#wbkxreader

˗ˏˋ ꩜ HAYATO SUO ˚｡ ꒱

You’re both already half-undressed, and he reaches into the drawer, always precise, always prepared. But before he can tear the foil, your fingers curl around his wrist.

“Suo. Don’t use it. I want to feel you.”

His eyes snap to yours, sharp and unreadable at first—but you can see it: the crack in his armor. His jaw tightens, breath stilling, and for a moment you think he might pull away.

“That’s not something I take lightly,” he says quietly, his tone colder than his eyes. “You understand what you’re asking me for?”

You nod slowly, sliding your hand up his chest. “I trust you. I want all of you.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then he sets the wrapper down—untouched—and leans down until your noses almost brush.

“Then you’ll take me. Just as I am.”

The moment he slides into you, bare and hot, you both gasp. The difference is overwhelming. You feel him twitch inside you, his control already beginning to fray.

“Fuck…” he growls, burying his face in your neck. “You feel—too good like this.”

His pace starts slow, deliberate, but it doesn’t stay that way. The longer he moves inside you, the more his restraint unravels. His hands grip your thighs tight, almost bruising, holding you open as he thrusts harder—deeper—watching your face with dark, unreadable eyes.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admits hoarsely. “What you’d feel like. Just you.”

You whimper under him, nails digging into his back, and he groans, low and guttural, like the sound is being ripped from his throat.

“Never wanted to lose control like this… but you—”

His mouth crashes onto yours again. Hungry. Possessive. Raw.

Your bodies slap together, sweat building, his name falling from your lips again and again. And when he comes, it’s deep, his whole body trembling as he holds himself buried inside you, panting into your neck.

“No one else,” he murmurs roughly. “Only you. Like this.”

He stays there, inside you, even after. One arm draped possessively over your waist, lips brushing your collarbone like he’s afraid the moment will vanish.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ TOGAME JO ˚｡ ꒱

“You want it like this?” he asked, voice low, his grip tightening just enough to send a shiver through you. “You want me to ruin you, or are you just saying it because you like the sound of it?”

“I want all of you,” you rasped, twisting to look at him over your shoulder. “Take the condom off. I want to feel you. Nothing between us.”

He stilled.

For a moment, you thought he’d laugh it off—make a quip, brush it aside. That’s what he did when things got too real. But he didn’t.

Instead, his expression shifted. His hand left your hair and slid to your waist, slow, deliberate. He pulled out and sat back on his knees, gaze locked on yours. His chest was heaving. You watched him roll the condom off and toss it aside—his hands trembling, barely perceptible—but not from nerves.

From want.

“You don’t get to take that back,” he said, voice rough, intense. “You tell me to go bare, you’re mine. You understand that?”

You nodded, breath catching.

He grabbed your hips again and slammed back into you—raw, burning, perfect. The sound that tore from both of you was primal. You weren’t just having sex anymore. You were colliding.

“Fucking hell—” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You feel—fuck. So real like this. So warm. Like I’m inside all of you, not just your body.”

His rhythm turned ragged, deep and wild. You could feel the restraint he usually wore like armor, disintegrating with every thrust. There was no mask now. No charming grin. No smug control.

Just need. Loyalty. Devotion that ran too deep to be spoken.

“You trusted me with this,” he breathed. “You don’t know what that means to me.”

He fucked you harder, not out of cruelty—but out of feeling. Every time his hips met yours, it was like a promise carved into your bones. You felt the way his hands held you like you’d vanish if he let go. You heard the tremor in his voice, the quiet edge of panic underneath the pleasure—because if he let himself fall for you like this, he might not ever climb back out.

And when he came, buried inside you, he gasped your name like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t move.

Just slumped forward, arms braced around you, his forehead resting against your spine.

You reached back, grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

He kissed your shoulder, still inside you, still trembling.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ SAKURA HARUKA ˚｡ ꒱

“God, you feel good…” he whispered, barely audible.

His forehead brushed yours, strands of his messy hair falling into his eyes. His lips hovered just over your mouth, but he was holding himself back—like always. Every time you got this close, he kept that tiny bit of distance.

“Sakura,” you murmured, fingers caressing his jaw. “You don’t have to hold back.”

His eyes snapped to yours—wide, vulnerable, so full of want.

You leaned up and whispered, voice hot against his ear:

“Take it off.”

He froze mid-thrust.

“W-what?” he breathed, heart slamming against your chest.

Your hand slipped down between your bodies, brushing against where you were joined, your other palm steadying his cheek.

“I want you,” you said gently, “please, Just us.”

His breath hitched. He looked panicked—like you’d just offered him something he didn’t feel worthy of.

“But if I… if I mess up—what if I finish too fast? Or I—”

You silenced him with a kiss, soft and certain.

“I trust you, Sakura. Please. I want it.”

And that’s what broke him.

His arms nearly gave out as he sat up on his knees, chest heaving. With shaking fingers, he pulled out slowly and fumbled with the condom, tearing it off and tossing it aside like it offended him. His hands gripped your thighs almost desperately, holding you open as he lined himself back up.

“Tell me again,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“I want you raw, Haruka. I want you.”

He moaned—actually moaned, full and broken—and pushed in.

You both gasped.

The sensation was electric—so hot, so intimate, it stole the air from your lungs. Sakura’s whole body was trembling as he bottomed out inside you, deeper than ever, skin to skin.

“Oh—fuck—” he rasped, head falling to your shoulder. “You feel—you feel too good—I’m gonna—”

His words fell apart. His rhythm lost control. He moved harder, faster, suddenly overwhelmed, chasing something he couldn’t handle but needed more than anything.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Like this… you’re really mine…”

You wrapped your arms around him, letting him bury himself in you, over and over, no walls, no space. His grip on your hips was tight, almost desperate, like if he let go now, everything would fall apart.

When he came, it hit him like a wave. He gasped into your neck, his whole body seizing, the heat of him spilling deep inside you.

“Oh my god… I—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to… that fast, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered. “It was perfect.”

He collapsed onto you, chest still rising and falling like a storm had passed through him.

“I love you,” he said, so quietly it was almost a secret.

And then again, louder:

“I love you. I love you.”

˗ˏˋ ꩜ UMEMIYA HAJIME ˚｡ ꒱

“Damn, I missed you,” Hajime murmured as his fingers slid beneath your shirt. “One day without you and I’m already losing my mind.”

You grinned, tugging him closer by the collar of his hoodie. “It’s only been twelve hours.”

“Too long,” he said, grinning back — but his eyes were already darkening with want.

His kisses grew deeper, needier, until your clothes were peeled away piece by piece and you were left bare under him, both of you flushed and breathless. He nudged your thighs apart with gentle fingers, eyes dropping down your body like he couldn’t believe you were his.

And just as he reached over toward the nightstand, you spoke.

“Wait.” You placed your hand over his. “Don’t use one tonight.”

He froze. Really froze.

His eyes lifted to yours, and for once, the usual smirk faded. He blinked slowly, processing, trying to figure out if you were joking or testing him.

