the king of curses mutilates people for less than any of the things you do to him on a daily basis.
walking into the room to inform him of the latest update on the warfront, uraume decides they have certainly witnessed more compromising states than this.
they bow down before the king of curses, who is currently lounging on his throne with you draped over his shoulders—like some human mink coat or a sentient scarf of sorts, snoring softly into his unkempt hair.
“lord sukuna.” they rise and address him, tone within the emotional range of a stone.
“speak.”
“...i can return later.”
“no, report.”
uraume’s eyes divert to the snuffling form of you for exactly half a second, a monumental display of curiosity for the permafrost-carved servant. they begin their report, speaking in their usual monotone intonation, but sukuna catches note of the way their eyes keep drifting upward.
“what.”
“nothing, my lord.” uraume meets his four eyes, choosing the addition of words with care. “it’s just... interesting, to see you so—”
“watch your mouth before i slice it off.”
“accommodating.” uraume finishes, deadpan, because they've served him long enough to know when he’s all bark.
sukuna's upper set of eyes narrows, but the lower pair flicks upward—toward your head, where your exhales stir the fine strands of his light crimson hair.
“i am going to flay you,” he says, deeply flat.
burrowed so deep into the crook of his neck, sukuna feels the damp warmth of your huff against him like a warm parasite that had somehow convinced itself the king of curses is a personal mattress. your previously limp hand curls into the fabric of his dark kimono, loosely holding on to a fistful of the silk robe as you exhale harder into his thick neck.
uraume's eyebrow twitches, a fraction of a millimeter—practically a scream of emotion from them.
“finish the report,” sukuna growls, low enough that it vibrates through his wide chest—and through you, because you're plastered to his body like a second skin. you stir, mumble something unintelligible, and he stills again.
uraume continues, detailing the skirmish in various territories, relaying information on sorcerers who think they could exorcise a fragment of their lord’s power. standard fare and utterly boring, sukuna only half-listens. the other half of his attention tuned into the way your breath starts to even out again, deep and slow, weight becoming heavier against him—fully asleep and dead to the world, completely vulnerable in the lap of the most deadly being in existence.
reckless, sukuna thinks. how idiotic.
his lower left arm moves, the rough hand settling against the small of your back, steadying you as you slip dangerously close to sliding off his shoulder.
he adjusts without thinking—tugging you close against him, rearranging your limbs so you lay across his lap instead.
uraume stops mid-sentence.
“continue.” sukuna snaps.
“the latest front has been... largely pacified.” uraume’s voice is perfectly measured. their eyes are not—intrigued gaze fixing on the way sukuna’s thumb traces an absent circle against your spine. “we anticipate the remaining forces will mobilize. shall I—”
“no.”
uraume continues theorizing as sukuna's second mouth, the one on his stomach, lets out this tiny rumble—not quite a growl, nor a purr. something in between. something possessive.
he cuts uraume off without looking away.
“speak quieter.”
“very well.”
silence engulfs the quarters. uraume remains perfectly still, head bowed, waiting for the inevitable command to execute the upcoming massacres. the only sound is the rhythmic, maddeningly peaceful puff of oxygen against sukuna’s skin.
your hand finds one of his in your sleep, palm curling against two of his fingers. he stares at your grasp like it offends him.
"i am going to kill the rest," sukuna announces.
uraume nods, faint and brief.
“in the morning.”
“naturally.”
“when they’re awake.”
“i’m sure they’ll be devastated.”
sukuna’s eye twitches. he could kill uraume. he won't. but he could.
then you sigh in your sleep—soft, contented—and press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse point, where the skin is thinner and no one has ever been dumb enough to put their mouth.
sukuna’s grip tightens around yours, his chest tightening. he grits his teeth.
“uraume.”
they perk up.
“find a blanket.”
uraume blinks, most expressive they've been in decades. “...a blanket.”
“you heard me.”
“of course, lord Sukuna.” they bow, and sukuna picks up on the hint of a smile his servant holds off.
the sliding doors shut behind uraume.
then sukuna is alone. with you, your breath—the hands, tiny compared to his, enveloped in his, and the infuriating, tight heat spreading through his torso.
a curse user who has unraveled sorcerers from the inside out, yet he cannot bring himself to move.
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 Sukuna Ryomen's ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ mumbling when he doesn't get his daily morning kisses .✦ ݁˖
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, golden stripes across the tatami mats. Usually, you would spend at least ten minutes entangled in Ryomen's suffocating, four-armed embrace, enduring his rough-textured skin and sleepy grunts. But today, you were late.
You slid out of the futon, throwing on a robe and tying your hair back in a rush. You didn’t notice the immediate shift in the room's energy—the way the heavy, oppressive aura of the King of Curses suddenly stirred.
As you paced around the kitchen island, frantically brewing coffee and packing a bag, a towering figure leaned against the doorframe.
Ryomen looked a mess.
His pink hair was completely wild, his yukata hung loosely off one broad shoulder, and all four of his eyes were narrowed into slits. He crossed his upper arms, while his lower arms rested on his hips.
Then, the mumbling started.
“...unbelievable,” he growled softly, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that still carried the weight of sleep. “Brat wakes up, doesn't say a word. Walks right past me like I'm some common curse in the streets. After everything I tolerate...”
You paused, holding a spoon. “Ryomen, did you say something?”
He didn't look at you.
Instead, he stared intently at a spot on the kitchen wall, his lower jaw shifting as he continued to mutter under his breath. “I should dismantle this entire house. The audacity. A thousand years ago, men bled out in the dirt just for a glimpse of my face, and here I am, being ignored for a cup of bean water. Truly pathetic.”
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips.
You set the spoon down and turned to face him fully. “Are you throwing a tantrum?”
“I don't throw tantrums, human,” he snapped, though his eyes finally flicked to yours, burning with mock irritation. “I state facts. You lack discipline. You lack respect.”
He took a slow, deliberate step into the kitchen, his massive frame completely eclipsing the light. He didn't stop until he was inches away from you, trapping you between his chest and the kitchen counter. His extra hands came down on either side of you, effectively pinning you in place.
“Well?” he murmured, leaning his face down. His upper eyes were squinted shut in a pout he would die before admitting to, while his lower eyes watched your mouth. “Are you going to fix your mistake, or do I have to remind you who rules this domain?”
You laughed softly, reaching up to cup his jaw.
His skin was warm, and the rough markings beneath your fingers felt familiar.
“Good morning, Ryomen,” you whispered.
You leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Instantly, the tense lines of his shoulders relaxed. Before you could pull away, his upper hands caught the back of your head, deep-fruiting his fingers into your hair to prolong the kiss, turning it into something possessive and deep.
When he finally let you go, a smug, satisfied smirk had replaced his scowl.
“Hmph...” he grunted, turning on his heel to head toward the porch, his yukata trailing behind him. “See that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. I won't be so lenient.”
"i wann' nut in you—please can i?" ness begs, his forearms tight around your waist.
he looks up at you so pathetically, forcing his head into your petting. he absolutely loves this position with you facing forward on his lap, sweaty bodies flushed against each other as you ride his soul away. your knees dig deep into the mattress, locking in his thighs that stretched out between yours.
"i-ich werde brav sein, bitte sag ja.."
he pulls you down harder at each desperate whine he slips out, stuffing his nose between your breasts and slobbering all over your soft skin.
"bitteee, y/nnn i wanna- inside you s'bad... y/n it hurts..."
you tightly suck in a breath, feeling his limp cock twitch inside your womb. the rock hard head of his shaft bulges through your cervix, fitting right inside like a puzzle.
"y/n i wanna so bad... du tust mir so gut, ich kann einfach nicht andersss.."
"fine, fine... yes..." you grunt, your head immediately sinking into his shoulder.
he could just die here beneath you the moment you nodded, approving another orgasm. slowly, warm fluids seep out between the gaps of your throbbing pussy, his cock still plugged deep inside of you; ness was not letting go anytime soon. clenching so tightly, he twitches and thrusts up once more, your walls wrapping tighter around his pulsing veins.
"y/nn~ hnghh—" ness gasps, biting onto your nipple, wanting your cum to somehow come out of your breasts instead.
you and ness breathe deeply together, mirroring beasts in hibernation, feeling each other's raging heartbeats. his hands slide low to the side of your legs, lazily pumping you up and down.
you tap gently on his back, "enoughh..."
ness chuckles. bulky arms wrap harder around your bare hips as his forehead nudges your collar.
"thank you... than' you~" he repeats in soft murmurs, quietly milking you over and over with subtle movements . . .
꒰ summary ꒱; blue lock boys get jealous and decide to fuck their feelings out on you ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა
꒰ content ꒱; 18+, they're mean, afab!reader, lots of smut
꒰ featuring ꒱; sae itoshi, rin itoshi, shidou ryusei, bunny iglesias, michael kaiser, vivian hugo, nagi seishiro, alexis ness
requested !
• sae itoshi
"you're getting off on this, aren't you? huh? such a filthy girl."
his grip on your hair is firm, tugging it back to look you in the eye as he slammed into you ruthlessly. "look at me when i talk to you."
"smiling so hard, seeing the one person i hate the most? you like him that much, 's that it?" he snaps his hips against yours at a brutal pace, the sole thought of the moment pissing him off to no extent.
"t-too fuckin' bad, you're mine and it'll stay that way, won't it?" he rasps, ensuring eye contact between the both of you, despite your eyes being glazed over from tears. "y-yes, yes, 'm yours!" you barely gasp out, feeling him loosen the grip on your locks to steady your hips, satisfied with your current state.
the sight of your pretty, tear-streaked face doesn't elicit pity from him. if anything, it makes him scoff in mild annoyance.
"g-gonna cum, s-saeee!" "not yet, are you," he brings his movements to a halt, relishing in the soft, frustrated whine you'd managed.
"say you're sorry, that you won't even look his way again." "i-i- h-hnghh, won't, everr!" you slur, your bottom lip quivering in relief as he nods curtly, granting you permission.
"good. i believe you'll keep your word."
• rin itoshi
rin was annoyed, to say the least, but he didn't let that disdain show until the both of you were tangled in the sheets. he'd pinned your wrists on either side of your shoulders as he used his agonizingly long stamina on you.
you'd lost track of how many times you came, and you didn't even know the reason why he was so upset! (kinda...)
"r-rinn, p-please, s-slow down!" you whine, powerless under him.
he'd pushed you into the meanest mating press, due to your inability to even raise your legs anymore.
"y-you can take it," he grumbles, voice low. every set of thrusts is somehow quicker than the last, despite how long the both of you have been fucking like bunnies.
he stretches your legs apart further to hit all your sweetest spots, your heavy, unfocused eyes rolling upward as your nth climax of the night took over.
you were past the stage counting was a possibility by now, the only thing your brain processed being the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.
"w-why are you even- a-hahhh- m-mad, rinn-" he shuts you up with a harsh pinch on your nipple.
"y-you know damn well, don't act so innocent." "i-i don't," you plead, the sound reduced to a soft mewl when he softly flicks a thumb over your hardened bud.
"uh-huh. does it look like i care? shut up and take it like a good girl."
• shidou ryusei
"a-ah, f-fuck, c'mon, thought you knew better than that, n/n~" he drawls, stuffing you full of his girth, fixated on the sight of the milky ring of cum around the base of his cock from the uncountable amount of times he's made you cum.
"h-haah, b-better than what? mhh, did i do something-" "you know damn well, don't act like an angel," he hisses, landing a sharp slap on your already quivering cunt.
"but s-shit, it's hard to stay mad at you when your pussy's clenchin' around my cock this hard, baby," he growls, quickening his pace only to slow back down when you're right on edge, all to watch the delicious ways your face would contour in pleasure, then frustration, then desperation.
"oh, you wanna cum, d'ya?" he coos, playing with your mush-filled head. you could barely form a coherent sentence, all you were able to do was nod feverishly. "mmhm, p-pleasee, ryu!"
you scratch deep crimson marks on his muscular back to ground yourself when he picks up the pace yet again.
you fail to catch the cunning grin curving his lips. "you're gonna cum as many times as i ask you to now, m'kay?" "n-noo, i'm sorryy," you beg, writhing beneath him.
he holds you down, sighing a soft sound of dissatisfaction.
"you say that but look at how your pretty girl's reacting," he muses, hinting at how your cunt dripped like a leaky faucet.
"been such a slut, you can keep up with me, can't ya?"
• bunny iglesias
"uh-uh," he tuts, prying your thighs apart after you'd tried to clamp them shut, the overstimulation overriding any other sensation you were feeling.
"s'too- hic -much, b-bunnyy," you sob, your voice long since a wavering mess.
"mm-mm, you know the deal, bebé. you smiled at him six times, so you're gonna have to cum six times tonight, mhm?" he muses, licking a stripe over your sopping pussy, hands digging into the supple flesh of your thighs.
"i-it wasn't- aah, even l-like that!" you repeat for the millionth time, a hopeless effort, your voice wavering as he flicks his tongue against your soaked folds.
"that's too bad then. just four more times, c'mon." he rubs soothing circles onto your skin, a harsh contrast to how rough his mouth is on your leaking core.
you try to protest once again, yet all your possible words are reduced to nothing more than breathy moans as he sticks his tongue deeper in, his nose grazing your aching cunt with every movement.
"so sensitive," he murmurs against you, sticking two fingers in for good measure, watching slick drip from it as he curls it against your sweet spot with practised precision.
"hnmpp, bunny, ohmygod, g'nna cum," you whine, fingers threading through his already tousled hair, tugging on it.
"yeah, cum for me, cariño."
after you do, he gets up, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he reaches for his belt, unbuckling the clasp.
"three more."
• michael kaiser
"poor thing, you just can't shut up, hm?" he near growls, pounding into you, the bed creaking with every movement.
your face was smushed against the pillow beneath, most likely leaving a trail of drool and tears behind from how dumb he's fucking you.
"mmh- m-micha, i-im hic s-sorry!" "sorry for what?" "for-" he picks up the pace, landing a harsh smack against your ass, forcing a sharp whimper out of you.
"oh? looks like i can't hear you. you don't sound very sorry, schatzi," he sneers, his tone one of faux pity.
"since you can't seem to stick to one guy, lemme stuff you full 'n remind you who you belong to, uh-huh?" he groans, not letting up with each and every thrust.
"i-it- was just- aah!, a hug," you swear, a frantic attempt to have him take you gentler.
"y-yeah, a hug he didn't fuckin' deserve," he rasps, voice laced with venom, recalling how the asshole stared at you.
you raise your head to try and catch a glimpse of his expression, but you're met with his harsh grip keeping your face buried in the plush cotton, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he raises your leg over his shoulder to angle himself deeper.
you can barely move, let alone continue whining against the pleasure mixing with pain, a sardonic chuckle slipping out of him at the sight. seeing tears spill from your pleading eyes only heightens the need he's feeling to absolutely ruin you.
"don't bother trying to save yourself. i'll stop whenever i please, got that?"
• vivian hugo
you're sat on his lap, squirming as you hold back the urges plaguing you to move.
he has you cockwarming him while he scrolls through every comment on your recent social media post. "hm, how're you gonna respond to this one, chérie?" he questions, forcing you to type out a half-assed rejection to degenerates commenting on your face or your body.
"i don't see why you allow this. i'm right here, and i can shower you in all the compliments you need," he states, bluntly, dark eyes staring into yours, discontented.
"'s not m-my fault," you retort, shuddering at the feeling of his warm length practically splitting you open, your body screaming at you to roll your hips against his hard-on just once.
"i know, but it's sad to see they think they have a chance."
he shifts in his seat, forcing his dick even deeper into your already stretched cunt, forcing a sharp hitch in your breath.
"v-vivi, can i p-please move-" "not until you reply to every single one."
he steadies his firm grip on your hips, his touch tantalizingly teasing and it pulls an exasperated scoff from you, irritated at his logic. "cumm'on, t's not my faul-"
he uses his raw strength and lifts you gently, forcing you to bounce on his thick girth, a faint smirk creeping onto his lips at how easily he'd shut you up. "h-haah, viviaann," you squeal, embarrassed at both the position and how quick you were about to reach your climax.
"can't jus' wait," he hisses, his lip caught between his teeth as he processes the pleasure of you sinking down on him, still ensuring you were in a comfortable position.
"fine, bounce on my dick all you want, needy thing."
and he scoffs upon seeing it firsthand, how lewd the act is. your pretty tits bouncing as you stifle your adorable mewls at how much of a struggle it is to have him fill you up fully.
just like it wasn't your fault you were gaining attention from creeps, it wasn't his fault he was so damn big!
• nagi seishiro
you end up sucking nagi off in a feeble attempt to get him to forgive you.
you gag around his sheer length the first time he's all the way in. apart from his length, how thick it was was a whole other issue.
tears prick at the edges of your crinkled eyes and although he seems unfazed as he watches you, you can tell he finds it hilarious from the subtle quirk tugging at a corner of his mouth.
he stared as if you were some leisurely sight he'd see walking across a street a random monday— it was so demeaning!
"c-can't y'take me deeper, baby?" he teases, thumb slipping beneath your jawline to trace along it tenderly.
you can only muster a muffled hum, shaking your head desperately, eyes squeezed shut at the pressure of his tip against your throat, prompting a tear to run down your cheek.
not too long after, you have his cum messily coating your pretty lips and your throat sore from the amount of times his leaky tip pressed flush against it.
you release his member from the warm walls of your mouth with a distinct 'pop!', insisting you can't take any more, batting your tear-ridden lashes up at him, assuming he'll take pity on you.
until he buries his fingers in your hair, forcing your head back down to take all of him again, showing you no mercy.
you can only whine, aware he wouldn't let you pull away no matter how hard you cried or begged.
he thrusts his cock in and out of your hollowed cheeks, low grunts slipping past his lips.
"don'care, y-you're mine, i'll do whatever i wan' with you."
eventually, he does end up forgiving you, for the sole reason you'd gave him a titjob, giving him the chance to marvel in his deepest fantasies.
"l-like this, s-sei?" "mhhm, j-just like that," he murmurs, thoroughly mesmerised.
• alexis ness
he's jerking off with you in front of him, having forced you to play with your pussy without lending you a hand, knowing it'd frustrate you.
breathy groans fall past his lips, accompanied by the tiniest whimpers every time he flicks his thumb over his drooling tip.
"f-faster," he urges, not missing a second of the glint of annoyance showing in your eyes, unwillingly speeding up. the sensation barely got to you anymore, well aware if the fingers were his much larger ones instead you'd come much easier.
"i-i don't under- nghh, -stand, l-lex- why can't we jus' f-fuck?" you mutter. it was a measly attempt to seem innocent, but both of you knew what you'd done.
"b-because, s-sweetheart, that'd be- hngh! g-giving you what you want- 'n-" he pauses, breath hitching as he closes in on his release, bottom lip caught between his teeth, gnawing on it harshly as he attempts to muffle his sounds. "-n you've been a bad girl today, haven't you?"
even after he's splurt his cum all over your face, painting it such a pretty picture, you still seem oh so unimpressed.
it makes his jaw clench, how bratty you're acting. here he is, trying his hardest to stay somewhat sane with you in front of him, licking his seed clean off of your lips, yet you dare act naive?
he tugs you up roughly, pressing you up against the nearest wall, shoving his fingers deep into your aching slick with a lack of warning, pulling a sharp whine from you.
he curls them just right, then pulls away the second you dare try cum. he repeats the process until you're reduced to nothing but desperate pleads and whines, a sadistic smile growing on his lips with each and every one.
"not yet, lovely," he taunts, his voice sickeningly sweet. "i-it's been- sniff, -s-so long, p-pleaasee!"
Synopsis. His crime? Missing Valentine’s Day. His punishment? You’re banning him from between those pretty Iegs of yours.
How long he lasts? Well…
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, séx bans, puníshments, he misses Valentine’s Day, spoiIing, grovelling, WALK HIM LIKE A DOG, semi-pubIic (Toji’s), DlLF!Nanami, bouquets, they’re RUINED (without your p), p talking, cervíx smoochín, aphrodísiacs (Choso), true form!Sukuna, DP, spítting, chokíng, overstím, DÚMBlFICATlON, needy JJK men, GOJO’S POWERS, FÉRAL Gojo, use of cursed energy, he’s slightly insane, matíng presses, manhandIing, proposals creampíes, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, BRÉEDING, REACTIONS, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. The laaaaaaaaast of the Valentine’s Day parts heheheh <33
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 23rd FEB. at 9:56AM
“C’mon, mama.” What a sight to behold—speed-walking through the gym, with a 6’3 hunk that followed you like a lost puppy. His green eyes were permanently on you, scarred lips pulled into a semi-grin that screamed anything but apologetic.
If this was anyone else, then you’d have signalled security.
But this was Toji Fushiguro - and Toji Fushiguro was never the type to admit when he was sorry. And yet…he admits that, this time, the fault lies solely with him.
After all, he did accidentally miss Valentine’s Day for some gig Shiu had given him…
Toji gruffs, staring down those losers that followed you with their eyes. “What do I need to do to make it right, girl?” He bets they couldn’t even bench as much as him. “Do you want more flowers? Do you want me to beg? Because I will beg.”
“I know. You’re forgiven.”
He perks up, “So am I still banned from fu-”
“Yes.”
Damn…
You’re turning around to look at him- and the utterly crestfallen look on Toji’s face makes you giggle.
All of this might just be punishment for his forgetfulness, but you can’t deny that it sent a special zap of thrill down your spine to be the one making the Toji Fushiguro desperate like this.
Sauve. Cool. Collected.
Not even in the middle of his most impossible targets did he ever break a sweat- and yet, just your contemplative hum makes his breath hitch. Finger on your chin, wondering whether he deserved to have the sex ban taken off…or whether you wanted to make him grovel a little more.
