I Refuse To Believe That I Am The Only One Who Occasionally Thinks Of Whiney Top Kurona Who Wants Nothing

i refuse to believe that i am the only one who occasionally thinks of whiney top kurona who wants nothing more than to make his girl feel good

୭̥⋆*｡ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ!!

content : established relationship, pro player!Kurona, soft service dom!Kurona, fingering, oral (f!receiving), romantic sex, cockwarming, nipple play, thigh riding, cum eating, praise, edging + overstimulation if you squint, kissing, tongue fucking, dry humping, hands free orgasm & not proofread

→ scenario

꒰ ͜͡➸ your pleasure definitely has to be Ranze Kuronas pleasure!!

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷mdni!!

Ranze Kurona absolutely loves to please his girl, he even enjoys it more than receiving pleasure. In fact, he’s the true definition of a loving service dom that does everything for his beloved girlfriend

It’s one of service dom!Kuronas favorite sights when he has you on his lap; legs spread over his knees and your back flush against his muscular chest. The cute panties he bought you dangling on your left leg as the frilly socks of yours were the only article of clothing on your lower body. Wet fingers pump in and out of your cunt at a moderate pace you love, and he knows you love it. The pink haired male pressed kiss after kiss to your shoulder and neck and moaned along with you, mainly little „ahh“‘s and „mhmm“‘s whenever Ranze heard your cunt squelching from the wetness and his fingers.

He sees it as his task to make you cum over and over from his fingers alone, carefully working you open for his cock or the following pleasure he plans for you. And every time service dom!Kurona made your sloppy cunt sopping wet for him, he turns you around his and pushes you down on his thigh to grind against him. Sticky hands wet from fingering you and rubbing your clit attached to your hips as your boyfriend guides you along his leg, flexing the muscles whenever your clit rolls against the flash of his footballer thighs.

It gets you close enough to another orgasm, but Ranze pushes his fingers back inside you to feel how your velvet walls clench around his digits. Even sweet talking you through all your orgasms so gently and careful not to overstimulate your body, because he’s not done yet. Soft kisses pepper all over your face until a chaste one is placed on your lips, full of love and pride before he moves his cum covered fingers to clean them with his mouth. A satisfied groan erupts from service dom!kurona’s throat at the taste of your juices lingering on his tongue. „Sweet pussy tastes so good, wish I could eat you all day baby. How about you lay pretty on the sheets and let me have my fill ?“

Lovely gentle rubs on your waist that your lover drew with his thumbs made you relax against Ranze when he pushed your thighs over his shoulders to get better access to your pussy. After pressing a soft kiss to your clit, he immediately began to suck it lightly into his mouth. Shortly releasing it after you adjusted to the feeling. With the flat of his tongue, service dom!Kurona licks a fat stripe up your cunt. Even taking a few more to taste all of you on the pink slippery muscle. Praises of „good“ „tasty“ and „doing so good“ mumbled kurona out, along with the questions „does it feel good?“ and „feels this better ?“.

His favorite part must be sticking his tongue deep inside you, tongue fucking you to taste every single bit of you. Service dom!kurona‘s are actually louder than your own because eating your pussy like that does wonders to him. Ranze knows your body like the back of his hand, remembering every little movement of yours when you’re about to cum. Along with your stuttering hips, the grinding of his dick against the bed starts. Humping the fabric like he fucks you. And even his timing his perfect, drooling cock shooting cum in his boxers as you release all over his tongue and sheets. According to him so erotic yet so romantic.

Don’t worry, Kurona would never forget about your aching tits he seemed to have neglected from playing with your cunt the whole time. He’s definitely going to warm his cock inside you and suck your nipples into his mouth; softly grazing the sensitive buds with his teeth and circling it with his tongue while pressing your body snug against his own. It’s only a matter of time until he locks your legs over his elbows and starts finally fucking you, service!dom kurona just has to wait until your body calmed down from all the overwhelming pleasure.!

mdni, every character is 18+

© ringasm 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

Rin „I can’t sleep unless my girls tits are smushed tightly around my face. Having her soft mounds engulfing my head is a must for me to fall asleep comfortably and it also becomes second nature to just burry my face between her tits. Nuzzling my nose as deep as possible so smell her scent while having a comfortable weight around my head calms me down in every situation. It helps me cope so good that I hide my face inbetween my girlfriends breasts whenever I feel overwhelmed with feelings and emotions I can’t handle on my own. If it’s particular harsh for me, munching on the soft skin and a nipple are the only things that can put me to rest while she milks my cock for all its worth; this might even be the best way possible to end my day. So at the end of it, I love being overstimulated and have to think of nothing while I lay on those soft tits as my girl fucks me dumb with her hand alone,, choking on my drool and letting it smother all over her chest. If I suckle her buds in my mouth, it puts me in a very deep slumber only she can wake me up from. Tits are really my safespace.“ Itoshi

a bit dirty - ch3

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch3 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// probably a bad idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6874 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, hotel, disgustingly sweet, needy as fuck, kissing during sex, fucking your boss, names names names pet names a million pet names, slight slowburn? like they fuck but-, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

you’d think that seeing osamu nearly every single day after the night that you fucked him in your place of work, in his restaurant, would ruin something between the two of you. 

and sure, yes, there was always, and still is, ruminating under your skin, simmering in the depths of your stomach, resting at the forefront of your mind: the memory of that night, not even the act or the desperation, but the succeeding moment where he held you in his arms, kissed the back of your neck, the point in time before you told him it was a bad idea, the one where he didn’t regret a thing and neither did you.

even the morning after that night in onigiri miya, you two joke like it never happened. well, sorta like it never happened, because when you got there a bit early, osamu was already there. he was leaving the bathroom, wiping sweat off of his forehead, mop in hand, and both of you knew exactly what he was doing. neither of you said it, but the sheepish smile that you wore and the embarrassed adjustment of his cap as he put away the cleaning supplies spoke loud enough.

and that day you moved in sync, just like always. it was busy, really busy actually, but with the two of you working together, people were sat and fed and paid and gone all with a smile on their face. it’s wordless, the way that you compliment each other. you remember the things that he forgets and he knows exactly when you need a bit of extra support. 

there’s always been an inkling of synchrony ever since you started working there, but as you learned the ropes a bit more, as you memorized the menu and fully understood the ordering system, the two of you got even more dynamic. 

part of it, maybe most of it, was the fact that you genuinely cared about this place, about osamu’s well being and success and the way that his reputation was perceived. you wanted every customer that came in to leave happy, to tell their friends about the nice girl that worked at onigiri miya and the delicious food that they had.

you became indispensable, really. 

some days it was just the two of you. on busy saturday nights that used to easily need 3 or 4 workers plus osamu running around and taking orders and clearing dishes and packing to-gos in the tiny kitchen, your team of two got along just fine. help was nice and always welcomed, but when it came down to it, osamu knew he could count on you, on just you, no matter what. 

so when he asks you if you’ll work a catering gig with him a few hours out of town over the weekend, you probably shouldn’t be surprised, but you are, not because of anything work-related or because you feel like he should ask someone more capable, but because it’s only been a few short weeks since that night in onigiri miya and despite the fact that in your work environment nothing has changed, you still find yourself terrified that you’re going to revoke your treaty of no more. 