“You sure?” he asked, voice quieter, lower than usual. “That’s not a small thing, babe.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I’ve thought about it. I want to feel you… everything. Just you.”

He stared at you for a long moment. No jokes. No snark. Just him, breathing a little harder than before, hand still hovering over the drawer.

“You trust me that much?” he asked, something raw creeping into his tone.

You nodded.

A flicker of emotion flashed across his face—surprise, maybe even awe—and then the softest smile tugged at his lips.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, voice husky. “You want it real? I’ll give you everything.”

He climbed back over you, settling between your legs like he belonged there. You felt the heat of him against your entrance—bare now—and the intensity of his eyes as he slid in slow, careful, testing your limits.

You both gasped at the sensation.

“Fuck…” he breathed, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “This is—this is insane.”

You felt all of him now—every inch, every pulse, no space left between you. It was overwhelming, and perfect.

He kissed you deeply as he began to move, slow and deliberate, whispering how good you felt, how warm, how close. No more cocky jokes. Just vulnerability.

“You feel like heaven,” he groaned. “I didn’t think it could be like this.”

Each thrust was like a confession. Each kiss a promise. He moved like he was afraid to miss a single part of you. Like this wasn’t just about pleasure — it was about closeness. Trust. Love.

He held you when he came, arms wrapped around your back, his forehead pressed to yours, his voice shaking against your mouth.

“No one’s ever trusted me like that before…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled.

“Now you know how much you mean to me.”

He laughed softly, “You’re gonna break me, babe.”

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. it’s kinda hard to write wbk for me ugh !

Sakura didn’t know how he was still breathing.

His hands were on your waist — warm skin beneath his fingertips, your breath ghosting against his collarbone — and all he could think was: This is really happening. You were beneath him, lips swollen from kissing, cheeks flushed, your top tugged half off your shoulder like even your clothes couldn’t keep up with what was happening. His girlfriend. His.

Sakura exhaled slowly through his nose. Keep it together. Don’t scare her. Don’t fuck this up.

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking between your face and your chest, rising and falling with shallow, nervous breaths. Your eyes were wide, mirroring his own disbelief.

If he let himself look too long — at your parted lips, at the skin he shouldn’t already be dying to taste, at the way your thighs shifted open slightly — he was going to absolutely lose it.

But then you said, so softly, “But… what if I’m doing it wrong?”

Your voice cracked on the last word and it physically hurt something in him. You were so earnest, so unsure — and all Sakura wanted to do was wrap himself around you and worship every inch until you stopped doubting yourself.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, voice low. “There’s no right or wrong,” he whispered against your skin. “There’s just us.”

“[name],” he continued, hesitant, “we don’t have to if you’re not—”

“No,” you said quickly. “I want to. I mean— I think I do. I just—” Your hands fidgeted against his chest. “I’ve never— done this before.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Me neither.” Rubbing the back of his neck.

You both looked at each other. Blinked. Then laughed — awkward and breathless, your noses brushing.

And then your legs shifted. Opened a little more. Inviting him closer.

Sakura’s brain flatlined.

He couldn’t believe it,

He leaned down to kiss you again — slower this time, mouth moving with a kind of desperation masked as tenderness. You kissed him back clumsily, hungrily. Your hands slid under his shirt, tentative at first, and he let you push it up — then off. When he sat back up for a second, bare-chested, your eyes widened.

“Oh,” you breathed. And then, “That’s… not fair.”

Sakura blinked. “What?”

“You’re—God, you’re so hot,” you muttered, like you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “Seriously.”

He made a strangled sound and dropped his forehead against your collarbone. “Don’t say that. I’m already hanging on by a thread.”

You giggled — a little breathless, a little brave — and slid your fingers into his hair.

“Am I… doing this right?”

His groan was immediate. Low and broken. Not because you weren’t doing it right — but because you were. You were shifting beneath him, grinding just barely, lips trailing down his throat like you didn’t know the effect you had on him.

“If you keep asking that,” he said, voice rough, “I’m seriously gonna lose it.”

“Lose what?”

“You.” He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “You’re touching me like that and asking if you’re doing it right—yeah, baby, you’re doing it so right. I’m trying not to fuck you right now.”

You froze slightly, wide-eyed. “I thought you wanted to.”

“I do,” he said. “So bad. I’ve wanted to since the second you looked at me like that. But I don’t wanna rush you. You’re perfect. I want to take my time.”

There was a beat of silence before your voice came again, soft and shaky. “Then… can we go slow? Together?”

Sakura stared at you like you’d knocked the air out of him. Then he nodded. Once. His hand slid between your thighs, tentative, brushing over the fabric of your underwear — already a little damp — and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, like it physically pained him to say it. “Fuck.”

Your face went hot. You buried it in his neck.

“Is that okay?” you asked, muffled.

He laughed softly. “It’s perfect.” His face getting redder every second.

His fingers moved gently, rubbing over the thin cotton, just enough to make you arch and gasp his name. He kissed you through it — lips warm and patient as you squirmed under him — until you finally whimpered, “Please, Sakura—”

He didn’t make you wait.

When he slid inside you — slow and careful, like every second was something sacred — you both gasped at the same time. You clutched his shoulders, thighs tightening around his hips, the stretch making your eyes flutter and your body shake.

“Am I—” you started.

“Don’t,” he groaned, voice raw. “Don’t ask. You’re doing everything right.”

He moved slow.. His hands everywhere — your hips, your waist, your jaw. Every time you moaned his name, he murmured praise back into your skin. Every time you asked “Like that?”, he answered with a kiss, a groan, a desperate “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Your nervous questions turned into gasps. Gasps into moans. And somewhere between the stuttered thrusts and tangled limbs, Sakura stopped thinking completely.

You came first, trembling around him, voice cracking as you clung to him. He followed moments later, collapsing into you with a breathless groan, his mouth still whispering your name like it was the only thing he believed in.

You laid there afterward, skin slick, bodies pressed close. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair.

And then you whispered, “I think I did something right.”

Sakura didn’t open his eyes. He just smiled into your shoulder and said, breathless. “You have no idea.”

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. I hope I did well with the request - it was kinda hard writing Sakura in this one..

˗ˏˋ 𝜗ৎ SUO HAYATO ˚｡ ꒱

You didn’t expect your little date with Suo to turn into a street fight.

One second, you’re walking beside him, sipping a convenience store drink and listening to his quiet, steady voice. The next, a group of guys come out of nowhere, eyes locked on Suo like they’ve been waiting. You barely register it before Suo’s arm pushes you gently behind him, his expression unchanging, but his stance immediately tense.

“Stay back,” he mutters without looking at you.

And then he moves.

You don’t listen. Of course you don’t. You stand there, eyes glued to him, heart racing for a completely different reason.

The way he fights — it’s precise, efficient, almost beautiful. Every punch lands clean, every dodge is fluid. His shirt rides up slightly when he jumps back, exposing just a bit of toned stomach. His jaw clenches. That focused look in his eyes…

You bite your lip, completely forgetting the chaos around you.

