Teetee

Your hands fly up to grasp his shoulders, nails digging into the tatted flesh, all while he drives his cock deeper into you. One of his large hands moves to rub soft circles on your clit, causing you to whine out.

After what feels like forever, he finally bottoms out.

You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his dick.

Enjin presses light kisses along your jaw, slowly pulling out before slamming back into you. A loud moan from you bounced off the walls; your body jerked with the force.

His pace was brutal; he impaled you over and over, rough hands gripping your thighs and locking you in place. “Look at you,” he cooed, “taking me so well, and you said you couldn't take it.”

You could only muster a hoarse ‘please’ at his words. Enjin moved your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, leaning down to move his ear closer to your mouth, “What was that, baby?” He teased, chuckling as you whined and tugged at his hair. “Bratty little thing, aren't you?”

You felt your orgasm build with every mean snap of his hips against yours, his leaky tip smooched your cervix with every thrust. Your head spun, and your stomach tightened.

Enjin’s eyes scanned your body, taking in every perfect imperfection. That's when he noticed it, the small bump that appeared on your stomach every time he bottomed out. “What's this?” he mused, pressing his palm down on the bulge. You squirmed, crying out at the feeling, “You're so… so deep.”

He hummed, tracing the swell with one of his fingers before placing his palm down again to continue fucking into you. “Yeah? You can feel me all the way in there, can't you?” His pupils were blown wide, crazed even as he watched the bulge disappear and reappear with every thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming; your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it.

Without warning, you snapped, cumming on his dick while he continued pistoning into you. Enjin groaned lowly at the way your pussy fluttered around his length, “Fuck, what a good girl. You can give me another, right?” His thumb traced your clit lazily, causing you to jolt.

A sob escaped you at the overstimulation. He continued his brutal pace while now also torturing your poor clit. “Enjin — ah — Enjin, I can't take it —” he cut you off with a harsh thrust, “You can and you will.”

Your body shook as hot tears slipped down your cheeks, your legs shook around his waist, but he didn't care; it spurred him on. “So fucking tight, god, what're they feeding you?” He joked, dropping his head to suck at your nipple, lapping over the hardened bud with his tongue.

One, two more thrusts later, Enjin came with a shaky moan of your name, causing you to tip over the edge once more.

He watched the bulge disappear from your stomach as he pulled out, saving a mental image of his cum that spilt out right after. “We might have to do some size training with you, doll. Nearly clamped my dick off,” he laughed, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.”

“No, Enjin, you're just comically huge. No, it's not a compliment.”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

a/n: first time writing for dada kind of nervy

Rin immediately turns around.

"You sound insane."

"I AM FEELING LIKE I'M GOING INSANE." You clutch your chest dramatically. " BECAUSE LOOK AT YOUR FACE."

Rin groans and covers his ears, "Stop screaming."

But totally ignoring him, you click through another picture.

And another and another.

Tiny Rin holding a toy fox, tiny Rin wearing a dinosaur shirt, tiny Rin asleep in a car seat, tiny Rin covered in cake frosting, tiny Rin laughing.

Just tiny Rin being genuinely happy.

You feel tears gathering in your eyes as you point at the screen. "He smiled, he was happy, he had joy."

Rin immediately reaches for the mouse.

You yank it away.

"NO."

"Give it."

"NEVER."

"Give me the mouse."

Rin grabs the armrest of your chair but you cling to the desk.

A brief struggle begins, one that would probably look ridiculous to anyone watching.

An elite striker worth millions wrestling his girlfriend over childhood photos.

Eventually you win through sheer insanity and Rin loses because he's afraid you'll hurt yourself and break the computer, so he lets go.

You grin victoriously. "I am keeping these."

"They're mine."

"They're mine now."

"They are absolutely not yours."

"They became mine when I fell in love with you."

"That's not how ownership works.

""It does, for ne."

Rin stares as you smile sweetly at him. He hates how often that smile works.

Anyways, ignoring his glare you click another picture.

In this picture baby Rin is fast asleep. His one tiny fist tucked against his cheek, his lips slightly parted, his blanket is tangled around him.

Completely defenseless, completely adorable.

You stare and point at the screen again, you hand is shaking.

Rin just closes his eyes.

"Look at him."

"No."

"I said LOOK!"

Against his better judgment, Rin glances, for one brief second, and immediately looks away again.

Because even he can admit, he had been a cute kid.

Rin sighs heavily but then you say the words that nearly stop his heart.

"I want our babies to look exactly like you."

Rin freezes because his brain has short-circuited. His ears are red too.

The kind of red he absolutely hates because you always notice.

And of course to his horror, you notice again.

"Oh my God."

"Don't."

"You're blushing."

"I'm not."

"Rin, you are literally red."

Rin turns away, which only confirms it.

You grin wickedly and walk toward him like a determined menace.

By the time you reach him, he's backed himself into the side of the bed.

You poke his cheek softly and his face immediately hardens.

But he doesn't move away.

"At least two."

His eyes widen.

"...What?"

"Children."

Rin nearly chokes and you laugh so hard that you nearly fall over again.

Rin watches you and despite all his complaints, all the embarrassment, his chest feels warm.

Because you're looking at those photos like they're priceless, like every version of him matters. Like not just the player, the striker, the version the world knows of him is only important.

Your laughter slowly quiets down as you lean against him, still smiling.

Still holding the mouse like a weapon.

Rin wraps an arm around your waist without thinking.

You immediately notice and grin."You love me."

"...Unfortunately."

The answer comes so quickly that you burst out laughing again making him roll his eyes.

Then you glance at the screen again and your eyes sparkle with dangerous ideas.

Rin recognizes that look instantly and immediately feels fear.

"Don't."

You look innocent. "I didn't say anything."

"Don't."

"What if Sae—"

"Absolutely not."

"But, he deserves to see—"

"No."

"The world deserves to see—"

"No."

"The future children—"

"NO."

You laugh so hard tears gather in your eyes.

And before you can continue your evil plans, Rin lunges forward. And the next thing you know, you're both tumbling onto the bed.

You squeal as he steals the mouse.

You try grabbing it back and he catches both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head.

A few strands of his hair fall into his eyes,  which is still slightly damp from the shower, as his face hovers inches from yours.

"Listen carefully."