His dark brows furrow, the tips of Toji’s ears burning. “The hell are ya laughing at?”
“Oh, nothing.” You’re humming, making your way over to the usual treadmills. “I’ll see you after the workout~”
“Huh? Wait-” He watches you leave. “What do you mean we’re working out separately now- wait—”
But alas, it was too late.
And you’re left with a fuming Toji Fushiguro. The gym floor quakes a little as he immediately storms over to the weight-lifting section, bench pressing just about double his personal max in less than ten minutes.
And it was a challenge. Arms straining on the metal pole, veins popping out in his neck. They cascaded down the expanse of his chiselled chest, dipping even lower down where his tank top drenches in sweat, even lower…His sweat seeped through his skin-tight top- leaving a glistening sheen across those biceps. You swear they looked about the size of your head when pumped like this.
Toji’s expression was almost erotic - dark brows furrowed, skin slightly flushed. His features seemed locked between something of a scowl and a sweet pleasure.
Sweet, sweet pleasure.
You’re watching him through the mirrors covering the walls- and it seemed that you weren’t the only one. People couldn’t tear their eyes off of Toji.
Some of the older women. Some of the personal trainers.
Even a few couples- yes, both of them.
And it makes something in you…bubbles. Something at the pit of your stomach that you don’t quite know how to name- but sour, sour realization floods you just as soon as you’re taking in the gaggle of college students. They were ogling Toji - as most were - yet the only difference remained in the fact that they were pushing one of the girls towards him. Phone in hand.
No doubt to ask for his phone number.
And that’s when you’re stopping your machine.
Heading over to your boyfriend in an instant—you reach him just as soon as he’s setting his loaded barbell on the rack. Breath ragged. Chest heaving. Without thinking much of it, he’s tugging on the hemline of his tank top n’ wiping the sweat off of his face - revealing such defined abs that it makes your own mouth water.
He sure was a sight to see- but that didn’t mean that just anyone could gawk at him.
And just because you imposed a sex ban, doesn’t mean that anyone could try and swoop in…
Toji’s green eyes flicker over to you instantly- “Eh? Come to tease me again-”
“I need to talk to you—” And without a second wasted, you’re holding onto one of Toji’s large wrists. Tugging him to his feet, you can’t help the pointed inflection in your voice as you continue- “-babe.”
The giggling group silences.
In just a few minutes- you have your feet headed towards the empty locker rooms, your hands pushing Toji into the nearest stall you find. He’s letting such a sleazy smirk cover his face as he lets himself be fucking pushed inside—
Before the shower turns on and suddenly you’re being fucked against the blue-and-white tile.
Your back against the wall. His roverin’ cockhead pounding into you at such a frenzied pace. Feverish. Furious.
Almost angry with your pussy for not lettin’ him feel you sooner.
He was just so biiiig and blushing that Toji manages to hit every spot- without even trying, he has you crying and mewling into his arms. Pushing in just long thrusts—“Fuck.” Toji whispers, hoarse tone barely audible over the rushing of the water. “Fuuuuuck, how I missed my pretty girl.”
You throw your arms around his shoulders. “M-missed you, too.” He was ruttin’ into you so hard that the heels of your feet were being cleanly lifted off of the tiled floors - and Toji himself was holding you up. With just a single hand on your waist.
One more between your legs n’ flicking your clit fervently—
Such a sinful grin spreads across Toji’s face. “Oh? Really?” Before the digits upon your clit start thumbing between your pussylips n’ spreading them all wiiiiiide open. Further and further open. He takes a gooood, long look at your drivelling hole—“Because I was talking about this pretty pussy right here.”
Your jaw drops.
“I-I—” Head dizzying with how fast he’s pinpointing every tiny spot with his tip. Hittin’ even the most hidden of crannies with his accurate, split-ended crown - over and over. Upturning those walls of yours and finding even more that you knew only he could reach—“I meant-” Fucking you from the flared tip of his shaft and down, down, dooooown to the girth of his base—decorated with so many curls of black that scraaatch at your core. “I mean…ngh, fuck.”
“My pussy-” He echoes out. “M-my pussy…” And Toji Fushiguro had the audacity to cock his head, his shaggy black bangs swaying. “What were you talking about, mama?”
Enough to leave you speechless- and to leave him grinning at his success. “That’s not the answer to that question, girl.”
“I know, but-”
“There are no buts.” Toji scoffs, rolling his verdant eyes.
And before you know it, he’s scooping you up into his arms- feet off the floor, ankles knotting around his waist. Toji pulls away from the tile then - who the hell said he needed the support of some damn wall to hold his pretty girl up? He’s merely tuggin’ you to him like a koala, stuck against his chiselled front—pounding up even harder n’ haaaaarder. Dragging his thick, vein-covered cock even loooonger down your channel.
“Sh-shit—” Throwing your head back. Gravity is making you slip n’ slide down Toji’s incredible body, your front pressing up against his abs. All you can really do is hold onto dear life.
You claw your fingers down his buff shoulders - hard enough to draw blood - and Toji merely fucking chuckles. “Toji, it feels so good—”
“I know.” He answers cockily- before craning his head down and aiming a dollop of spittle between your legs. Strikin’ your pussy dead-on. Even though he didn’t really need it - the water n’ your slickness was enough to let Toji pummel in at such a raaaapid pace. He just liked to see how you’re squirming at the sensation, “And who wanted a fucking- sex ban, again?”
The water rushed down his hair and obscured his sight- and whatever you could see from between his long black bangs was just…fuck. The sheer feral need in his eyes made you shiver. “It was m-”
“Oh, wait.” Toji hums in wonderment. Eyes settling down on you, as if just seeing you for the first time. “Do you know who it was? It was you—wasn’t it, mama?”
“Y-yes-”
“Oh yeah? Thought you could go without my cock for that long, did ya?” Toji snickers, pinching your clit. It’s hard enough to make you bounce n’ buck your treacly cunt back down his shaft— “Heh—look at ya. Didn’t even last three weeks- hah, honestly. Have some more discipline, girl.”
“You’re telling me to have more discipline.” You gasp. “And who forgot Valentine’s Day-”
“Eeeeeasy there, mama.” He trundles out. Voice low. Almost dangerous. Another pinch on your clit- “Don’t make me put you under a sex ban.”
Your lips part, “You wouldn’t…”
“I would.”
His globular tip swipes down your cervix, leaving what feels to be a permanent mark. Slides of his gooey precum—“And now…” Toji leans in to whisper his next few words in your ear, scorching hot pants against the cool water. “-you’re gonna cum.”
Shivers run down your spine.
Toji continues in his guttural tone. “You’re gonna cum around my cock, and when you do you’re gonna scream so loud that it’ll alert the gym.” Already hearing the grin in his words- “And then m’gonna cum inside you. You won’t wash it out until we get home - you’re gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs.” Toji leaves a final piiiinch on your clit. “And after this, you’re never puttin’ me under one of those damn bans ever again. Understood?”
“U-understood.”
“Good girl.”
.
.
.
By the time he’s finished with you - way, waaaaay past your allotted time - you’re adjusting your uncomfortable leggings before going out. Feeling the sploshin’ of Toji’s gooey white cum inside of you, it’s a damn quest to try and walk properly.
And Toji doesn’t even try to leave the locker room at different times in order to avoid suspicion. He’s sauntering out proudly and throwing an arm over your shoulders, tugging you to his side.
Giving the most shit-eating grin at those other bastards that stare at him in envy.
You wonder out loud how you’re not banned from that gym yet.
Toji takes that as a challenge.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 18th FEB. at 7:46PM
“Papa, you forgot something!” Itadori Yuji squeaks out as he’s walking up the daycare steps. Spider-Man back-pack tightened with four different straps around his chubby body, his light-up shoes illuminating every step of the way.
Everyone knew when Yuji arrived at his classroom—the students because of his totally awesome shoes, the parents because of…his father.
Nanami Kento stood tall, stoic and composed as the sea of parents dropping off their kids parted for him. Blond hair slicked back immaculately. Glasses sharp and polished.
His silhouette drew eyes - whether one was conscious of it or not - though his own merely settled down upon his son. Crinkling slightly in concern, “Forget? Did you forget your lunchbox again, Yuji?”
The pink-haired boy shakes his head.
The older man hums, “Then did you forget your extra clothes?”
He shakes his head.
“Your football?”
He shakes his head.
“My goodbye hug?”
“No, papa—” And honestly, Nanami had no idea that a four-year-old could sound so exasperated with someone else. Yuji sighs and shakes his head in a way the man knew he picked up from him- “You forgot it’s Valentine’s Day!”
Oh.
Nanami’s lips part, and he sweeps a glance around the classroom corridors - looking as if love threw up inside it. Pink fairy lights and streamers. Heart-shaped designs. So there was a reason everything seemed a little…brighter than usual today, and- wait.
Wait, that explained the special heart-shaped pancakes you’d made for him. The twinkle in your eye. The rather lengthy pawing n’ kissing in the privacy of your bedroom.
Oh.
He intakes a sharp breath, “I didn’t wish my love—” Nanami looks at his pink-haired little traitor. “Why didn’t you tell me, sunshine? I should’ve wished your momma as soon as the sun rose- oh, and I need to buy roses. Then the gifts—wait, didn’t she say she wanted-”
“Papa…”
Nanami snaps out of it immediately- then straight into something new. “Did your momma seem mad, Yuji?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, “Momma told me not to tell you.”
Oh, you were definitely mad…
“She also said she was gonna teach you a lesson when you get home- it was funny.”
Oh.
The boy shuffles. “Papa, can I go now?”
.
.
.
Lo and behold, that was how Nanami Kento found himself suffering under…a sex ban. Ever since the 14th of February, you’d forbidden your handsome husband from touching you, fucking you, making you cum—even kisses were chaste.
And though you had to admit that your stoic husband kept it together quite well, you say the way his tie got just a little looser n’ looser every day.
The way he’d linger his eyes on you too long. The way he’d take a longer time during showers.
No doubt fucking his fist to the thought of you.
And…you’re almost embarrassed to admit it, but it takes just four days for you to get impatient.
Yes, you.
Ogling how his toned body would fill out those button-ups of his, how he only seemed to be getting more handsome by the day.
Nanami had taken up a tradition of buying you a bouquet every single day to make up for Valentine’s Day - and it’s the night of the 18th when you finally just snap-
“F-fuck—ngh.” Just dragging him to your shared bedroom and sitting him down on the bed- you just barely tug off his tight work pants. Just enough to take his thick tip out. Bracing yourself before bouncin’ your hips down and taking his girthy tip in whole-
Your back arches, toes curling.
The most lecherous whine leaves you—almost as lecherous as the sloppy sluuurp! of his honed cockhead pressing between your pussylips. Such an incredible carnal stretch that you’ve missed so much, “Fuck, it feels so good.” You gasp. “I’ve missed you s’much.”
“Shiiiit—” His bouquet drops from his hands. Red rose petals on the carpeted floor now- Nanami’s deep voice had taken on a breathy lilt, “Shit, momma-”
“I’m s-still mad at you.” You’re huffing down at him. “But my- ngh, pussy’s missed you soooo much—”
“I know, darling. I know.” His forehead lines with a trickle of sweat. Nanami’s eyes fall half-lidded as he feels himself get swallowed up deeper n’ deeeeper inside you.
With the most damp sluuuuurping noises. Just so cute - it’s like you were gobbling him up.
Two of his hands clasp at your unsteady ankles, bending them to his will ‘round his toned waist. Before you can say anything in response, he uses the leverage to fuck a good strike at your core. All the way from tip to hilt. And as you’re shrilling out, he murmurs. “This fat fuckin’ cock missed your pussy, too.”
“R-really?” Though you don’t even need to ask - you could feel the way his bulbous tip throb-throb-throbbed all the way deeply inside you.
Nanami’s blond hair shuffles as he nods. “Missed you sooooo fucking much-” Almost too dirty to fall from the gentleman’s mouth. “Feel how much harder I am—?” Dragging his vein-decorated shaft aaaaaall down your sopping wet walls, pushing them apart. “Feel how much- fuck, bigger m’getting?” The way each pulsation only seemed to make him swell, his round flared tip growing even wider. It’s the perfect structure to scrape every sweet spot- and Nanami knew just where his wife’s favorite areas were. “Feel how hungry I am for you?”
You gape, “Hungry?”
And when he responds, there’s something utterly shattered in his tone. “Yes—” Breath gusting out in a scorching breeze- pants damp, canines pricking at your neck. Your husband sinks his teeth into that tender skin at your throat, “Fucking famished for this pussy.”
And he’s fucking you just like it, too.
Pourin’ out wads of pre into every nook n’ crevice. Twitching his bulbous cockhead against even the tiniest of nerves inside- he jerks his hips up a mile a minute. Utterly pounding into the back of your pussy—
Until it was nothing but a gooey, battered mess. Slick with all the translucent sap he was emptying out-
“Missed you so much.” He husks out against your clammy skin. Holding you tighter n’ tighter to his sculptured pecs, the more he’s honing out direct thwacks! inside you. Just four days without this perfect pussy and he’s a man gone. “Missed you- fuck, missed you so much—”
“B-but you always seemed unbothered.” Huffin’ down at him, your lips twist into a pretty pout- one that he’s reaching up and biting. “I thought it was just me that- ngh, missed you like this.”
“Oh, my love.” The sheer force of his thrusts was enough that you find yourself clawing onto his broad shoulders. To help you balance, Nanami loops his strong forearms around the small of your back- tugging you to him. “I thought about this pussy every single day that I didn’t have her.”
And that’s not all…as if to prove his point, the blond-haired man reaches down one hand and tugs on your perked clit—
It was just swollen and throbbing for attention- and he gives it all that you wanted. Rolling the calloused pad of his thumb right over it, up and down. Long swipes. Slight circles. Edging the tip of it between your wet crevice- in just a few seconds, you swear you’re starting to feel Nanami write out things on top of your overstimulated nub.
What you swear were swirls and loops.
And you recognized Nanami Kento’s handwriting- hell, you’d been married to the guy for years now! That neat, slanted script. So it doesn’t take you long - not until he punctuates a slight puuuuush that you assumed to be a dot - that it hits you like four semi-trucks at once.
Nanami was writing out ‘missed you’ on top of your cunt.
Over and over again.
So many times that you’re starting to feel a bit raw with pleasure.
You cling onto him for dear life, “And what did you think about?"
“What?” He breathes, brain too muddled.
Your delayed response. “And what did you think about- ngh, Kento?”
Nanami throws his head back and lets out a faint, grumbling whimper as you’re clenching around him - just as gone as you. These few days had rendered him extra, eeextra sensitive to even the slightest twitches and sensations of your cunt. He whispers out an answer that you can’t hear.
“What was that, baby?” Fluttering your lashes at him, leaning in close.
A slight channel of slick n’ precum escapes from your wettened hole- and makes his breath hitch. He repeats.
“What was—”
He repeats it.
And this time, he’s pummelin’ straight into the veeeeery bottom of your gummy pussy with it. Swiping out his spot there-
“I thought about getting you pregnant.”
And Nanami’s fucking you like he’d rather die than not have you all round n’ glowing - plump with his child - by next Valentine’s Day. If he could get you pregnant tonight itself and make you a family of four by then—then that’s even better.
A stripe of his gooey white cum- “Let me make up for these four days, my love?”
.
.
.
Next Valentine’s Day, it’s the three of you that are dropping off Yuji at school- you, your husband, and your baby. Just a few months old but already matching the energy of her older brother.
Yuji skips up to the steps - just a year more and he’ll be in first grade already. How time passes.
He announces in that bright voice of his, “You didn’t forget Valentine’s Day this year, papa.”
Nanami slightly blushes at the attention of the other parents around you two - at him, at you, at Yuji’s voice, and at the presence of your cute lil’ daughter. They looked torn between coming up to congratulate the two of you, and keeping their distance from a baby so young—Nanami was known to be a private man, after all. If it hadn’t been for Yuji’s excited announcements, the daycare might not have ever known of the newest addition to your family.
His hair. Your eyes.
“That’s right, sunshine.” Nanami pats Yuji’s head of pink hair, “I won’t be forgetting any time soon.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - 3rd MARCH at 11:03PM
You weren’t going to last.
That’s right—you weren’t going to last.
That sex ban had been set on the 14th of February, once Geto Suguru - your ever-handsome leader of the Time Vessel Association - had deemed that his favorite little association member hadn’t…celebrated Valentine’s Day quite to his standards.
Though you had no idea what he was talking about- you’d planned everything out perfectly.
You’d spoiled him with a jasmine bouquet, he’d spoiled you with even more red roses.
You’d spoiled him with his favorite traditional Japanese breakfast, he’d spoiled you with your favorite (courtesy of the chefs in the Association, of course).
You’d wanted to ride him silly- he’d wanted to fuck you pregnant. See, that’s where the little miscommunication seemed to have happened - if you can even call it that. Because in the end you’d been pummeled with his thick, veiny cock—for but a total of two rounds before you’d exhausted yourself to sleep in his arms (it’d been a long day of planning, alright?)
But the thing is, Geto Suguru hadn’t wanted to go two rounds.
Geto Suguru had wanted to go…all night.
And you never fall asleep before the revered leader. Never. Was his cock really that boring to you? Did this even count as celebrating Valentine’s Day at all, then?
Geto Suguru was a ruthless ruler.
It was considered that you missed Valentine’s Day- yes, you missed it.
Thus, you were henceforth and until further notice- banned from having sex with the esteemed leader until you improved your stamina. Which was quite the unfair match-up - Geto had training in martial arts, in cursed energy, in reverse cursed energy. How were you supposed to compare?
He was fucking mean.
And to be quite honest, a part of you had the nagging feeling that Geto was simply riling you up for the fun of it…and you wouldn’t be surprised.
Which is why when you’d sucked up your pride n’ finally asked him to fuck you by March—he’d merely raised a dark brow. Sharp. Scouring. “And have you finally fixed that pitiful stamina of yours?” He’s spitting, “I do not wish to be insulted once more…”
“I h-have.” You’d claimed- alright so maybe you hadn’t worked on your stamina just like he’d said. But who was Geto Suguru to know?
His brow raises even higher.
He knew. He definitely, definitely knew.
But to your utter surprise- Geto is tugging on the dark fabric of his robes. Beckoning you with a single look over to his futon, “Alright.” Clipped and chilling. “But I hope you know that I am not a merciful man, gorgeous.”
You’d never scrambled over to him faster.
Because when Geto Suguru fucked you- he fucked you.
Just like he hated you. In no time, he had your jittery legs on his shoulders n’ his rounded cockhead pushing between your pussylips. Just stretch-stretch-streeeetching out the first rim of your entrance before draggin’ away down that tight channel.
The long-haired man tugs open all those cute lil’ crannies that you’ve missed being stimulated. Your back arching off of the ancient tatami as he folded you sooooo deep in half—ass cheeks barely touching the floor in this ruthless mating press he had you in.
Cock hitting the back of your pussy for hours. And hours.
And hours and hours.
“P-please—” You warble out in your shattered tone, head throwing backwards. It’s hitting the surface behind you with a dull thud- and Geto merely huffs out a chuckle.
He raises his left hand - and for a second, you think he might just use it to cushion the back of your head. But instead…Geto uses it to clasp onto your poor, perspired neck and shoves you deeper against the floor-
“Don’t make me put ya into a headlock before you hurt yourself.” He snickers out, something animalistically breathy in his tone. Those thick fingertips of his squeeze either side of your neck- swervin’ his luscious tip inside even faster. “Because just know—”
And the hairs on the back of your neck raise once Geto Suguru leans into whisper.
“-that when I say all night long…” And for the nth time tonight, his slick n’ mazing tip drives you straight into your high. “-I mean all night long.”
“A-all night…” Your mouth hopelessly babbles.
Spit drivels down either side of your mouth—and Geto wastes no time before leaning down and lickin’ them away. “Keep it clean, gorgeous.” He murmurs against your lips, “M’gonna make a mess of you- hah, anyway the next time I cum inside. Again.”
His sweetened sap was already sploshin’ away inside of you- and even the tiniest jolts of his tip made him stir you from the inside. You drag a hand down your bloated-feeling front and whine, “Again?”
“Yes?” Geto asks, “Something the…matter—?”
And whatever your answer had been, it’s getting fucked back down your throat with his bludgeoning cock. Frenzied. Fast. Ferocious in the way he was claiming every single inch of space inside you. Nothing but a pinkish blur between those poor legs of yours- and you might not realize it in this state, but Geto himself had missed you.
How he’d missed the feeling of this velvety pussy. The way you’d open up just for him n’ seemed to mold your channel to his girth- and he was rather girthy, if he did say so himself. The way you’d clench ‘round him at even the tiniest sparks of pleasure-
And right now it’s as if you were holding him hostage.
Making him rut his hips wetly into yours - slick n’ cum spraaaying out of your hole and creating a mess in-between - again and again and again—
He tightens his restraint on your neck until you’re seeing stars- veins popping out from his hand. “Something-” Each word was punctuated by the most thorough gash of his swollen shaft, thudding against your gooey cervix. “-the- matter- gorgeous?”
“N-nothing—!” You babble out. “Nothing at all-”
“Then why’s this pretty pussy trying to- mmm, run away from me, hm?” He’s humming.
And you snap your head down- it’s just then that you’re registering the ministrations of your hips. The way you lurch back just a bit when he’s hitting a spot just right, feet planted flatly on the mattress.
You bounced and swerved - almost as if you weren’t sure whether you wanted to run away or fuck back down for more, more, more. For the feeling of his smooth slippery tip reaching into your deepest depths- fuck, you’d almost forgotten how much he stretched you out.
