gang often visited the liquor store you worked at after school, usually picking up a pack of cigarettes and some drinks before leaving. You never interacted with them much, only speaking when you checked out their things.
With spiky blond hair and an unmistakable aura of confidence, he stood out like a sore thumb among his rough-looking companions. He laughed loudly, his cocky grin flashing like a beacon. You couldn’t help but think he was too pretty to be hanging out with them, too refined for their rowdy energy.
You watched him from a distance, feeling the familiar flutter of anxiety in your chest. Thoughts raced through your mind: He's not the type of guy you should approach; he’s way out of your league. Yet, deep down, something drew you to him—a spark of curiosity, maybe even an inexplicable attraction. It was maddening, but you pushed those thoughts aside, reminding yourself that guys like him didn’t notice girls like you.
You were brought out of your thoughts when one of his friends called you over to check out their items. Walking over to the counter, you started ringing them up when the blonde sauntered to the front of the group, leaning over the counter right in front of you.
"Hey, you," he said, his voice smooth and bold, cutting through the noise. The way he looked at you—intense, challenging—made your heart race. "You got a name, or do I just keep calling you ‘that cute counter girl’?"
"Wh- what?" You squeaked, almost dropping the soda can in your hand as the question startled you. Heat rushed to your face as you looked up at the guy with wide eyes, completely unexacting that casual admittance that he found you...cute.
His gang laughed, whistling and patting him on the back as they made fun of your reaction, making your face turn even redder.
"Do I gotta repeat myself?" His voice became slightly annoyed, but despite his tone, he smirked at you.
"Oh-! Um..." You stuttered, growing more embarrassed by your bumbling before shakily telling him your name.
He leaned against the counter, an amused glint in his eyes. “Well pretty girl, I’m Keisuke. Nice to meet you.” His name rolled off his tongue with an arrogance that both intimidated and excited you.
You offered a shy, wobbly smile, unsure of what to say next. But then you noticed his bike parked just outside, gleaming even in the dreary weather.
“I-I like your bike,” you blurted out, surprising even yourself. The words felt bold, yet they came from a genuine admiration.
His grin widened, flashing those perfectly white teeth. “You’ve got good taste. You ride?”
“N-No, not really. I've seen it sometimes when you guys come in and... I think it looks cool,” you admitted, your heart pounding. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and it made your stomach twist in knots.
Over the following weeks, you would often find him lurking around the store, his gang teasing him as they referred to you as “K-Dog’s girl.” You would pretend to be engrossed in your tasks, but every glance he threw your way sent warmth flooding your cheeks. The flirting felt teasing, playful, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more genuine behind it.
Despite your anxiety, you started to look forward to his visits. You admired his confidence, the way he carried himself, and how he seemed to own the room. You found yourself laughing at his jokes and playfully rolling your eyes at his cockiness, all while trying to hide the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he looked your way.
Then, one fateful rainy afternoon, everything changed.
You were closing up the store when you spotted Keisuke staggering down the street, soaked to the bone, his gang nowhere in sight. A knot formed in your stomach. As he got closer, you noticed the blood seeping through the fabric of his white T-shirt. Panic surged through you.
“Keisuke!” you yelled, rushing out into the rain, umbrella forgotten.
He muttered your name in a question, his voice strained as he leaned against a wall, wincing.
Your heart raced as you approached him, desperately looking for signs of injury. “What happened?”
“Just a little scrap,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, but the grimace on his face told you otherwise. “I’ll be fine.”
You shook your head. “You need to get patched up.” Without thinking, you rifled through your schoolbag, pulling out a first aid kit you always carried—something you used frequently since you were prone to small injuries all the time. “Sit down.”
He watched you with an amused yet pained expression, leaning against the wall as you worked quickly. “You really care, huh?”
“Of course, I do,” you replied, concentrating on wrapping the bandages around his arm. “You’re an idiot for getting into fights like this.”
He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet rain. “Yeah, but I’m tough. I can handle it.”
As you patched him up, something shifted in the air. The raindrops fell around you, creating a soft melody, and for the first time, you felt the barriers between you begin to crumble. You looked up at him, your heart racing as your fingers brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the cool rain.
“Why do you always hang out with those guys?” you asked quietly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “You could do better.”
He tilted his head, a hint of seriousness crossing his face. “They’re my crew. We’ve been through a lot together. It’s complicated.”
You frowned, wanting to understand him more. “But you don’t have to be like this forever, you know? You could choose something different.”
“Like what?” he challenged, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Like riding with a cute girl instead?”
Your cheeks flushed again, and you shot him a warning glare, but you couldn’t hide the smile threatening to break free. “You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re adorable,” he shot back, grinning widely.
As you finished bandaging him up, Keisuke’s gaze softened, his bravado momentarily fading. “Thanks, sweetheart. You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“I wanted to,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your heart. “You’re not as bad as you pretend to be, you know.”
He leaned closer, eyes locked onto yours, the rain pouring down around you. “Neither are you.”
Time seemed to stand still as the world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate moment. The air crackled with unspoken feelings, and your heart raced with anticipation. But just as you felt a shift, his name was called out and you guys spotted his gang a little ways away.
Keisuke sighed, glancing over at his friends and stepping away. “Looks like I gotta go. But hey,” he said, his playful grin returning as he glanced back at you. “You’re not off the hook. I’ll be back.”
“Yeah, right,” you replied, trying to mask the disappointment that washed over you. “Don’t get into any more fights.”
He smirked, running a hand through his wet hair. “No promises, but I’ll try. See you, pretty girl.”
You watched him walk off, and despite his arrogance and cocky attitude, you smiled to yourself.
You could still see the blush on his cheeks from a meter away.