You immediately start smiling, because whenever Rin gets serious like this, he's usually about to lose.

"I am not cute."

You snort.

"And I definitely was not a dumpling."

You completely lose it and laughter explodes out of you.

Rin's expression darkens, embarrassed.

Because he knows you're never letting this go, ever.

Years from now you'll still be talking about it. You'll probably show them to your children. You'll probably make albums heck you'll probably frame one and the thought alone makes him want to disappear.

But at the same time—

The image of you showing those photos to your future kids while laughing together settles somewhere warm inside his chest.

A future, a home a family. With you.

His grip softens.

You smile up at him and brush a strand of hair away from his face. "You're precious, you know that?"

Rin's throat tightens as his eyes flick away.

"...Shut up."

But there's no bite behind the words. Only embarrassment and the quiet vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see.

You lean forward and kiss his cheek.

His ears immediately turn red again.

And when you laugh softly, he buries his face against your shoulder in defeat.

"...You're impossible."

You wrap both arms around him, holding him close, smiling into his hair."Maybe."

Rin lets out a long sigh, the kind that says he's accepted his fate.

Because the photos aren't getting deleted, the folder isn't staying hidden anymore.

And for the rest of his life, you're probably going to remind him that he was once an absurdly cute little boy with round cheeks and with a stuffed owl.

A horrifying future, truly.

Yet as he quietly folds himself closer against you, listening to your happy laughter fill the room, Rin finds that he doesn't really mind.

you jolt.

sae's voice is low and rough with sleep, not angry, not amused exactly, just deeply, terribly aware. his eyes are open, watching you with that half-lidded look that does nothing good for your composure. he hasn't moved. he's just looking at you, jaw ticking once.

"i was sleeping," he says.

"i know," you say, a little breathless.

"and you're humping my thigh."

"i'm not humping—"

he moves his thigh, a slow deliberate press upward, and the sound that comes out of you is mortifying. his expression shifts, something tightening behind his eyes, a muscle in his throat working.

you feel it before you see it. the way his jaw sets. the decision being made.

"mhmm," he says, quiet, almost to himself.

then his hands find your hips and he flips you, pressing you back into the mattress with his thigh slotted firmly between your legs, his body warm and solid over yours. morning-rumpled and unhurried, he looks down at you with those teal eyes slightly dark.

"keep going," he murmurs.

"what?"

"you started something." his thumb traces your hip bone. "finish it."

your face goes hot. "sae…"

"grind on my thigh," he says, perfectly even, like he's telling you to drink water. "go on."

and somehow that's worse than if he'd said it mean. it's the patience in it. the control. sae watching you with those sleep-soft eyes while you roll your hips against him, shameless now because you've been caught and there's no point pretending, and the friction is so much better with him pressed close, with his hands guiding your rhythm, his thigh flexing deliberately under you.

"s'good," you breathe, fingers curling into his shirt.

"yeah?" a low sound in his chest, not quite a groan. barely.

you can feel him getting hard against your hip. feel the way his grip on you tightens just slightly, the rhythm you're keeping pushing against his control in a way he won't admit out loud. his jaw is tight. his breathing has gone careful in a way that means he's working to keep it even.

"sae," you gasp softly, the tension winding up fast.

"i know." his voice has dropped an octave.

and then his hand slides from your hip down between your bodies, his fingers pressing against your underwear right where you're soaked through, and the sound you make is nothing like the careful quiet noises from before. it's loud and genuine and a little broken.

"christ," he mutters under his breath.

he pulls the fabric aside and his fingers find you properly and then you're gone, genuinely gone, grinding and shaking and coming apart with his name falling out of your mouth in pieces while he works you through it with a patience that should be illegal, watching your face like he's cataloguing every second.

you're still shaking when he finally stills his hand.

the room is quiet. grey-lit and warm. outside a bird starts up somewhere distant.

sae doesn't say anything for a long moment. then he presses his lips to your temple, brief and almost careless, his hand resting flat and warm on your stomach.

"next time," he says quietly, mouth still close to your ear, "wake me up."

a pause.

"properly."

you can feel his heartbeat against your side, faster than he'd ever admit. the sheets are a wreck. your thighs are still trembling. and sae settles back against the pillow with his arm around your waist like he didn't just completely unravel you before seven in the morning, already closing his eyes again.

like he's going back to sleep.

like you're supposed to just lie here, wet and wrecked and wanting more, in the ruin of what started as a quiet little moment that you absolutely, definitely did not mean to start.

Taglist: @inu1gf @143-ilyuu @irethepotato @mikemsmm @bbladie @sky-casino @thetwinkims @elemayooooooo @angelhqlo1111 @chefcorvus

“like what?”

“like you’re about to ask for some weird shit.”

“put the suit on.”

he stops brushing.

you can actually see the words register. they move across his face in stages: confusion, disbelief, offense, and then the horrible, dawning realization that you are dead serious.

he spits into the sink. “no.”

“you didn't even think about it.”

“you said put the suit on.”

“yeah.”

“so, no.”

“katsuki.”

“absolutely fuckin’ not.”

you tilt your head at him, still smiling sweetly, and it is cheap. it is shameless. it works anyway, because his shoulders tense like he’s bracing himself for impact.

“baby,” you say.

he points the toothbrush at you. “don’t.”

“i just want to see it.”

“you’ve seen it.”

“not on purpose.”

“you saw it yesterday.”

“you were bleeding yesterday.”

“yeah, and?”

“and i was busy being mad.”

“you’re always busy bein’ mad lately.”

“because you’re spider-man.”

“keep your voice down,” he hisses, glancing toward the hallway like aiya— in her six month old glory— is going to rise from her crib and report him to the authorities.

you grin wider. “put the suit on.”

“why?”

you blink at him.

he stares back.

a second passes.

another.

then his mouth drops open just slightly, like he has finally, belatedly, realised that the woman who had his child is, in fact, still capable of wanting him so badly it becomes everyone’s problem.

“no,” he says again, weaker this time.

“yes.”

“it’s not—” he drags a hand down his face. “it’s not for that.”

“i know.”

“it’s work gear.”

“i know.”

“it’s dirty.”

“is it dirty right now?”

“no.”

“then put it on.”