And Geto doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s running you straight into another orgasm. And another.
“What? Can’t handle it?” Fingernails digging into your soft skin by now. “Can’t handle it?” His balls were still big n’ heavy with so many wads of cum yearning to be inside you- “Can’t handle it? Can’t handle it—? Speak up.”
“I can.” Gasping out in your botched tone. “I can- I can—”
“Then what?”
“It’s just-”
“I knew it.”
But that was a test, you see.
He didn’t want to know the answer - for now. He just wanted to know if you could match all the claims you uttered- if you could take him all night long like he’d promised.
Dawn wasn’t even close to breaking.
Your drenched cunt quivers. His own cock dribblin’ out a clingy line of slick—“I already toooooold you.” He replaces the hand on your stomach with his own, right palm cascading down the front. Geto pushes down on that cute lil’ bump he was fucking into you, “First, you miss Valentine’s Day-”
“But I didn’t-”
“Then you lie to me about improving your stamina-”
“Well…”
“If you can’t handle it, then don’t fuck me—”
“B-but-”
Shutting you up with a looong swab right near your throat. “Because how else m’I going to get you pregnant, gorgeous?”
And as you’re struggling to get out a single coherent sentence, Geto sighs. Dramatic.
“And here I thought you’d finally match my freak-” Something he’d learned from an audio Larue had been listening to, something he found quite amusing himself. “Here I thought you’d match my stamina-” He was probin’ his long shaft into the door to your womb. “Here I thought we’d finally get you pregnant for next year—”
“Y-you still can-” You whisper.
He leans in. “What was that?”
“You still- hck! can.” Increasing the volume of your tone, and it makes Geto’s pretty amethyst eyes widen. “Promise you still can. It’s still March.”
Geto hums in interest, “And about that concern you had before then…?”
“I was just worried…” Splaying out your hand on top of his- on top of your stomach. Slightly bloated with the sheer amount of gooey, glittering was struck to your walls—the slightest push is enough to make you trickle out between your legs. “-that it might not fit, Suguru.”
And something in him seems to twitch.
His cock seems to jolt—
You’re being fucked even deeper into your mating press before you know it. With Geto’s roverin’ cockhead flooding your bruised, battered insides in his syrupy sap - it leaves a carnal part of you feeling so satisfied.
The way he rests his weight on your lower half to stop you from moving around too much.
“Oh, gorgeous…” Breathless. “I’ll just make it fit.”
.
.
.
It’s the very next day - even without formal confirmation - that Geto Suguru announces to his association the imminent birth of his heir.
You find that announcement to come true soon enough.
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 14th FEB. at 9:12PM
To be quite honest, Choso Kamo didn’t know that there was a human…culture surrounding this date. He’d never heard of it before.
Imagine the half-curse’s surprise when he wakes up one day and the world seemed to be drenched in pink and red. Why were there hearts plastered upon every shop window he saw? Why did the population of couples somehow seem to double? Why did strangers insist upon trying to hand him chocolates as he walked down the street?
Wondering whether his last blood manipulation technique had left him feeling light-headed, Choso knew to seek the smartest person he knew for answers - you.
His beloved human girlfriend.
And when you’d given him a brief run-down of the semi-holiday—well, Choso Kamo was in tears. Why? Well, because no one told him that he’d just missed a perfectly fine opportunity to spoil you, of course!
All those candy shops he passed, all those plushie stores he ignored…
You’re telling him that he should’ve just dropped everything he was doing and bought out the whole store?! (No, you were not telling him that—but Choso was certainly thinking it). And he believed it, too.
Which is why - as the self-dubbed Worst Boyfriend in The World - Choso demanded that you punish him with a sex ban. And when you’d refused, he’d punished himself with a sex ban.
“I-I don’t deserve it, baby.” He’d wrapped his arms around himself and turned away, as if the mere sight of you in your pajamas was enough to tempt him into breaking his ban. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror after not knowing such a thing-”
“Choso, baby.” You’d interrupted him. “Shut up.”
He’d grown hard in his pants at that.
The first hour, it had been…do-able. Choso was still alive, he felt like he was still alive.
And his cock had remained behaved in his pants.
Three hours in and he was…shattering slightly at the edges. He’d disappeared into your underwear drawer when you weren’t looking- stealing one of your prettiest scraps of lace and fucking his first raw using it.
That had bated him.
At least until the fifth hour, when you’d asked to cuddle in bed.
And Choso felt his cock jolt just a little in his pants- eagerly agreeing. Tightening. Though you should’ve known that something was off when he’d asked to be the big spoon this time (Choso Kamo was never the big spoon), but you didn’t think much of it…
Then had come the seventh hour—two hours into cuddling you. Two hours into having his raging hard erection pressed up against your ass- and he thought he was going a little insane.
He needed to distract himself- he needed to think of something else.
Anything.
And it’s then that those unfortunate pretty eyes of his had fallen upon the small wrapper upon your bedside cabinet. The small slab of sweetness.
The small piece of chocolate.
Without thinking much of it, Choso had reached out and torn it open - fingers jittery to do something. He’s popping both halves into his mouth.
“Wait-” You’re catching his action—only too late. “Cho, baby, that’s-”
But it was too late. He’d started feeling hot all over. Feverish. “Baby—what is this-”
“Aphrodisiac chocolate.” Sighing. “I’d bought it for us today - yes, one half for each - but since you put on that sex ban…”
It’s all the explanation that he fucking needs before he’s tearin’ at your poor pajama shorts. Furious. Feral. Before he’s leaving them in shatters- and leaving you with your voice lost in your throat, Choso’s angry red tip swivelling inside.
Just so wet with pre and rock-hard.
His sex ban had lasted seven hours.
The ridge of his cockhead was flared so widely, scrapin’ against all those tender spots inside you. It’s a lecherous sensation - enough to make you clench, enough to make you hold Choso’s fat cock hostage. Drool wettens Choso’s lips as you clench—“S-sex ban?”
Did that sound like a question?
Because your poor boyfriend’s tone was wavering almost comically upwards towards the end- ruined. He punctuates it not with a question mark, but with a solid sopping thrust inwards. Shovelling just a few more of his inches in-
“Yes?” You pant out. It already feels as though he was pumping against the corner of your lungs. “Baby, wasn’t that what you said- oh.”
Yet another smooooch of his lengthy cock- it drives inside and presses on a tender spot you particularly like. “Sex ban?” Choso repeats. There’s an almost urgent look in his eyes, glazed and glittering with dark need. “No—”
And then he’s shaking his head fervently- for a mere few seconds before he glues his split-ended tip to the roof of your cunt. Bottoming-out.
He collapses his muscular body onto you and pants-
“No, no.” Hips stuttering, though that doesn’t stop him from drilling into you like a maddened man. Lecherous, long strikes of his cock. “No, that can’t be—I’d never ban myself from something as h-heavenly as this pussy…”
“But you-” You’re starting to refute him.
Only for Choso to pump out a few direct hits to your cervix—groaning. “Because l-look how pretty she is takin’ my big cock.” He whispers, marveling at the way you clung onto him. Your sopping wet walls were lacquered in a good gleam of his precum, so tight that he almost thinks he wouldn’t fit- but you always do manage to surprise him. “Look how goooood she feels wrapped ‘round me- my pretty pussy.”
And then he’s fucking and fucking into you-
At an irregular pace - sloppy and staccato. It’s almost as if he couldn’t control just when and how his hips were moving, merely chasing that carnal instinct within him. That little voice that told him to bruise his achin’ hot cockhead at the base of your cunt, and then push n’ push n’ puuuuush as deep as it could go.
If he wasn’t knockin’ at your womb, then each thrust wasn’t worth it.
“Look how—” Head dipping into the crook of your neck, those clammy brown strands of his hair stick to your skin. He was blushin’ and shaking all over- “Look how good she ngh- feels when she’s being fucked by me? She’s been waiting for my cock all this time, riiiight?”
You’re unable to answer, merely twitching as Choso runs a finger down your slit. Pressing perfectly on the button of your clit.
“Of course, she is. Look how wet she is f’me—h-how could I ever deny her?” Baritone taking a shaky degree, wetness pouring out of him in waves and splatters. “Look how much she wants to- ngh.”
And it’s then that Choso’s ruddied tip twitches daaaangerously.
You knew that your beloved boyfriend was the sensitive type- but to this extent? It’s almost as if being away from your pussy (for a few hours, yes, but even that was torture for Choso Kamo) had rendered him more sensitive than ever.
More susceptible to getting pussydrunk.
More susceptible to getting addicted to the slippery clench of your cunt. Those pretty walls that opened up for him—straight down to your even prettier womb.
He rubs the sides of his shaft rawly against your walls and whimpers- “L-look how much she wants to be filled up with my cum.”
And it’s then and there that Choso is talking himself into an orgasm. The textured sensations of your cunt. The wetness of your constant sap. The way you were looking up at him with teary eyes- his sheer length almost too much for you to handle.
And this was too much for him to handle.
Choso merely reels his hips back a bit- before pummeling deepest into your depths and pourin’ out his cum with such a squeeeelch! A lecherous sound. The sound of his dewy wads of seed emptying out at the bottom of your pussy, filling you up from the inside out-
He’s throwing his body forwards and crushing you to him. “Baby, m’never gonna think of a sex ban ever again—” Murmuring wetly into your skin. You swear he was almost in tears- “Never. M’sorry, but I just don’t think I can handle it.”
“You really didn’t have to, Cho—” You reassure him.
And at that, he slips out just a few more beads of ivory cum. “N-ngh, don’t say that unless you want me to cum again.”
“Maybe I do.” Cocking your head up at the pretty boy- “That aphrodisiac is said to last five hours, after all.”
He shivers.
You throw your arms around his sweaty neck and pull him closer. “And it is still Valentine’s Day. Why don’t you make it up to me like this, Cho?”
He does end up cumming again.
.
.
.
The next day, Choso Kamo ends up buying out all the nearest candy shops and plushie stores. Some of them being delivered later on in the day, some of them being carried in dozens upon dozens of bags upon his two hands - not that he minds. He’d carry anything for you. To you.
After all, it’s not like you’ll be walking for about the next week…
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 1st MARCH at 1:23PM
“Cheh—and it’s not like I’m upset about it, or anything!” The King’s fervent denials make the walls of the throne room trundle - almost as loud as Ryomen Sukuna’s voice, were his blatant lies.
And yet, Uraume has long since learned to keep their mouth shut during times like this.
They sit poised before Sukuna, head bowed and expression of something contemplative. He might have four eyes, but he’ll never be able to tell how his right-hand follower was on the verge of laughter. Of tears from the sheer amount of laughter.
They might have to take a leave of absence after this.
And Sukuna - never the less oblivious - slams all four fists down on the armrest of his throne. Echoing in a hollow voice, “I just fail to understand why my…most tolerable human has refused to copulate with me these days. Although, even that should be understandable- if she wishes not to, then she wishes not to. I can understand that. But my question is why as of the 14th of the last moon cycle-” He sits upright in his seat, seething. “-she pretends that I do not even exist! Me—the King—!”
Uraume manages to disguise a laugh as a cough. “The 14th of the previous moon cycle, you say, Your Majesty?”
“Hm?” He grunts. “And what of it?”
“Well, then perhaps you should know that you missed a day that is quite important, Your Majesty.” They lightly sip their tea as the King’s interest piques- “In certain cultures, the 14th of the year’s second month is celebrated as the day of love. To express one’s affection for their lover, their family, and their friends.”
The King stays quiet.
Uraume finishes their tea. “Tell me, Your Majesty—had you gifted your lover anything on the 14th?”
He sputters, “I-I—well, not quite but-”
“Did you wish prosperity upon her on the 14th?”
“No, but-”
“Did you act in a manner deemed nicer than your…usual demeanour?”
“No-”
“Nothing at all?”
“No.” Sukuna runs two hands down his rugged face, “Heavens…”
.
.
.
And it doesn’t take long for Ryomen Sukuna - over three weeks late - to finally shower you with gifts. Lavish, as a King should provide for his Queen.
In the most expensive silks in this land and the next few, too. In the most intricate little trinkets that he knew you’d love. In the most gorgeous jade twinkling in the moonlight. In the most sweet-smelling perfumes. The most sweet-tasting candies.
Everything and anything.
Though he personally believes that nothing could taste as sweet as you.
And he shall have a word or two later with you- something about telling him directly whenever you wanted something of him. But right now, he was faaar too busy sprawling you out flatly on your bed. Pressing two hands into the smooth mattress beside your head, as two of his swervin’ cockheads fucked you dizzy—
He was fucking that pout right off your lips.
“S’this pussy still furious?” Sukuna coos down mockingly at you- both sets of his lips twisting into the meanest grin.
As you struggled to get out the words - past those thick, bludgeoning shafts - he merely leans down. Fluttering those pinkish lashes at you, Sukuna’s second mouth opens up wiiiiiiide—licking up the crevice of your pussy. “S’this pussy still angry at me for forgetting ah- Valentine’s Day? I don’t think sooo—”
And almost on cue, you’re sputterin’ out in a gooey mess of slick. It travels down your legs and gets lapped up by Sukuna’s monstrous tastebuds- “M-maybe I still am.”
He hums from the primal depths of his chest. “I know you are, woman.” Those crimson irises of his roll, a scoff scorching down your features. “But what about this pussy—”
You tighten your legs around his waist, “Sh-she is, too-”
“I beg to differ.” And just then, Sukuna spanks—! one hand down upon your throbbing clit. His other two hands clutch your ankles to throw you off balance- to stop you from bucking. His sleazy grin only seems to grow as he watches the thiiiiick sheen of slick at your inner thighs. “See? She loves me.”
“She’s mad at you-”
A hit at your gummy cervix—two. “She loves me-”
“She-”
And then snaking right down to your g-spot—you’re feeling both of his rugged, rounded tips massage your sweetest spot. He doesn’t even properly thrust for a few moments- the King ruts his hips back n’ forth. “See—?” Aiming to bruise his rock-hard lengths against the sides of your walls - your nerves - making you feel him from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. “She fuckin’ loves me~”
You don’t get to contradict what he’s saying.
You don’t even get to try- because at that very second, you’re throwing your head back and cumming. Unable to control the lightning bolts of white-hot pleasure that run down your spine—sensations of his rounded tips driving you wild.
Pummeling.
Shovelling in and out. In and out.
Probin’ against the areas you were most sensitive, emptying out wads of precum in sinful splats. “Th-that’s just not fair…” Voice hatching into the prettiest whines in your throat- it’s just what makes him arch his powerful hips and buck, buck, buck.
More. More. More.
Sukuna rests two hands underneath your spine n’ aaaarches you even more for him. Like this, it’s easy enough to see where the rounded bumps of his monstrous cocks were hitting your cervix. Thud-thud-thud. “Fuh-fuuuuuck, Kuna.” And at the very same time, his lecherous tongue sticks out and drags up and down your dripping wet slit. “Not fair- really not fair-”
“Not fair that this pussy likes me more than you?” He titters, “Now, that’s not fair t’me—”
“Oh, you-”
“Poor, poor Ryomen Sukuna.” He pretends to weep, to shake his head. “With no clue as to why his favorite human is ignoring him.”
“Shit-” He pumps a direct hit to your womb. Twitching there in warning.
“If it was gifts you’d wanted, then I could buy you this whole damn world-”
Your eyes widen, “The world?”
“Yes, the world.” Sukuna sounded dead serious. “Don’t be frugal, woman.” And you didn’t doubt that he didn’t have enough gold to do so- or at least give a damn valiant try. Sukuna digs his honed, blackened fingernails upon either side of your hips—cocks fucking you through your first high and straight into another. Another. Another. “Do you know how many nights we’ve lost together?”
It just feels so fucking gooood to have his furious, feverish tips pressing into every spot. You can only whine—
“Do you know how many times I could’ve cum inside this pussy until then?” Almost reminiscing as he fucks you, all those times he’s done so before. Will do so again. “Do you know how many times I’ve lost having that pretty pussy squeeze ‘round me when she cums- yes, you do that.”
Your breath hitches, “S-squeeze…?”
“Mhmm—” Ravenous red eyes narrowing down at you. There’s an almost feral grin upon his face- “Didn’t you know that? She squeezes around both cocks- like she wants to hold me back whilst she cums. Like she can’t- fuck, bear to leave.”
“Oh my god-” You gasp. Arching into his plush pecs.
And Sukuna is more than happy to let you do so - in fact, one of his hands lifts off of the bed to crush your face into his chest. Your mouth slobberin’ stupidly all over his pinkish nipples—his second mouth swabbin’ his tongue between your pussylips n’ fucking straight into your hole.
While he fucks you with two cocks. The stretch was just incredible.
The next time you reach your highs, you’re squirting.
“And you say this pussy doesn’t love me…”
.
.
.
The next morning, Uraume wakes up at the crack of dawn- as per their duties.
And they have to admit that last night…they didn’t obtain a satisfying rest. Forget eight hours of sleep, they’d have been lucky to get eight winks—no thanks to their King of Curses, of course. The constant pounding and rattling and rutting had echoed all throughout this wing of the Royal Estate.
And whenever Uraume had thought it had finally paused and perhaps their King had retired for the night- it would start right up again.
It must’ve been right before daybreak that they finally heard the last creeeeeak–! and groan of those ancient bedsprings.
And just like that…peace.
They’d closed their eyes for all but 1 minute and 34 seconds, of course. Uraume would know, they counted.
And they’re stomping right out of bed- genuinely reconsidering that leave of absence when—
A knock at their door.
Possibly one of the other attendants. Possibly some problem or the other that they had to address right away- honestly, give a person time to brush their teeth first!
But, no.
Not at all.
Instead, Uraume is met with no one at the door.
No person.
Nothing but a large wrapped-up gift box, the type that one can tell is expensive at first glance. Looking around the corridor provides no other person there with them - and they’re dropping down to their knees in an instant. Opening up the large lid-
Inside, are the most beautiful crisp white kimonos. And a note attached—
‘Thank you. - R.’
Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.
They still don’t get paid, though.
♡ INO TAKUMA - 15th FEB. at 2:48AM
Ino Takuma has fucked up.
Majorly.
First, he ended up spending waaaay longer than he should’ve on his latest mission report—who even needs to impress the higher-ups, anyway? Ino has this ongoing theory that they don’t even read those damn things…And yet again, that didn’t stop him from scrutinizing each and every word that slid across the page like slugs on salt.
And by the time he’d finally dotted his last full stop (a momentous occasion) and looked outside- tell him why the world looked dark?
The black-out curtain of night. He’d gasped then—
Brown eyes flickering immediately to the clock on the wall, one that had been tutting at him for the past few hours. Watching. Waiting.
It shifted its sharp, spindly hand to the next hour that struck.
12:00AM
Midnight.
Exactly four hours past when he was supposed to meet you for your Valentine’s date.
Shit.
Shit.
Ino checked his phone, and had never run faster in his entire life. Not even when he was being chased by a Special Grade curse.
And that wasn’t all- of course, that wasn’t all.
To make matters worse, he’d wanted you to have the most beautiful bouquet possible today - the brightest, the reddest, the freshest. And fearing that the air conditioning in Jujutsu High’s offices might make the flowers wilt, Ino had put off the gift for after he’d finished up his work. Who’d have thought that one might just prefer slightly-wilted flowers to banging on the door of a florist’s shop at 12AM? No chance.
Shiiiiiit.
From then on had been a sequence of banging on store doors to no avail, or scanning the emptied aisles of any Valentine-themed shop he set his eyes on.
His plundering and pillaging wasn’t fruitful - and it was 2:33AM by the time that Ino slipped quietly into your shared apartment. With the wholly bountiful loot of: a box of orange candy, a card, a set of matching journals, a turtle plushie that sang ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber, and a pathetic plastic rose he managed to fight some old lady over.
To be quite honest, he would have broken up with himself.
But alas—that is not quite yet possible. You’d been awake and understanding, however, worried that he’d been working himself to the bone over that new report.
You’d been so sweet - ushering him to get ready for bed, and telling him that it was just some commercial holiday. He knows that, but still…
Ino thinks he could cry a little (he does).
And as he gets into bed beside you, he’s promising himself that he won’t fuck you stupid like he’d wanted to on Valentine’s Day. “Ban me from your pussy.” Ino whispers.
You turn to him in confusion, “Excuse me?”
“Ban me from your pussy- I’m so serious.” He’s promising himself that he’s going to make it up to you first before even having such thoughts. “I can’t believe I missed fucking Valentine’s Day- ban me from your pussy. I don’t deserve her.” He’s promising himself that—that—
You hum, “Hmmm, you sure about that?”
And whatever promises he’s trying to fool himself into—they’re flying out the window as soon as you’re pressin’ your behind to his front. Your pretty ass against his cock. Teasing.
In what should be an innocent spooning position…but Ino traces a few fingers down your inner thighs. That’s when his brain short-circuits- as he registers that you were wearing his favorite pair of silky panties. Strappy. Crotchless.
You’re fucking evil.
Your boyfriend doesn’t even need to spread them aside- merely setting a hand underneath your right leg and perking it up. Just the barest few inches he needs to tug down his sweatpants n’ glue his ruddied tip to your core.
He’s hitting your pussy with a wet thwack! Meeting your pussylips in the sweetest kiss. Letting his slick precum slide-slide-sliiiiide vertical lines down your crevice. It dribbles down to your thighs, all wet and gooey.
And Ino isn’t lasting too long before he throws his head back and ruts—harsh and animalistic. The raw sensation of your hole was almost too much. He doesn’t even know where his lengthy shaft is going, honed cockhead probin’ between your pussylips and getting sandwiched by them. The cutest hot embrace that he’s held hostage by- he humps his way between your legs like a damn beast. Again. And again.