“me?” you ask, bag on your shoulder, no longer on the clock, and a few steps from the door. he’s caught you on your way out, a casual invitation in the empty restaurant that draws you back towards the bar where he’s standing. 

“c’mon, yea, of course, who else?” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. then he explains further, “travel and stay will be paid for obviously. we’ll drive up the day before, stay the night, work the event, and then drive back that night,” he explains, leaning on the counter top, one arm over the other. he points at you to make his final sell, “and it’s overtime pay because it’s a catering event.”

truthfully, you couldn’t care less about the money, aren’t thinking about it even after he’s mentioned it, you have much more on your mind like, why me why me why me why me?

“why me?” you ask, unsure why it’s made it past the barrier of your brain and lips. it was supposed to stay trapped in your mind. you’re grateful it’s only those two words and not the full string of when we’ve literally had sex two times and it’s hard enough for me to keep my hands and mind off of you when we’re in this fucking restaurant let alone a roadtrip to another city. 

he laughs, “if i bring anyone else, i’ll actually have to bring two or three instead of just you, and then everyone needs their own hotel room, and then i have to make sure i have enough room in my car.” he waves his hand at the thought of the hassle. “easier to bring the best person than a few good people, y’know?”

their own hotel room. and now you can’t get the idea out of your head, of osamu inviting you into his hotel room, of him slipping you an extra key and asking you to spend the night with him, how he wouldn’t even have to ask for you to go back on your word so quickly, how different it would be to have sex with him in an actual bed and not on top of a sink or up against a bathroom wall.

you know it shouldn’t, but it’s only making you lean in the direction of yes even more (as if you weren’t already going to say yes just because he asked). it probably won’t even happen, isn’t even a thought on his mind. he said it himself, it was just easier to bring you.

“plus,” he tacks on, “i’d enjoy your company maybe a bit more,” he adds, “might be a bit selfish.” his smile says it all, contagious and bright as he asks, “so, whaddya say?”

“of course,” you nod, no hesitancy. 

/\ /\ /\

in the aftermath of the busyness of your last shift before you leave for the catering event, you’re smoothing out all of the details that you might need to know for the weekend. 

what the event is, anyway: some corporate business meeting something or other, he doesn’t really remember the name, he just knows how much they’re paying and what they’re paying for

the plan on how osamu is picking you up: if you just give him your address, he can just pick you up so you don’t have to make your way to him or the restaurant

what time you’re leaving: at noon, the hotel that you’re staying in is also the place that the catering event takes place in. it’s about a 4 hour drive or so.

you’re making note of all of these things in your head, nodding along to the information that he’s giving you. “so, you’ll be able to sleep in?” you ask in response to the late start time.

he stops what he’s doing, rag left on the countertop as he laughs, throws his head back and shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. if he weren’t as kind and considerate as you know he is, this could’ve come off very differently. “absolutely not,” he shakes his head, “i’ll be coming in to prep for the morning here, making sure that everything is in order for sumu to be in charge while i’m gone.” he says the last part with a shiver. 

“what? he doesn’t do a good job?” you ask, tilting your head, but you can’t hold the joke for that long, so you laugh right along with him. 

“thought you were serious for a second,” osamu says, still laughing, “shouldn’t be too bad this time ‘cause we’re not even gone for a full day, really. i’ll prep for him the morning of and close for him the night we’re back. won’t be that bad.”

“he doesn’t know how to close?” you ask, reaching out to grab the rag that osamu left on the counter while he laughed at the thought of sleeping in for once. you take over for him, wiping down the counters carefully, thoroughly. 

osamu recovers, smiles at this tiny gesture and then moves to restocking the fridge. “nuhhuh. don’t trust him with numbers and receipts, just have him throw everything in a paper bag for me to take care of when i’m back,” he calls from his crouched position on the floor. 

“y’know, i know it wouldn’t help you now, but you could probably teach me how to close if you wanted,” you offer, and he’s really grateful for the fact that you’re not able to see how much this affects him, “or open or both,” you plop the rag back into the clean water before finishing the few bar glasses in the adjacent sink, “that way you could sleep in once in awhile or not have to worry about closing all by yourself sometimes.”

he’s quiet for a second because he’s feeling a lot of feelings that have nothing to do with training you to open or to close and he’s trying his best to sort through them quickly to offer you a reply. to you, however, the silence feels like contemplation on how to tell you he doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so you add quickly, “if- if you wanted? y’know, or if you don’t think i’m ready, i completely understand-”

“that would be really great, actually,” he cuts you off, soft and polite, “i really appreciate that.”

you’re warm now, trying to sort through a lot of feelings that are arising into your chest and your cheeks, so you just hum in response. the two of you finish your closing duties together and as you’re clocking out, you ask him one last question, “oh! last question,” you say, turning to him after you punch the buttons into the computer, “since we’re not at the restaurant, should i still wear my uniform?” 

“it’s a bit nicer of a catering event, actually,” he notes, “you could wear your uniform if you want but probably should wear something else, something a bit more professional, maybe? black pants, maybe a skir-”

“a dress?” you cut him off. 

if he says his words too fast, he’s worried that he’ll seem woefully unprofessional, but if he waits too long he’s worried that you might mistake hesitancy for reluctance. “yea,” he says, nodding, “that would be- that would be perfect,” he adds on, trying to be a bit more casual, a bit less flustered, “or whatever you wanted to wear.”

“great,” you say, nodding, “i still haven’t packed yet, so that is very helpful.” you wait a pause to see if he’ll continue the conversation, if he has anything else to say, because if he said a single other word, you’d sit right down and talk with him all night. you wait long enough and you’re somewhat grateful for his lack of response, because you need a good night’s sleep to be sharp enough for this weekend. “do you need anything else?” you ask, apron in your bag, bag on your shoulder, body towards the door.

he shakes his head, a smile on his face, “see ya tomorrow.”