“you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“please?”

he groans like you’ve asked him to jump into traffic. which is rich, honestly, considering his usual hobby.

but he goes.

because he is impossible and stubborn and a liar and currently still on thin ice with you, but he is also whipped down to the marrow. you hear him open the narrow cupboard in the hallway. the quiet scrape of the false back he thought you didn’t notice after you found out. a zipper. fabric. muttering.

“stupid,” he says from the hall.

“love you.”

you settle back against the pillows, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh too loudly and wake the baby. the monitor crackles once, just static, and both of you freeze out of habit.

nothing.

then katsuki appears in the doorway.

and you forget every single thing you were about to say.

because it is one thing to know.

it is another thing entirely to see him standing there in your bedroom, mask off, hair a mess from tugging it on, the suit sealed up to his throat and clinging to every brutal, familiar line of him.

it’s not shiny. not exactly. more matte, more practical, dark red and black with webbing worked into the fabric, reinforced at the shoulders and ribs. there are seams you never would’ve noticed on the news. small armored panels along his forearms. the faint outline of hidden web cartridges at his wrists. a tear near his thigh that’s been repaired messily by hand, probably his, because he never lets anyone touch his things unless they’re you or aiya, and even then he complains the whole time.

your eyes drop.

his hands immediately move in front of his crotch.

“nope.”

you blink back up at him. “what are you doing?”

“what’re you doin’?”

“looking.”

“yeah. stop.”

“no.”

“baby.”

“move your hands, boy.”

his face goes red so fast it’s actually beautiful.

“fuck off.”

“katsuki.”

“no.”

you sit up straighter, interest sharpening. “are you embarrassed?”

“i’m annoyed.”

“you’re covering yourself.”

“because you’re lookin’ at me like that!”

“like i love you?”

“like you wanna eat me.”

“also love.”

“not helpin’.”

you crawl to the edge of the bed on your knees, and his gaze dips before he can stop it. you’re only in one of his old shirts and underwear, hair still loose from your shower, skin warm from the lamp beside the bed. you know exactly what you look like. you know he knows. he swallows like he hates that you know.

“turn around,” you say.

“jesus christ.”

“turn.”

“no.”

“i had your baby.”

he glares. “you can’t use that for everythin’.”

“watch me.”

“that’s manipulation.”

“that’s motherhood.”

he shuts his eyes for a second, jaw working, then turns around with the stiff, humiliated dignity of a man being led to execution.

you make a sound.

you really don’t mean to.

it’s small. barely anything. just a little breath punched out of you because the suit is tight over his back and tighter over his thighs, and his ass is, frankly, a public safety hazard.

his head snaps around. “don’t.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you made a noise.”

“i have lungs.”

“you have problems.”

“yes. one of them is standing in my room dressed like japan’s sluttiest arachnid.”

he turns back so fast you almost laugh. “never say that again.”

“spider-suki.”

“no.”

“spider-man.”

“no.”

“daddy long legs.”

“fuck no.”

he’s trying so hard to be irritated that it wraps all the way around into adorable. his hands are back in front of himself, shoulders hunched, mouth in that pout he pretends is a scowl. and the worst part is, you know him too well. you can see the exact second embarrassment gives way to want. the way his breathing changes. the way his eyes keep catching on your mouth. the way he shifts his weight like he thinks it’ll hide what the suit is already starting to make painfully obvious.

you smile.

his eyes narrow. “don’t.”

“move your hands.”

“no.”

“let me see.”

“it looks stupid.”

“i’ll be the judge of that.”

“i don’t usually have a fuckin’ boner in the suit.”

“i’m not laughing.”

you press your lips together.

he points at you immediately. “don’t laugh.”

“you are. i should web your mouth shut.”

you light up. “can you?”

“wrong thing to say to you. forget i said it.”

“move your hands.”

“you’re evil.”

“yeah.”

he does.

not all at once. not confidently. he drags his hands away like he’s physically suffering for it, eyes cutting to the ceiling, cheeks red, mouth pulled into a miserable little line.

and you look.

because of course you do.

because that is your boyfriend. the father of your child. the man who washes bottles at two in the morning and warms your cold hands under his shirt and comes home bruised and lies badly and loves you so hard he almost ruins it trying to keep you safe.

and he is standing in front of you in a suit that leaves very little to the imagination.

your throat goes dry.

“oh,” you say softly.

he groans. “see? stupid.”

“not the word i was going to use.”

“don’t get poetic about my dick. i will leave.”

“no, you won’t.”

he doesn’t.

you reach for him, and he comes closer immediately, helpless as gravity. one step. then another. until he’s standing between your knees at the edge of the bed, still tense, still trying to hold on to the last scraps of dignity while you run your fingers over his waist.

the material is warm from his body.

that surprises you.

you thought it would feel colder. more removed from him somehow. like a costume. like a wall between what he does out there and what he is in here.

but it isn’t.

under your hands, it’s just katsuki.

your katsuki.

the hard plane of his stomach under your palm. the hitch in his breath when your fingers press into the seam at his hip. the little twitch in his jaw when you look up at him through your lashes.

“i should’ve known,” you murmur.

the teasing leaves his face. “what?”

you slide both hands around him, palms flattening against his back, feeling him stiffen at the tenderness of it. “i know your body too well.”

his gaze drops to you.

you trace one of the repaired seams near his ribs. “this one. you came home with a bruise here and told me you fell at the gym.”

“i did fall.”

“off a building?”

he says nothing. you touch his shoulder. “and here. you said you pulled something boxing.”

“kind of did.”

“fighting crime is not boxing.”

“close enough.”

“you’re so stupid.”

his mouth softens. “yeah.”

“and i’m still mad.”

“i know.”

“furious, actually.”

“i know.”

“but also...” your fingers hook into the suit at his waist. “you look really good.”

his eyes flick away like he can’t bear that.

which is absurd, because katsuki is not shy. he is loud in every room he enters. he argues with microwaves. he threatens furniture when he stubs his toe. he walks around shirtless in summer like he was built specifically to ruin your life and feels smug when he catches you looking.

but this is different.

this is the secret part of him.

this is the body you know wrapped in the life he hid.

so when your hands keep moving, slower now, reverent despite yourself, his mouth opens on a breath that doesn’t become words.

“baby,” he says eventually, very low.

“hm?”