“Please-” He echoes a guttural whisper into your neck. Scorching hot breath wafting all over your features, crushing your limbs so tightly to him that it almost hurts. “Please, please, please—”
You’re amused at the slight crack in his tone. “Please what, baby?”
“Please…” Ino’s large chocolate eyes peer down at you. He’s craning his neck down and gnawing on your pretty lips. “Please, ma’am?”
“Not that, baby.” You hum. Pushing your hips further back into his- in no time, he was fucking you with the swollen reddened tip of his cock. He was thiiiick and honed at the very top, slipping inside easily and swabbin’ into the tiny geysering orifices of your cunt. “I j-just meant that you didn’t have to-”
“But I do have to beg.” Ino insists, lips wobbling as though he was on the verge of tears. “Ban me from your pussy. I didn’t manage to make it before Valentine’s Day and spoil you- oh.”
Just then, your velvety walls were clenchin’ around him. And it’s enough to make Ino’s hips stutter sideways, hitting the globes of your ass cheeks with a sudden spank. “Shit…” You swear at the stinging contact. Ino was now gripping either side of your hips n’ digging his rovering cockhead between your pussylips - in rapid, ruinous half-thrusts just to ease inside. “B-but it just—ngh, couldn’t be helped. Don’t beat yourself up, baby-”
“But you should beat me up.”
Lifting your head off the pillow and looking over your shoulder. In slight worry- “Taku—”
“Wait, sweetness-”
“Taku, do you want me to be mean to you?” And when he isn’t answering immediately, you rut up your hips into his prominent v-line. Just so toned, massaging your back- it marks whichever direction his globular cockhead was heading. Leeeeft and right. Baaaack and forth.
Shoving even deeper into your tight channel. And you can feel his blushing face pushing into your neck, fever-hot. “You’re such a naughty boy, aren’t you?”
He groans—loooong and drawn-out. “Sh-shush, pretty. I didn’t mean it like…” But his train of thought trails off - just as much as yours does - because Ino’s rotund tip only seems to swell even bigger. The flares ridge of it scrapin’ ever tender spot inside you, bucking back and forth.
Your glistening hole to the back of your cervix. Deeper and deeper.
You gasp, “So you did like me calling you that.” Spit-slick lips of his parting as you arch your spine even further. “Such a naughty boy- fuck, you don’t even deserve to be fucked like this- y’know?”
And to your surprise, he’s fervently nodding. Rutting. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Least of all, you don’t deserve this pussy-”
“I don’t deserve it—” Uttering in such a whiny tone. Biting back his gasps.
“Maybe I really should ban you.”
“Please.” Trembling digits clasp onto either side of your hips, digging his rounded fingertips into the flesh there. He’s leaving marks there, he’s tightening his hold- as if afraid you’d actually run away and he’s have to chase after your pretty cunt—“T-tell me more, pretty. Make me feel sorry…”
Ino’s hot breath makes shivers run down your spine. “Y-you probably thought about fucking me all day, huh?”
He hisses as if caught, “Fisted my cock about- mmm, five times in the office bathroom thinking of you, sweetness.” Hands gliding all over your body - n’ down your front where he presses on your stomach. That faint cylindrical bulge he was fucking into you, “With this very hand, pretty- fuck, I imagined this so many times.”
“Filthy.” You tut. “And yet, you still missed Valentine’s?”
“I thought about coming home early s-sooooo many times.” Ino whines against your ear. Just the notion of you insulting him is enough to tighten his heavy balls, slappin’ away between your legs with fervour. “So many times- fuck the report, fuck those elders.”
“Language.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” A few lines of perspiration glide from his chestnut hair. And his tone is all clogged up with lecherous husks, “B-but I’d rather have been fucking you—”
“Oh.” Because then he’s slamming into your g-spot that you see stars.
The split-ended shape of his cockhead, pushing straight into where you were softest. It’s almost as if Ino was fucking his very shape into your cunt, molding your pretty walls to him- not that he deserved that, either.
But the fact that he didn’t deserve your treacly wet pussy and was still managing to fuck into you like a madman…oh, that was nearly enough to make him cum.
“Would’ve fucked you right on that table.” Ino rasps out, panting. Breathy. “Would’ve fuh-fucked you all day long- would’ve fucked you even if someone heard. If someone came in.”
Your eyes grow wide, “Would you have?”
He nods. Dead serious. “I would’ve fucked you right in front of them.” So much of a carnal sensation that he almost couldn’t handle it - he gnaws the pointed tips of his canines against the shell of your ear. “Showed them how niiiicely I fuck this pretty pussy—showed them…ngh, just how greedy she is to swallow me.”
“Pervert—” You whine.
And he grows even bigger inside you. “That, I am.” Before a sudden look of sheepishness crosses his face once more, “And th-this pervert is sorry that I couldn’t make it-”
“But at least you did now.” You answer. “And as a little reward for my- oh, naughty boy…”
Edging in closer, “Yes?”
You’re smiling that very smile that ruins him—“How about for Valentine’s Day you cum inside, Taku?”
And that’s all it takes for him to cum inside.
Thick. Hot ropes.
Flooding your insides with all his ribbons of sap, they’re reaching every deep spot inside you n’ leaving your walls scalding hot. As if he was trying to leave you feeling him in there for daaaaays on end - just sizzling inside and splashin’ with his seed. So much.
The volume was so much that it leaves you leaking out between your legs, gluing your thighs together in all his slick white sheen. And very drag of his long cock leaves your poor innards practically drowning—
“Can I make it up to you again, pretty?”
“You lecher.”
He almost cums again right then n’ there.
.
.
.
The next day, Professor Yaga is receiving a report straight to his desk. Thick. Taking up presence on top of the ancient wooden furniture.
It was covered in a manila folder way, which was unusual for a report - if you followed the protocol of most sorcerers, one was lucky if they slap-dashed a mere page and called it a day. Thrown right over the desk a week after the deadline. And by the size and heft of this thing, it was at least fifty full pages.
As Yaga gets closer, he’s reading the stamp on the envelope—Ino Takuma. One of the best Grade 2 sorcerers that jujutsu society possessed.
It was no surprise that he was the one who put together such a detailed report. Yaga had been told by Panda that he’d worked right through Valentine’s on this thing, leaving around midnight. Which was…quite a lot of effort for a report. Yaga wasn’t sure if he himself would’ve put in this much work, but he also knew that Ino had been aiming for that Grade 1 rank.
He also knew that the boy had a girlfriend - you - and wondered just how you let him get away with such a thing. But then again, maybe that wasn’t his business…
Yaga sits down and opens up the folder, finding the first page to be—nothing to do with the report at all. Instead, it was a notice of taking leave - for a week citing ‘personal situations’.
Next was a receipt for a bouquet of 143 red, red roses. Seemingly filed in here by accident.
Well, Yaga holds back a smile, he guesses he could permit it this time…
♡ GOJO SATORU - You think he lasts?
You: Toru, where the hell are you??
You: We’re late for our reservation!!
You: Pick up your phone.
You: TOOOOOOOOOORU.
You: TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORU
You: Ugh, you’re probably on some mission or something </33
You: But on Valentine’s Day of all days?? C’moooooooooon.
You: At least pick up your phone, Toru.
You: Gojo Satoru, you are hereby and forevermore under a sex ban.
Just a few minutes after sending that last text, you hear a sudden crash outside your penthouse apartment—loud and reverberating. It had the sort of electric charge that made the hair on your body stand on end.
Like thunder.
It leaves you wondering whether a storm could be nearby- there weren’t many neighborhood noises that carried up to your floor. Gojo had picked this place specifically because of that. So perhaps an oncoming thunderstorm? Perhaps some sort of electrical shortage?
Your bedroom light was certainly flickering- and you almost considered turning it off altogether.
What a day. First you get all dolled up for your boyfriend to not arrive at your shared home on time, then he doesn’t answer your texts, then this…whatever this is.
But you can placate yourself by thinking that you won’t get caught in the impending storm, then. No romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day anyways. On the bright side, your make-up shall remain flawless!
At least, that’s what you think.
Because then that crash emanates through the apartment once more—though, this time, it sounds far too close to be a distant storm. Far too…inside the apartment?
You’re just able to sit up on your king-sized bed. Before there’s yet another crash, and soon enough your damn bedroom door is being ripped off its hinges. Absolutely obliterated. Absolutely shattering into a zillion pieces of the most expensive mahogany that Japan can offer.
And you almost don’t have to look up to know that none other than your boyfriend can do such a thing.
Sure enough, once you’re blinking your eyes back open - and the haze of wooden dust dissipates - you see Gojo Satoru standing there. Ivory head bowed. Feet apart. Chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon—or worse yet, teleported one.
He must have teleported one.
Times like this, you’re really registering just how tall Gojo is. He covers most of the cut-out frame of the bedroom door, blocking any light. And also blocking his expression…
You’re calling out to him cautiously, “Satoru?”
To which he snaps his head up at you and blanches—“Were you serious about the sex ban?” Face slack. Voice high.
Now you’re just taken aback. “The one I set like two minutes ago? I-I don’t know, Toru, I just wanted you to get home-”
“But I am home.” He responds. And as he takes a single step closer, a wave of charged atoms hit you like a faint forcefield - right now, you’re not even sure if Gojo knows his powers are leaking out like this. “But, I am—I am.” Your boyfriend insists, and there was a wide desperation in his blue eyes as though you wouldn’t believe him. “Were you serious about the sex ban?”
“Toru-”
“Were you serious about the sex ban?”
Like a mantra.
He takes another step closer, and the pressure of his cursed energy was almost unbearable. “Were you serious about the sex ban?”
“Toru, no—it was just- oh.”
And you don’t know how it happens - one minute you’re attempting to placate your slightly-frenzied boyfriend about the joke you’d made minutes earlier. And the next, you’re being laid flat against the mattress—Gojo’s hands pushing down on your hips, his right knee pressing between your legs.
Feeling just how soaked you were through those sodden panties of yours- you had no idea how he even had the faintest inkling that seeing him so ruined made…something in you stir. Almost as if he had a sixth sense.
And his hypersensitive ears pick up the lecherous squeeeelch! that you’re letting off once he presses his knee down.
“Fuck, you’re so…” Gojo’s coral pink lips part, glossed over with a sheen of slick that made it seem as though his mouth had been watering the entire way here. His head droops forward. His other hand starts to crackle with cursed energy—“Fuck, you’re so ready f’me.”
“Sa—toru…” You’re letting your heart race. You need him. And that’s all it takes for him to flinch- as though your mere tone saying his name awoke something in him. And the man is dragging his free left hand down your front - in a split-second, your clothes vaporize into thin air.
The dress you’d picked out especially for tonight. Your bra. Your garter.
All but your sodden panties.
He’s keeping that on.
Reaching out one buzzing index, he juuuuuust pulls it to the side. Gojo doesn’t waste a single second before tugging his damn designer pants down and freeing himself.
Showing you just the briefest flash of his rudded, ravaging hot tip—before you’re feeling it stuffin’ between your unsteady legs. Right between without waiting for you to get ready. Right between without waiting for you to accommodate him.
It’s so tight that he hisses.
And it seems that Gojo Satoru has just enough sense to wait until you’re catching your breath- before he reels his hips back and bucks. And bucks. And buuuuucks—teasing your entrance with the sheer stretch. Pummeling himself past that first clench of resistance to try n’ fit inside. He arches his spine to angle his cockhead against the roof of your pussy, “S-see?”
There’s a crack on the tail end of Gojo’s sentence. And you’re looking up at him in slight concern, “Yes?”
But he doesn’t even seem to hear - merely pulling his thickened erection back and stuttering out yet another strike. Sloppy. Into the deepest depths that he could reach at the moment, “See that?” And then back out- and then back in. The sequence continues. “See—”
And you’re not quite sure what you’re supposed to see- “What do you-”
“M’fucking you.” Cold chills sprint down your spine at the realization that this was that the ever-intelligent Gojo Satoru wanted to tell you. Was he really that gone on your pussy already? “And i-if I’m fucking you…I’m having sex with you.”
Your mind’s getting all muddled- whatever response you had locked-away in your throat getting mixed up with Gojo’s own groan. “Can’t have a sex ban if m’having s-sex with you.” He’s echoing out such a harrowed noise at the feeling of himself sliding even deeper.
Getting cushioned by your velvety walls.
Getting suctioned across every ridge n’ vein upon him.
All ten or so inches - yes, The Strongest also seemed to be the The Biggest - squeezing in through the tight channel. You were being thoroughly stretched-out, with his hand pinning one side of your hips so that you don’t squirm. And perhaps subconsciously breezing out the warm air of reversed cursed energy—all so that he doesn’t hurt you once he’s emptying out his solid shaft towards the bottom of your spongy cervix.
Ending out with a reverberating thwack! right on your womb.
Bottomed-out.
Something you never thought possible so soon- with Gojo’s size.
And the man himself twitches just a bit as he takes in the vision between your swollen pussylips. Your folds spread wide open n’ your entrance attempting to clench around his swollen length- “See?” Gojo whispers out once more. “S-see—now m’never gonna leave from…”
“From?” But your question gets answered soon enough. Because your boyfriend runs a finger down your core, ending up at your mid-section- the circle of bright blue around his pupils starts to glow.
And with Gojo’s Six Eyes, he can see exactly where his throbbing tip ended inside you. Smushed against your cervix in the most loving kiss - he presses down on that exact spot with a single finger. “-from here.” So muddled in the mind with his cock- you’ve almost forgotten what he was talking about. “I’m n-never gonna leave from here now, sweetheart.”
“Is that—oh, ngh.” His globular cockhead presses against the softened end of your pussy- but really it feels like he’s fucking right up to your very throat. Again and again. Thrust after thrust.
“It’s true.” And you genuinely wonder whether he can read your mind at this very moment. Because right now, Gojo had one hand latched onto your body n’ never letting go - all so that he can seep out reverse cursed energy into you.
So that he can drill into you like a damn animal—fucking his swollen, red cock in and out. In and out. In and out. Without fearing breaking a bone or two or you- “I swear.” Gojo lovingly nuzzles your throat, the complete opposite of how filthily he was fucking you. “I swear to not pull out-”
Your eyes widen, “You’re gonna c-cum inside, Toru?” And you can’t deny that you’re growing wetter at the fact…
“I swear to always kiss your cervix- ngh, that pretty womb every single time.” His mouth parts with a few dribbles of saliva. He was gone. “I swear to always fill you up over n’ over n’ over—until you overspill.”
And you couldn’t help but feel that these sounded oddly like wedding vows. “And- and—?”
“I swear to give you the best orgasms of your entire—”
See, Gojo Satoru never had to try quite as much to get you to cum - he just knew your body that well. He was acquainted well enough with the cute sweet spots inside of you, he was well-versed in just how to make your pits of pleasure tick. He knew from experience where to hit your g-spot just right and in the same thrust bang against that one spot on your womb.
But now…now he isn’t using anything he knew. He wasn’t using anything he could think up.
Gojo was fucking you on pure, carnal instinct.
And it’s with such ferality that he angles his hips juuuust to the side- bludgeoning cockhead reaching the target of your bundle of nerves. You’re seeing white in an instant.
And as though that hadn’t been enough, Gojo reaches his hand down and spanks! his energy-covered fingertips down on your clit. The little sparks of jujutsu coursing through your veins and mingling with the constant thrashes he was pounding out at your g-spot. It’s with one-two-three more hits on top of your ravaged clit that you’re toppling over the edge of your high-
The vision of you cumming on his cock so, soooo fucking pretty…
“F-fuuuuck—” You’re hearing Gojo echo out in what seems like a distance. It was too hard to register with the dizzying sensations in your mind- his tip probin’ inside your cunt again and again and again.
Fucking you through each blissful bout of your high. He lets his lashes flutter just a bit—“S-squeezing me so tight.” Gojo’s voice cracks once he’s letting it out, visceral shivers wracking through his body. “So tight like you don’t wanna- ngh, let go.” His scalding lips fall on top of yours. “But you don’t have to…”
And then he’s veering into his own euphoria.
Pretty pinkish balls emptying out in looooong waves of dribblin’ slick- gooey and hot. Sticking to your walls like a layer of glaze, it gets sploshed about every time Gojo’s pinpointing your insides with his split-ended tip. The circular divot at the very end swervin’ about his white cum—filling you up.
You feel filled to the brim even before he’s done- and Gojo hums at the mess he’s made.
Still cumming. Still so much volume that it leaks out of you anyway - with more n’ more glittery wads of cum being added onto the pile, you couldn’t imagine just how much was going to end up inside you in the end.
How much of it was going to reach your very womb—
“I t-told you.” Gojo breathes out, deep blue eyes staring into yours. It’s just so mesmerizing to stare up into his enchanted look - so much so that you nearly don’t notice once he picks up your left hand. Placing a peck upon its back, “I kept all my oaths, didn’t I? I came home in time for Valentine’s- all your gifts are outside, by the way, my girl.”
You’re nodding dazedly. “You kept your promises, Toru.”
“My oaths.” He corrects - there was a difference, see? But before you can compute that difference, Gojo reaches a hand out towards the destroyed bedroom door- “And there’s another oath I want to make.”
And then it flies into his hand.
You think it might be a tight bundle of his blindfolds, at first. But it ends up being something more solid, something more cubic—something like…a ring box.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my wife.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 27th FEB. at 2:37PM
Overtime.
Throughout the course of your relationship until now, that dreaded ‘o’ word had remained your husband’s metaphorical mistress—and your worst enemy. Of course, Higuruma absolutely hated whenever you mentioned this - first of all, because he’d never, ever take a mistress.
Why would he, when he had you? His beautiful wife.
May lightning strike him down otherwise.
And secondly, because…well alright. Higuruma has to admit that that was the only qualm he had with your little comparison- because he was a self-admitted workaholic.
Whenever divorce season (you always thought this expression to be somewhat morbid, and he just claimed it was fact), or suing season, or some other multi-billion yen case came along—Higuruma and his firm would be thrown into a frenzy. Working long, sleepless nights.
Your husband slept more at his desk than in bed, those days.
Although it has calmed down somewhat since you two had moved in. Since you two had gotten married.
The law firm had grown - and with it - the number of capable lawyers who could take on a share of cases. Higuruma didn’t have to do anything quite by himself anymore.
Higuruma was more in-check, remember?
Also, the fact that you were around him more—urging him to take care of himself more - likely helped. If he didn’t have you knocking at his home-office door and telling him that you were going to sleep now, then honestly he might just never sleep again. During those seasons, at least.
Except…well, except for this February.
February 14th.
Holed up in his office- he’d been half-way through the nth meeting that day.
Some massive fraud case that they had in the bag - but the other team wasn’t too bad themselves. One could never be too confident in court. And so here they were, poring through the documents well into the evening when—Higuruma had glanced at his phone for a text from you. By chance.
And it was only then that he’d realized he’d missed Valentine’s Day.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He’d handed that meeting over to a junior and ran out immediately.
Nonetheless, Higuruma has missed his chance- no matter how many bouquets or chocolates he bought you. And so here he was, suffering from a sex ban.
Tortured by it.
Because of his own fault, most certainly. But that didn’t make his poor, neglected cock throb any less.
Still showing up to work with impeccable attendance (even earlier, actually) because the longer he stayed in your proximity, the more desperately he wanted to stuff your hole full. The more he’d think about it at work. The more he’d fantasize about just how wet you’d be when you finally lift this ban. The more he’d run to the bathroom whenever you called—fisting his cock furiously in there to the sound of your voice.
The more those around him grew slightly…concerned.
“S-sir?” His most-trusted junior was bounding up to him after nearly two weeks of this.
As Higuruma lifts his head up, he’s realizing that she’s followed by a froth of other juniors and staff. All seemingly coming to speak with him? Something must be amiss…“How may I help you?”
“Sir, actually—” She looks behind her and nods at the other attorneys. “Sir, we would like to tell you that you’ve been working so hard lately-”
“Well, yes-”
“And the case is so near to a close-”
“Certainly-”
“And we can handle it from here.”
“Oh.”
Kicked out of his own office (not quite, but close enough…). Higuruma Hiromi had been dismissed at the plea of his juniors, who’d clearly thought he’d been working himself to the bone—he’d gone home early for the first time in…his entire life.
And once he got home, Higuruma knew what he needed to do first.
First, he’d go up to you - his beautiful wife - and go a bit of grovelling. As all husbands should. Then he’d get on his knees, eat your pretty pussy—and then…
“P-please—” You’re throwing your head back. Cumming for about the third time in the past hour- Higuruma always had such an effort on you.
No matter how many years you two were together- that first taste of your pussy was always like heaven for him. He could see the pearly gates themselves openin’ up—and to him, it looked quite a lot like those swollen pussylips of yours.
Sensitive n’ splattered in a sheen of slick.
He rubs his thumb between your crevice and licks off those honeyed juices - greedy. Just before he’s swirlin’ his thickened tip around your gummy entrance and shoving inside—the first thrust.
All the way from his fat, mushroomy tip- to the tufts of curly brown at his base.
Higuruma doesn’t even wait for you to accommodate his size. He doesn’t care if you’re struggling, he doesn’t care if your cunt quivers like you can’t take it all- because a single slide-slide-sliiiIiide down the channel of your pussy and he’s done for.
After not feeling you for soooo fucking long - and he’s immediately pussydrunk.
That stoic, stern attorney is pussydrunk.
“My- my angel—” An immediate scorching pant escapes him. It gusts against your face and leaves your heart racing- everything about Higuruma now just seemed feverish.