“Oh my god…” you whisper, half to yourself. “He looks so hot right now… I just wanna grab him and—”

“You want to what?”

You freeze.

Slowly, you look up. The fight is over. Suo stands there, a few feet away, hands at his sides, eyes fixed directly on you. Calm. Too calm.

“You heard that?” you ask, voice cracking.

He nods once. “Word for word.”

You feel your entire body burn. But instead of laughing it off, Suo steps closer, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“…So that’s what you’re really thinking about behind that face,” he says, voice low. “Hmph.”

He leans in, just a bit.

“You should be careful. Saying things like that might get you exactly what you’re asking for.”

˗ˏˋ 𝜗ৎ SAKURA HARUKA ˚｡ ꒱

You and Haruka had planned a simple afternoon together — quiet, sweet, just the way he liked it. A little café tucked behind the station, some soft music, his hand barely brushing yours as you walked beside him.

And then trouble showed up.

A pair of guys clearly recognized him — probably trouble from his Furin reputation. Haruka tried to avoid it, to walk past them without conflict… but it didn’t work. The tension snapped fast, and in an instant, he stepped forward to defend you.

“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry,” he said with that calm, almost too-gentle tone.

But the moment he started fighting, everything changed.

You watched him — really watched him. The grace in how he moved, the sharpness in his eyes when he was focused. His sleeves rolled slightly, revealing toned forearms. His shirt clung to his frame when he moved too fast. He ducked, struck, spun — and for someone so quiet, he moved like lightning.

You felt your cheeks grow warm. And then it just… slipped out.

“Ugh… he’s so hot when he’s serious like that… I wanna pull him into the alley and just—”

“…Wait. What?”

Your stomach dropped.

Haruka turned to you, eyes wide, cheeks a deep shade of red. The fight was over, but now you were in danger — of dying from embarrassment.

“You—did you just say—?!”

“I… may have.”

His hand flew to his face. “You look so innocent! How can you imagine that?!”

You laughed nervously, trying to play it off, but he was spiraling.

“I-I didn’t think you even knew about things like that—!”

“…You okay, Sakura?”

He nodded quickly, still flushed. “Y-Yes. I’m fine. I just… need a moment to recover.”

˗ˏˋ 𝜗ৎ UMEMIYA HAJIME ˚｡ ꒱

You were waiting in one of Furin’s classrooms, legs swung over the side of a desk, while Hajime finished up some student council-ish leader duties. Paperwork, talking to teachers, giving orders to the younger guys. You didn’t mind. You liked watching him do his thing — passionate, loud, kind of ridiculous in how serious he could be about stuff that involved protecting others.

But man, he was taking forever.

So you did what anyone would do.

You pulled out your phone… and opened that one story you’d been hooked on lately. A very graphic one. Complete with all the good stuff — messy, heated scenes, a possessive male lead, way too many shirtless descriptions.

You were reading in peace, earbuds in, completely zoned out, when suddenly—

“Yooo, thanks for waiting— huh? What’s that face?”

You jumped, nearly throwing your phone across the room.

“N-Nothing!”

He squinted at you. “You’re blushing. What were you reading?”

“I-it’s not important!”

Too late. Hajime snatched your phone with a grin, raising a brow. “Don’t tell me you were reading—”

He paused.

His eyes scanned the screen. And widened. His jaw dropped.

“Wait. Wait. THIS is what you’re into?!”

“Hajime—give it back!!”

He took a step back dramatically, still staring at the screen. “bro. What is this?! This guy’s got the girl pinned against a wall in chapter THREE??!”

You lunged for the phone, face burning. “I said give it back!!”

He finally returned it, hands up. “Okay okay! Damn! I just didn’t expect you of all people to be into that stuff!”

Then he blinked, tilting his head.

“…You were imagining me doing that, weren’t you.”

You said nothing.

“…Oh my god you were.”

He covered his face, then peeked at you with the most flustered grin.

“Damn. You’re wilder than I thought, angel face.”

˗ˏˋ 𝜗ৎ KANJI NAKAMURA ˚｡ ꒱

You were lying on your stomach across the couch in Kanji’s living room — waiting for him to finish one of his naps. It had become a regular thing: you hang out, he drifts off halfway through the conversation, you wait patiently, scrolling on your phone while he dozes with a hoodie pulled halfway over his face.

But this time? You weren’t just scrolling aimlessly.

You were knee-deep in a spicy, very explicit fanfic.

It wasn’t even about anyone specific, but your brain — bless its creative little corners — was happily replacing every vague “tall, broad-shouldered man” description with Kanji himself. His lazy drawl. The way his sleeves were always rolled up. That deep, gravelly voice when he was still half-asleep—

“…So this is what you do when I’m asleep.”

Your soul left your body.

You looked up to find him watching you with one eye open, head still resting on his arm, voice slow and rough from sleep.

“I wasn’t— I mean— it’s not what it looks like!”

He sighed and reached for your phone. You weren’t fast enough. He scanned the screen without moving from his position.

“…‘She gasped as he grabbed her wrists and growled against her neck—’”

“KANJI STOP—”

He blinked at you. “Huh.”

Then a pause.

“Damn. You were imagining me, weren’t you.”

Your face went red instantly. “No! Maybe. Shut up!”

He chuckled — a quiet, lazy little sound that made it worse.

“You’ve got the most innocent face I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, tossing your phone back. “And a brain straight out of a 3 a.m. fanfiction tag.”

You buried your face in a cushion.

“…Honestly kinda flattered,” he added casually, smirking. “Didn’t know I was literally your type.”

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. this was way too hard.. also first time writing kanji !!

˗ˏˋ ꩜ SAKURA HARUKA ˚｡ ꒱

♱ ᝰ daily༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Senpai!” (yes, even when dating — it sticks!)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Y/n-chan” (still with that adorable stutter)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Um…babe?” (his ears go red just saying it)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My sunshine” (in messages, rarely said aloud)

♱ ᝰ at Night.. ༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , „P-please, pretty baby…” (stammered mid-moment)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “I-its too good, y/n-chan…” (more like babbled)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , „Angel” (if he’s overcome with emotion)

Haruka’s names are all about reverence and innocence. He’s easily flustered, hesitant to use anything too bold — but when things get intimate, he becomes breathy, overwhelmed, and his use of your name becomes loaded with longing and vulnerability.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ YAMATO ENDO ˚｡ ꒱

♱ ᝰ daily༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , „You” (dry delivery but oddly affectionate in his own way)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Dummy” (deadpan but affectionate)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “sunshine” (in private, rare — you’d melt)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Shortcake” (if you’re sweet or clumsy — it slips out sometimes)

♱ ᝰ at Night.. ༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Sweet thing” (his tone makes it sinful)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My little mess” (when you’re needy)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Babe” (low and breathy, before losing control)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , „Greedy girl” (when you’re asking for more)