“you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“why?”

“because i’m tryin’ to be good.”

the room seems to shrink around you.

the baby monitor hums on the nightstand. somewhere outside, a car passes over wet pavement. the whole city keeps moving, completely unaware that spider-man is standing in your bedroom, asking for mercy from the mother of his child.

you lean forward and press your mouth to his stomach through the suit.

his hand flies to the back of your head.

not pushing. not holding you there.

just touching. like he has to anchor himself to you by touch alone.

“fuck,” he whispers.

you look up. “take it off.”

his thumb drags once over your hair. “thought you wanted it on.”

“i wanted to look.”

“yeah?”

“now i’m done looking.”

that does it.

something in him changes. not loud. not sudden. just a shift, like a lock turning.

his hand slides from your hair to your jaw, tipping your face up. his eyes are dark and soft and still a little scared around the edges, because this is new. not you wanting him. not him wanting you. that part is old as breathing.

this is you wanting all of him now that you know.

the liar. the hero. the idiot on the couch. the man in the suit. the father who catches aiya before she falls, sometimes before she even starts to tip.

“say it proper,” he murmurs.

you smile. “i want you.”

he kisses you.

it is not gentle for long. it starts that way, maybe. a brush, a question, his mouth warm and mint-clean from the bathroom. but then your fingers pull at the sealed edge of the suit and his control snaps with an almost audible thing, his hand bracing on the mattress beside your thigh, the other cupping your face as he bends over you.

you pull him closer until he has to climb onto the bed, one knee sinking into the sheets, the suit creaking softly with the movement.

“zipper’s in the back.”

then he stops.

you blink up at him. “what?”

you stare.

he stares back, already humiliated. then you burst into the quietest, most violent laugh of your life.

“don’t,” he hisses.

you clap a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking.

“it’s not funny.”

“spider-man can’t get naked.”

“i can get naked.”

“not alone, apparently.”

“it’s a security design.”

“you need mommy to unzip you?”

his eyes flash. “careful.”

your laugh cuts off into something else.

he notices. of course he notices. his head tilts, just a little, interest sharpening like a blade.

“oh?” he says.

“shut up.”

“that do somethin’ for you?”

“you’re literally stuck in your superhero onesie.”

“and you’re still wet about it.”

you kick at him. he catches your ankle easily, grinning now, finally getting some of his footing back.

“turn around.”

“bossy.”

“turn around before aiya wakes up and ruins your life.”

that gets him moving.

he sits on the edge of the bed with his back to you, and you kneel behind him. the suit is even better up close, which is unfair. there are tiny scratches in the black patterning, a place near the nape that’s been torn and resewn, the faint smell of clean fabric and him. you find the hidden zipper between his shoulder blades and drag it down slowly.

too slowly, apparently, because his head drops forward.

“baby.”

“what?”

“don’t tease.”

you press a kiss to the back of his neck.

he goes quiet.

for all his strength, he is so easy there. so vulnerable when you touch the places he cannot watch you touch. your mouth at his neck, your hands on his shoulders, peeling the suit down inch by inch until his skin is bare under your palms.

you stop at the edge of a bruise blooming yellow near his ribs.

your chest tightens.

“katsuki.”

“old one.”

“how old?”

“couple days.”

“you didn’t tell me.”

“didn’t tell you a lotta shit.”

“that is not charming honesty.”

“wasn’t tryin’ to be.”

you kiss the bruise anyway. soft. once.

his breath catches.

“you’re still on the couch after this,” you whisper against his skin.

he huffs. “figured.”

“for a week.”

“three days.”

“five.”

“four.”

“six for negotiating.”

he turns his head, glaring over his shoulder. “that’s not how that works.”

“it is in my house.”

“our house.”

“my house until i forgive you.”

his mouth twitches. “mean ass woman.”

“lying ass spider.”

he twists suddenly, pulling you forward with one arm, and you squeak before remembering to be quiet. the two of you freeze, eyes shooting to the baby monitor.

static. nothing else.

katsuki whispers, “you’re gonna wake her up.”

“you just manhandled me.”

“me?”

“yeah, you.”

“quietly.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“you love me.”

“maybe a little.”

he kisses you again, smiling into it this time, and the suit gets lost somewhere around his waist, then his thighs, then the floor. there’s a clumsy, stifled struggle with one ankle that nearly makes you laugh again until he bites your shoulder through his own shirt and mutters, “one sound and i’m puttin’ it back on.”

“threatening me with a good time.”

“you’re insane.”

“you knew that before.”

“knew it before i knocked you up, too.”

heat blooms low in your stomach. his eyes catch it.

your hand tightens around his bicep. “should do it again.”

for a second, the whole room goes still.

not because he doesn’t understand.

because he does.

because aiya is asleep down the hall, and your body remembers her. the ache, the weight, the long nights, the softness of her head under your chin, the impossible terror of loving something that small. it remembers katsuki kneeling beside the bed with a newborn tucked against his bare chest, whispering promises to both of you like he could scare the world into behaving if he growled hard enough.

his hand spreads over your stomach.

careful. reverent.

“yeah?” he says, voice rough.

you nod.

he bends until his forehead rests against yours. “you sure?”

“i’m sure.”

“not just because you’re freakin’ out over the suit?”

“that is a factor.”

he snorts.

you smile, sliding your arms around his neck. “but no. not just that.”

his thumb strokes once, slow, over your stomach.

“aiya’s gonna be pissed.”

“aiya’s six months old.”

“she’s possessive.”

“she gets that from you.”

“damn right.”

you kiss him before he can say anything else stupid, and he follows you down into the bed with an instinct that feels older than the secret, older than the suit, older than the hurt still waiting for both of you in the morning.

for now, he is warm and heavy over you, bare skin against bare skin, one hand braced carefully near your head like he still thinks he might crush you after all these years. you pull him closer anyway. you always do.

“couch tomorrow,” you whisper against his mouth.

“yeah, yeah.”

“and we’re still talking.”

“yeah.”

“and you’re teaching me how the web thingy works.”

“absolutely not.”

“katsuki.”

“fine.”

“and i’m putting the suit on once.”

his head lifts.

you blink innocently.

“no,” he says.

“yes.”

“no.”

“it’s only fair.”