“see ya tomorrow, samu,” you say, a small wave thrown as you leave the restaurant, unnecessarily giddy and very light.

/\ /\ /\

when he picks you up, you’re not prepared for how casual osamu looks, sunglasses and baggy black t-shirt as he walks around the front of his car to grab your bag. your tiny bag, your backpack. you were only going to be away for a night, you fit everything in a small black bag that you most definitely could carry, but he asks if he can put it in the back for you anyway. 

he opens the passenger door for you too, doesn’t linger around, just props it open for you to climb inside and you’re really not sure how you’re supposed to get through this car ride, let alone the better half of a weekend with just the two of you.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu teaches you all about how catering events differ from the regular restaurant. “they’re actually easier, honestly, ‘cause we’ve only gotta worry about the people in front of us, not seating or packing orders or answering the phone, just one at a time,” he says. 

on the drive to the hotel, osamu tells you all about his favorite songs, cycling through playlists and telling you why they mean so much to him. he learns about yours, not because you offer them blindly even, but because he asks, hands you his phone and tells you to play your favorite album cover to cover, we’ve got time. 

on the drive to the hotel, osamu explains the reason that he and his brother are so close, highlights moments from his childhood that he thinks contributed to who they are today, asks about your family and where you grew up, and is surprisingly good at driving while looking over at you with admiration in his eyes every other second.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu takes you to one of his favorite places to eat, hidden in a small town with a shitty parking lot, and he asks if he can order for you, recalls the time that you told him you were adventurous and not picky, but still asks you to trust him and you answer back a bit too quickly that you do. the food is simple but incredible and osamu listens to every word you have to say about it even though they maybe aren’t as concise as his and when the bill comes, he pays it in full, doesn’t listen to a single complaint that you have about splitting it or paying for your own.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu brakes a little bit too hard, reaches over and puts his hand on your thigh to warn you and your stomach has not stopped doing flips since. you have to fight yourself so hard to not put your own hand on top of it, to spread your legs a bit wider, to lean over and kiss him so hard that you cause an accident. 

on the drive to the hotel, you realize that there’s no way you make it through this weekend without doing something you should maybe regret, but don’t.

/\ /\ /\

but when you get to the hotel, osamu only asks for one key, no secret second one that he can slip you as a knowing gesture. your rooms are on opposite sides of the huge hotel, no running into each other late at night or being one wall away, and even though the two of you get dinner together after you’ve freshened up a bit, it wraps up pretty quickly.

as the two of you get up from the table, osamu reasons, “should probably call it an early night. we’re on at like 6 or something,” he says, “i’ll meet you at the bottom of the elevators at 5:55 to walk over there together?”

it’s the perfect opportunity for him to be bold or you to be outward, but you know that he’s just respecting exactly what you told him. he’s not going against your hesitant advice for last time to be the last time. he’s being perfectly attentive and a much better person than you probably would’ve been if the roles were reversed. 

“that sounds great,” you say, whining a soft question about why the conference has to start so early and he throws back a teasing quip of how you agreed to this and how business people need good breakfasts too. you walk back with him to the elevators, but you enter different ones.

and the two of you go up to your separate rooms alone.

/\ /\ /\

given that the night had to go as it did, vis-a-vi you not spending it with osamu, you’re grateful for how early you went to bed. waking up before sunrise is never fun, but you feel almost ready to accomplish a full day because you had a pretty good night’s sleep. 

you meet osamu at the bottom of the elevator promptly at 5:55am in the black dress that you mentioned in passing and your onigiri miya embroidered apron in your arms and you’re cursing yourself for not expecting this. 

all the signs were there, all of his mentions of a nicer event and nicer clothes and how of course it didn’t just apply to you. when you round the corner, you see him. hair combed neat, bangs pushed back, black collared long-sleeve button-up, and tan pleated dress pants, and you feel like you need a do-over of this morning, because how are you supposed to just not tell him how good he looks this morning and walk to work like the only thought in your head isn’t how badly you want him.

“morning,” you call out, soft so that you don’t startle osamu who is looking down at his phone, scrolling to pass the time. “have you been waiting long?” you ask.

“only a few minutes, my fault for wak-,” he starts, clicking his phone off and putting it in his pocket, and then he sees you… and then he takes a few moments to really see you, trying to cover up his wandering eyes with the rest of his stumbling sentence, “for- uh, for waking up on time, or- er- early.”

“how did you sleep?” you ask, breezing over his reaction, because if you focus on it too long you will sound the exact same way.

“good,” he nods, short response because he’s learned his lesson, “you?” he gestures towards the direction that you’re heading and starts to move, slow steps until you’re right next to him.

“not bad, pretty good,” you say, hesitating a bit because you know the connotation of your next words, but he’s looking at you patiently, genuinely listening and caring about how you slept last night and his collar is neat against his neck and if you don’t say something, he’ll never understand how sorry you are for wanting that last time to be the last time. “king bed was a bit big just for me,” you say as you approach the stand of tables and warmers and portable burners.

you step behind them, pausing to see how he’ll respond. you’re hoping for a sorry or a flirty is that so or we don’t have to check out until 3, but instead he just asks, “do you want me to do up your apron?” it’s the only time he’s asked this since your first week and you’re slightly confused until you nod yes slowly and he steps behind you, hands on your waist as he holds you still.

he pulls the apron out of your arms, smooths it over your stomach, tugs on the strings, sending you softly back into his chest. “sorry, doll,” he says against your ear, making no move to separate this contact. your eyes dart around the open hall that the stand is occupying. there isn’t a single other person here, but your heart is beating like you’re on full display. 

he runs his hands down your sides and your hips, holds the strings of your apron with one hand as the other ghosts over the tight fabric of your dress, palm kneading into your ass, sliding down the tops of the backs of your thighs. when he moves his hands, his hips replace them, pressed taut against you as he makes a pretty bow against your lower back. 

osamu pulls away from you slowly and when you turn around to face him, you can see his chest rising and falling slightly faster than before, a look on his face asking for confirmation. you put your hand on his chest, on the dull thumping beneath his sternum, “thank you, samu.”