Without a second sentence, he’s reeling his hips back. All the way from base to tip- one of his hands pins down against the side of your hips, the other guides his cock.
Using it as leverage to lavish your insides with his drivelling pre. Honed, burrowing tip. And the rest of him was just so thiiiiick and covered in angry veins, harder than you ever think he’s been. He massages your cunt even with the tiniest of sultry movements, fucking you in tiny, rapid thrusts. Thrust after thrust.
Every inch of him stretchin’ out your walls just felt incredible-
“Shit—” You keen, arching your spine up into his. Higuruma still had his shirt only partly unbuttoned, and that formal tie of his still dangling from his neck.
And he doesn’t say a thing.
Too focused on your cunt.
Too focused on perking his hips up just a bit- his ruddied tip swipes the roof of your cunt. Leaving you shocked at the pressure of him inside you, right before he’s funneling you with eeeeven more inches—fighting against the slight resistance at your first ring of muscle to fuck himself even deeper. Deeper.
And he still doesn’t make a sound.
He seems to be reaching for your very throat, and you whine. “Sh-shit, Hiromi.” As your legs start to ache n’ strain around his slender waist, your husband dips a hand down between your legs. Making you gasp as his expert fingers start toyin’ with your pretty clit - teasing and draaaagging that sensitive nub out till you start to sob. “Shit—fuck, Hiromi. Hold on-”
“Hold on?”
A chill runs down your spine.
Immediately, you’re snapping your head up to meet Higuruma’s dark, dilated eyes. His expression that seemed something feral—he’s rutting his hips once more.
This time…this time, you’re realizing that he’d actually been holding back with his strikes earlier. Now, he was plummeting all those nine inches from tip to hilt without stopping. Without slowing down. Without sensually hittin’ at your sweet spots to help you take him better- he was drilling into you like he was crazed. “Hold on?”
Higuruma repeats.
And you can only peer up at him- “Y-yes?” Sobs and saliva clogging up your throat - you sounded pathetic to your own ears. “It was just a saying, Hiromi, I-”
“You want me to…fucking hold on?” Voice slightly breathy. Slightly gone. “I’ve waited-” And between those vicious thrusts that he was pounding upon your pussy, Higuruma spits out lewd whispers. “-waited for too fucking long to have her- and you want me to- fucking—hold—on—”
Three exact slams upon your spongy cervix, it makes you thoroughly squeal. “I-I was just saying-”
“I thought about this pussy every goddamn day and night and-” He was on a roll now. As if the more he rutted himself inside, the less he could control what he said—“-and during every fucking meeting—”
Serious black eyes staring down at you. You could see your own gaping expression reflected in them.
“I ran to the bathroom every morning when you’d call me-” He utters. Admits. “-just to fuck my hand to the sound of your voice—” And you don’t know what’s making your stomach churn more - the registering of his words, or the way that Higuruma thrusts in deep. So deep that he knocks against your womb. “-and you want me to fucking hold on?”
So deep that he’s cumming.
Loooooong, miry stripes of seed that stick to your walls.
They dribble down your insides. That glaze every inch of you in a creamy white- splashin’ around your insides and coating every nook n’ cranny. It just feels so sizzling hot inside of you, and you’re shivering at the feeling of him warming you up from the inside - saturated sap leaving you whimpering at the noise. The warmth.
He fucks his webs of seed deeper inside. And you raise your head up ever-so-slightly and watch as it dribbles out of you.
And Higuruma can’t help but do the same-
“Fuck…” He breathes. “S-so are we about to hold off on that pregnancy, too?”
.
.
.
“Boss-” Higuruma turns his head at the address of his title - none other than the very same junior from yesterday. She shuffled slightly before him, almost nervous to voice out such thoughts—“You seem well today, sir.”
Higuruma hums, “Is that so?”
She nods eagerly. “Your dark circles have cleared up- and you seem to be glowing. Alert. A bit more sharp than you were yesterday…” Assessing all of him- “You just seem happier than you’ve been in days, sir. Is the fraud case really going that well?”
And he has to hide a smile with the paper he was holding. “You could say that…”
A/N. No idea why this turned into them also trying to get us pregnant- maybe I’m ovulating??
Warnings: A lot of talk about childbirth, labor, and possibly inaccurate medical terms. Mentions of storing and freezing the placenta. Segments using swear words and being involved with the delivery (except 8, he's a minor). Segment 35 (Omega), being a little possessive and self-centered as always. No smut, but mentioned and implied nsfw.
Sitting in the labor room, you held the red scarlet-eyed baby in your arms, stroking the infant's tuft of blue hair every now and then. Segment 8, or "Little Doctor" as you like to call him, leaned over the side to look at the newborn, an innocent sort of curiosity brimming in his very own pair of red eyes.
Your baby was born healthy, looking just like a mix of both you and Zandik. He'd helped deliver it himself, muttering about how he trusted no one but him to take the task upon himself.
Well, technically, it was just Segment 25 who helped with the main task; the others volunteered themselves with other stuff, such as weighing the baby, stitching your tears up, cleaning the blood, storing your placenta and umbilical cord for research purposes, etc.
All the segments insisted on helping out, even Little Doctor, who unfortunately had to sit outside for most of the labor but was eventually allowed in to see the baby and check on you. Everyone's main goal was to ensure the mother and newborn were both safe and healthy.
Now that everything was successfully executed, you and the newborn were both taking a small, well-earned nap. All the adult segments turned to look at one another with suspicion.
Who the fuck was the baby's real father?
They all had slept with you, came inside of you, so the possibility that one of them was the father was 20%.
Except they were all Zandiks.
They all had the same DNA, the same blood. They might as well all be identical twins, if identical twins were all the segment of a man who died a century ago.
"Well? What were we all even expecting? That the baby would be born, and we could take a DNA test to verify the paternity? We all share the same blood dipshits. Ever thought of that?" Segment 18 spat out, looking at the other older segments after they'd all stepped out.
Segment 25 merely took off his mask and gloves, opting to let the other Segments deal with the guy instead.
"We were hoping to keep the peace until the baby was born to keep our Lady's pregnancy smooth. You know she gets troubled when we all get into unnecessary fights." Segment 65 explained, stepping closer to your door to make sure it was locked in case their argument woke you up. "A miscarriage would've been tragic. Besides, we all had our own goals to accomplish during this period. I doubt Omega is going to let you have a share of the placenta."
Omega, or Segment 35, who snuck off to the side to keep your placenta in a freezer, shot them all a dirty look. "How rude! Preserving the placenta has it's benefits-"
"We never said it didn't. But must you be so greedy as to keep it for yourself?" Segment 45 cuts off.
"-because I am the most research-oriented out of all of us, one who shall produce the most fulfilling results. In case of a genetic disease or a tumor, it will prove to be very useful." He preened
"You talk as if you're the real father." scoffs Segment 18.
"Well, of course I am. Who else but I could produce such brilliant progeny."
The comment riled up Segment 18, who walked up to Omega's face, his sharp teeth bare, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, old man? You sure your sperm can even swim that far? Your cock get that hard? Well, getting erect would be no problem for such a beauty; however, I bet her fallopian tubes shriveled the moment you got in you son of a-"
"Alright, alright. There's no need to stir up a ruckus right here," said Segment 25, wiping his hands dry on a towel, clearly the most tired of them all.
Unlike the other Segments, he had to be on-call and close to you that day, and hence had stayed by you till the moment you had pushed the baby out. "She's still inside, sleeping, taking a well-earned nap before one of us has to wake her from her blissful slumber in two hours to take her vitals again. Not to mention, we will need to attend to my newborn as well. For now, we could all take a moment, Segment 8 will alert us should anything happen-"
"What do you mean, 'my newborn'?" Segment 45 butts in, "You didn't even try to debate whether the child is yours or not."
"Well, of course, because it is mine. Only fools fight over what's not theirs-"
"Get a load of this asshole-"
"Can we all take this somewhere else, the baby might wake up-"
"Dottore!" a voice booms from down the hall, along with the sound of multiple footsteps.
All Segments turned around to see The Regrator, Pantalone, along with a few Fatui agents carrying many boxes and bags with them.
"I believe congratulations are in order? How is the missus and the baby?" asked Pantalone.
"Who let this guy know about her labor? I thought we were to keep this information from the other Harbingers," sneered Segment 25.
"And you certainly did, I assure you. No one other than me knows about this little joy of yours. I only happened to find out about this because the 8-year-old segment seemed quite anxious about not being let into the operating room. Seeing as you did not hesitate to let him watch the dissection of the original Zandik, my only conclusion about not allowing him in the operating room was that your wife was giving birth. That, and the fact I hadn't seen her for quite some time. Seemed easy to deduce." The Regrator stated, shrugging and rustling his fur coat.
"And what if it was a surgery like, say, an appendectomy? What use are the gifts then?" Segment 18 pointed out.
"Then I believe that you must get started on producing a progeny, no? Anyway, I've brought a few tokens of goodwill. I hope you'll accept them from a friend."
"Leave them out here. She's sleeping, and we'd rather not disturb her or the baby." Segment 65 said, pointing towards a table for the gifts to be kept. "We'll let her know of them as soon as she's able to concern herself with things other than herself and the baby. I hope you understand she's not in the condition to receive guests at the moment."
"That's alright." The Regrator signed his agents to keep the presents on the table and take their leave.
"Speaking of not disturbing the baby, though, what were all of you arguing about? Well, it's not rare to see each of you in disagreement with the other. Rather, it happens pretty often to be rare. But an opportunity that brings all of you together to have such a conflict......."
"We were discussing who the real father of the baby is," said Segment 18.
Pantalone nodded in understanding.
"I'd hardly call that a discussion. But does it truly matter? All of you are the same person, and hence, similar at your core. I'm sure the child would benefit from having multiple parental figures. I wouldn't call it a major issue."
"It is." Said all the Zandiks there in unison.
"Dear Feofan, it seems you still don't understand us all, even when you are a dear friend of ours. We all may be derived of the same Zandik, but as Dottore, we're all different," Omega explained, "Our values, our approach to research, our research, and our view of this world, they all differ due to the number of memories we carry. Determining the true father is determining whose legacy will be carried on. It isn't as simple as 'raising a child'."
".......so it has to do with your ego," Pantalone cheeked.
"How rude, I have genuine affection towards my wife and my child," said Omega.
"There he goes again," Segment 45 groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Oh my god, it's MY baby you twat," argued Segment 18.
"Well, you're certainly not raising my child with that mouth of yours," said Segment 65 calmly.
"Gents, gents," Pantalone raised his hands, trying to mitigate and calm down all the Dottores before it would escalate, lest they end up dissecting another one of them again.
"I have a solution. How about you solve this the way you know best? You're all intelligent and highly educated individuals; surely you can come to a conclusion amongst yourselves."
All the Zandiks looked at each other, as if they had never considered that idea.
"Determining the father of the baby through research. We can't do a DNA test, but....." mused Segment 45.
"Surely, only DNA can't be the only factor to determine the paternity," suggested Segment 18.
"If we can't find a way to find a match with blood, tissue, or DNA, we could always narrow down the possibility of one of us being the father by calculating the fertility factor of our sperm, the time between conception and delivery, and the general condition of the mother and the baby during pregnancy," Segment 35 muttered.
Pantalone sighed, seemingly relieved that he had managed to prevent another Zandik from being dissected today.
"I must, however, object to executing this plan right now," said Segment 25, "her postpartum period is to last for at the very least 2 months, and we have a newborn to care for as well."
"Naturally," all Segments agreed and nodded.
"Then," smirked Omega, "we shall have a time limit of 2 months to conduct our research. Whosoever manages to bring concrete proof along with the timeline and convinces everyone that the baby is theirs shall get to claim the progeny and raise them. Do we all agree?"
"Yes," said all the Segments.
"Then shall I volunteer as a referee? You know, as a neutral party, to keep things nice and fair?" asked Pantalone.
"Of course, friend. You're more than welcome to invite yourself to my research discussions. You are, after all, the one funding all of our experiments," said Omega gleefully.
Pantalone watched with interest as all of the Segments dismissed themselves, some going to rest after what he assumed was a long day of being in the delivery room, others sprinting to their assigned labs to get a head start on their research, while the rest stayed to be available for you.
'Ah,' Pantalone thought to himself, stepping outside and pulling out a cigarette, 'this whole ordeal shall be quite entertaining.'
Part 2??? (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
a/n: hello hello everynyan |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ I wrote this at 3 am in a fever dream lol. Fun fact: kids of identical twins are genetic half-siblings. SO if you have an identical twin and have a baby, the baby is also half of your twin lol. It gave me the idea about what if multiple people shared the same DNA and boom that's how I wrote this fic in 2 hours when I have like 12 other drafts that have been collecting dust ehe (ᵕ—ᗜ—) I might make a few edits here and there so pls excuse any grammatical errors lol I don't know english well ≽^•⩊•^≼ anyway enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
aether is telling you about his newest expedition in nod krai, mentioning things like columbina, and how much paimon loved their food. his new friends, new enemies, and a clue to his next journey... it was both breathtaking and hitching all at once and-
"and... oh, well you know how they are i- mmh!" it was already too late when your lips were on his, aether's eyes widen before easing into you.
he hadn't even realized it but he already had cupped your face and was already trying to lean into you for more. "huh? why'd you stop?"
kaveh is ranting to you about his most recent client, i mean, his infastructure was astounding, and certainly nothing went wrong with the prototype, who the hell just cancels out of nowhere?! what was this jerk even thinking??
"it's just- aarrgghh! infuriating!" you could see the steam coming out from his ears, his eyebrows quirking in his usual way. a small pout forming, and when his mouth finally was about to move- "an- mmm..."
he already had his hand tilting your chin upwards, letting out a pleased groan. "ah, leaving way too soon. you trying to tell me to shut up, or something?"
dottore and you were just walking in silence, silence that didn't include him. because for.. you stopped counting, but probably around fifteen minutes of just talking about his newest plan. something about... well probably snezhnaya and the gods again. you didn't really know.
"hah, can't you believe it. could mortals really be as... stupid?" - "what about me?" - "i know you aren't stupid enough to think you're includ-"
placing your lips on his briefly was enough for him to stop, and let you take the lead for a few steps. "you coming, zan'?" - "you... are interesting."
pantalone loves the time off he gets because god, he barely gets time off anymore. especially with the new currency plan he has in mind, and now he had the time to tell you all about it! so, what happens when that's not all you wanna hear from him?
"you see the pinnacle of my plan, yes? it's something i've been working on for a wh- mmm," he already closed his eyes, he was taken a bit aback yet he found himself already wanting more.
trying to lean in for one more before you pull away toooo far... "hmm? you started this, do you really wanna run off?"
itto being itto was him talking about his newest beetle, checking out how how its size would make any other challengers cower, you couldn't really find yourself wanting to listen. not when you hadn't seen him in a week and this is what he was doing?
"can you believe it, babe?! i beat him before ten second even hit the clock, i'm just amaz- mmhmmm! mmmh..." before he knew it he already (and very nervously) placed his arms around your waist.
"good... lord, you taste... nice, baby, is that the chapstick i got you last week? ack! okay, sorry!"
cyno is haha very tediously telling you a joke. and you just couldn't take it anymore so you just leaned in and made sure it was a gesture he wouldn't forget about and would stop telling you about how a shoe made out of a banana its called a slipper.
"wasn't that funny? why... babe, why aren't you laughing, beautiful? did i- mmmh." for how 'funny' his jokes are, he finds his hands caressing the sensitive skin of your lower back. pulling your closer by your waist.
"mmm, you... you are something." - "better than your jokes?" - "ill have to consider, you're a good kisser."
tighnari was just talking and talking and talking about the mushrooms he had been recently using for the dishes he had been so insistent on cooking. in which he did but realized pretty late that you had left that dish untouched, thinking of touching something else instead.
"and, you know how often these appear? how lucky are we that we have them growing our garden? baby? are you li- mmh!" you could already visualize his ears pointing upwards in the shock, only to feel him lean into your lips a little more.
"you... you are so... you are gonna be the death of me."
durin has you leaning on his shoulder while the rest of your friends danced in the middle of angel's share. sharing apple juice with each other that felt even more romantic and cheesy than it should've.
it was cute in a way really, it got to a point where varka and albedo have commented, and now here he was. your favorite dragon talking about his newest conch he-
"-found in liyue, isn't that great? hat guy took me out there, i wish you were there. all the views reminded me of you. so here, keep the co- what are y- mmn..." subconsciously his wings flap at the sudden warm sensation on his lips.
"y- you... what?"
lohen is busy talking to you about his latest encounter with the abyss. ringing an arm around your shoulder as he shows you around, pulling you close and super distinctively inhales your scent in. i hope you know that he cuts off a lot of his sentences just to tell you how nice you smell and look and are today.
"geez. you're amazing, i can't help but appreciate y- mmmn! mmn..." you can tell he was a little surprised but pulls you in more. it really get to a point where you need to pull away to breathe.
"oh? you seem excited. now you wanna back away."
varka is the kind of guy to pull you in by the waist, and starts to trail his kisses down your neck that turns to bites. has his free hand already cupping your face. it's so habiskjdasdjkhsa that the guy who was trying to hit on you just a moment ago. he would've just told the guy to fuck off but he doesn't mind this either.
"oh? what makes you think they aren't take- huh? what's that ba- mmn!" taken offguard the moment he feels you on him but again, hey. he likes showing off what's his.
synopsis: them doing a post-match interview after winning a big match and they do this interview with their 9-month old baby boy because i have severe baby fever.
isagi had fully intended to give your son back before the interview started, but the second your little boy buried his face into his dad's neck, wrapped those tiny arms around his jersey, and let out the saddest, most offended little whine imaginable when you reached for him, he immediately folded.
"… yeah, sorry," he laughed sheepishly, already bouncing him on one hip. "he's... not negotiating today."
the reporter found the whole thing adorable before the interview even began because here stood japan's match-winning striker, sweat still dripping down his face, medal hanging crookedly around his neck, while absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles into the baby's back like he'd done it a thousand times.
every answer somehow included multitasking. "yeah, we adjusted the press during the seco– buddy, don't eat dad's medal... okay... during the second half we– hey, that's not food?”
your son spent the first 2 minutes completely fascinated by the microphone. every time the reporter lifted it toward isagi, two tiny hands immediately reached for it with the determination of a man trying to win the world cup himself.
eventually... success. the baby yanked the microphone straight out of the reporter's hand.
"bababababaaaa!!! dada!!! bthhhhhhhhh!!"
he then aggressively blew spit directly into the microphone.
the speakers echoed every single wet raspberry throughout the stadium.
complete silence… followed by 40,000 people laughing.
isagi completely froze before immediately losing it himself, head dropping onto your son's little shoulder because he was laughing too hard to breathe.
"bro..." he wheezed. "he really wanted to say something..."
the reporter – absolute professional for approximately 3 seconds – burst out laughing too before dramatically holding the microphone back toward your son.
"would you like to comment on your father's performance today?"
"DADADADADAAAAAA."
"yes, that’s a powerful statement."
the internet immediately declared that your son had just delivered "the greatest post-match analysis of all time."
clips of isagi trying to conduct a serious interview while wrestling a baby for possession of the microphone collected 20 million views overnight.
the comments absolutely killed him:
"he inherited isagi's field vision because he saw that mic from ten centimeters away."
"first assist of his career."
"his media training starts early."
"bro already has more interview aura than half the league."
isagi reposted one edit with the caption: "he's banned from media day until further notice 😭💙"
itoshi rin
rin genuinely believed this interview would go smoothly because your son had been suspiciously well-behaved ever since the final whistle blew, happily resting against his shoulder while lazily playing with the collar of his jersey, and after you made 3 separate attempts to take him back only for your baby to cling even tighter with a tiny pout and watery eyes, rin simply looked at you, gave the smallest shrug, and muttered, "he doesn't want to," as if that settled the matter, which admittedly, it did.
by the time he walked over to the interview area, every camera had already shifted from celebrating japan's victory to zooming in on the sight of one of the most intimidating strikers in the world absentmindedly rubbing little circles across his son's back while adjusting the baby's tiny socks with one hand, completely unfazed by the dozens of reporters surrounding him despite looking like he'd been carrying him like this for hours.
the interview actually started surprisingly normally because rin answered every question in his usual short, matter-of-fact way while your son remained perfectly content against his chest, occasionally patting the gold medal hanging around his neck or trying to pull on the collar of his jersey, making it seem like everyone had worried over nothing.
"he's behaving today," the reporter commented with a smile.
"usually does," rin replied without a second thought.
the moment those words left his mouth, your son locked eyes with the microphone.
every parent watching immediately knew exactly what was about to happen.
the reporter raised the microphone closer so rin could answer the next question, only for two tiny hands to suddenly shoot forward with shocking speed, grabbing it with both hands before anyone had time to react.
"ba."
the entire interview area fell silent.
your son blinked once. then– "bababababababAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
it wasn't crying. it wasn't babbling. it was an impressively loud, victorious yell delivered directly into the microphone, which echoed throughout the entire stadium loud enough for nearby players to physically turn around and see what had just happened.
the reporter jumped so hard she nearly dropped her cue cards while photographers immediately lowered their cameras because they were laughing too much to keep them steady.
rin simply stared at his son for a few quiet seconds before sighing almost imperceptibly. "... loud."
that single word made everyone laugh even harder.
your son, incredibly proud of himself, immediately tried to scream into the microphone a second time, but rin calmly removed it from his tiny hands with the practiced patience of someone who had apparently dealt with this exact situation more than once before.
"... finished?"
"... da."