“you wearin’ that suit is how we end up with an army of brats.”

you gasp. “so you agree.”

“i agree you’re awful.”

the baby monitor crackles.

both of you freeze again, half tangled, half laughing, entirely caught.

aiya sighs.

katsuki lowers his forehead to your shoulder in silent, desperate prayer.

you bite your lip so hard you almost hurt yourself.

after a long moment, he whispers, “still asleep.”

“spider-sense?”

“dad sense.”

you soften before you can stop yourself. he feels it. lifts his head. the grin is gone now, replaced with something quieter. something open and tired and so painfully full of love that you almost hate him for making you feel it while you’re still furious.

“i’m sorry,” he says.

no defence. no excuse.

just that.you touch his cheek.

“i know.”

“i’ll tell you everythin’.”

“you better.”

“everythin’.”

you hold him there, fingers sliding into his hair, the city outside wet and glowing and alive around you. somewhere in it, there are rooftops he knows better than streets. alleys where he has bled alone. people he has saved without you knowing. versions of him you are only just beginning to meet.

but this version is yours.

in your bed. in your arms. warm, embarrassed, breathing hard against your throat.

“katsuki?”

“hm?”

“make another baby with me.”

he goes still for one heartbeat.

then his mouth finds yours again, and this time there is nothing funny about it.

“yeah,” he whispers.

his hand cups the back of your head like a vow.

“yeah, baby. i got you.”

Sukuna glanced over. “Why are you staring.”

You blinked. “Nothing.”

“That face means something.”

You shook your head, and he went back to typing. Two minutes later, you spoke again. “Why are your hands like that?”

He stopped typing and slowly looked at you. “What does that mean.”

You sat up. “No, like…” You reached over and took one of his hands before he could pull away. He let you. You turned it over in your lap, his palm warm and rough. You traced one of the scars with your thumb.

“You work too hard.”

He stared at you, then looked away. “What.”

Your throat felt strange. You laughed awkwardly. “I do not know. I just… I do not know.” You pressed your thumb into his palm, and suddenly your eyes stung.

He noticed immediately. His expression shifted. “Oi.”

You looked away, and he responded by closing the laptop. “Why are you crying?”

“M’not.”

“You are.”

You sniffed, and it sounded ridiculous even to you. You whispered, “I just got sad.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “About my hand.”

You nodded once.

He looked genuinely confused. You swallowed. “I know this is dumb,” you murmured, tracing another scar. “But every time I see stuff like this, I think you do too much.”

His face stayed blank, so you kept going quietly.

“You work all day. You raise Yuji and Cho. You always pay. You fix everything, and…” Your voice softened. “Your hands look tired.”

Silence settled between you. Sukuna looked at you, then at his own hand resting in yours. For a moment, something in his expression shifted. Not dramatically, just a flicker of surprise, like nobody had ever looked at him and thought about him instead of what he could do.

He scoffed under his breath. “You’re weird.”

You nodded sadly. “I know.”

He stared at you for a few more seconds, then turned his hand and closed his fingers around yours. You froze. He looked away, the tips of his ears faintly pink.

“They’re just hands.”

You looked at him and whispered, “No.” 

When his eyes flicked back to you, you smiled softly. “They look like someone whose been trying really hard.”

His jaw tightened, the way it always did, like affection made him uncomfortable. Then he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into him. You made a small, confused sound as he pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

“Stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

You laughed weakly. “M’ not.”

His hand rubbed your back once, slow and awkward. Then, quieter, he said, “It is not that bad.”

You nodded against him.

But later, when he was asleep, you held one of his hands against your cheek and thought that next time he came over, you were buying hand cream. Not because he needed it, but because somebody should take care of the hands that take care of everyone else.

"so when did this happen?", choso murmured quietly, as he watched yuuji dab at megumi's shirt uselessly before he beamed at his brother again, "like a week ago!"

sukuna huffed as they watched, the patheic display, and megumi who nodded in agreement, "last saturday."

they were awestruck not at the idea that they were engaged, but more by the fact that yuuji was able to keep quiet about it for so long.

"is that why you were acting so weird?"

"weird?", yuuji whined, "i wasn't acting weird."

"you were", sukuna agreed.

yuuji spent the entire week, avoiding eye contact, then staring at them until they acknowledged him, only to continue staring wide-eyed before running off because he had nothing to say.

"so yea…weird."

"anywho!" yuuji waved his ahnds dramatically to change the topic," it was so nice."

he started on a rambling spree that was almost an hour long, maybe about ten minutes in reality but who knew for sure.

"and i turned at the fountain and there gumi was", he threw his hands up, "on one knee but i had the ring digging in my pocket so i also proposed!"

"congratulations."

"congrats."

"YAY," yuuji ignored the congrats entirely starting to fidget in his seat as megumi mouthed a quiet thank you, taking another sip from his cup.

"we are so excited and that's why we brought you here", yuuji continued as if he wasn't already talking for twenty minutes straight, "the wedding planner should be here soon."

"wedding planner?", sukuna tched, "when i'm here? i have plenty of expertise."

"in drawing…well thats more choso", megumi corrected, eyeing choso before looking at yuuji holding the cup up for him to his lips, "we want to incorporate that in our designs, and you only do tattoos."

"only do tattoos?", sukuna growled as he stood up so fast the couch defiently bounced, pointing at megumi, "i will show you only tattoo—"

choso couldn't even keep up with the conversation anymore, more stuck on the fact that megumi wanted his art at their wedding front and display for everyone and that he was even here for the preliminary wedding prep.

he didn't know why he felt that way, he just did. why this affected him so much.

it's yuuji. yuuji loves him and cherishes him.

but it didn't change the fact that he was different from his brothers. he had their mom's looks and they both looked identical, could pass for twins and he was like their distant relative that somehow wandered into photos.

they had explosive personalities, and he was just…bleh.

they loved him, he knew that but it still didn't stop the dull ache he felt when watched their interactions and how even his little brother's friends only drifted toward him when sukuna was too much.

but he couldn't dwell on it long, when a light knock and three doorbell rings interuppted the shpwdown sukuna was not willing to back down from.

"THAT MIGHT BE HER!"

the door swung open and sukuna saw…nothing?

until he looked down…down…down… and down some more, and there you were in your pink soft sweater, glasses and light smile, with a clipboard tucked underneath your arm.