“mornin’ rush starts at 7, so we should probably prep,” he mentions, bending over to pick up the rice cooker from under the table, conversation back to normal no matter how much you wish it wasn’t, “should be done after the lunch rush at 1:30,” he says, turning his attention to you, looking you straight in the eyes, “and i think check-out’s at 3.”

if you were trying to play coy right now, the whimper that leaves you ruins the entire facade, but you aren’t. you unabashedly need him right now, or at 1:30 whatever, and you want him to know that. “okay,” you nod, “1:30,” you repeat.

the second that you start working the morning shift, you’re moving nonstop, a constant line for most of the day. you have a few steady hours of non-stop work, and osamu is right, it is much easier. you only have to focus on one person at a time and you and osamu work just as well here under high, ballroom ceilings, serving onigiri to people in suits and blazers as you do in the small walls of onigiri miya.  

when you’re busy, it’s hard not to think only about the task at hand, at taking orders and making onigiri and politely conversing with customers. but when it slows down, when the tiny break right before 11 hits, when the late risers have finished their breakfast and the lunch cravings haven’t quite hit yet and not a single person shows up at the booth or even in the surrounding area, it’s much harder not letting your mind wander.

it’s only you and osamu, only the two of you, pressed up against each other, leaning on the back table, not saying anything, but a million things on your mind, not a single one not about him. you look over at the clock on the wall. it’s been 10 minutes since you’ve seen one other person.

“does it usually get this slow during catering events?” you ask.

“nah, but i think everyone is gone for meetings and whatever for another few hours,” he says, gesturing to the large floor sign with the schedule plastered on the front. “it’ll pick up once everything lets out at noon, but we’ve got like an hour until then.”

your eyes are up on the clock again, seconds tick, tick, ticking by, but not fast enough. 1:30 is too far away, isn’t close enough, not when there’s no one around and osamu’s side is pressed up against yours and his hand has just moved to rest against your other hip, arm across your lower back because he just wants to touch you. 

“i don’t think i can wait until 1:30,” he says, quietly and only to you, as if there were anyone else around to hear if he talked normally. you turn to him, chest against his side now and his hand moves to pull you closer, fingers spanning over your ass, gripping into the fat. 

you look up at him and you don’t even have to say it, don’t have to verbally reciprocate this impatience, he can see it on your face. you want to kiss him. he needs to kiss you. you can’t kiss here in the openness of the hall and it’s making everything have to happen much quicker. if you could kiss him now, feel his lips against yours and his hands against your body, you could’ve waited a few minutes to start undressing him, to walk back to your hotel room or find somewhere a bit more private, but without his lips on yours, you needed to get out of here right now. 

your eyes flicker to the sign, employee bathroom, and osamu follows your gaze, chest forward, immediately ready to follow you. he roots around the stand, finds a sign that says something about stepping away for a minute and puts it at the forefront of the booth and then you’re gone. he’s following you so closely, hand in your hand, rioting pulse against your own.

he barely has time to lock the door before you’re on him, pulling him, grabbing him, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt in a hurry to feel his skin in your hands, lips smashed against his as you do so and the second that they meet, all feels right in the world.

it feels like everything slows down and you let it. your heart beats a bit slower, more regular, you’re more careful with this buttons against his chest, your kiss is sweeter, softer. he’s holding your face in the palm of his hands, no tongue or teeth, just a deep kiss that has your stomach in knots, that could make you break down in tears, that could give you a toothache.

“m sorry i said,” you say against his lips and he moves to pull away but you push right back. you don’t care if he can barely hear you, you need to kiss him. you don’t want to stop kissing him. if you spent the entire hour in this bathroom just kissing him that might be satisfying enough. “sorry i said we shouldn't do this again, was really dumb,” you murmur.

he tries harder this time, pulls your face away from his, wipes the gathering tear in the outer corner of your eye, gives you a tiny peck, and then says, loud for you to hear it, “it’s alright, sweetheart, just glad to kiss ya again.” he has to wipe more tears now as they start falling down the side of your face, dripping off of your chin before he can catch them, and you don’t really know why you’re crying, you just don’t want to stop kissing him, don’t want to be without his touch or out of his grasp.

the second that his lips are back on yours, the tears cease, happy to feel him again and taste him again and you’re so slow to unbutton his shirt, but you don’t pull away until each one is open. you place both of your palms on his bare chest, slide them down the toned muscle and his abs, push your fingertips around his sides, and clasp them behind his lower back, pulling him with you until your lower back meets the counter.

he leans down, forehead against the top of your head, speaking into the tiny confines he’s created with the two of you pressed together and the boundaries of your chests. his breath is warm and his words shake you, “think i can properly taste ya now, pretty?” your knees are weak as you nod against him, whimpers plentiful as he helps you jump onto the counter and sinks onto his, perfectly level with your squeezed together thighs.

osamu places his large hands on top of your thighs, thumbs digging down against the insides to pry them open, dress riding up to your hips as he spreads your legs wide. you’re already drenched, soaking wet just from kissing him and listening to his voice and you aren’t the least bit embarrassed. he moves your panties to the side with one hand, pushes his other up your thigh, thumb following the inside until it brushes up against your cute little clit, flicking it with the pad gently. 

at the first touch, you recoil slightly, jumping at the sensation. osamu reaches up, places one hand on your hip, a tender reminder to stay put, and then he can’t help it. he leans forward quickly, tongue hanging out of his mouth, running the flat of it between your slick folds, curling his tongue to gather your juices, to taste them as they run down his throat.

the second that he tastes you, really tastes you, finally tastes you, he can’t control himself. he hooks both arms under your knees, pulling you closer, knocking you off balance slightly, back colliding with the mirror as he pulls your cunt into his mouth deeper. he’s using everything he can to taste you, to get you off, his teeth and tongue and nose and lips and you can feel every single little detail.

the noises coming from between your legs are so lewd, so vulgar, the wet slurping and heavy panting breaths every time he comes up for air. he squeezes your plush thighs against his cheeks, can’t get enough of your delicate skin and your sweet taste. he’s murmuring things into your soft pussy now and you can’t hear him, but you can feel the vibrations and if you weren’t so close to coming all over his tongue, you’d care more about messing up his hair as you thread your fingers into it, grabbing tightly onto his locks as you pull him in deeper. 

“samu,” you cry, tears starting again because the way that the tip of his tongue is prodding against your tight hole, circling around the rim, teeth scraping against your throbbing clit, mouth rubbing against your puffy lips, your core is on fire, so tight, and you’re coming all over his face, flooding and gushing, and the noises don’t stop, they get worse.

they get wetter and more intense and you’ve already come on his pretty face, but he looks up at you, mascara smudged against your cheekbones from crying two times already, and he decides that he needs to taste your come again. you’re so sensitive and he’s so good, it doesn’t take very long at all for you to be creaming all over his perfect tongue again.