"... good."
then he continued answering the reporter's question as though absolutely nothing unusual had happened, while your son happily resumed playing with the medal around his father's neck instead.
the internet completely forgot about the match because every trending topic became some variation of "RIN ITOSHI'S BABY SON JUST JUMP-SCARED THE ENTIRE STADIUM," while countless edits slowed down the exact moment your son leaned forward to yell into the microphone with meme audios playing over it.
what truly broke the internet, however, wasn't the screaming – it was the brief moment immediately afterward when your son reached up with both hands, accidentally squished rin's cheeks together, and caused the tiniest, weakest, most reluctant smile to appear before rin realized cameras were still rolling and immediately returned to his usual cold expression.
within minutes, fans had declared your son the only person on earth capable of making rin itoshi smile on command, with thousands joking that japan’s soccer team should stop recruiting strikers and simply hire the baby instead.
itoshi sae
sae somehow managed to make carrying a 9-month-old baby through a post-match interview look effortlessly elegant, standing there with his medal around his neck and his jacket draped neatly over one shoulder while your son sat comfortably on his hip, absentmindedly chewing on the zipper of his jacket with complete satisfaction as though this were simply another ordinary afternoon rather than an international broadcast watched by millions.
before the interview even began, you reached over with open arms, quietly asking if your son wanted to come back to mama, only for him to immediately shake his tiny head, bury his face into sae's shoulder, and cling tighter with a little whine that made the nearby reporters collectively let out an audible "aww."
sae simply glanced at you. "guess he's staying."
he didn't sound annoyed. if anything… he sounded quietly pleased.
throughout the interview, sae answered every question with his usual calm, composed demeanor while simultaneously multitasking in ways nobody expected, casually fixing your son's tiny jersey’s collar after it slipped off, catching his pacifier before it hit the floor without even looking, adjusting the little sneaker that kept slipping off his foot, and gently bouncing him every few seconds whenever he grew restless, all without interrupting a single answer.
the reporter eventually smiled before crouching slightly so she was closer to your son's eye level. "do you think he'd like to say something, too?"
sae looked down at him. "you have something to say?"
your son immediately reached toward the microphone with absolute confidence. the reporter happily held it closer.
"gagagagagaga..." a fat pause. "dadadada..." another pause. "mmmmmmmm."
everyone waited. then without warning… he leaned forward and licked the microphone. completely. absolutely no hesitation whatsoever. not a single thought in his tiny brain.
the reporter froze for a second before laughing so hard she had to lower her clipboard because she physically couldn't continue the interview.
sae calmly took the microphone back, reached for the towel around his own neck, wiped it clean with practiced efficiency, handed it back to her, and simply said, "sorry."
"it's okay."
“he does that."
somehow, the fact that sae said those three words with complete seriousness – as though babies licking expensive broadcasting equipment was a perfectly ordinary occurrence – became funnier than the actual licking itself.
the interview continued, except your son had now decided the microphone was the greatest invention in human history, leaning toward it every single time it came within arm's reach while sae quietly shifted him away at the last possible second before another attempted lick could happen.
fans later counted… it happened 6 separate times.
the internet edited the clip like it was an action movie, like dramatic slow motion, suspenseful music choices, and captions reading "TARGET LOCKED" every time the microphone entered the frame before cutting to sae calmly redirecting your son at the final moment.
thousands of comments joked that the true battle of the evening hadn't been the football match at all – it had been sae spending 5 uninterrupted minutes defending a microphone from his own baby.
nagi seishiro
nagi had completely forgotten there was supposed to be a post-match interview because, after the final whistle, he'd spent almost 20 minutes wandering around the pitch with your son comfortably resting against his shoulder, absentmindedly pointing at the stadium lights and occasionally trying to steal the gold medal hanging around nagi's neck, making the media staff chase him down just to remind him that he still had obligations to fulfill.
when they finally caught him, he simply blinked. "oh." he looked down at your son. looked back at the staff. "guess he's coming, too."
nobody argued.
by the time he reached the interview area, your son had fully decided that his father's medal belonged to him and repeatedly reached for it with determined little grabby hands, causing nagi to lazily lift it out of reach every few seconds while continuing to walk without putting in even the slightest extra effort.
"hey. mine."
tiny hands reached higher.
"... no."
another reach.
"it’s daddy’s.”
louder baby noises followed immediately.
after a full minute of this extremely one-sided argument, nagi finally sighed. "fine..."
he let your son hold the medal. instant peace.
the interview began with the reporter congratulating him on today's win, only for your son to enthusiastically babble right over the top of her introduction as though he had been personally waiting for his turn to speak all evening.
"congratulations on today's vic–"
"BAAAAAAA!"
the reporter burst into laughter. "and congratulations to you, too."
your son nodded. everyone around him completely lost it.
halfway through another question, your son noticed the microphone for the first time.
nagi noticed him noticing it. "don't."
tiny hands reached.
"don't, buddy."
they stretched farther.
"too troublesome…”
your son ignored every warning. and somehow, despite nagi technically being one of the fastest athletes in the world… the baby still won. he proudly grabbed the microphone with both hands before immediately announcing to the entire stadium, "dadadadadadadadadabthhhhhhhhhhh."
the loudest raspberry imaginable echoed through the speakers.
nagi stared at him for several long seconds before quietly looking back at the reporter. "wow. that was a long answer."
the reporter folded over laughing so hard she couldn't even ask another question because she kept trying to compose herself only to remember the raspberry echoing around the stadium all over again.
the internet immediately clipped nagi's completely deadpan response, turning "that was a long answer" into the newest reaction meme overnight, while thousands of fans jokingly translated the baby's speech into detailed tactical analyses, transfer rumors, and complaints about bedtime schedules.
reo even commented underneath one viral clip, "he definitely inherited nagi's interview skills," only for nagi to casually reply, "he talks way more than i do," which somehow made the entire interaction even funnier because everyone agreed he wasn't exaggerating.
mikage reo
reo had shown up to the interview looking as polished as ever despite having just played 90 exhausting minutes, somehow still managing to keep his hair neat while carrying your son comfortably on one arm, who was wearing the tiniest little pair of noise-canceling headphones because reo had insisted before kickoff that the celebrations afterward might be too loud for sensitive little ears.
fans immediately zoomed in. "of course, reo bought luxury baby headphones." "those probably cost more than my rent."
before the interview even began, you walked over with open arms to take your son back for a little while, only for him to dramatically bury his face into reo's shoulder with the most pitiful little whimper imaginable, clutching onto the front of his jersey with both fists as though someone had just informed him he was being separated forever.
even nagi held his arms out with a lazy, "come here."
your son looked at him. then immediately turned back around and hugged reo even tighter.
reo looked far too pleased with himself. "guess i'm his favorite today."
you rolled your eyes. "don't let it get to your head."
throughout the interview, reo somehow answered every question while gently bouncing your son whenever he became fussy, absentmindedly fixing his tiny headphones whenever they slipped sideways, wiping a little bit of drool from his chin with a towel without missing a beat, making every parent watching collectively smile because it was obvious none of these little habits were rehearsed – they were simply second nature by now.
halfway through the interview, your son spotted the microphone. he stared at it with complete focus. reached once. missed. reached again. success. with both tiny hands wrapped proudly around the microphone, he lifted it toward his own face like a seasoned professional before confidently announcing, "dadadadada..."
everyone waited.
"... GOOOOOOO."
the entire interview area exploded into laughter.
nobody actually knew whether he'd been trying to say "goal" or if it was simply another happy baby noise, but the timing couldn't have been more perfect considering reo had just scored the match winner.
reo gasped loud. "did you guys hear that?!”
he looked between the reporter and the nearby cameras with mock seriousness.
"i think that's his first official post-match interview."
the reporter immediately joined in. "would you say today's victory belongs to your father?"
your son stared at her. "babababa."
the reporter nodded thoughtfully. "mhm. interesting analysis."
reo sighed. "he disagrees."
your son then lightly bonked the microphone against reo's chest before happily giggling to himself.
"okay, okay," reo laughed. "i'm getting absolutely cooked by my own son on live."
by the end of the night, the internet had collectively decided your son held a higher position in the club hierarchy than anyone else, with edits introducing him as assistant coach, sporting director, club president, and even reo's toughest post-match critic, while countless fans joked that his "GOOOOO" celebration deserved its own commentary replay.
the sweetest moment happened after the interview had officially ended, when your son suddenly leaned forward all on his own, gave reo the tiniest little kiss on his sweaty cheek, rested his head against his shoulder with a sleepy sigh, and closed his eyes as if the excitement had finally caught up to him.
reo visibly melted.
he completely forgot there were still cameras following him as he gently rubbed your son's back and whispered, "yeah? all done? let's go find mama," before carrying him across the pitch with the softest smile on his face, making everyone watching quietly agree that, as incredible as his winning goal had been, nothing compared to the way he looked carrying his little boy afterward.
bachira meguru
bachira had absolutely no intention of bringing your son into the interview at first, but the second you reached out to take him back, your little boy immediately wrapped himself around bachira's neck like the world's tiniest koala and let out the most dramatic, heartbroken whine imaginable, making bachira laugh so hard he nearly dropped the medal hanging around his own neck before grinning at you apologetically.
"sorry, honey," he said, gently patting your son's back. "he picked his favorite parent for the next 5 minutes... don't worry, it'll be you again after i accidentally tell him he can't eat grass."
the interview was pure chaos before anyone even asked the first question because bachira kept making funny faces every time your son looked even remotely close to getting fussy, causing the baby to burst into loud giggles that echoed through the microphones while reporters repeatedly had to pause because they couldn't stop smiling at the sight of one of the world's best forwards entertaining a baby between every answer.
your son found the microphone absolutely fascinating from the moment the interview started, repeatedly reaching toward it every time the reporter lifted it closer, only for bachira to gently redirect those little hands somewhere else while whispering, "nope... that's not your toy... well, technically it could be your toy, but i think she'd be sad."
eventually, the reporter laughed and simply held the microphone toward your son instead. "maybe he has something he'd like to say?"
your son's entire face lit up. he grabbed the microphone with both hands. "bababababa... DADA!!"
everyone smiled.
then he leaned closer. "BTHHHHHHHHHH."
the loudest raspberry imaginable exploded through the stadium speakers.
bachira physically doubled over laughing, nearly losing his balance because he couldn't stop wheezing into your son's shoulder.
"HE PRACTICED THAT!" he laughed. "i swear he does that every time i call his grandma!"
the reporter was laughing too hard to continue. "do... do you think he has any thoughts on today's match?"
your son immediately smacked the microphone with one tiny palm. "DA!"
bachira nodded dramatically. "exactly! i couldn't have said it better myself."
the internet instantly declared the baby the funniest post-match interview guest in football history, while edits comparing bachira's nonstop energy to your son's chaotic little personality flooded everyone's timelines, with thousands of comments joking that bachira hadn't raised a son – he'd simply cloned himself in miniature.
shidou ryusei
nobody – not the reporters, not the camera crew, not even you – expected shidou to show up carrying a baby with the same confidence he'd just celebrated scoring 2 goals, casually strolling into the interview area with your son perched comfortably on one hip while excitedly pointing at every bright stadium light he could see, looking completely content in the safest place he knew.
"you sure you don't want me to take him?" you asked one last time.
your son answered by grabbing a fistful of shidou's jersey.
shidou grinned. "sorry, babe. he has excellent taste."
the interview started surprisingly well because your son was completely distracted by shidou's medal, repeatedly lifting it up to inspect it before trying to chew on it while shidou absentmindedly let him, only occasionally stopping him with an amused, "hey little dude, dad kinda needs that."
everything changed the second the microphone entered the baby's line of sight.
he froze. stared. reached. somehow succeeded on the very first try.
"BAAAA!"
shidou immediately pointed at him. "THAT'S MY BOY!"
the baby squealed louder. "DADADADADADAAAAAA!"
the stadium speakers practically shook.
shidou threw his head back laughing. "YEAHHHH! LET HIM COOK!"
the reporter was crying laughing by this point. "would you say he inherited your confidence?"
"confidence?" shidou laughed. "nah." he proudly bounced your son a little higher. "he inherited greatness."
your son immediately celebrated by grabbing the microphone again and aggressively blowing another raspberry into it.
the internet completely lost whatever composure remained.
"THEY SHARE THE SAME ENERGY."
"THIS ISN'T A FATHER AND SON."
"THIS IS A DUO."
fans joked that shidou was encouraging his son's press conference debut like he'd just scored the winning goal himself, while countless edits paired every loud baby scream with one of shidou's goal celebrations because, somehow, the energy genuinely matched perfectly.
karasu tabito
karasu walked into the interview already smiling because he'd spent the last 15 minutes listening to your son happily babble complete nonsense into his shoulder while absentmindedly playing with the little hairs at the back of his neck, and after watching your baby stubbornly refuse to leave his dad's arms despite multiple attempts from you, the coaching staff, and even a very bribable bachira holding out a plush mascot, karasu simply chuckled. "well," he said. "he's made his decision."
unlike most players, karasu somehow managed to keep the interview flowing naturally while carrying a baby, casually answering questions with one hand tucked into his pocket while gently bouncing your son with the other, occasionally pausing just long enough to fix his little jersey after it rode up or quietly wipe away a bit of drool before continuing exactly where he'd left off.
the reporter eventually laughed. "he's been eyeing the microphone this entire time."
"yeah," karasu sighed. "i've noticed."
your son finally made his move. tiny hands grabbed the microphone. "... dadadadada..."
everyone leaned in.
"... GOO..."
pause.
"BABABABABABA!!" followed immediately by a delighted squeal.
karasu pinched the bridge of his nose while trying (and failing) not to laugh.
"... great. he's discovered public speakin’."
"do you think he has your personality?" the reporter teased.
karasu looked down at your son, who was now trying to eat the fuzzy windscreen covering the microphone. "not really… he's louder."
your son looked up at him and giggled.
karasu's entire expression softened. "yeah, yeah. yer funny."
the internet adored how naturally fatherhood seemed to fit him, with countless fans pointing out that every time your son reached for something he wasn't supposed to have, karasu never scolded him or looked stressed – he simply redirected him with the patience of someone who had already mastered the art of negotiating with a tiny human who couldn't even speak yet.
kaiser michael
kaiser had every intention of doing the interview alone because he genuinely believed it would be easier that way, but the moment you tried taking your son back, the baby immediately buried his face into his father's shoulder and clung to him with surprising strength, refusing to let go despite your gentle coaxing, causing kaiser to glance down for a brief second before quietly saying, "he's comfortable," with such calm certainty that even you couldn't help smiling before waving them both toward the interview area.
somehow, kaiser looked impossibly composed standing beneath dozens of flashing cameras with your son balanced securely against his chest, occasionally adjusting the baby's tiny jacket whenever it slipped off one shoulder or gently brushing sweaty little blond strands of hair away from his forehead between answering questions, all while speaking with the same composed confidence he always carried after a victory.
every so often, your son reached up just to touch his father's face, gently patting his cheek or absentmindedly playing with the damp strands of his blond hair falling into his eyes, and every single time, kaiser instinctively leaned down just enough to make it easier for those tiny hands to reach him without interrupting whatever answer he was giving.
halfway through the interview, the inevitable happened – your son spotted the microphone. his eyes widened. tiny fingers stretched toward it.
the reporter smiled knowingly. "would you like to let him answer one?"
kaiser gave the smallest nod.
the microphone was placed in front of your son. "...babababa..."
everyone waited.
"DADA!"
kaiser's lips twitched.
then your son enthusiastically leaned forward and planted the wettest little kiss imaginable directly onto the microphone before giggling to himself.
the reporter completely broke character. the camera crew laughed. even several photographers lowered their cameras because they were laughing too hard to keep shooting.
kaiser simply accepted the microphone back, wiped it clean with the towel around his neck, and quietly apologized before looking down at your son.
"was that your interview?"
"... da."
"... i see."
by the next morning, the internet had fallen hopelessly in love with the contrast between kaiser's composed, almost regal demeanor and the tiny baby enthusiastically covering expensive broadcasting equipment in drool every chance he got, with thousands joking that the only person capable of making michael kaiser patiently sanitize microphones on live television was his own son.
ness alexis
ness had spent the entire walk to the interview softly talking to your son about absolutely everything that had just happened during the match, pointing toward the cheering supporters, waving his tiny hand toward the cameras, and proudly showing him the medal around his neck as though your 9-month-old genuinely understood every tactical decision that had led to today's victory.
by the time you reached them, your son had become so content listening to his father's voice that the second you reached over to carry him instead, he immediately leaned right back into ness's chest with the sweetest little sigh, making ness smile so brightly it almost rivaled the stadium lights.
"sorry," he laughed sheepishly. "i think... i might be trapped."
throughout the interview, ness somehow answered every question while instinctively rocking your son in slow, gentle motions, occasionally kissing the top of his little head whenever he grew sleepy before quietly adjusting the tiny blanket draped around his shoulders because the evening air had started getting colder.
reporters quickly noticed that your son hadn't taken his eyes off the microphone once. "i think someone has something important to contribute."
ness laughed. “i think you're right."
the microphone was lowered. your son reached forward with both hands.
"... dadadadada..."
pause.
"... MAMAMAMAMA..."
everyone collectively went quiet.
ness blinked and looked toward you standing just off camera. "... did–"
before he could finish speaking–
"BTHHHHHHHHH."
another enormous raspberry echoed through the speakers.
the entire interview dissolved into laughter.
ness laughed so hard he actually had to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes before gently taking the microphone back from your son.
"that..." he smiled down at him. "that was a wonderful speech, little guy.”
the reporter grinned. "care to translate?"
ness nodded with complete seriousness. "he said..." he pretended to think very hard. "that i'm the greatest midfielder in the world.”
your son immediately smacked him on the cheek with one tiny hand. everyone burst into laughter again.
"or," ness corrected himself through a grin, "maybe he disagrees."
the internet absolutely adored the entire exchange, especially the way ness looked at your son with so much open affection that it almost made people forget they were watching an elite footballer and not simply an impossibly proud first-time dad, with thousands of comments insisting the baby had fact-checked his father live on international television for the whole world to see.
(true form!sukuna x chubby!reader) | fluff/ crack / suggestive
you were convinced sukuna was somehow made for cuddling.
four large arms wrapped around you, holding you close — broad chest pressed against your back, large body radiating constant heat.
you had your head resting on his bicep, the size of it basically acting as a slightly smaller, more comfortable version of a pillow. sukuna had another arm draped around your waist, hand splayed across your soft tummy, the other two arms in similar positions. he was practically squeezing you in his sleep.
when you stir during the night, he tightens his hold, securing you against him further so you can’t leave. not even for a second.
you were both warm and drunk with sleep, the soft morning sun beginning to beam through the windows.
you stir first.
a lazy sigh, a soft shift of your hips, body dying to stretch its muscles. you peek behind you, catching sight of sukuna’s sleeping form, four eyes glued shut — pink hair messy in the best way.
you wriggle a little, cautious you don’t wake the grumpy cute beast behind you. the moment you move more than an inch, one of sukuna’s eyes snap open, watching you try to slide out from beneath his arms.
"no." he doesn’t say much — he doesn’t need to. sukuna could keep you curled up next to him for eternity if he wanted. you were helpless against him, especially when he was needy like this.
he tightens his arms further, pulling you back against his chest with a lazy grumble. your soft curves only made sukuna want to keep you in bed with him longer — your body was so supple, so cozy.
"kuna, i need to use the bathr-"
"quiet."
you sigh quietly, desperate to stretch your legs and empty your bladder, or even just have a second to breathe without being crushed by the grumpy oversized cat behind you.
"i can’t hold it much longer-" you warn, squirming sukuna’s hold again, pinching his arm in protest. he doesn’t move, not even a millimetre, your protests falling on deaf ears. "kunaaaa!" you whine.
"i do not care, woman. disturb my slumber again and i will eat you," he mumbles, throwing empty threats around like he actually means them. he lets out a sound that could only be described as half whine, half growl, setting back in.
you giggle lightheartedly, wiggling your ass against him in a playful manner. you may have to resort to other techniques to get the man to release you from his iron grip. "…oh yeah?"
sukuna cracks an eye open again, one hand finding your hip, halting your movements. "you have woken me up. do not wake them also," he rasps, trying to ignore the two growing bulges under the sheets.
"let me use the bathroom and i’ll say good morning to you properly," you grin, grinding your full ass against his crotch. he hums lowly, clearly satisfied with this idea, yet slightly irritated he’d have to spend a few minutes without you curled up against him.
slowly, he relaxes his grip, letting you slither away towards the bathroom. "be quick, woman."
he already missed you.
a/n; i wrote this after a few cocktails so… here’s this i guess… sorry it’s so short ugh (also this isn’t part of chubby concubine series i hope i made that clear idk LOL)
WAGS ☆ wives and girlfriends of professional athletes
THE MEDIA ☆ has been dying to know more about the partners of their favorite athletes
FEATURING ☆ sae itoshi, rin itoshi, and yoichi isagi
☆ Sae Itoshi
Ever since Sae had announced your engagement fans and haters alike were dying to learn more about you.
It was easy to find your Instagram since he tagged you, but you quickly privated it. The most they got to see was your profile picture which was you holding a jellycat and a bio that read, "Future RN ˚.⋆"
You weren't being hidden, but Sae barely posted anyway so his private life was a mystery and now you were being included in it. But, if there was one thing about him it was that he was proud of you.
A few months after his engagement post, he posted a photo dump of you on your graduation with an uncharacteristically long caption talking about how proud of you he was and how much you were loved.
Like all his posts, this one blew up. The top comments were from his teammates, congratulating you and in Shidou's case, flirting with you, but a majority of the comments were loving this side of the midfielder.
Like always there was a large part that hated you.
A few days later Sae had a post match interview where someone asked about you.