"you're the wedding planner?"

"yes i am!, good afternoon."

"the fierce wedding planner?", sukuna continued again turning towards yuuji who waved you in from the living room as you brushed past.

"HIHIHI", yuuji squealed as he shook your arm diligently it might've been dislocated if megumi didn't step in, " i am so glad that you gave us a chance with your busy schedule."

"well actually you had been booked months in advance", you mused, rotating your already sore shoulder a bit before sitting in the onslot chair facing against the wall, "by mr fushiguro."

yuuji pursued his lips as he watched megumi look away, a light blush taking over before he tackled him in a hug, "oh meguuuumi!"

"well i should introduce myself," you started placing your board down and smoothing your hands down your pants, "i am—"

"the wedding planner."

you chuckled humorlessly, eyes cutting to sukuna with a smile, "well yes i am the wedding planner but i do have a name."

your eyes drifted to choso, who seemed to curl in with his arms crossed, observing the entire room, "hi, and you are?"

shocked he turned, feeling his cheeks flush with heat as he shook your hand, "ah—i'm choso."

"well lovely to meet…most of you."

"let's get started…unless there are anymore comments from the peanut gallery?"

sukuna tched as he crossed his arms and still looked at your devices you plopped out to start the meeting.

as much as yuuji was one for dramatics, he wasn't wrong about you.

you were amazing, you already had ideas lined up for the extravagant wedding he imagined and even dulling down some ideas when he went too far.

"i want jennifer lawernce at the wedding!"

"jennifer lawernce?" you looked up from where you were writing, "what is she going to do at the wedding?"

yuuji scrunched his brows from where he was pacing nodding along, "you're right! how about jennifer aniston?"

"what will jennifer aniston do?"

"right…right…"

"maybe jlo?" you concluded, turning your head at the man who gasped loudly, "you're right!"

"BOOK HER!"

"i highly doubt she would come through, so let's stick to something more in your range, okay?"

"oooo you're right!"

"she is good", sukuna finally concecded watching as you finally got yuuji to sit back down for the tenth time in the past hour, "she is giving me whiplash."

"well, she is the best on this side of the country.." megumi piped up from where he was crubbing dishes, "low budget weddings can look top dollar with her."

"well" you sighed already peeved from the last three hours you were deliberating with yuuji, "alrighty. that should be enough for now. i will get these designs looked over and have my assistant contact you."

you started to stack the papers, nodding at whatever babble yuuji was speeling at you now before he rushed off to tell megumi about your next appointment, leaving choso to see you off at the door.

"uh, have a good night." he murmured lightly.

you smiled at him softly, just as you passed throught the door, "thank you for having me."

he watched you descend a few steps before turning back around, "ah— that's reminds me i'd love to see your art!"

"m—my art?"

"yes! you were spoken very highly of! i'd love to see it at the next appointment…if you're there."

and of course, he was there.

even when he wasn't needed. if yuuji even mentioned that you would be stopping by, gracing the area with your soft smile and calming presence, choso had some excuse to make sure he was there.

whether it was floral arrangements he could careless about, discussing venues layouts or heloing choose the artwork for the reception haul, choso was there.

at first, he told himself it was becuase it's for yuuji. for his family. because he loved him.

then he convinced it was because he needed megumi's input to create beautiful, perfect pieces for their vision.

then he stopped trying to come up with excuses altogether.

because every time you smiled at him, every time you greeted him by name before anyone else, every time your eyes softened when you spoke to him, he found himself looking forward to the next meeting.

and maybe…maybe he thought you looked forward to them too.

though, there were three maybe four instances that, he really remembered that made him fall for you.

"wow…these are beautiful" you murmured your fingertips dusting lightly over the artwork that graced the table.

it was a simple charcoal drawing of intertwined flowers and vines that yuuji had immediately demanded be used somewhere in the wedding.

"you really made all of these?"

choso could feel his ears reddening, trying his hardest not to show you how effected he was, "yeah."

"amazing."

you took it upon yourself to flip through his portfolio, gasping lightly as you came across something else you admired, "the way you shade things makes them feel alive."

choso had his fabbers gasted. this wasn't unusual but usually unless they were looking for a specific piece of commission, people just overlooked his work for a few seconds with a 'that's pretty.'

but here you were, rocking his world again. making him feel seen for once outside of his family as you examined and asked him about each piece you observed.

you studied them like they mattered, as he mattered.

"so..." you continued, smiling lightly. "how much would you charge me if I wanted a portrait?"

"a potrait?"

"mhm of myself."

you stared at him and his growing blush for a secind before laughing softly, pushing off the table, " i'm just joking."

"for free."

you hummed looking back at him surpised, "huh?"

"i'd do it for free."

even at the dress fiittng for the suits weeks later, choso yearned for your presence that was like a calm belt in a hurricane.

it somehow ended up being more chaotic than every planning session combined. yuuji couldn't stad still and unfortunately kept getting pricked by the small pins they were landing for his suit extension, megumi was obviously overstimulated, and sukuna…was sukuna and argued with just about every tailor that came to help him. even aoi was giving issues because of how big he was.

but choso he quietly and quickly got his done, not needing much other than length to cover his long legs and the long stretch of his shoulders. as you looked at the finishing touches beign added to everyone, you stopped at choso ccontemplating.

"did you think of how you're going to do your hair?"

"ah—no not. ahem not yet."

"is your suit tight?"

"no, why?"

"looks like you're not breathing."

"ah—sorry."

"you don't have to apologize for everything" you stepped up on the platform lightly, close enough he got a beautiful whiff of your perfume.

he watched as your gaze landed on his hair, tossing you usual clipboard and binder on the couch as your hands reached up into his fluffy hair, "this okay?"

you continued after he nodded, pulling his hair ties free leaving his hair tumbling down over his face as you moved it around.

the room around his disappeared as he focused you the soft brush of your body on his front and the delicate way your hand smoved in his scalp.

and it felt so good.

and it stopped too soon when you oulled back fluffing the light strands you oulled down in front of his face, "just as i thought." your grinned, "so handsome."

then lastly by the time the rehearsal dinner came around, everyone was exhausted.

the wedding was impeding and the last minute details were being ironed over by you and yuuji who breathed down your neck.

well everyone but choso was stressed, he sat at the table in his ironically dimmer part as his pen sctrached against the napkin he had been toying with the entire dinner.

his eyes drifted again to where you just resided next to him, he's still seeing your soft pink sweater as he curved another line, a smile.

then the boxy frame of glasses, a familiar tilt of your head and that familiar clipboard.

you had just gotten up. he didn't realize he was drawing you until a ashaodw paused over his body and the napkin slipped up from under his pne.