Yamato isn’t one to constantly drop pet names, but when he does, they sting in the best way. He uses sparse but sharp words, laced with affection or lust depending on the moment. His pet names are both endearing and lowkey possessive, fitting his “cool but passionate” nature.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ SUO HAYATO ˚｡ ꒱

♱ ᝰ daily༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , „Sweetheart” (always, that’s his to-go)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My girl” (possessive, with a smug smile)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Bunny” (teasing when you’re flustered)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Angel” (occasionally — when he’s surprisingly gentle)

♱ ᝰ at Night.. ༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Mine” (frequent — said low in your ear)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Good girl” / “Naughty girl” (cuz yes)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Kitten” (when you’re especially needy)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Baby” (but only when he’s breathless and caught off-guard)

He’s dominant, calculating, and a bit cold outwardly — but calls you names that feed into elegance, and a sense of pride in “having you.” The sweeter names contrast his cold exterior and highlight the control he enjoys.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ REN KAJI ˚｡ ꒱

♱ ᝰ daily༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “[name]-san” (— he leans into it)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Oi, babe” (it’s just him)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My girl” (possessive, rough around the edges)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Sweets” (surprisingly soft when you’re sad)

♱ ᝰ at Night.. ༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Mine” (gritted through his teeth)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My dirty girl” (when it’s get heated)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Good fuckin’ girl” (he means it every time)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “[name]-chan” (rare, when he drops the act and gets clingy)

Ren’s nicknames always have a bite — dominance and obsession wrapped in them. Even non-intimate names have that “you’re mine” vibe, and in the bedroom, they get a lot rougher, more possessive, but with glimpses of real neediness if you pay close attention.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ MITSUKI KIRYU ˚｡ ꒱

♱ ᝰ daily༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Babe” (constantly, even when you’re mad)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Hottie” (when he’s teasing you)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Doll” / “Cutie” (it’s just him)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Gorgeous” (winks after saying it)

♱ ᝰ at Night.. ༉‧₊

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My filthy girl” (with a grin)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Pretty baby” (a little mocking but hot)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “Slut” (but said affectionately, during intense moments)

＃┆ ᢉ𐭩 . . , “My muse” (when he’s feeling poetic)

Mitsuki thrives on charm and lust, and his pet names drip with flirtation and heat. Even in bed, his words are coated in praise and filth in equal measure — but always delivered with a star’s confidence and a trace of affection.

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. I hope it’s how you imagined it !

“You really think anyone wants you?” he growled, pressing in so close your breath hitched. “You’re a pain in the ass. A smug, bratty, insufferable little—”

“Then maybe stop thinking about me so much.”

That earned a laugh — humorless, dangerous. His hand shot out, fingers curling around your throat as he leaned in. “Think I want to? You drive me fucking insane.”

“Then let go.”

“You don’t want that,” he whispered darkly.

And he was right. You didn’t. You wanted more. You wanted the way he hated wanting you.

He kissed you like it was a punishment, biting your bottom lip until it stung. “You’re not gonna bat your lashes at me and act all sweet like that other guy—”

“Jealous?”

“Fucking disgusted,” he spat. “Disgusted at how badly I want to ruin you.”

The next second your clothes are gone, your back hitting the bed, his weight pinning you down. He doesn’t kiss you again — not really. Just mouths at your throat like he wants to leave a mark no one else could ignore.

“You’re so annoying,” he hisses, lining himself up and pushing in deep — too deep, too fast. You cry out, nails digging into his arms, but he doesn’t stop. “Can’t stand you.”

“Then stop fucking me—”

He thrusts harder. “Shut up. You love this. Love when I hate-fuck you full, don’t you?”

You gasp, head thrown back, already clenching around him. “You’re sick.”

“You’re worse,” he growls. “Fucking soaking for me the second I raise my voice.”

He grabs your hips, pounding into you like he wants to break something — or maybe like he already is. The way you moan his name makes him snap.

“Say it,” he pants, hand around your throat again, controlling. “Say you’re mine. Say you belong to the guy you claim to hate.”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. But you’re too far gone — brain fogged with heat, pleasure, need. “I’m yours. Fuck—Ren, I’m yours.”

He groans, fucking you even harder, your bodies slamming together with obscene rhythm. “That’s right. Can’t stand me, huh? But you crave me.”

You break around him, back arching, walls fluttering so tight he nearly loses it. He growls into your neck, breath hot, and pumps you full, deep and possessive, until you feel him dripping out of you.

Even when he’s done, he doesn’t pull away. Just stays buried in you, eyes half-lidded and mouth still parted like he wants to say something — but doesn’t.

“You try that shit again — flirting with someone else — I’ll fuck you in front of them next time. Make sure they know you’re mine.”

You smirk, even wrecked and breathless. “You’d like that.”

He scowls. “Don’t test me.”

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. it’s just a drabble..

˗ˏˋ ꩜ REN KAJI ˚｡ ꒱

IT.. happened too fast.

Shouts. Footsteps. The kind of chaos that doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. You barely had time to turn your head before he moved.

Ren.

He grabbed you without warning. One rough, sudden motion. No hesitation. No explanation.

Before you could even ask what was happening, your back hit the wall—his body pressing into yours, shielding you completely.

Hard. Fast. Protective. You gasped, but he didn’t even look at you.

His attention was locked forward. It was written all over him.

You felt it in the way his muscles tensed, in how tightly he held his position—like he was bracing for impact. Not running. Not fighting.

Just taking it.

You couldn’t see who threw the punches—but you felt each one through him. His body jerked with the force. A sharp breath. A grunt.

He didn’t move. Didn’t fight back.

He could have. You’ve seen him. Fast, precise, ruthless when he has to be. But now… he just stood there.

Because of you.

If he lashed out, you’d be in the line of fire. And he knew it.

So he stayed still. Took the hits. Shielded you like his life meant less than yours.

Your lips parted, breath shaky. “Ren…”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. You were too close. Too close for him to hide how your voice made his resolve falter for a second.

But then—someone shouted.

“REN!!”

Like a storm crashing in, his friends appeared—blows flying, the attacker thrown aside in seconds. The world exploded around you, but Ren didn’t move. Not yet.

For a moment longer, his body stayed in front of yours. Close. Solid. Burning.

Then—he turned. Just enough to look at you.

“You okay?” he asked, voice rough and low.

You nodded. Barely.

His eyes didn’t stay on you for long. Just a flicker. Just enough to make your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

Then he looked away. Like he didn’t trust himself to linger.

And in that second, something unspoken hung between you.

He would’ve taken every hit. Even if no one came. Even if it destroyed him. He would’ve done it—just to keep you safe.

But he’d never say that out loud.

Not now.

Maybe never.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ HARUKA SAKURA ˚｡ ꒱

IT.. happend in a Flash.

You weren’t ready for the chaos. The voices, the pounding of footsteps, the way the tension in the air thickened like a warning just before a storm hits.

But he was.

Haruka didn’t speak. Didn’t shout.

He just moved.

One swift, brutal motion. His hand grabbed your arm, yanked you close—too fast for you to resist, too sudden to make sense of. And then—bang.