"And your girlfriend, she's just passed the NCLEX exam right?"
This was a question that put a soft smile on Sae's face, "yeah, my fiancée? She's amazing."
A clip that silenced a shit ton of haters and was used in so many edits people thought it was from an anime.
☆ Rin Itoshi
You were a pilates instructor at an upscale studio in Tokyo and you had quite a following before people knew you and Rin were together.
Many people saw you as an it girl of sorts. You had five hundred thousand followers on TikTok and Instagram and you even had your own drink at a local coffee shop.
A lot of people figured you were dating a soccer player with your influx of "GRWM" posts for games, though some just thought you were doing it to gain some more followers you knew the truth.
Rin being as private as he was, was 100% okay with your wish of getting eloped.
Your family wasn't around, Rin wasn't as close with Sae as he once was and there was no way in hell he'd have his "lukewarm teammates" be at one of the most important events of his life.
You wore your ring in every picture and video you posted, but you never answered questions about it and overtime people just assumed it was a part of your life you wanted to keep private.
This all changed when you posted a photo dump with a simple caption that read, "life lately."
The dump started with a picture of you instructing a class, pretty scenery, shopping, a picture of you and Rin on the day you got married and the last picture was his hand holding your growing belly.
Quickly, the news of Rin being married and having a baby on the way went viral.
People couldn't understand how Rin managed to get married and how he hid it for so long.
"I told you, you don't wear your ring enough," you teased one night as you guys were sitting on the couch together and reading comments.
Rin clicked his teeth and rubbed your belly, "I hate when you read those things." But when he saw you pout he pressed a soft kiss to your head, "You know I don't wear it to games or practices..."
"...but I can start for you."
From that day on, at all of his matches and practices he wore a silicon black band on his ring finger.
Even though he could come off as cold and uncaring he'd do anything he could for his wife and your future kid.
☆ Yoichi Isagi
You were one of the most loved WAGS in the sports. You were at every game, you never spoke negatively about other teams or players and you had a life outside your husband.
Something that wasn't super common.
One time you and Bachira's wife were getting swarmed by paparazzi before a big game.
"Y/N! Keiko! Over here!" One person yelled, their cameras so close in your face.
"Can you guys lean in together for a pic?"
You kept smiling. It wasn't forced. You'd learned a long time ago that the cameras never disappeared, so fighting them only made things worse.
Keiko leaned toward you with an exhausted laugh. "Why do I feel like we're the ones playing today?"
"Because apparently we are," you whispered back.
A microphone suddenly appeared inches from your face.
"Ooo, Yoichi is not going to like that."
"There's been a lot of online discourse about wives distracting players. What's your opinion?"
You didn't even hesitate.
"I think if someone's relationship is distracting them from doing their job, that's between them. But supporting the person you love shouldn't ever be viewed as a distraction."
"Now excuse us."
Once the two of you finally made it inside, the rest of the game went as expected with their team winning. When you met up with Isagi he had already seen the clip of the reporter sticking a microphone in your face that almost made you fall down.
"I can't believe that fucker pushed you," he said through gritted teeth.
"Babe, it's okay... I'm not hurt." He looked over you, scanning your body to ensure you were okay.
He pulled you with him as he went up to the reporters outside the players tunnels.
"Hey!" He shouted, all cameras and reporters faced the two of you.
"I'm only going to say this once, any of you do something to harm her again and I can assure you that you'll never step foot in another stadium again." Isagi didn't wait for anyone to respond, and carried you out of the room and to the car waiting for you guys.
"Yoi... you're so dramatic."
He put his head on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you as best as he could with his seatbelt on, "that pissed me off so much I didn't even get to check in with you."
"I'm fine, I just wish the paps would lay off me a bit."
☆
The next day tons of athletes and their partners were reposting what Isagi had said and showing their support.
જ⁀➴ charles and hugo storms loki’s apartment uninvited, only to find out about his secret girlfriend ♡
˚₊‧꒰ა Unbeknownst to many, JULIEN LOKI had exactly three rules when it came to visitors. Well, it wasn't because he had a deep-seated dislike for people or hated having company around. To put it simply, he just valued his privacy more than most. His apartment was one of the few places where he could escape the noise of his everyday life; It was quiet and entirely his, which was precisely why he preferred people not disturb that peace.
The first term to his rule was simple: do not show up unannounced. And then the second was even simpler: do not touch his things.
The third existed solely because of Charles Chevalier. If Charles was involved, assume the first two rules had already been broken.
For years, those rules had served him well. Today, however, they had been utterly, spectacularly obliterated.
“LOKI, I REALLY HAVE TO PEE.”
“No, you don't.”
“YES, I DO.”
“Charles, we literally passed three public bathrooms before landing here.” The moment the words left Loki's mouth, Charles immediately looked offended.
“And?”
“Why didn’t you use one of those three?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because they're gross.”
“He's right,” Hugo chimed in and Loki let out a long, suffering groan, suggesting that this wasn't the first time he'd found himself trapped in a conversation like this.
“Of course you'd say that.”
“I'm hungry and now I require sustenance,” Hugo replied calmly. “Today’s practice was inefficiently exhausting.”
“There it is.”
“I'm just saying,” Hugo shrugged. “If Charles happens to need a bathroom and your apartment happens to contain food, who are we to fight fate?”
“You two are unbelievable.”
“LOKIII!” Charles yelled, already trying to push past him. “STOP GATEKEEPING THE BATHROOM AND LET US IN! I'M ABOUT TO DIE!”
“I'm not gatekeeping the bathroom.”
“You literally are.”
“I'm gatekeeping my apartment.”
“Same thing!”
“Not even remotely the same thing.”
“LOKI—”
Loki pointed at both of them.
“Neither of you are getting in.”
“Wow,” Charles gasped, clutching his chest like he'd just been personally betrayed. “After everything we've been through.”
Loki rolled his eyes with the statement. But that was all it took. The moment his attention slipped for even a second, Charles darted past him.
“THANKS LOVE YOU—” He ducked under Loki's arm and sprinted inside.
“OH YOU LITTLE—!”
“SORRY CAN'T HEAR YOU—EMERGENCY.”
Before Loki could grab him, Charles bolted up the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house. Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around, only to find Hugo calmly stepping inside as if none of that had just happened.
“I’m glad you didn’t overreact,” Hugo jokingly said, glancing toward the stairs, “now could you point me to the kitchen?”
And in his head, the thought came in right away. This is the worst decision I have ever made in my entire life. Why did I open the door. Now there's two unsolicited guests on my apartment.
“No.”
“I’m going to the kitchen.”
“You’re not.”
Hugo kept walking.
“Destiny has led me to your refrigerator.”
“You’re just hungry.”
“That's what the refrigerator wants you to think.”
Loki was already preparing himself to physically drag Hugo away from his kitchen when Hugo suddenly stopped.
"...Oh."
Loki immediately knew that tone.
It was the tone people used when they found something unexpected. Or better yet, someone. And while following Hugo's line of sight, Loki looked toward the living room.
And there, sitting on the couch, was you.
Curled up comfortably beneath a blanket, completely unaware of the chaos that had just barged through the front door, you glanced up from your phone at the sound of voices.
“Oh, you’re back—”
You paused when you noticed Hugo standing there.
“Oh. Hi.” Hugo blinked. Then, after a brief pause, cleared his throat to ask the most important question.
“Do you know where Loki keeps the snacks?”
Loki sighed.
“Hugo.”
You looked between the two of them, immediately sensing that you had walked into the middle of something.
“Uh...” Your gaze landed on Hugo. “Am I missing context here?”
Hugo looked completely serious.
“Yes,” he said. “The location of the snacks.”
“Sorry?”
A small crease formed between your brows. Hugo blinked once.
“...Aren't you the maid?” he asked. “I thought you'd know where they were.”
Loki closed his eyes, already refusing to engage with whatever direction this conversation was about to take. He genuinely didn’t have the energy to unpack it.
Before Hugo could add anything else and somehow make everything worse, a new voice suddenly echoed from upstairs.
“LOKIII!” Charles shouted. “WHERE DO YOU KEEP THE GOOD TOWELS?” His voice cut off abruptly, pausing to reassess his surroundings. Then his eyes landed on you.
“OHHHH. LOKI HAS A MAID?”
“NO—THE TWO OF YOU LISTEN.” Loki snapped, pointing between Charles and Hugo. “You are both completely misunderstanding the situation.”
He gestured toward you, clearly offended now, like the assumption itself was the real problem. A pause hung in the air, just long enough for the tension to build, Loki’s jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words without making things worse.
“…She is actually my girlfriend.”
The room short-circuited. Charles blinked once. Twice. Then made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a malfunction.
“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”
“Yes,” Loki said immediately, like it was the most obvious fact in the world, then added with a flat look, “she is standing right there. Do I need to start pointing things out for you, or are we good?”
“YOU’RE LYING!”
“I’m literally not.”
Charles slowly turned toward you, as if you were the only stable point left in a suddenly collapsing reality. “Please tell me he’s joking—”
“He isn’t.”
Hugo, meanwhile, looked genuinely distressed, like reality had failed a basic verification check.
“I calculated the absence of your love life,” Hugo said calmly, as if he were stating a weather report. “Up until now, the model consistently predicted solitude as your long-term outcome.”
Loki slowly turned his head toward him.
“…I’m sorry?”
Hugo blinked, unbothered. “It was the most stable projection.”
There was a beat of silence, just long enough for the statement to sink in. Charles immediately dropped onto the couch like his bones had decided they were no longer participating in reality.
“Now, now,” Charles said, pointing between the two of you like he was assembling evidence. “How did you two even meet? What was Loki like back then? And more importantly,” he gestured at Loki like this was the biggest mystery of all, “HOW DID HE PULL YOU?”
You then proceeded to tell Charles and Hugo bits of details like how you first kept running into Loki as kids in the same neighborhood, always at odd times and quieter corners of the city. How he never really talked much back then, just noticed things in passing, starting with small “hello”s whenever you passed each other, then slowing down just a little so those hellos turned into short conversations about nothing important. After that, it became walking the same way home on purpose, sharing snacks sometimes, and waiting a few extra minutes just in case the other showed up. Over time, it turned into something soft and unspoken, until it just felt natural to stay by each other’s side.
As you spoke, Charles kept reacting dramatically at every small detail, while Hugo went quietly still, staring at Loki like he was trying to reconcile the version he had built in his head with the very normal fact that he had apparently been in a long, steady relationship this entire time without anyone noticing.
You were still talking like it was just another part of the story when you added, “…We got engaged recently, actually.”
The room stopped instantly.
Charles jolted so hard he nearly fell off the couch. “YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT LIKE IT’S A SIDE NOTE!”
You just continued smoothly, unfazed. “It felt right, though. We’ve known each other for so long that it didn’t really feel like a big decision. We just didn’t see the point in waiting forever to make it official.” As you spoke, your hand found Loki’s without hesitation, fingers slipping between his like it had always been the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t react, already used to it, only tightening his hold on yours in quiet ease, as if it had always been that way.
For a rare moment, even Charles and Hugo fell quiet, their chaos softening as they watched the two of you with something that almost resembled fondness, like they’d accidentally walked into something too soft to interrupt.
It lasted all of three seconds.
Then Charles leaned forward again. “Okay,” he said, pointing between you and Loki. “One more question. How did you even put up with Mr. Sonic over here?
Loki frowned, clearly offended. “Why is everyone acting like I’m difficult?”
All three of them turned to look at him at once, unblinking, and the weight of it made Loki’s frown deepen as he huffed a quiet, “…Continue.”
You only smiled at him, completely unbothered by the collective staring. “Honestly? He’s actually very easy.”
Loki visibly relaxed a fraction. “See?”
“—Because he’s terrified of me.”
The room detonated instantly. Charles nearly fell off the couch, Hugo made a choked sound into his cup, and Loki went still, turning slowly toward you like he had just been personally betrayed.
“I am not terrified.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m not.”
You only raised an eyebrow. And just like that, Loki looked away, exhaling through his nose like he had already lost the argument before it even started.
“…This is unfair,” he muttered under his breath, low and resigned, still not looking at you, like he already knew you had him wrapped around your fingers and there was no point pretending otherwise.
Charles snapped upright, pointing with shocking intensity. “OH MY GOD. HUGO DID YOU SEE THAT?”
“I saw it.”
“HE FOLDED. SPEEDY MCFEETFACE ACTUALLY FOLDED TO HIS GIRLFRIEND!”
“I hate both of you,” Loki said flatly, though it lacked any real heat.
Charles leaned back, satisfied. “Yeah yeah, say that now. We’re still coming to the wedding. Hey Hugo!” he suddenly perked up again, snapping his fingers like he’d just remembered something life-changing. “Dibs on best man!”
“…Sure,” Hugo added a second later, already looking mildly uninterested again. “I do not particularly care, but I am claiming it to prevent further discussion.”
Loki opened his mouth like he was about to shut the entire conversation down again, but you were faster. You gently squeezed his hand, leaned in close, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before brushing your lips near his ear.
“Sweetheart,” you whispered, soft enough that only he could hear, “we should definitely invite them. You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun… in a very loud, very chaotic way. But I promise, it’ll be worth it.”
Loki paused, breath catching for half a second, then slowly exhaled like all his objections had just lost their momentum at once.
And just like that, Loki didn’t just gain two unexpected house visitors for the afternoon, but two equally unexpected wedding attendees who had already appointed themselves roles he absolutely did not approve of.
coming home to a drunk kaiser content | fluff, bf!kaiser, alc, kissing, gn!reader
you rubbed your exhausted eyes as you opened the front door, already toeing off your shoes.
“schaaaatzzz?” kaiser groaned from the living room.
drunk. again.
“‘m home,” you mumble, shrugging your jacket off then padding over to the living room.
your eyes track the silhouette of kaiser. his hair was scruffy and tousled and his eyes were weighted and slightly red-rimmed. his lips trembled as he gave you a dazed smile, sitting up from the couch.
“y’take so long to come home sometimes,” he said, wrapping you tightly against him. the breath of your lungs dispersed at his grip, and he didn’t seem to care. “sometimes i think you’reeee cheeeeaaatinggg.”
your arms wrapped around his neck. “not cheating on you, schatzi.”
kaiser pulled back slightly, his breath soaked in the scent of liquor. his eyes widened wildly as he stared right into you. his voice was hushed and skeptical, “how can i be so sure?”
your hands pathed up to cup kaiser’s face. you could feel the drunk-elicited heat warming your palms as your fingers lightly traced along his skin. “because i love you. more than anyone else.”
kaiser threw his head back, causing your hands to fall to your sides. he let out a loud, melodramatic groan. “gaaahh! love! love is—” hiccup. “stupid.” he scrunched his face in theatric disgust. “love. stupid. hmph.”
you narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. “stupid? does that make us stupid?”
kaiser giggled, his balance fraying. “nono. we aren’t stupid. we’re . . . different.”
“mhm. okay empress, let’s get you to bed.” you grabbed his hand, gently but firmly, beckoning him to follow your lead. “i don’t know why you’re so drunk.”
“because,” he grumbled, yawning. “i’m terrible. just so terrible.”
you scoff, leading him to the bedroom as he limply followed. “you’re not terrible, schatzi.”
“then why am i soooo druuunk?” he slurred, hiccuping.
“dunno. doesn’t matter i guess.”
you pushed the ajar door open, leading kaiser to sit on the edge of the bed. he immediately wrapped his arms around your hips, his face nuzzling against your stomach as your body became caged between his legs.
“don’t go,” he muffled. “d’go. . .”
for a few beats, all was quiet.
you smiled softly, having felt the erratic beating of his heart. “i’ll never go, schatzi.” your fingers lightly — cautiously — twirled through the blonde strands of his hair.
“mmmnn,” he hummed contently against your body.
— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
a//n wrote this like 20mins after i woke up heh its teensy bit bad
PSG STAR JULIEN LOKI IS CAUGHT LOOKING HEAD OVER HEELS WHILE ON A ROMANTIC OUTING IN PARIS WITH PARTNER [NAME] [LAST NAME]!
That video of a private moment you and loki shared at a Paris restaurant three days ago has been seen by millions of people in less than a day, and your boyfriend is still not quite sure how to feel about it.
Loki knew that his status and fame would eventually lead to him losing his right to privacy in the eyes of the public, but he didn’t know he’d also lose the ability to go on a date with his partner without having to worry about people being weird and recording him when he’s lost in conversation with you — So lost that he didn’t even register when he started to giggle at one of your jokes. Or how him not being able to hold eye contact with you for too long before feeling his lips twitch into a smile again made him look like a lovesick fool.
His personality does a complete 180 whenever he’s with you and he’s only being made aware of it now. Alongside millions of other people on twitter…How amazing.
And it's not like he has an issue with people seeing him be affectionate with you. You're his partner and it’s only natural that he feels comfortable in being julien instead of loki the prodigy and star of the french team while in your company.
But why did the paparazzi — or whoever it was that recorded that damn video — have to catch him when he’s acting all giddy? He has a reputation to maintain for goddess sake! And he doesn’t appreciate how nonchalant you’re being about this…
“I don’t think it’s that bad, Jules” You’ve been saying this for days and he hates to disappoint you, but it’s not helping. like at all. But of course you’d say such a thing since you’re not the one being flooded with countless dms poking fun at how “down bad” you are. “ I bet they’ll forget about this next week.”
“Still…” he sighed. “I don’t like it when people invade our privacy like that.”
“I think what you don’t like is that people are seeing right through your ‘suave guy facade’ actually.”
He scoffs at your response, because he can’t really refute it. “Whatever...”
“They’d be surprised to know that you act worse when we’re alone.”
“I do not?”
“You do Julien, stop lying…or you want me to post video evidence of it?” He quieted down really quickly after that. Because if by “video evidence” you mean that stupid recording you took of him smiling in his sleep while napping on your chest, then he’ll rather put his pride to the side and be quiet than give people more proof that even a man like him has his weaknesses.
And that his biggest one just happens to be you.
an — as soon as i saw this vid of mbappe i got inspired to write this lool. and i know deep in my heart that loki secretly likes being the little spoon most of the time cus having your arms around him makes him feel worshipped so just trust me on this bro. also this feels ooc to me....but wtv..... fuck it ig.
pretty boys who are used to getting hit on by girls every time they go out, so imagine their surprise when the pretty girl who kept looking at the two of you comes to hit on you instead !
featuring ; I.SAE, I.BUNNY, K.MICHAEL, V.HUGO
cw ; established relationship, full fluff, may be ooc
꧁ ITOSHI.SAE
"You still don’t know what you’re gonna take ?" Sae signed for what was probably the third time in the last fifteen minutes.
"Be quiet, you’re distracting me”
The restaurant was quiet. You could hear the clink of glasses from other tables. Your boyfriend was sat across from you looking pissed, with one arm on the table, turning his water glass in his hand. The lighting making his annoyed face even more clear.
"It’s been more than fifteen minutes since we’ve been sat, how come you still don’t know what you want to eat ?"
"I’m a little..distracted that’s all—but I know what I want now don’t worry !” You said happily, calling your server by waving your hand at her.
You had noticed people glancing at him,not that it was unusual ; Itoshi Sae attracted attention : pretty and famous it was no wonder people recognized him anytime you two were out together.
The server finally came to your table, greeting the two of you politely. She was a girl around your age, very cute to be honest. You caught her staring at Sae for a second longer than necessary, not that you weren’t used to it.
By the time you two finished eating she had stopped by your table multiples times — refilling your water, asking if everything tasted okay, making conversation with you. You assumed she was just being friendly to receive a good tip.
"Did you enjoy everything ?" She asked approaching your table to take your plates.
"Yeah it was really good thanks ! " You answered her question with a little enthusiasm.
She smiled hiding a small blush appearing on her cheeks. She then looked at you — not at Sae like you thought earlier but at you. Her fingers tightened slightly around the plates she just took from you, she definitely looked more shy than earlier.
"I really hope this doesn't come off as strange..." You blinked at her a little confused. "Hm ?"
She looked even more nervous. "I-I just think you're..really pretty." Hearing this, you let out a small laugh. "Thank you, you’re also really cute." Your remark made her blush even more.
She smiled back.. She didn't move then finally asked ; "Would it be okay if I gave you my number ?"
There was a silence — the awkward type. The question just hung there. You looked at her, she looked back at you and neither of you seemed to notice that Sae had gone still.
"Oh " you said softly. The girl looked mortified, embarrassment was the only thing she could feel. "Sorry ! I really didn’t want to make thing awkward.. was that too straightforward ?"
"No no it's just..." You glanced across the table. Sae was looking at the server who just hit on you while on a DATE with him, INFRONT of him.
You looked back at her. "I'm actually here with my boyfriend." You answered her while designing Sae with your hand. "Your…boyfriend?" "Her boyfriend yes."
You nodded agreeing to his words. She turned her head to look at him, you could see the shocking expression all over her face. "Oh."
The girl looked between the two of you after finally meeting your eyes again. "..Oh my gosh — I’m really sorry ! " You tried not to laugh at the once again uncomfortable face she was making.
The girl. Practically fled from the table letting a silence settling between the two of you.
You kept your gaze on your glass. Then your shoulders started shaking. Sae finally starting speaking. "Are you laughing ?"
You glanced up at him. "No.." He watched you after finally looking in the direction the server had disappeared.
You lost it a laugh escaped from your mouth. "What’s so funny ?" You shook your head. "Nothing."
He looked genuinely confused. "I don't understand what's funny." You looked at him, making your laugher even worse.
You took a breath. "You got ignored. The Itoshi Sae got ignored by a girl" He frowned slightly but still enough that you could see it. "You really were bothered."