“taste so fucking good, puppy,” he practically growls, low and breathless, standing up, chest sliding between your legs, “need-,” he breathes, “need to feel you all sloppy on my cock again, babygirl, yea?” you nod, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest and he leans forward for you to reach. your other hand stays gripped around the edge of the counter, bracing yourself for his thick, fat cock to split you open. 

you don’t need to watch him undo his dress pants or take himself out of his boxers. you keep your eyes on his, lift your chin up slightly because you can’t find the right words for if you don’t kiss me right now i’ll cry again. you don’t have to. he leans down, leaking cock pressed against the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips to yours, sweet and soft, back of his fingertips falling down the side of your jaw, palm resting on your collarbone as he pulls away. 

before he slips inside of you, he leans back, squeezes your legs together and rests them on one of his shoulders. he uses his hand to guide himself, rubs the underside of his head against your sloppy lips, grunting softly at how good you feel against his sensitive tip. this grunt only gets louder, deeper, more guttural as he sinks inside of you, thick cock pushing through your puffy lips and slick folds, and he turns his head, kissing the side of your calf.

he’s all the way inside of you, hips pressed against the backs of your thighs, kisses your leg again, shaky and ruined as he shudders, “fuck, bunny, missed ya, missed ya so much.” you don’t know what’s fluttering more, your tight, gummy walls around him or your flipping, empty stomach, and you don’t know how to communicate how much you missed him too. 

when you try, it comes out as, “deeper, samu, please.” it’s whiney and desperate and skips out of your tight throat, but he hears it. he understands what you mean more than you even do, spreading your legs again, letting them fall against the edge of the cold counter as he wraps his arms around your back, scooches you closer to him. your chest is pressed against his, forehead against his shoulder, his hand is on the back of your head, holding you close. he pulls you closer to him, deeper onto his cock, one hand on the small of your back, hips pressing forward to meet you. 

his hand migrates to the back of your neck, fingers twirling around locks of your hair as he stays buried deep inside of you, not moving, just feeling you surrounding him. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face deeper into the crook of yours, aching to have him impossibly closer. 

when he finally starts moving, his strokes are long and slow, pulling out so that his swollen head is the only thing inside of you and pushing back in until his hips are pressed flush against the insides of your thighs. “‘s that better, baby?” he asks into your soft skin.

“‘smuch better, thank you, samu,” you say in between soft moans and tiny sobs. “thank you,” you repeat, circling your hips, disrupting his steady rhythm because you just can’t sit still. he doesn’t mind, pulls away to watch you squirm as his cock disappears between your sticky folds.

“c’mere, doll,” he coaxes, helps you down and holds you close as he switches positions with you, his lower back on the edge of the counter, lifting one of your legs and resting your knee beside his hip and the top of the sink. “lemme fuck ya harder, okay, dove?” you whimper, nodding so hard that you make yourself dizzy, forehead falling against his shoulder again, kisses placed into his collarbones because you need your lips against some part of him. 

every time he pulls his hips back, slides his cock out of you to fuck into you again, gravity has you falling back onto his cock, harsh and sudden, filling you full every time his hips move away from you like you’re magnets. he wraps one arm around the small of your back, the other bracing the weight of the two of you with his fist gripped around the edge of the counter. 

he holds you against him and thrusting up into you is less like his cock driving up into you and more like moving you up. he can’t feel the drag of his cock parting your tight walls, but he can feel the pressure of your thighs weighing on his hips as he fucks upwards and he can hear the cute little noises you make as you fall back on his cock and he decides that he has to get you back into this position again, it’s like air to him.

“princess,” he whines, and you hum.

“babygirl,” he coos, and you hum louder this time in case he hasn’t heard you over the clapping of your sticky skin against his.

“my pretty angel,” he adores, and this time you pick your head up off of his shoulder, thread your fingers into his hair to force his attention, to show you that you’re listening really good, 

“samu, baby, what?” you ask, voice like flowing honey. you repeat yourself because it feels good leaving your lips and the smitten, blushy look that arises on osamu’s face needs to stick around a little longer, “samu, what can i do for you, baby?”

the answer is just this. he doesn’t say anything and he hopes that you understand, the only thing that he needs right now is you, is this, this slow, intimate moment where he’s looking at you and you’re looking back at him and he can hear every single time that your thighs slap against his and he can feel how warm you are and watch how pretty you are, and there’s only one thing that could make this better. you lean forward, press your lips onto his, exhale a breath against them. okay, there are two things that could make this moment better. “pretty girl, can you come for me?” he says, but that’s not quite right, so he corrects himself, “can i make you come?”

you swallow harshly before you nod, bracing yourself for the pick up in speed and force, and you’re glad that you do. when he starts to fuck into you harder, faster, not letting you fully fall back onto his cock before picking you up again. you almost fall to the floor. you’re balancing on one leg, but it’s nearly worthless, rendered jelly at this point, so you hang off of osamu’s neck. 

he doesn’t slow down with this extra weight, of your arms around his neck and of being completely responsible for you right now. really, the responsibility he’s feeling and the trust that you’re putting in him only makes him want you more. “come, puppy, lemme feel it, make a mess for me, yea?” 

the whimpers that tear from your throat fill his head so full that there isn’t much room for anything else up there, only the responsibility to hold you and the need to fuck you through it. you’re trying to get his name out of your mouth, but you can only give him broken syllables, though that’s enough for him. “s-a sa s- sam- amu-”

“i know, babygirl, i know,” he whispers, and he feels bad that he can’t give you another or wreck you even harder, god knows you’d come undone so much faster a fourth time, but he’s so close, so fucking close hearing you so ruined, feeling you dripping down his cock. 

“angel,” he says like a question, “don’t wanna make a mess on your nice black dress, doll. can i come on your pretty tongue, pumpkin?” he asks. 

“will you let me kiss you after?” you worry, the only thought that’s making you hesitate even the slightest amount. 