"whatcha drawing?"

his entire body locked up as he turned watching your eyes drift around the napkin and soften completely, "oh wow."

the entire buzz of the resturant seemed to die down around the two of you as you blinked back at the man ," no one has ever drawn me before."

"it's just a sketch—"

"and it's beautiful."

hie eyes could only zero in on your smile, not your usual polite one but the big geninue one as you folded the napkin and placed it under your clip on the borad.

"thanks cho—"

"WE ARE GETTING MARRRRRRIED!!!!"

that seemed to snap everyone out of their daze as you turned to see a very drunk yuuji balancing on a chair as megumi tried and failed to get him to calm down.

"oh my god—yuuji no!"

and now, it's the big day. the wedding.

the last time choso will have a reasonable excuse to see you without making his feelings clear.

and honestly, he felt naked, his hair was down like you told him, his suit was blue instead of the usual black.

now he's at the front of the aisle waiting for both megumi and yuuji to walk down as everyone murmured in their seats.

"you should confess today" sukuna gruffed behind choso pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

"what?"

"confess to the damn planner." he tched, "i see how you look at her."

"and how she looked at you."

"how do i look?!?!"

"smitten."

"w—wait and what do you mean how she looked—"

"sukuna." your voice cut in, your eyebrows furrowed as the little mic attached from your ear dangled in front of your face."stop unbuttoning your damn shirt."

"this is not a strip club it's your brother's wedding."

"well i don't like this fucking tie—agh", he choked as you tightened the long tie back on his neck.

"now shut up and wait until your brother and his husband are down the island. or my foot is up your ass." you sighed watching the man pull at his neckline again.

"ah—choso!", you curled on his side looking at his bright red face, "oh my gosh! see i told cindy it was too hot in here." you fidgeted for your fan , dropping it in front of his face as you tried to fan him.

"are you alright oh gosh—you're getting redder!"

you pressed the button on your ear, "telling whoever on the other side to hurry up and get the temperature a bit cooler as your clipboard fanned at choso still.

"are you sure you're feeling okay, cho?"

cho? he might convulse on the spot.

"i think it's because so many beautiful women surrounding him", aoi chimed in from behind sukuna.

you nodded processing the information as you switched off the fan, handing it your assistant, “ooooh i’m probably putting a lot of pressure on you aren’t i?”

“the day doesn’t have to be perfect don’t worry,” you brushed off his suit, “just do your best to call down so you’re not a tomato’s in the pics, k!”

then you were off, quickly down the aisle as you still gestured to the air conditioning for the few guests that did look like they were starting to feel a bit hot.

that’s what choso loved about you. wait..love…yes! love

you cared for everyone and everything, you even helped a little girl to the chocolate fountain before any of the food was ready, you teared up at the end of the isle when megumi got walked down then yuuji.

you took your own personal pic of them to save from how much you put in this wedding and how much they meant to you.

you even slipped the groomsmen on each side little yogurt packets before the ceremony started…and the list goes on.

you were so perfect.

so extraordinary, art in a personified form that it was intimidating.

maybe that’s why when he approached you, choso could still taste the whiskey he drank down to calm his nerves.

and maybe that’s why he had the courage to drag you to the unoccupied bathroom, and just stare at your face.

“choso?”

he still didn’t say anything. just staring at your face, eyes locking on your lips before you finally grasped at his cheeks pulling him to look at you.

“cho..? whats going on? you’ve been hot since this morning…are you sick?”

he grabbed your hand off feeling his forehead as he crowded you further, your back hitting the sink.

“i—i like you.”

your eye widened as his arms gripped the edge of the sink surrounding your body, “cho…you’re drunk.”

“im not druuuunk”, he whined shaking his head having a few more strands of hair fall in his face, “m not drunk! not that much of a lightweight.”

“so why are you doing this?”

“cause i love like you.”

“and i can’t do this any longer.”

“do what—”

you got cut off when his hand landed on your hip, his body coming up to yours as he dropped down and landed a quick kiss on your lips.

he pulled back just as fast, eyeing your shocked face, only to descend again slowly when your hands drifted to his long locks at the end of his neck.

you pulled at his hair, feeling him gasp into your neck shoving your toungue in his warm waiting mouth as he whimpered, his body closing in over you like a shield that didn’t want to disappear.

his hands slid over your curves as if you were glass, his tongue trying to keep you before letting you win and savage his mouth like a prize and unconsciously his hips brushed against yours.

“mmm cho.”

he didn’t even realize it but in the time he pressed you up against the sink that he was fucking humping you.

“oh—”, he gasped and felt his ears burn even hotter than they did before. “i didn’t know—”

but he can’t stop. not when feeling his cock rub against your warm body between the layers and he’s so close. the button of your pantsuit right in front of where he wants needs you most was his biggest obstacle and pleasure.

it was rubbing against him just right, in the perfect spot that left him feel you and get that bump he just do desperately needed.

“it’s alright cho” you cooed at him, feeling his big hands try to drag you in closer even with your body flush against him, “feels good right?”

his mouth long since moved from yours, your connected saliva drooling down the side of his face, it that he cared much about it as he mouthed at your neck.

his body let out a rapid shiver feeling your knee press against his bulge and he was so so close.

“ooo you liked that, huh?”

“so good cho…you were wishing for this.”

“feels so good cum for me, my sweet boy.”

and he did, his strong hands gripped at the looseness coming out of your shirt as he shook and felt a wet spot take place in his slacks, his louth huffing against your neck while your warm hands rubbed at his back.

“better now?”

choso hummed in response, pulling his neck out to give you a quick peck before flushing seeing the mess he caused in his wake.

well good thing it was dark blue.

“you didn’t…”

you smiled at him, running your hand down his chest to cup his bulge, “ ‘m okay cho don’t worry about me, okay?”