"I'm not bothered." He said looking away briefly. "I know she was talking to you."
You laughed softly. "So you were paying attention." "Course I was." The answer came naturally. Your smile faded a little, though Sae seemed not to notice it .
His gaze settled on you once again. "You get hit on often ?" "Hmm.." You thought a little about it. "Sometimes but definitely not as much as you though." He let out a small hum of acknowledgement at what you just told him, making it seems as nothing.
You knew him well enough and it definitely wasn't nothing. You rested your chin in your hand. "Are you jealous?"
"No." He answered a little too fast—"I'm not jealous." "Then why do you care so much ?"
He didn't answer immediately but his eyes remained on you.
"I don't know." He continued with a calm voice.
You could tell he was starting to get embarrassed by the blush starting to form on his ears at that sigh you couldn’t help yourself but laugh a little. "Why are you making that face ?" "I’m not making any face !"
You reached across the table reaching for his hand . After a moment he placed his hand in yours. His fingers were warming yours. Then his fingers closed around your hand.
"So you really are jealous."
"..Shut up"
꧁ IGLESIAS.BUNNY
The place was tucked away in a corner of the town, a little place Bunny had found during his early days with the club. It was small and cozy with leather chairs with no one recognising him as it was mostly old people attending here.
He was sitting across from you, sleeves rolled up to his elbows dark eyes half-open because of the exhaustion that came from training until his legs gave out.
The two of you were talking when you noticed a shadow fell over the table.
Bunny’s posture changed when a girl stood over your table. She was tall and confident with eyeliner and a smirk. She was beautiful. In a way that made people nervous.
His hand slightly tightened around yours. He was used to fans coming up to him along with the autograph request, the photo and the nervous giggling.
"I'm sorry to interrupt " the girl said, her eyes fixed on you. "I had to come over. You're gorgeous."
Your boyfriend mouth hung open looking surprised.
The girl leaned down letting her hand touch your shoulder. "I'm Sofia. I was sitting there with my friends and I couldn't stop staring, are you single ?"
Bunny looked at you confusion and shock on his face. He looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. Quite the funny face he was making.
She continued by inviting you to have a drink with her and to exchange numbers while his grip on your hand got even tighter.
He was definitely not used to this, people did not hit on his girlfriend in front of him.
"Um.." you let out a small sound from your mouth, clearly embarrassed eyes switching between the two of them. Bunny face was priceless ; wide-eyed and indignant.
"Excuse me but— " Bunny started, his voice a little sharp, "We're together. Like dating, just the two of us."
She quickly side-eyed him before returning her gaze to you. "So... What do you say ?"
Bunny let out an exaggerated gasp, looking at you with wide pleading eyes.
"I’m really flattered but I’m not single..sorry." That girl was sadly the stubborn type as she decided to left her number on a napkin before leaving it in the table. "Well, if you ever change your mind you know where to find me ! " She said winking at you.
After she left, the atmosphere at your table was definitely unpleasant.
"No puedo creerlo." Bunny said in his mother tongue, staring at the napkin looking offended. "She wrote her number on a napkin, right in front of my salad, can you believe it ?"
"Don’t be jealous, I’m just that beautiful." At your words Bunny’s face softened.
"Can you blame me ? " he said, "I just... I'm not used to being the one watching people get excited when talking to you."
You kissed his knuckles. "You're the one who has me. I don't need anyone number because I already have you texting me every day."
"Now come on. Lets get out of here before she comes back."
Bunny quickly pulled you into his arm, kissing your forehead. He then picked up the napkin crumpled it and put it in his pocket. "I'm keeping this as proof that someone tried to steal you and failed."
You smiled. "You're impossible."
"You love me."
"I love your money more."
"Sucia mentirosa."
꧁ KAISER.MICHAEL
The art gallery was really full of itself.
Michael was totally into the art gallery as he thought it was amazing. This place had a certain vibe, with its sleek walls and fancy lighting that made the paintings look like a million bucks. But between you and me, he didn't really get the art and (according to him) he didn't need to. All that mattered was looking at the painting like some kind of connoisseur and enjoying the atmosphere. He was happy to just soak it all in, even if he didn't totally understand it.
As you walked along, he grasped your hand tightly making sure everyone around could see that you were together. He came to a halt in front of a vibrant painting, its canvas splattered with bold red and black colors.
"That sure look..original" "This is expressionism." he explained with gleaming eyes from excitement. "It's like a mix of chaos, violence, and passion all rolled into one."
He turned to face you a smile spreading across his face. "It reminds me of myself." he said, his voice low and thoughtful. The way he looked at you made you wonder what he meant by that statement.
Was he saying that he was a complex, passionate individual full of contradictions ?
Or was he implying that his life was a chaotic violent mess with moments of beauty and passion thrown in ?
You however did not think the painting was that great. "It looks like something a little kid would make"
Kaiser was upset that you didn't care for the painting, he actually thought you should be really impressed by it. "You're supposed to think this is amazing." he declared clearly expecting a different reaction from you.
You just told him that you were always impressed by how he could talk about nothing and make it sound important.
A woman then approached you, with elegance and refinement, like someone who would be right at home in this "beautiful" gallery. She suddenly gazed at you eyes sparkling with wonder.
"There's something truly special about you." She told you in a voice filled with conviction. "You seem to belong here, as if you're an integral part of the art itself." She paused, studying you intently, her eyes locked onto yours.
"It's as if you've been here before, like you're a part of this world, a world where creativity and beauty reign supreme." Her words were laced with a sense of curiosity, and you couldn't help but feel like she had her head a little too up in the cloud.
A certain someone did not like that this random woman was saying words like that to you. He stood up straight, tried to get her attention.. but she just kept looking at you.
She introduced herself as the owner of the art gallery before expressing her interest in featuring you in her upcoming show. "I think you'd be perfect for it !" She said sparkling with enthusiasm. "There's something about you that's really special : a certain presence that draws people in."
Kaiser didn't take too kindly to her idea of featuring you on her show. He took your arm putting you slightly behind him just enough to block your path. "She’s not going anywhere." he said with a firm voice.
"Well she should ! She definitely have the face I’m looking for." she said with a shrug.
You attempted to calm Kaiser as he started to looked a little more mad. Meanwhile, you turned to the owner and let her know that you weren't interested in being featured on her show.
Despite what you had just said, she handed you her card. "Take it, just in case you have a change of heart !" With that, she finally walked away, leaving you to think about your decision.
Kaiser was still fuming. He snatched Margot's card from you and shoved it in a trash can nearby. "She wants you to give her a call."
You simply shrugged your shoulders and muttered, "I guess so—" you were suddenly cut off by arm being wrapped tightly around you, pulling you in close.
You gently touched his face, fingers tracing the contours of his skin. "I'm not going anywhere." Your voice was firm and reassuring. "I choose you."
" You are my everything, I can’t lose you."
Your lips touched his, and for a brief moment, everything felt right. But then Kaiser pulled away, a smile spreading across his face.
"Let's get out of here. I need to be sure that you’re not running off with any art gallery owner" "wouldn’t dream of it"
"Sehr gut, meine Liebe."
꧁ HUGO.VIVIEN
Vivian really enjoyed being here. It wasn't because of the books though— he did read, but he preferred pages with no words on them. He found that they helped him think more clearly, without any distractions. What he liked most, was that nobody bothered him. Everyone was busy doing their own thing, just as they should be, and that suited Vivian just fine. He could finally have some peace and quiet, and that's all he really needed.
You sat across from him with an open notebook, scratching on paper. He watched you for a moment, just observing. Like studying a problem to solve.
"Is there something on my face ?" You finally questioned him after what felt like an hour of him staring at your face. "We should get going in about ten minutes, you’re starting to look even more tired."
"I'm fine " you said without looking up.
"Your fine is subjective while my observation is objective." He rummaged through his jacket and pulled out a bar of dark chocolate, placing it next to my notebook. "Here, have a bite. I think your blood sugar might be getting a little low."
You smiled to yourself breaking off a small piece, "You always seem to know."
He thought for a moment then returned to his book, turning to a blank page, his eyes hovering over the emptiness.
The silence came back once again before footsteps came to interrupt it.
A young woman suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, probably in her twenties, with a messy mop of hair and a big, cozy sweater wrapped around her. Her glasses were slipping down her nose, and she was struggling to hold onto a pile of books. She was the living cliché of a librarian girl.
"Excuse me," she said softly, her gaze wandering over the books stacked beside your table. "I'm trying to find a copy of The Stranger by Camus. Do you know if the original edition available on this floor ?"
You opened your mouth to respond but she was already looking at you differently, looking like she'd forgotten her question.
She dropped her books on the table, not even bothering to ask first. "You know—you've got really great bone structure — I mean, it's just a fact. Are you into art or something?"
Vivian stopped his so called "reading".
He glanced up, his face a picture of calmness much like the way he looked at people he didn't know or the empty pages of the books that lined his shelves.
"No " you said slightly surprised. " I'm in—"
Vivian cut you off to complet your sentence. "She's studying literature," he said to her calmly. "And she's with me."
The girl blinked, finally noticing him. " Oh..are you her—"
"Boyfriend."
She clearly didn't care of what he had to say. It was clear from her expression. "I’m doing my master in literature too !" She happily said, returning her attention to you.
"I'm intrigued, most people only pretend to read him but you look like someone who actually do." she continued, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What draws you to Camus? Is it the absurdity, the search for meaning, or something else entirely ?" Her voice was laced with a hint of excitement as if she had stumbled upon a rare treasure. "I've always been fascinated by his ability to capture the human condition in his writings." she added leaning in slightly. "There's something about his words that resonates deeply, don't you think ?"
"She does read Camus. I know this because I’ve had the pleasure of listening to her reading him to me for hours, and often together in bed." He answered her question in your place without any shame.
The girl cheeks flushed. "Okay that's—"
"Intimate information ?" Vivian tilted his head. " Maybe.. but in the establishing context, you approached girlfriend with interest so I'm just clarifying that you're wasting your time."
You stared at his face still calm as ever.
"I'm not—" she started trying to defend herself.
Vivian cut her off once again his voice still soft. "I'm not bothered, it's only human to be attracted to someone. But she's with me, and that's her decision."
Emma opened her mouth. Closed it.
"You're really weird " she said finally.
"I'm aware."
She grabbed her books and left without another word, leaving to the silence his rightful place.
Vivian went back to reading his book not saying a word about what had just happened. He didn't even crack a smile, simply kept on going like nothing had interrupted him at all.
"I've never seen you get so jealous that was quite a show."
"Jealousy is just an emotion." he muttered his eyes still on his book, "I was simply stating the facts. You belong to me. She was just a factor that I eliminated."
You let out a small laugh. "I think there are better ways than telling her that I read Camus in bed with you."
His eyes finally looked back at you. "It was relevant wasn’t it ?"
"You’re right." you whispered another small laugh escaping your lips. "I am yours."
"Tu vois quand tu veux" he said snapping off another piece of chocolate and offering it to you. "Now get back to work. We don't have much time, only seven minutes before your energy crashes again."
You took the chocolate, and as you did your fingers brushed against his. But he didn't flinch or pull his hand back, he just stayed still.
That was his way of showing affection.
You’d learned to read him the same way he loved to read those blank pages.
── you tell your boyfriend not to mark up your neck!
suggestive. interact at your own risk. includes (slight) dry humping & biting
starring: vivian hugo, teddy knight & michael kaiser
boyfriend! hugo who tries to listen but ends up losing control without realising.
“mhh— vivi..” you stifle a moan, shifting slightly on his lap in the backseat of his car. you laid your head on his shoulder, facing his neck while he ravaged yours. “not too high up—“
but your words were blurred into hugo’s ears. far too distracted to even bother. his hands firmly held your hips down, trying to reduce the constant movement and grinding against his hard. however you were much more persistent, trying to
after the both of you were done and back in your bedrooms did he realise how ruined your neck was. but it was too late.
“sorry cheri.. got carried away again..” he mumbled into your neck, hugging your waist.
boyfriend! teddy who is very aware of your words but couldn’t care less to listen.
your wrists were bounded by a neat light blue ribbon, your arms rested on teddy’s shoulders. meanwhile, teddy was comfortably holding you by the waist, slotted in between your thighs that wrapped around his hips.
“teddy—” his lips pressed against your neck, bruises from weeks before that were in the process of healing were marked again. teddy deliberately licking the same spot again, knowing you could feel the heat of his tongue tracing your neck.
despite your attempt in trying to stay quiet, you whimpered— giving him exactly what he wanted. he gave your waist quick squeeze before reaching for another mark below your jaw.
before he headed out for training the next day, he tossed you a bag full of designer clothes, most of them having turtlenecks high enough to cover his traces.
boyfriend! kaiser who just makes things worse, showing no remorse for his actions.
“kaiser you—!” without much time to react, your back was slammed against the wall. your legs wrapped around his waist in support. in retort, you pulled his hair hard.
he hissed, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. he sunk into your neck and bit down hard. you flinch and whine, that was his que to let go and swallow your noises with a kiss. you could feel him niping at your lips— asking to be let in.
he only moved back to your neck once you were out of breath. not even turtlenecks will be saving you from this one.
facetiming ohyul after work and he picks up fresh out the shower, hair wet, skin still glistening, looking at me like i’m the only thing that matters while i ramble about my day. he keeps saying “mhm” and “tell me more baby” in that low voice… but i can clearly hear the wet, rhythmic strokes of his hand sliding up and down his cock.
he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. every time i pause, he strokes faster. i can see his arm moving, his chest rising quicker, breath getting heavier, but he still wants me to keep talking. so i do. i tell him every little detail, voice sweet and soft, while he jerks off like a perv to the sound of me.
i would pretend i don’t notice how desperate he’s getting. 🚬
pairing: ohyul x reader, ryul x reader
summary: things they do with you in daily life that showcase their more dominating nature . . . !
author's note: my first lngshot post! many more to come hehe, my inbox will always be open to any recs, ideas, or thoughts to share - aerin
ryul:
ryul is 100% the typa guy that will spread out on the two seat couch when you get up, so that when you come back there's no space to sit and you're left with no other choice but to sit on his lap. he'll scoot forward an inch, lean back against the cushions, and pat his thigh with a smug look, beckoning you with his half lidded eyes peering up through his lashes. when you're behind closed doors, he's quick to wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you back flush against his chest, slotting his nose into the space where your jaw meets your neck and exhaling a content sight. his other hand grips your knee, reminding you he can keep you there so long as he pleases. around others, ryul likes to pick the most inconvenient seating option, usually a space or surface meant only for one, so that you have to stand in front of him in between his legs, or if he's feeling extra affectionate, he'll pull you by your arm as you look around for another seat, bringing you to sit on his knee as he continues his conversation without any disruption. you grumble about it to him afterwards, displeased with the lack of manners you felt like he was showing to his conversation partner, but he catches the hand you were about to smack his chest with and presses a firm kiss to your palm, "i'm sorry, baby, i doubt they cared or even noticed though," he reassures. he'll attempt a half hearted promise not to do it again, but he secretly loves the feeling of your weight on him too much to ever stick to his word.
ryul is also such a sucker for hand feeding you. he truly couldn't care less what someone might say about how whipped he is, he loves when you're happy and fed and content and what better way to ensure that than to do it himself!! obv it's never in an overbearing way, he lets you do your own thing for most of the meal but whenever you get distracted explaining to him the newest youtube video essay you watched, your plate of food long forgotten, ryul's hands are basically itching to spoon you another bite while its still hot.
if you're at a cafe, he'll break off a piece of his own croissant to feed you, even though you already have your own, and a muffin and a fruit tart.... at a restaurant, his hand is hovering in front of your mouth with a spoonful of his soup, waiting for you to subconsciously open up in the middle of your ramble, even when you try swatting his hand away, embarrassed that someone might see. when the dessert comes out, he always wants to give you the first bite, scooping up some of the cream on the little coffee spoon for you and loving the way your face scrunches up in delight.
ryul without a doubt, thinks of himself as the provider and protector. he loves to pay for you any chance he gets. whether that be a dubai jjundeok cookie you always get with your coffee, your makeup essentials you always restock up on whenever you pass by the store, adding money to your subway card, your nails, hair, etc. you name it he pays for it. at first, you really protested, insisting that you at least cover the dessert, but to him its a failure as a boyfriend to not provide financially. every so often, you try to tap your apple/samsung pay before him without success. he lovesss when you text him a few inspo pictures for your next nail set, he wordlessly hearts the one he likes the most and a notification for a bank transfer from him comes in soon after. it not only boosts his ego, but it also reassures him that the person he loves is taken care of and comfortable. after a certain point, it becomes such second nature that you don't even look at the prices on a menu anymore when you're with him, but little did you know, that's exactly what he was aiming for muahaha
lastly, one of ryul's favorite parts of your guys' night time routine together is washing your hair for you in the shower. he loves it not only because you do it to him in return, but because he truly enjoys the feeling of you relaxing under his touch. the height difference is also so striking in the shower when the top of your head barely reaches his shoulders, the expanse of your back so small and delicate to him. he's obsessed with how smooth your hair gets after the conditioner is rinsed out, "how is it so silky?!?" he's so fascinated every. single. time. the fruity notes of your matching shampoo and body wash are especially strong as the steam condenses on the tiles, a scent that ryul always says could wake him out of a coma. he steps out first, so that he can dry off while you savor the last of the hot water. when you're ready to come out, he loves to dry you off with your towel, bundling you up in the fabric like a swaddled baby. its one of those rare moments you get to see ryul so careful and sensitive, he's usually air boxing or fake dunking around you, but after a shower he claims that your pheromones and the artificial fragrances from the soap mix and rewire his nerve endings turning him into a simp, whatever that means :[
ohyul:
ohyul pretends like he doesn't, and when asked about it, will act like he doesn't know what you're talking about, but in reality he is constantly checking your location on find my friends. you're the only person he has location turned on for besides his sister. not in any possessive way, but he just likes knowing where you are and what you're doing especially during times when you can't be together or if you've been away from each other for a bit. every morning on his way to work, he sends you a good morning text, giving a brief summary of his schedule for the day and asking you about yours. he loves when you're detailed, naming exactly which friend(s) you're going to see, the specific items of clothing you're looking for if you're going shopping, what drinks you had at the bar with your coworkers, etc. it makes him feel like he was there when he can't be. when he has free time in between shoots, he's checking up on your location, mentally running through your agenda and placing where you are on it according to your location. when you surprise visit him at the company, you send him a screenshot of your contact profile next to his on the map and he loves that you entertain his odd quirks. if he's out of the country on an abroad schedule, he checks your location more frequently, seeing you at home or at your usual spots gives him a sense of familiarity and comfort when he needs it.
ohyul finds it really endearing when you accidentally get food on your face, its instinct for him to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb, sometimes, if not most of the time, licking whatever it was off. you find it gross every time, moaning about how he just needs to hand you a napkin or something, but it falls on deaf ears because one of ohyul's love languages at this point is wiping your face for you. if you fall asleep with your makeup on, you're woken up by ohyul wiping the smudged eyeliner on your temple. its turns him on to no end when your lip gloss smudges and transfers to his skin whenever he kisses you. it hurts him to wipe off the pretty sparkle from your lips, but the sight of his fingers near your mouth stays in his head for days after. when you guys have your silent ipad kid doom scroll time together, its almost inevitable that your feed produces some kind of sad or heartwarming video about animals, the latest being about a pitbull that saved his puppy brother from drowning in a pool, and the waterworks are instant. ohyul has learned to become less and less startled when this happens, but nonetheless he still pulls you into his chest. "aigoo, my baby," he coos while you dampen his t-shirt with your tears. with one hand under your chin, he tilts your face up to him, his other hand coming around to wipe away at the wet tracks on your cheeks. "what did you see?" he asks as you stammer unintelligibly, his thumb swipes under your nose distracting you momentarily from your hiccupping. "y-you're so gross actually," you cringe, but it doesn't faze him. he just kisses the tip of your nose and holds his arms out for one last comforting hug.
words of affirmation is undoubtedly ohyul's default method of showing affection. its so easy for him to slip out a "good job, baby" whenever you're beaming up at him, him being the first person you want to share whatever you're proud about makes his heart thump painfully in his chest. with ohyul, its natural for him to shower you in compliments and praise for even the most basic of accomplishments.
you meal prepped your breakfast for the week? "baby, you are so impressive, i wish i could cook like you,"
you got positive feedback from your senior at work? "of course you did, my love, they would be blind to not recognize your hard work,"
you went to your pilates class, instead of skipping even though you were exhausted? "lock innn, nice job babe,"
sometimes, it can even be completely irrelevant. you text him "i got a cinnamon latte this morning, instead of my usual vanilla latte and it was so yum," and he'll text back "let her cook,".
lastly, you always forget how much you appreciate ohyul's habit of holding your things until he's not there with you. when the two of you go shopping, the shopping bag doesn't even come close to touching you, he takes it from the cashier's hands from the very beginning, letting you hold nothing besides your drink or your phone. when the bags get heavy, ohyul still insists on holding all of them, switching some to the other hand so that he still has a free one for you to hold. it makes him feel manly, and he lowkey judges other guys that pass by him for not holding their girlfriend's bags. he doesn't hesitate when you ask him to wear your purse because it was hurting your shoulder and then ask if you can put your phone in his pants pocket because none of yours were big enough. he's def the kind of guy that carries in all the grocery bags at once even if it looks ridiculous. when you've had a few drinks, he'll hold your bag, jacket, and shoes in one hand, and hold your leg wrapped around him with the other as he piggybacks you on the way to the car. whenever you're out with ohyul, you're literally the personification of "she almost formed a thought" because he takes care of all the responsibilities!!
now, where to begin? @zaexia - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