“oh, sweetheart, nothing could stop me,” he says, pressing a kiss into your temple before helping you to the floor. 

the tile is cold on your knees, but you only feel it for a second, the sensation lost to your brain as the only one that inhabits it now is osamu’s heavy cock on your tongue. his fingers are softly pinching your chin, thumb rubbing against your bottom lip as he pumps his fist around his cock once, a second time, and on the third stroke, his load is spilling onto your tongue. it doesn’t take him long at all, looking down at you looking up at him, heavy lashes and smeared mascara, kind eyes and swollen lips, pretty wet tongue and heaving chest.

he’s come between your thighs enough times for you to know how his release feels, slow and thick and plentiful, and on your tongue it’s no different, but you can taste it, bitter and salty but addicting, and it slides down your throat so nice that you barely have to swallow. you wrap your lips around his head, flick the tip of your tongue against his slit as one last rope coats the inside of your cheek. 

the second that he’s done, before he’s even caught his breath again, he helps you to your feet, picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist and kisses you as hard as he can. he can taste himself on your lips and it’s driving him fucking crazy because he knows you can taste yourself on his lips and he never wants either to fade. 

he can’t stop kissing you, can’t pull away from you, but neither of you can breathe. it was already hard enough recovering from something like that when you were able to catch your breath. when he finally does pull away, you can’t stop smiling. you place your palm on his cheek, gently, softly, run your thumb over his bottom lip because you know you can’t kiss him right now and this will just have to do for the moment. 

when your breathes return to normal, when the room isn’t filled with harsh claps and lewd noises and desperate moans, when even the sounds of tissues being discarded and clothes being smoothed fade, you can hear a voice outside.

“does anyone know where miya-san is? it’s nearly noon and he’s still not back.” 

the bliss dissipates quickly, bubbles of whatever feelings are floating around between the two of you are popped. the neediness has come down, your one-track minds now have more, and the moment you so badly wanted to capture in your heart forever now has a horribly tainted ending. 

there’s no mention of we shouldn't do this again as he leaves first, and maybe it's wordless, maybe it's gone unsaid, because it doesn’t need to be said. the ramifications of your actions are laid out in front of you. you have the entirety of the 5 minutes that you wait alone in the bathroom to count every single consequence of this stupid lust-driven endeavor. 

or maybe neither of you have the strength to try to stop yourself anymore. maybe it goes unsaid, because you both know that you shouldn't do it, but neither one of you is going to follow that. you already tried it once and you couldn’t even make it a few weeks, wouldn’t even have lasted this long if you were alone together like this sooner.

so why try?

you’re not exactly sure which one it is, which reason of unsaid caution you should follow the path of, but you do know that you’re going to spend every single day until then trying. you open the door to the bathroom. maybe one day you’ll figure it out.

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It’s been so long since you’ve both had a chance to be intimate, and Chigiri wants to make you cum on his cock.

Pairing: Chigiri Hyoma x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, not proofread!

Word Count: 1.1k.

Time isn’t a luxury that Chigiri has often anymore, especially not with you. Your conflicting work schedules paired with his arduous training regime mean the time you both spend together is few and far between. Surviving with fleeting kisses as you pass each other at the front door, and quickies in the shower as you try to get ready for work while he’s is drenched in sweat from training.

So, on a rare occurrence when you both have the afternoon off, Chigiri is intent on taking his time with you. Even though you don’t make it easy, those pretty eyes gazing up at him as you silently beg for him to slip his thick cock inside your tight walls.

His hair falls around his shoulders, an alluring sight in its self. It’s often he ties it back before disappearing between your thighs to feast on your cunt. The hair bands he keeps on his wrists remind you of the fact every time you watch him take to the pitch during a match, the subtle smirk he gives you across the field whenever he reaches up to tie his messy hair back. But there’s no time for any of that now, now when he hasn’t had the chance to have you like this in weeks.

Chigiri’s fingers press into the dip of your thighs, calloused pads grazing against your supple skin as thumbs trace your puffy folds. You’re soaked already, he barely even had to touch you before glistening strings of your slick began to gather at your entrance. Trying to entice him further as he spread your lips apart, your tight little hole eager and willing for him as you writhe against soft sheets.

“Hyoma, please.” Your saccharine pleas roll off your tongue and dance directly around his heart. The desperate lilt has his cock twitching as it hangs heavy between his thighs, heady pre already drooling from the slit as it leaves glistening streaks against your inner thighs when he can’t help but rut his hips forward.

But he can’t, not yet.

Not until he’s felt every inch of you.

He wraps a large fist around his cock as he strokes himself in front of you, satiating the ache just enough for now as he smooths the leaking tip between your messy folds.

The sound that leaves your lips when the head catches against your tight entrance is primal, the low groan has all the blood flowing directly to his cock and Kunigami’s certain he’s never been this hard. Especially not when you look so desperate, so debauched beneath him. And he’s barely even done anything.

You’re reaching out for him now, nimble hands trying to coax him inside, to feel him fill you up as he does so well.

“Please, Hy— I need it,” You whine, hips rolling against his cock as you grind along the length of him. The prominent veins catching against your clit as you reach for his heavy cock, “I need you.”

And how he can he deny you when you ask so nicely.

“Put it in then, sweetheart.” He grunts, “It’s yours.”

Chigiri feels your nails brush against the swollen head of his cock as you reach for him, deft fingers push down on the tip as you angle him towards your tight hole. Raising your hips at an angle to feel him slowly breach your entrance, and groaning when he finally obliges and begins to push inside.

You always look so pretty when you’re taking his cock, the way your eyes roll and you bite down on your bottom lip as the painful pleasure slowly seeps through your core. The time since you were last able to be intimate evident from the way your walls cling to him, trembling around his length as he stretches you open on his cock.

“So big,” You exhale, certain you can feel him in your throat as he bottoms out. Your warm, wet cunt takes every inch as he gazes down at where your bodies are connected. The mess of pink hair pressed snug against your clit as he smooths his palms along your abdomen.

“So perfect, baby.” He hums, leaning down to steal a kiss, “Always taking me so well.”

But he still doesn’t move. His cock still inside you as you pulse around him, the subtle throb enough to have his cock twitching as he lets his thumb return to your sensitive clit. Pressing slow, constant circles against it as he coaxes you towards a climax. Fuscia eyes watch the way your lashes flutter at the treatment.

“Hyoma, you promised.” You mewl, trying to grind your hips into him to get him to move to no avail.

“I promised I’d make you cum, sweet girl.” He murmured, his other hand pressing down on your pelvis to pull the hood of your clit back, “And I will.”

There’s nothing you can do but lay there and take it. The musky scent of sweat laced with his aftershave clouds your mind as you feel yourself slowly succumbing to the pleasure. Your tight walls clench around him as he feels every single throb, clenching his jaw to stop himself from needing his own end.

“You’re always so good for me,” He groans, “Missed this pretty pussy.”

His movements are sloppier now, his thumb circles your clit with haste as he works you towards your climax. Chigiri knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if he cums before feeling your cunt clench around him.