Your back hit the wall, and his body crashed into yours, pressing you there with a force that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

He didn’t say a word.

His eyes, those sharp, ice-cold eyes, were already locked ahead. Like he’d known this was coming.

Like he’d known the moment would require this: putting himself between you and whatever was coming.

You tried to speak—tried to ask what the hell was going on—but then you saw it.

The punch.

It came fast. Too fast. And Haruka didn’t dodge. Didn’t even try.

He took it.

A hit to the ribs—brutal. Another to the shoulder—

His jaw clenched. His fists stayed tight at his sides.

You knew him well enough to know: he wanted to fight back.

God, he wanted to fight back.

But you were right behind him. Too close. One wrong swing and you’d be the one bleeding.

So he stood there. Arms locked. Back arched slightly to cover you. Breathing sharp. Silent.

Taking every blow meant for you.

“Haruka—” you breathed, but your voice barely left your throat.

You felt it, the subtle twitch in his jaw when he heard you say his name. That one crack in his armor he didn’t want you to see. Not now. Not when his chest felt like it might cave in from both the punches and the fact that you were this close.

Then—

“SAKURA!!”

The alley exploded into movement.

His friends. Finally.

One of them tore the attacker away. Fists flew, curses filled the air—and suddenly, Haruka didn’t have to hold back.

But he didn’t move. Not yet.

He stayed where he was—his body still pressed into yours, shielding, silent. For one more heartbeat. Just to be sure.

Then slowly—finally—he turned his head just enough to look at you.

“You hurt?” His voice was low, rough. It sounded almost… angry. But it wasn’t.

You shook your head, wide-eyed.

His gaze lingered for half a second too long.

That half-second where he let it slip—just a little—how much it shook him to see you that close to danger.

Then, like always, he shut it down. Cold stare back in place. Jaw tight.

“Tch.” He looked away. “You really are a pain.”

But even as he said it, you knew.

He would’ve taken every hit. He would’ve kept standing, even if it broke him in half. As long as you were safe.

He just didn’t want you to know why.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

˗ˏˋ ꩜ HAJIME UMEMIYA ˚｡ ꒱

It.. happened before you realized what was going on.

The shift in the air. Voices too loud. A tension that shouldn’t be there.

You turned your head—

And then suddenly, he was there.

Hajime.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t explain.

He just stepped forward and pulled you into him, his arm sweeping around you as his body turned with calm precision. One movement—smooth, fast, final.

Then—your back hit the wall.

And his was pressed against you. Broad, steady, solid.

He said nothing, but the way he held himself—body angled in front of you, every muscle coiled, jaw set—told you everything:

You weren’t going to be touched. Not while he was there.

The first punch came. He felt it coming before you did.

He didn’t flinch.

It landed in his side—heavy.

Another hit his shoulder. Hard.

You felt the shudder of impact through him, but he didn’t move.

Didn’t strike back.

You could feel how tightly he was holding himself still. Like a storm held inside a cage.

Because you were behind him.

Too close. Too exposed.

He could’ve ended it in seconds. You knew that.

He could’ve dropped them all without breaking a sweat.

But he didn’t.

Because one wrong move… and you’d be the one in danger.

He’d take the pain instead.

You barely managed a whisper. “Hajime—”

You didn’t think he’d hear it. But he did.

You felt the small shift in him—almost nothing, but enough. Like his whole body heard your voice before his mind even registered it.

But he still didn’t turn. Still didn’t speak.

He just stayed in front of you. Unmoving. Unshakable. Like a wall. Your wall.

Then— “UMEMIYA!!”

The calm broke like thunder.

Familiar voices. Footsteps pounding.

His friends arrived—like a wave crashing into shore.

They didn’t hesitate. Within seconds, the attackers were dealt with. Bodies hit the ground, someone shouted, someone else cursed.

But Hajime didn’t move.

He stayed in front of you. One second longer. Just to be sure.

Then finally, slowly, he turned—his hand coming to rest lightly on your arm as he checked you over with those steady, warm eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was deep, calm. But there was something under it. Something he wasn’t saying.

You nodded, breath caught in your throat. The world was still spinning, but he made it feel quiet somehow.

His gaze held yours. Just for a moment. Long enough to say what he didn’t.

I’d take every hit for you. Without hesitation. I already did.

Then the moment passed.

He looked away, exhaled through his nose like it was nothing. Like you weren’t the reason he threw himself between fists and flesh without blinking.

“UGH I DIDNT KNOW WHAT I‘D HAVE DONT IF YOU GOT HURT.” He gave a small smile—half-teasing, half-relieved. “You gotta stop being so popular with the wrong crowd.”

But his hand didn’t leave your arm.

And he didn’t move away.

Not yet.

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. pt 2 with mitsuki kiryu, hayato suo, akihiko nirei.

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

˗ˏˋ ꩜ HEADCANONS ˚｡ ꒱

୨୧ When you passed away, Haruka didn’t cry in front of anyone. But your daughter heard him in the middle of the night, whispering your name through shaky breaths. That was the first time she realized just how much her father had leaned on you.

୨୧ He didn’t want to eat at first. It was your daughter — calm but firm, just like you — who pulled him back to his feet. “Mom wouldn’t want you skipping your damn meals,” she told him, her eyes wet but steady.

୨୧ She has his hair — thick, white and black, stubborn in every way — but every time she brushes it in the mirror, he swears she does it exactly like you used to.

୨୧ When she graduated — the both of you were there. You and Haruka were so proud, taking a family photo under the cherry blossoms. It’s framed on his nightstand now. He stares at it every morning like it’s a sunrise.

୨୧ Your favorite scarf still hangs by the door. Your slippers still under the bed. When their daughter moved out, she begged him to pack it up — but he couldn’t. Not because he’s stuck in the past, but because you’re still part of this home.

୨୧ He tells your daughter all the stories she was too young to remember — the first time you met, the time you slapped him with a rolled-up magazine, the first time you kissed, the first time he said “I love you” and meant it.

୨୧ When Kenji or the Furin kids come by, Haruka always mentions how you were the one who made the house a home. How you were the one who insisted they take in that scrawny boy with sad eyes — Kenji — because “he reminded you of him.”

୨୧ “She had this glare,” he tells them, smiling into the distance. “Could stop a fight with just her eyes.”

୨୧ He’ll wake up sometimes thinking he heard your voice — calling him from the kitchen or humming. It always leaves him in silence for a while after.

୨୧ He visits your grave — or your favorite place — every year with your daughter. They don’t say much. Just sit together, your favorite flowers in hand, and remember you in shared silence.

୨୧ He always tells your daughter; “You’re just like your mom, you know.” ⋆ “You’ve got my hair, but that fire in you? That’s hers.” ⋆ “She’d be so proud of you. I am, too.” ⋆ “Don’t wait like I did. If you love someone, don’t be a coward. Your mom had to tell me first, and I’ll regret that ‘til the day I join her.”