“but i want to—”

“choso?” a female voice came with banging on the door taking your attention away from each other to the sound.

“CHOSO!”

“i know you’re in thereeee” she purred, “don’t tell me you’re cheating on me!”

cheating?

“cheating?” you repeated backing up from the man, “oh my god. oh my god. you are fucking drunk!” you hissed completely separating yourself from him.

“i don’t have a girlfriend!”

“well whatever the fuck she is” you pointed at the door whispering, “she’s looking for you and this was unprofessional!”

“but i—”

“go, choso.”

“and yuki came at the door after?”

choso nodded a pretty pout taking over his lips, tapping at table with his pen.

sukuna barked a hefty laugh, pounding his chest as another coughing fit took over him from his disbelief.

“this is like a telenovela” he shook his head, his sharp smile taking over his face, “i don’t know how you do it.”

“it’s wasn’t me” choso whined as he dropped his pen back on the notepad where he unconsciously started to draw you again.

“well, it’s a good thing i scheduled her for grandpa’s party!”

both men froze as they watched yuuji munch on a popsicle.

“you’ve let me mope about this for two months and you didn’t tell me that?”

“im in my honeymoon period! DUHHH”

this could work out! yes choso—well not really, fucked up his one chance to make you his one chance to make you his.

maybe even properly profess his love to you but this was a second chance he could—

“but she wants all our meetings to happen at her office. no extra guests.”

well shit.

“find something out so i can fix this.”

and as he was know for yuuji pried and pried, and he got his results.

“just do something that will show her you appreciate her.”

“that you love her.”

so choso did what he does best, hands covered in paint as he opened the door to his studio.

“ah—yuuji, where is the—”

“here me out, please.”

you sighed dropping the iconic clipboard silently as you, walked through the threshold as chido held the door open wider.

“wait here..right—no right here.”

“does this have anything to do with your grandfather? i don’t have time—”

“we’re making the time right now” choso murmured as he fixed his setup.

and now you stood next to the man as he beamed waiting for you to pull at the tarp covering what seemed to be a large canvas.

“choso, what is this?”

“just—just look at it? please?”

sighing you handed your board to the man, before taking the long painted covered clothing and pull to reveal a portrait.

of you.

but not just a single portrait it was multiple of you, adding together in the timeline of when you were with him.

“choso…”

“it’s all the things i love about you.”

he set the things down, wrapping around to point at the different tiny yous on the canvas, “this was the day we checked out the sunflower venue and the butterfly landed on your nose.”

“this was the dark marble one megumi loved that had the stray cat” he smiled at the memory, “ and you felt so bad you draped your sweater on the floor so it could snuggle.”

“this was at the rehearsal dinner where i drew you for the first time.”

“this was at the day you argued with sukuna about the cake flavor.”

“and this one—”

“i get it cho..” you lifted your hand to stop the man as you blocked at the beautiful colors swirling on the canvas, “but why..?”

“because yuki isn’t your girlfriend!”

“youre right yuki isnt my girlfriend.”

“wait” he dragged his hands down his face, “i meant she’s not my girlfriend.”

you giggled looking at the paint smeared over his cheeks, “ i get it…so at the wedding?”

“fluke! i promise i would never do that to you.”

he came to you slowly his big brown eyes pleading at you to believe him, “i would never lose you…especially over something so stupid.”

“okay cho” you shivered feeling his minty breath hit on your face, “i believe you.”

his hand still cold from the paint grasped at your cheek pulling you closing to him as he dipped down for you kiss, “oh thank fuck.”

and soon you couldn’t even feel the cold ting or strong stench of the fresh paint when his lips captured yours again.

you felt so light.

but the way choso was kissing, was anything but.

his lips were soft but his kiss was rough, hungry and desperate. as if he was scared that you’d slip through his finger again and he wouldn’t be able to stop you.

and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him, the way you gravitated and when he pulled away you followed.

you let him lead you back to the tarp listening to his ‘sorry softest thing here, baby’ and watching his rough paint covered hands work at the buttons of your blouse.

his lips found yours again as he carefully pulled your bra down, kneading both of your breasts in earnest moaning into your mouth like he was the one being pawed at instead of doing the pawing.

“cho..”

he ignored your plea, pinning your hands down as they drifted down his body to give him more in return before he started to kiss at your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse as he continued to lick a line to your breasts.

“this ain’t about me baby…all you.”

his movements didn’t stop his brown eyes watching you as his hands…dipped in more paint? grasped at the fat of your boobs kneading as he sucked a nipple into his mouth before moving to the other neglected one.

the black paint followed his fingertips as he groaned against your breast as he pulled back to watch his hand that made it to the outline of your pants, “you don’t mind dirting this up, right?”

soon you were completely bare before the man, his hands grasping at every open area of skin he could read, stretching his hand to the side to dip into a new color as he mouthed at your inner thighs, just away from where you needed him most.

but you didn’t rush him, letting him continue his exploration, watching as if he was deprived of you in every way of the word as he finally sucked your clit into his mouth.

the gasp that ripped out of you was enough to bring his attention back to your messy paint covered face, “sorry baby hands are bit messy…just my mouth today.”

you didn’t even get enough time to respond, his mouth catching back on your mound as his teeth grazed your clit, arms wrapping around your legs as you arched up into his hold.

his tongue split through your folds expertly dipping into your gummy walls forcing a wanton moan put your mouth as you felt something cold in amongst his hot tongue.

“cho..do you have ice?” you asked breathlessly, gripping at his hair to hear him moaning out against your hot cunt.

his tongue lulled out at he watched you, the light glinting against his silver piercing.

“oh fuck.”

even with your hands slipped in between his buns, choso slipped back into position, snug between your thighs clenching at his head. giving your inner thigh a light kiss before descending back in.

it was probably the mix of the ac blasting up ahead, the coolness of the paint drying on your skin, how big choso was between your legs he basically forced you open, and the pressure he held on your stomach with painted hand with his tongue flicking that the other that made you come undone as fast as you did.

he didn’t even let up yet, still licking and sucking as you dropped and wrtithed against his mouth before finally coming up, mouth still wet from your essence.

his eyes darted all over your covered body as if to lock this into his memory of what he did to you.

of what his paint did to you.

“my greatest masterpiece yet.”

yorikae