“She missed me too didn’t she?” He coos, “That why I can feel her clenching around my cock?”

“Fuck,” You choke back a gasp as wide eyes stare up at the ceiling.

It feels like the airs been stolen from your lungs when you meet your end, your head heavy against the plush pillow beneath it as you come crashing into your bliss. Your thighs try to clench shut, but Chigiri’s muscular hips stop them. Continuing to tease your sensitive clit as he works you through your climax.

“Oh, fuck. Baby—” Chigiri’s eyes roll back as his jaw goes lax.

The sound of his name spilling from your lips is all it takes to have him reaching his own end. His hips buck erratically as he gives a few haphazard thrusts into your tight cunt, practically milking him of his release as he coats your walls with thick warm ropes of cum.

Chigiri stays buried inside you, keeping you plugged full of his cum as he continues to tease your overstimulated clit. His thumb still circling the sensitive nub as you reach between your thighs to try and pull his wrist away. An action that has him flexing his muscles as he leans over you, daring you to try and stop him.

“S’too much, Hyoma.” You can already feel the pressure building inside you as he works you towards another climax, your toes curling as thick thighs squeeze his hips, “I can’t—”

“Oh, sweet girl— you didn’t think we were done, did you?”

˚ ༘✶try it out with me, will feel good. promise..|| Stoner!Rin Itoshi⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

content : established relationship, aged!up Rin Itoshi, drug usage, smoking, shotgunning, mention of happy trip, exhibitionism, switch!character & reader, kissing, making out, marking, nipple play, creampie,, groping, oral(m!receiving), fingering, public sex, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, not proofread & reposted

→thirst alike scenarios || wc: 1.3k

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ mdni!!

Rin Itoshi who just falls a little more for you when you confessed to him you smoke as well. It feels like your smoking sessions are some kind of bonding time and your relationship grows stronger over time because of your shared ,hobby‘.

Stoner!Rin who has now regularly smoking sessions with you. An unhealthy feeding into his growing weed addiction. But why would he care ? Smoking with you is something he clearly enjoys; enjoying the aftermath after a few joints even more.

Stoner!Rin who loves having you on his lap, lazily kissing you between every inhale of the smoke from the joint between his fingers. The hand on your ass slowly moving up to your jaw to pull you away from his lips so Rin can take another taste from the weed filled cigarette between his index and middle finger. A very deep breath taken with lots of smoke running down to fill his lungs.

The Itoshi doesn’t seem too affected by the burn in the back of his throat the hot smoke caused. He even feels slipping in a more relaxed mood with the familiar ache of his muscles.

Stoner!Rin who slowly leans his torso towards you, sitting comfortably in his lap, again. Grasping your jaw in his Hand to keep it open for his next movements — a deep kiss. Next to wet kissing noises and a low groan from your boyfriend, only the soft tap of his fingers against the cigarettes could be heated as he exhaled it’s rest into your mouth, filling your lungs with the relaxing smoke.

Stoner!Rin who usually starts with shotgunning. Regardless of him shotgunning you or you shotgunning him. He would be more than happy swap smoke between heated kisses while tasting the faint flavor of weed inside your mouth as he licks and swirls his tongue inside you.

Stoner!Rin who enjoys being high with you a little too much — especially when both of you get so handsy with each other that is has to end up in something more than just some grinding and little kisses. Sure it felt great to have your cunt grinding down on his dick, but it feels even better if he’s knuckles deep inside you. Or even better; his cock buried to the hilt inside your warm hole.

It just happens so fast. Stoner!Rin can’t help it but snake a hand up your shirt to grope your tits with his greedy hands. The drug makes him feel half the shame and twice the libido—and it helps him get over his usually dry personality a little; so he just touches you wherever he thinks pleases him.

Stoner!Rin who is sucked to your neck like a starfish after only a few takes of his joint. Babbling into your ear how bad he wants you and how much he’s like to bend you over and ruin your pussy without any shame. The uncomfortable tightness in his trousers is eased by the hand that palms himself through the fabric. At some point the younger Itoshi‘s boxers is sticky with pre cum his dick leaks at the tip, gooey mess clinging to his boxers and forming a wet patch on it so easily.

Stoner!Rin who has such a filthy mouth due the drugs‘ help too. „Fuck, you look so pretty bouncing on that cock,, yeahhh- just like that“, the man would pant out. Low groans, grunt and additional strangled moans when you squeeze him so tightly. „so fucking perfect for me, fitting so around me.. shit ‘think I’m gonna pass out..so tight f‘me“ Rin would even groan out. Arms moving on his own every time he himself guides you up and down his twitching and leaning length.

Stoner!Rin who smokes at night whenever he can’t sleep—in the majority of those nights you join him so he won’t be in his own for so long; but much to your knowledge, the itoshi can’t keep his hands to himself. Not when you sit all pretty snuggled up to his side in the big chair in the chilly night. And your cute top that barley hide your hardening nipples doesn’t help either. So Rin sprawling out his girlfriend on the balcony‘s table isn’t uncommon.

Boxers are lazily tugged down to his thighs to free his cock and as soon as the high Rin kissed your pussy, he rubs his dick through your folds—getting everything slick and wet to creat the messy noises that turn him on even more.

Stoner!Rin who muffles your moans with the half smoked joint of his he placed between your kiss swollen lips. Rutting his hips into yours while your naked body shivers from the cool air outside as it rocks up and down the table from his vigor thrusts. Teal eyes watching your tits bounce in awe right when he locks your knees over his elbows to angle deeper inside your drooling cunt that forms drooling rings around his cock. Shameless moans and chanters of „fuck yeah“ and greedy whimpers sounding from him—much to your dismay, you couldn’t make those sounds, mouth busy breathing in and out the smoke whenever he orders you to blow it in his mouth.

Stoner!Rin who already had a drooling problem before, but when he’s high, it only increases. Your lover slobbers all over your chest and watches your glistening tits jiggle whenever he moves. Tortured nipples who shine with his spit ache because of the lack of his mouth and fingers around them. And god beware if you scoop his drool up on your finger to swallow it. Rin Itoshi will harden even more inside you to the sight of it while his mind gets even more hazy with the drug and the lewd image in front of him.