୨୧ He’s made peace with the world. He’s proud of your daughter. He’s grateful for the family you built. But he’s tired.

୨୧ He doesn’t want to leave her yet — but he yearns for the day he gets to see you again. To hold your hand, and finally rest.

୨୧ He keeps that promise he whispered to you: to live until their daughter no longer needs him.

୨୧ But every night, he tells you softly in the quiet: “Soon. I’ll be there soon. Just a little longer. She’s still got more to see.”

˗ˏˋ ꩜ OLDMAN ˚｡ ꒱

The old Furin gates creaked louder than they used to.

Kenji shouldered it open with ease, a breeze catching his school jacket. Behind him trailed a few younger members — Ichiro, Ren, and Kaoru — still buzzing from their last training session. The afternoon sun bathed the empty yard in gold, and the old man waiting on the bench turned toward them with a soft, familiar smile.

“Oi, Haruka-san!” Kenji called, waving.

The silver-haired man raised his hand in return, joints slow but certain. Sakura Haruka still held himself with a fighter’s posture — spine straight, chin up — though time had softened the lines around his eyes and left his knuckles less calloused, more tremorous.

“You’re late,” Haruka said, voice like gravel and wind. “I could’ve died in the last ten minutes.”

“C’mon,” Kenji laughed, plopping beside him. “You’ve said that for ten years. You’re too stubborn to die.”

“I was stubborn because of her,” Haruka murmured.

Silence curled between them like smoke.

The boys sat around him, cross-legged in the sun. They liked listening to Haruka’s stories — not the ones in history books, but the ones about real people. Real pain. Real grit. Real love.

“How was she today?” Ren asked quietly.

Haruka’s smile softened, faraway. “She visited in the morning. Not really her, of course. Just… memories. The way the wind smelled like the first summer we watched fireworks. How she used to hum under her breath when she cleaned the house, even when I said it was annoying.” His hand trembled as he reached for the edge of his coat, where a small, frayed photo was tucked into the inside pocket. He unfolded it like a sacred ritual.

It was faded — almost sun-bleached — but the warmth in it still radiated clearly: Haruka and his wife, standing in the Furin yard, arms wrapped around a small child grinning with all their teeth.

“She made me better,” Haruka whispered. “Tamed a wild dog. She gave me a home. A real one.”

Ichiro, the youngest of them, tilted his head. “Did you two ever fight?”

Haruka laughed, soft and raspy. “All the time. I was loud. She was louder. She had this look — the one where her whole eyebrow twitched like she was gonna throw a shoe at me.”

The boys chuckled.

“But we always made up. Never let the night end angry. I promised her that when we first moved in together.” His eyes glistened, and Kenji noticed. He reached over and offered Haruka the thermos they’d brought — warm tea with too much honey, just how he liked it.

“Thanks, boy,” Haruka said, patting his hand. “You still got my eyes.”

Kenji gave a sheepish grin. “Yeah, and your stubborn streak.”

“You sure do,” Haruka muttered fondly, taking a sip.

They sat in silence for a while, letting the breeze move through them. Beyond the walls, distant shouts of laughter from the newer recruits echoed faintly.

“You know,” Haruka began, staring ahead, “when she passed… it was quiet. Peaceful. I held her hand. We were both old and worn down, but she smiled at me. Told me not to cry.”

His throat caught.

“I still did. After all those years — after everything we survived — I still cried like a damn child.”

The boys listened with reverent quiet.

“But she told me,” he continued, “that I had to keep living. For our kid. For the ones we raised. For idiots like you.” He elbowed Kenji gently.

Kenji gave a tight smile. “You did, Haruka-san. You kept going. You gave me a place when no one else did.”

Haruka turned to him, eyes wet. “You reminded me of myself. Angry. Hurt. Alone. She told me to help you. Said it’d heal something in me too. And it did.”

Kenji dropped his gaze. “You healed something in me, too.”

More silence. But it wasn’t empty. It was full of old memories, of invisible threads that still tied them all together.

“She used to sit right there,” Haruka said suddenly, pointing to the other end of the bench. “Back when we used to walk here every Sunday. She’d bring melon bread, and we’d complain about the heat, and she’d tease me for being a grump.”

He exhaled slowly.

“I still talk to her sometimes. Out loud. People probably think I’ve gone mad.”

“You haven’t,” Ren said firmly. “You’re just remembering.”

Haruka chuckled. “Yeah. Remembering. That’s all I’ve got left of her.”

“No,” Kenji said quietly. “You’ve got all of us, too. We’re here because of you… and her.”

Haruka’s eyes softened, and his shoulders slumped a little, as if allowing himself to rest.

“She wanted me to live on without her,” he murmured. “But I still hope — maybe in some next life, we’ll meet again. And this time, we won’t grow old. We’ll just stay… together.”

Ichiro fidgeted. “Do you think she’s watching over you?”

Haruka looked at the sky, clouds drifting lazily.

“I know she is. That’s why I keep my damn hair brushed.”

They laughed again, and Haruka leaned back against the bench, listening to their voices — younger, brighter, full of life. It reminded him of the old Furin days, of hot summers and bruised knuckles and arms around shoulders after a hard win.

“She was the best part of my life,” he whispered as his eyes fluttered closed, letting the sun warm his worn skin. “But all of you… you’re the proof that she never really left.”

And as the wind rustled the leaves around them, a few cherry blossoms — out of season — drifted from the nearby tree. Just a few. Just enough to feel like a sign.

Kenji smiled quietly.

“She’s still with you, Haruka-san.”

Haruka didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. ngl I loved this.

It was one of those lazy golden evenings, the kind that made the cracked pavement glow and turned even the loudest engine roars into background noise. The Bofurin boys were gathered outside the usual convenience store, sprawled across their bikes and stacked milk crates, trash-talking each other over cans of soda and half-eaten snacks.

You were tucked under Umemiya Hajime’s arm, legs curled up on the curb, sipping a melon soda and trying not to overthink how his fingers occasionally rubbed slow circles into your shoulder. He always touched you like that — casual, comforting. Familiar.

“Oi, Umemiya!” Suo shouted through a mouthful of chips, grinning like a devil. “Don’t think we didn’t notice [Name] looking all dazed earlier. What, you finally put those pretty-boy muscles to use?”

Laughter broke out instantly. Togame whistled low, while Toma choked on his drink. You stiffened slightly, your heart lurching, but tried to keep your face neutral.

Umemiya laughed — that loud, slightly nasal cackle of his — and tilted his head back.

“Oi oi,” he said with a grin, tightening his arm around your shoulder. “I’m a gentleman, ya know. I ain’t some wild dog.”

Someone muttered something about “liar,” and Umemiya just kept chuckling, shaking his head like it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem embarrassed. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t… correct them.

You forced a smile, but your fingers tightened around the soda can. Your stomach was twisting.

Because the truth was… you hadn’t done anything. Not really. Kissing, sure. And once or twice, things had gotten a little heated — wandering hands, breathless moments where you thought maybe it would go further — but you always pulled back. And he never pushed. Not once.

Still, something about how easily he’d brushed the comment off, how natural he looked laughing with the guys like it wasn’t a big deal, made something sink in your chest.

When the sun finally dipped below the skyline and everyone started peeling off, you tugged at his sleeve as he swung a leg over his bike.

“Hey,” you murmured, forcing your voice to sound light. “Wanna stay over tonight?”

He paused for half a second, eyes flicking to your face. There was a beat — not suspicion, but something close. Something quietly attentive. But he just gave a crooked smile.

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Course I do.”

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing a little too loud in the quiet apartment.

You padded toward your room without saying much, tugging your hoodie sleeves over your hands like they could muffle the pounding in your chest. Umemiya followed at a slower pace, always letting you lead — not just physically. Emotionally, too. That was the thing about him. He was easy to be around… but sometimes that made it harder.

You sat on the edge of your bed, legs drawn up, arms around your knees. The silence in the room wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was… fragile.

Umemiya was still by the door, pulling off his jacket, then his hoodie — loose tank top underneath. Muscles flexing naturally. You watched him from the corner of your eye, heart thudding. You wanted him. That was never the issue. You wanted him so badly it made your hands shake sometimes. But— wanting didn’t make the fear go away.

You turned your eyes down to your lap, staring at your fingers twisted in the fabric of your sleeves. Why couldn’t you just do something? Say something? Reach for him, pull him down to the bed and kiss him until you both forgot how long it had been. How far you hadn’t gone.

You bit your lip, hard.

Maybe he was tired of it. Of you. The thought twisted sharp in your gut. He laughed when the guys made that joke. Didn’t even correct them. Didn’t say, “Nah, we haven’t done that yet.” Just smiled like it didn’t matter. Like it was easier to let them think you had.

God, what if he was only waiting to be polite? What if he was bored of waiting? What if he was getting tired of you?

Your chest tightened, breath hitching without warning. You didn’t mean to sniffle, but it happened, and you quickly wiped your face on your sleeve, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

But of course, he had.

You felt the shift in the bed before you saw him — the dip of the mattress beside you as he sat down, careful, like he didn’t want to startle you.

“…Hey,” Umemiya said softly, voice losing that lazy, teasing edge he used with everyone else. It was just him now. Just Hajime.

You still didn’t look up.

He waited a beat, then nudged your knee gently with his fingers.

“[Name]. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You wanted to answer — really, you did — but the words were all stuck behind a dam of anxiety and self-doubt.

You felt his hand slip over your knee again, this time staying there. Just a warm, steady weight. No pressure.

Just… waiting.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted quietly, voice breaking despite your best effort.

Umemiya blinked. “What?” He leaned in a little. “Sorry for what?”

You finally looked at him — and the concern in his eyes nearly undid you completely. Not judgment. Not frustration. Just open, focused attention. The kind he gave you when you were unraveling, but he still made you feel like the center of his universe.

“For not…” You trailed off, breath shaking. “For not being able to do more. With you.”

He froze. Not in a bad way — not like you said something wrong. Just… like he was processing it fully.

“…You think I’m mad about that?” he asked quietly.

Your silence said everything.

Umemiya exhaled slowly and scooted a little closer, legs turning toward you. His fingers brushed yours where they rested between your knees.

“I’m not mad, [Name],” he said. “I’m not tired of you. Not waiting for you to hurry up or do anything you’re not ready for.”

Your eyes were burning. You hated crying in front of people. Even him.

“But it’s been so long,” you whispered. “And I want to, Hajime. I really do. I just don’t know how to… start. Or say it. And then I think maybe you’re bored or regretting waiting this long and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he cut in gently, squeezing your hand. “Bored? Regretting? Pretty, I’m not some asshole who just wants that.”

You blinked, surprised by the firmness in his voice.

He looked at you straight-on now, gaze unwavering. “I like waiting. Because it means I get more time with you like this. Holding your hand. Making you laugh. Walking you home. Falling asleep next to you. And yeah, I want you. Of course I do. But only when you want it. And not a second before.”

You stared at him, lips parted, something warm and aching rising in your chest.

His hand to your cheek, brushing your hair back. “You’re not Weird. Or slow. Or anything to apologize for. You’re just… you. And I’m crazy about you. Okay?”

Your breath hitched again, but this time for a different reason.

You wanted to be close. You wanted to stop thinking and start feeling.

You didn’t remember leaning into him — not really — but suddenly your forehead was resting against his shoulder, and his arms were around you. Gentle. Warm. He always held you like you were something breakable, but never fragile.

His lips brushed the top of your head. “We don’t have to do anything, y’know,” he murmured. “I meant that.”

“I…” Your voice caught. “I want to, Hajime. I just…”

Your fingers clutched at the front of his shirt, trembling. Your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. He didn’t rush you. Just rubbed slow circles into your lower back with his thumb.

You took a breath, then another. “I want you to.. to touch me.”

You felt him exhale slowly, chest rising under your cheek. His hand moved to cup your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone as he gently tilted your head up.

His voice was a mumble, “Okay.”

He kissed you — not rushed or greedy. Just slow and warm and full of patience. You leaned into it, lips parting when his tongue brushed yours. It made something tighten deep in your belly. Need. Want. Still wrapped in nerves, but no longer drowning in them.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours. “Still okay?”

You nodded. “Y-Yeah. Just… r-really nervous.”

He smiled, and it was so soft it made your heart ache. “S’okay to be nervous. You’re safe, [Name]. I got you.”

You swallowed, fingers twisting in his shirt. “I don’t really… know what to do.”

“You don’t gotta do anything,” he whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Just let me take care of you.”

He helped you ease back on the bed, crawling over you with slow, careful movements, like you were made of glass. You gasped a little when his lips trailed down your throat, warm and patient, sucking just enough to leave a trace. Your hands clutched at his shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin, then kissed your collarbone. “Tell me if anything’s too much. If you need to stop, even for a second—just say the word, yeah?”

You nodded quickly, then whispered, “Please don’t stop.”

That was all it took.

His hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers trailing feather-light touches along your ribs, then down, until he reached the waistband of your shorts.

He paused. “Can I?”

Your breath hitched. “Y-Yeah.”

He tugged them down gently, helping you get out of them. His eyes stayed on yours the whole time—like he was making sure you never felt exposed, only seen.

And then his hand was between your thighs.

You whimpered when his fingers brushed you—softly at first, then with more intent as he found you already wet. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but he was there, murmuring soft praise into your skin.

“So good, love,” he whispered, lips at your neck. “So pretty like this. You feel amazing.”

Your head dropped back onto the pillow, chest rising and falling rapidly. His finger slid between your folds, slow and teasing, not quite pressing in. You bucked a little without meaning to.

“Shhh,” he soothed, kissing your jaw. “I got you. Gonna go slow.”

When he slid a single finger inside, you gasped — it wasn’t painful, just foreign, new.

“Still okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathed, “It feels… weird. But g-good.”

“Gonna add another, ‘kay?”