Stoner!Rin who is high out of his mind when he fucks you in his drugged mind state. Eyes red and sight a little blurry as he fucks you into the surface below you. But he is not able to keep his pace at all. It ranged from deep and harsh thrusts to to gentle slow ones over to sloppy and fast fucks he gives you in a single round. Rin knows, and tries to at least circle your clit at a steady pace of your preference—trying to make you feel just as good as he does. Stoner!Rin who tends to come too early sometimes when he overdosed a little. Dumping the first big load inside you after only 5,6 thrusts before he fills you up with his heavy cum. Maybe you should take over sometimes. The burning bundle of weed long forgotten each time he submits to you so easily. Be it sucking his cum covered cock clean, smearing the substance all over him as you give him a handjob or you riding your lover into oblivion while toying with his nipples. Itoshi appreciates all of this. God, he thinks it’s so hot when you top him; especially if both of you are high.

Stoner!Rin who‘s not afraid to show you off on parties you two get invited on. At first your boyfriend would be his cold stoic self, but after some g‘s, he’s another person. Let’s his guard completely down and straight up pulls you into his lap; flush against his muscular chest. The green haired keeps glaring at everyone who dares to look at you. A hand of your lover moving dangerously close to your crotch as you feel the steam of his cig blown against your neck that’s covered in hickeys he put on you. Even rolling up his sleeve to expose his well former biceps decorated with scratch marks you caused. You‘re Rin‘s, and he’s willing to finger you under the table if those other men keep eyeing you, indirectly showing them how good only he can make you feel—high or not high.

Stoner!Rin who always wakes up next to you in your shared bed the morning after certain nightly activities. Mind of his still a little dizzy from the happy trip he had a few hours ago from all the weed he consumed with you. The scratch marks of your nails on his back, shoulders and arms burning a little. But who is Rin to complain ? He can still see your nipples being all puffy and swollen because he couldn’t stop pinching and sucking them last night. The hand print on your ass he spanked in the heat of the moment also very visible for him to see –but it sure was worth it. It is always worth it if it means spending time with his precious girl.

mdni, every character is 18+

© ringasm 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

︴𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙮-𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚

dad! ushijima x reader

in which,, your husband wakatoshi has a sixth sense when it comes to your child

contains,, mentions of injury (there are none), uh,, falling babies??, ushijima being such a dad, c o c o m e l o n

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

it's a very slow day.

it's too cold to be outside at the moment, so you and your family settle on staying inside and staying warm without the comfort of your home. the only light on at the moment being the small lamp on the mini table by the side of your couch. you and wakatoshi are nuzzled on the couch together, you scrolling aimlessly on your phone while ushijima skims through the thin sheet of black and white newspaper. in the background you can hear the droning of cocomelon as Mrs. appleberry sings about washing her hands. or... something like that.

in between the two of you however is your 18 month old son, connie, who occasionally giggles and claps as he watches the bright colors portrayed on the television.

you would describe Connie as extremely energetic, watching as he always zooms across the house, giggling and babbling as ushijima chases him around.

this was one of those days in which the energy gets the batter of your son. he's standing on the couch, bobbing up and down on his chubby, little legs as he watches his show. you look up from your phone, pouting at how close he was to the edge of the couch.

"connie" you call out, with no response, of course.

leaning over, you gently lift up your son who's eyes were still glued to the television, sitting him down instead. you coo to him,

"gotta be careful, sweetheart. you could fall" you say, speaking in a soft tone but authoritative enough for him to give you a small coo in return. you know that trying ng to get conniento sit down was fruitless, as he prefers to stand up. you smile before leaning back against the couch, shutting your phone off before closing your eyes and resting your head against wakatoshi's shoulder. he looks up from his paper, eyes now trained on you.

"sleepy?" he questions, and you respond with a slight nod of the head. he could always tell.

"mhm... such a slow day" you yawn "just wanna nap."

"you can nap."

"I know.. but I wanna stay up with you two" you mumble, glancing up at him. your eyes had only left poor Connie for a moment as the two of you spoke. and it all happens so fast.

"well" wakatoshi starts, "I don't mind watching the—" and he pauses suddenly. within wakatoshi is a flash of realization and suddenly, for some odd reason— he's thrusting his leg out, effectively stopping poor Connie from tumbling down from his place on the couch. you yelp and throw your hand on your chest, heart racing. ushijima glances at your face, the both of your eyes widened at his reflexes before he's leaning over and picking up Connie who's eyes were still glued to the television

"hey, little one" wakatoshi mumbles, turning Connie towards him so that he faces him

"you almost got hurt. you're so full of energy, you know that? you gave me a heart attack."

" cu cu"

right. that was Connie's special way of saying "coco", which is short for "cocomelon". poor thing doesn't even know half of what's going on.

you giggle as toshi sighs, leaning over and placing Connie back on his play mat, on the floor and in front of the television before leaning back, shaking his head in the process.

"that was—" you shake your head in amusement, not being able to find the words. "how did you even do that?"

"you want the honest answer? I've got no clue" he sighs

"you're like Spider-Man"

"you think so?"

"uh, yeah!" you smile wide, laughing softly as wakatoshi's eyes peer into yours, "you were so quick and just— thank you, toshi" you mumble that last part.

"please, don't thank me." his hand slivers under the covers and entwines his fingers with yours, "I promised to protect him, afterall. it's what I'm supposed to do."

you smile, squeezing his hand all while never pulling your eyes from his. wakatoshi presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you try to push push down the smile making it's way into your face. when you pull away, you feel a tug on your pant leg. Connie is by your leg, up once again, one hand steadying himself on his feet while the other clenches and unclenches in a silent plea to be picked up.

"hi there, my little angel." you coo to him, smile wide as you lift him into your arms and on your lap. toshi scoots closer and from the corner of your eye, you can see a ghost of a smile on his face

"you bein' bad, hm? causin' such a ruckus" you baby talk him, and he only giggles in response, chubby hands resting on the sides of your face— in which you giggle back in return.

"I think he's only up here for the remote." wakatoshi chuckles, and you pout at him, averting your eyes for a second.

"he's not. he wants to be with mama, right—" you huff and stand corrected as Connie was, in fact, only reaching for the remote. of course he didn't know how to use it, but he knew that he wanted another episode of his show.

you sigh, "waka, honey?"

"already on it, love"

wakatoshi presses play on the next episode, and the three of you settle back into the couch and under the blanket. you tune out the television, going back to leaning your head against your husband's shoulder.

"still sleepy?"

"yeah..."

"that's alright, dear. rest up."

drowsiness overtakes you, and the last thing you're aware of is the giggling of your son and the soft pressure of your husband's lips against your temple.

and you finally allow yourself to fall into a peaceful slumber with the care of your husband. perhaps he has a sixth-sense for all things.