You nodded, hips shifting just the tiniest bit toward him. And then you felt two fingers stretching you open, a pressure building as he worked you gently, curling against something inside you that made you moan, shaky and breathless.

“Fuck, you sound so good,” he murmured, kissing you.

Before you could even form words, he was moving lower. His fingers pulled back just enough for his mouth to replace them, tongue teasing gently over your clit. You gasped — a sharp, trembling sound — your hips twitching as your hands flew to his hair.

“H-Haji—wait, I—!” you stuttered, overwhelmed.

He looked up for just a second, lips slick. “Too much?”

“N-No! Just—feels really good—!”

He smiled, tongue dipping again, flicking and circling with such slow speed you could feel your stomach coiling tighter and tighter. His fingers slid back inside you, syncing with the rhythm of his mouth —

“Good girl,” he murmured into you. “Let it happen. Just feel me. You’re doing so good, sugar.”

That broke something open.

You arched against the bed with a strangled cry, thighs trembling around his head as your orgasm hit you in waves. Your hands gripped his shoulders like you were falling — but he was already holding you, grounding you, kissing you through every second of it.

When you finally came down, panting and dazed, he was already back at your side, wiping your tears away — you hadn’t even realized you were crying again.

Not from fear this time. From relief.

From being wanted — and seen.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, tucking you into his chest as you curled into him. “Always.

“I want to… I want to go further,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper.

His brows lifted slightly — not from surprise, but from caution. “Yeah?”

You nodded, already shaking a little. “I… I want you to be my first. I’m just— I’m r-really scared.”

He didn’t tease. Didn’t smirk. He just shifted upright a little, leaning closer to cup your cheek with one warm, calloused hand.

“I’d be honored,” he said quietly. “But only if you’re really sure, baby. Not just ‘I want to make him happy.’ Not just to get it over with. You. Are you sure?”

You swallowed hard. “I want you. I’m scared, but I trust you.”

His breath hitched — almost like you’d just punched all the air out of his lungs. “Okay,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you slow and deep. “Then I’m gonna make it good for you. Gonna go slow. Real slow. You tell me to stop, even once? I stop. No questions.”

You nodded again, heart rattling against your ribs. “O-Okay.”

He kissed you again — not rushed, not hungry. Just careful. His hands moved over your body like he was learning you all over again, pausing when you gasped or tensed, murmuring soft praise into your skin with every touch.

“You’re so beautiful, [Name]. You’re perfect like this.”

He took his time undressing too, letting you see all of him, letting you touch. Just quiet closeness, layer by layer.

When he laid you back, he kissed down your chest, hands stroking your thighs to ease the tension there. lips brushing your skin.

“I’m gonna go real slow. Gonna feel a little stretch at first, yeah? Just breathe with me, okay?”

You nodded frantically, eyes wide. “I-I’m ready.”

“Okay,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “I’m right here.”

You felt the press of him — the tip nudging gently between your folds. You tensed automatically, and his hand immediately found yours, fingers weaving tight.

“Shhh, love. I got you,” he whispered. “We’ll stop if it’s too much.”

You shook your head quickly. “N-No. Just… just need a second.”

He kissed your knuckles. “Take your time.”

With your breathing slow and guided by his soft words, he began to push in — just a little at a time. You gasped, eyes fluttering, thighs trembling under his steady touch. It didn’t hurt, not really. It was just… intense. Full. New.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “You feel incredible. So warm. So soft.”

You whimpered again, face burying into his shoulder as he bottomed out with a low, shaky breath.

“That’s it. You took all of me, baby,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “You okay?”

“I-I think so,” you breathed, still trembling. “J-Just… stay like this. Just for a second.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He held you there, letting you adjust, his hand stroking your side while he whispered soft, silly nothings — how proud he was, how beautiful you looked, how much he adored you.

When you finally nodded, he started to move — just a slow, careful rock of his hips. You gasped again, overwhelmed, but this time there was more pleasure than fear.

Each roll of his body made something flutter deep inside you, and you clung to him like he was the only real thing in the world. His breath stuttered against your neck, but he never went faster, never chased his own pleasure. He was all you.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice cracking as your body trembled again.

He looked at you like the words broke him open. “I love you too, [Name],” he said. “So much. You’re doing amazing.”

The warmth building inside you wasn’t just physical — it was emotional, too. Every soft thrust, every whispered praise, every slow, touch brought you closer. When you finally came again, it was with tears in your eyes and his name on your lips, your whole body tightening around him.

„fuck.. im close Sugar… need you a little longer.“

After more soft thrusts, He followed soon after, burying his face in your neck with a low, desperate sound, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

He didn’t pull away right away. Just stayed there, breathing with you, stroking your hair, kissing your cheeks and forehead, whispering how proud he was. How much he loved you. How grateful he was you trusted him like this.

You were still shaking — but not from fear this time.

From being full. Of love. Of him. Of something that felt safe and unforgettable.

You blinked up at the ceiling, your body buzzing with a thousand sensations you didn’t know how to sort through.

And then — reality hit you like a cold breeze.

You were naked.

Next to him.

You yelped softly and yanked the blanket up to your chest in one frantic motion, curling onto your side and pulling the covers tightly around you like they could erase the memory of how bare you’d just been.

Umemiya — still sprawled on his back beside you, breathing heavy but completely relaxed — turned his head with a lazy grin.

“…You serious?” he said with a low chuckle. “You’re really gonna get shy on me now?”

You squeaked, hiding half your face under the blanket. “D-Don’t look!“

His laugh came louder this time, boyish and full of warmth, and he flopped dramatically onto his side to face you. “Babe, I just had you. You think there’s anything left I haven’t seen?”

“That’s exactly why!” you said, face burning. “It’s different now!”

He grinned, eyes soft even through the teasing. “God, you’re cute.”

“I’m not cute,” you grumbled, voice muffled behind the fabric. “I’m— I’m—nervous.”

“I know, baby.” His voice dropped into something softer now, less teasing. His fingers reached beneath the blanket to find yours and squeeze them gently. “But you don’t have to be. Not with me.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just clutched the sheets tighter and peeked at him over the edge.

“You’re not… disappointed?” you asked softly. “That I was so nervous? That I didn’t know anything?”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth. Each one slow. Sure.

“[Name],” he said, like he needed you to hear it, “I’m proud of you. That took so much trust. And you gave that to me. I don’t care how nervous you were. You were perfect.”

Your eyes welled again — because he meant it. Not just to soothe you. Not to win points.

Just the truth.

He tugged gently at the blanket, lowering it an inch. “Let me hold you properly, yeah? I miss your skin.”

You hesitated — then slowly let him tug the covers down enough to slide his arms around your waist, pulling you in close, your chest pressed to his.

His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady. Everything about him said safe.

“You were perfect,” he repeated into your hair, breath soft against your scalp. “And you’re still cute, even if you’re hiding like a little shrimp under the covers.”

You groaned into his chest, face still red.

But you smiled, too.

Because he was right here. And you didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

← WBK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. my first English smut…

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !