SHIU CONTENT!

SHIU CONTENT! ♡♡

RUSH

SUMMARY: During a long shift, a certain regular catches your eye. Possibly your heart too, after treating you to a night of pampering. PAIRING: Shiu Kong/Female Reader WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex that turns somno, basically just a lot of soft, unrealistic domesticity really. A/N: Life's been hard so here's a super self indulgent fic about Shiu simply taking care of reader <3 I've literally been writing this for nearly 3 weeks straight so hopefully somebody likes it. WC: 9K (oof)

MASTERLIST

After around the fourth or fifth Friday in a row of seeing him, you finally notice he's staring. With heavy-lidded eyes throughout the night, his gaze is seemingly locked onto your frame as you rush around the bar, tending to everyone’s needs. His body angled so that he can get a good look at you grabbing bottles and garnishes while carefully weaving around your coworkers like you’re dancing to the beat of the music that blares through the speakers. 

When you notice, you feel your focus flicker for just a second. As you stop to speak to a pair of women, chatting about something mundane and entirely uninteresting, suddenly it’s like there’s this target locked against the side of your face. The imaginary barrel of a gun pointing directly at you, ready to take the shot, causing your gaze to shift. 

Like usual, he’s tucked into the farthest corner, casually leaning against the bar. His expression appearing almost empty as you glance over to see he’s clad in a simple suit. His jacket discarded onto the bar top beside him, leaving only a button-up and a loosened tie, prompting you to raise a brow. 

He usually never stays long enough to take off his jacket… 

“Uh, hello!” 

Deep in thought, suddenly the drunken snarl of one of the girls pulls you back. A wave of annoyance washing over as you release a breath and look back, making sure to smile. “Sorry, what was that?”

Afterwards, you let out a casual laugh and joke about your bad hearing before they thankfully laugh alongside you, eventually repeating their order. The simple exchange giving you the chance to refocus on the task at hand, moving over to the ice machine to start filling up your shaker tins. 

“Seems like someone’s got an admirer.” 

While pouring various spirits, your coworker, Himari, gently bumps her hip against yours. A signal that she recognizes the familiar man, too. His presence continuing to linger in ways that make you let out another laugh, this time the sound echoing your nerves. “Calm down, I’m sure he’s just looking for a top-up.” 

Almost immediately, she shakes her head. “Nah, he’s fully giving you the eyes, babe.” 

At that, you roll your own and give her an almost smug look, your eyes flickering to see him almost smirking —as if somehow he can hear you talking over the music. “Yeah, okay.” 

“You want to go talk to him?”

You shake your head almost immediately, even though deep down you can’t deny your interest. Considering he’s practically become a staple over these last few weeks, there’s a part of you that wants to say hi. Maybe to introduce yourself so that you can better build that classic bartender-customer rapport. But then, you notice the huge crowd of people swarming around. Every one of them vying for your attention with drunken minds and heavy pockets, causing the desire to earn money to outweigh everything else. 

Which ultimately ends up costing you a lot of energy in the long run. As the night quickly progresses, you can feel your mind begin to cave in on itself. Each customer that comes after the next becoming more and more of a chore to deal with thanks to the intake of alcohol. Eventually, testing your patience towards the ragged businessmen who always demand Old Fashions or the group of young college kids who scream for more tequila shots. 

Every passing moment makes you wish you’d taken your coworker up on her previous offer. Especially now that the bar’s completely packed, leaving barely any room to breathe let alone speak, you wish you could turn back time. Stop the clock and wind it back so that, instead of just watching the man who still idly sits, almost acting unaware of the chaos that surrounds him, you could talk to him. Maybe ask him what he does or how his day went. Using his presence as an excuse to take a load off while you offer up all your usual jokes in hopes he’ll slowly warm up to you.

And the longer you think about it, the more the idea foolishly creates a sense of longing. Your stomach tightening at the sight of him shifting in his seat, wondering if that’ll be the moment he finally calls it quits. The sight of him only moving just to further settle on the stool making you scrunch up your face in annoyance, realizing how crazy you’re acting. 

Considering he’s nothing more than a stranger, the impulse you feel to connect with him is completely ridiculous. Nothing more than some silly delusion brought on by the exhaustion, you tell yourself. His residency amongst the rowdy crowd serving as nothing more than some false oasis that’ll inevitably disappoint you if you go over. 

So, you don’t. Instead, forcing your mind to think about the money, you allow every tip to fuel you. Each one navigating you further from his frame, your mind too immersed in the task at hand until suddenly last call rolls around.

At which point, you find yourself forced to talk to him. After you notice your coworkers pushed deep into the trenches of last-minute orders, you realize then that you just have to do it. To be the one to bite the bullet and find out why exactly this guy’s decided to pick tonight of all nights to linger and stare. Your tired feet pushing you to stand directly across from him, arms spread across the counter to hold yourself up as you offer a smile. 

“We’re doing last call,” you tell him, watching him slowly glance between you and the empty beer bottle in his hand. “You want one more?”

He ponders for a minute, his other hand moving to stroke his chin as he sort of smiles to himself, eventually shrugging. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

In response, you give him a nod and shuffle over to the fridge to get him another, grabbing the opener off your belt to shuck it off before trading him for the old one. “You got a tab to close?” 

He nods. 

“What’s it under?” 

“Kong.” 

This time, you nod, rushing away to grab his receipt —typing in the name to find a rather abysmal order of four beers, not including the one you just gave him. 

That’s all he drank? Damn… 

“So, how’s your night been?” 

Handing him the receipt after it prints, you watch as he pulls out a handful of bills and tosses them on top of the piece of paper. His expression seeming a bit distracted as he eventually looks at you and blinks. “It’s been fine. A bit dull, honestly.” 

“Yeah, how come?” 

“Nobody to talk to,” he simply says. The sound of his voice expressing such a casual tone despite the weight of his words hitting you like a brick. The implication of his admission making you swallow hard before awkwardly laughing, not sure if his comment was even necessarily meant for you. 

“Yeah, well, Friday’s are a little nuts, unfortunately.”

Glancing around, he takes a moment to take in the sight of all the drunken bodies crowding around, waiting for their final turn. The gears in his head turning for a bit before he looks back at you. “I’m starting to realize that.”

“Yeah.” 

Releasing a low hum, you then wonder if maybe you should say your goodbyes or linger a bit longer, knowing deep down you should probably do the former. Seeing as it’s your job and already you can sense the frustrations of those who surround the space you’re currently occupying, looking at you with desperate eyes, it’s probably better if you just throw in the towel. Call it night and maybe try again next week. But then there’s a moment where you look back at each other and there’s this feeling. A pressure in your stomach that makes you swallow hard and start to settle. Your body practically leaning into his space as you narrow your eyes. 

“How come you’re here so late, anyway?” you ask, allowing the curiosity you’ve secretly harboured all night to finally release.

Once again, he shrugs. Only this time, there’s a faint smile pulling across his face. “Figured it might be fun to people watch for a bit longer.” 

Bullshit. 

Regardless of such a thought, a smile of your own appears in response —your mind unconvinced. “Was it fun?” 

“The people watching?” 

You nod. 

He shrugs. 

Then, both of you become lost in this strange limbo of charged silence. Your thoughts now drifting to wonder why all of a sudden he seems so… interesting as you continue to watch him lift the beer to his lips to take a sip. 

“S’pose it was alright.”

Slightly taken aback by his bluntness, you can’t help but snort in response. Your eyes rolling as he chuckles and you reach for the cash in front of you, taking a moment to count it, realizing it’s well over the asking price. “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t a total bore for you,” you tell him after, shoving it all into the pocket of your apron. “Otherwise you might not come back.” 

“Didn’t realize you cared if I came back.”

As soon as you notice the smug expression that begins to appear across his face after he speaks, your mouth presses into a thin line. Realizing then that your words are the perfect fuel for him to keep the conversation going. 

“I walked into that one, didn’t I?” 

“Sure did, sweetheart.” 

Again, he chuckles and takes another sip, continuing to stare. His eyes practically memorizing every move you make as you try to appear busy by reaching for a handful of dirty glasses and tucking them under the bar.

“Well, can’t deny that I’d hate to see you go. You’re one of the good ones.” 

“Am I?”

You grab a cloth and start to wipe down the counter, watching him lean back to give you more space. His expression continuing to showcase how pleased he seems at your words. “I mean, yeah. You’re quiet, you wait your turn, you tip,” you begin to list off a handful of reasons, each one piquing his interest as he watches you dart around, continuing to close. “You’re also not creepy. Unless you count the staring problem.” 

Despite your comment, he merely just takes another sip, completely unfazed. “Caught that, huh?”

“Hard not to when you don’t even try to hide it, Mr. Kong,” you tease. 

“Shiu.” 

At that, you scrunch up your face in confusion. “Sorry?” 

“My name,” he clarifies. “It’s Shiu.”

Shiu. 

Standing there for a few moments, you repeat the name in your head so it doesn’t get lost. Committing the sound to memory before you offer your hand across the counter, saying your own name in return. Immediately clocking the way he seems to repeat your tactic, allowing it to sink in.

“Nice to finally put a name to a face.” 

“Likewise.”

Still shaking his hand, you then hear the sound of Himari calling you. The sudden sound pulling you from this strange bubble of ease you’ve somehow settled in, causing you to swear under your breath. “Sorry, I uh—“

“It’s okay. Duty calls?”

Glancing between him and the never-ending line of customers still waiting for their final drinks, you release a sigh and nod. “Unfortunately.” 

“Good luck.”

It’s the last thing you hear from him after you offer an awkward wave goodbye. The tone of his voice, forever casual and polite. A direct contrast to the type of response you’re used to getting from men who try to talk to you, causing your mind to regret not reaching out sooner. 

Because maybe if you had, the rest of your night wouldn’t have been so awful. As you shift back into bartender mode, ushering person after person to order their drinks as fast as possible, maybe you could’ve felt content instead of disappointed. The feeling of satisfaction fuelling your drive rather than allowing the sadness to slow you down, knowing you might have to wait a whole other week to see him again.

And that’s if he decides to come back. Which, unfortunately, is a thought that plagues you even after you’ve finished cleaning the fridges and the floors and the—

“Saw you talking to Shiu.”

Your thoughts are interrupted again. The mention of him making you faintly smile even though the mere thought of him also kind of stresses you out. “Yeah. He’s… surprisingly nice.”

“I know. I’m the one who usually serves him.” Himari smiles almost proudly when she says that, her teeth peeking out from between her parted lips as she throws her bag over her shoulder, following you towards the door.

“You must like him then,” you joke, nudging your elbow against hers. “With the way he tips and all that.” 

Himari snorts and pulls her keys out, spinning them around her finger as you push open the door, allowing her to follow behind before turning back to lock up. “It’s definitely a plus, I’ll admit. But he’s a decent guy, too —fun to talk to.” 

“Yeah?”

She nods, distractedly pulling out her phone to shoot her boyfriend a text. Most likely telling him that she’s finished for the night and heading home like she usually does before glancing back up. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes either.”

Upon hearing that, you can’t help but swallow a bit. Especially after you clock the way her expression immediately turns mischievous. Her lips curling upwards as she wiggles her brows, forcing you to turn away and shove your hands into the pockets of your coat. Your mind foolishly starting to concoct his image without warning. The sight of his warm, slightly aged features shifting to the forefront of your thoughts causing you to narrow your eyes. 

“Yeah, I mean, I guess he’s… decent,” you lie, knowing deep down he’s definitely more than that because if anything he’s exactly your type. 

Which is why Himari quickly glances at you, completely unconvinced as she begins to walk, leading you around the corner to where the two of you usually park your cars. “Just decent?” she then pries, raising a brow. 

At which point, you know your reaction is a dead giveaway. Thanks to the way your mouth awkwardly opens and closes, unable to come up with a viable enough answer to make it seem like you see him as anything other than attractive, you know she knows. Prompting you to huff in response and look away, hearing her laugh as she pokes your arm. 

“You know he thinks you’re cute too, right?”

Your neck practically breaks from how quickly you turn to face her, your brows knitting together in slight shock. “What?” 

“What? You seriously didn’t pick up on that? Why do you think I was trying to get you to talk to him earlier?”

You shrug your shoulders, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know, I just figured you were—“

“Trying to set you up with some random guy?”

At first, you pause, then you sigh, realizing yes. That's exactly what you figured she was doing.

“Is that why it took you so long to go talk to him?” 

You realize then you don’t really have an answer that doesn’t sound completely selfish, causing you to cross your arms over your chest and sort of pout as you walk the rest of the way to your cars in silence. Noticing from the corner of your eye another vehicle that's parked a few stalls away, a familiar body occupying its driver’s seat. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” you hear Himari practically sing then. Her voice filled with a specific air of humour that has you scoffing and lightly shoving her aside. The act causing her to retaliate with a shove of her own that makes both of you laugh, inevitably catching the attention of the driver. 

Slowly but surely, his eyes move to make eye contact with yours, stilling for a moment before lighting up entirely. And it’s a sight that makes your stomach twist a bit. As you watch the lines around his eyes become more prominent before they’re whisked away by the turn of his neck, you can’t help but deny your attraction. That undeniable pull from earlier returning with a vengeance as you deeply breathe and try to turn back to Himari, realizing she’s already halfway inside her vehicle, waving goodbye. 

“You’re leaving already?” you then whisper through clenched teeth —your eyes darting between her and Shiu who’s back to staring. The pupils of his eyes practically boring holes into your skull as you see him reach to pop his door open. 

“Have fun,” you hear Himari say. Then after a few painfully short seconds pass, she’s gone. The rumble of her old, worn-out car drifting into the distance as you continue to stand there, confused as to how you’re meant to proceed now that there’s not a bar top wedged between you or another body to turn to for guidance if the conversation gets stale. The lack of crutches making you shove your hands into the pockets of your jeans and awkwardly clear your throat, watching him move forward, his expression amused and soft. The kind of look that makes you both terrified and interested. A mix of anxious energy flowing through your veins as he stops in front of you, offering what appears to be the subtle etchings of a smirk as he mirrors the hands inside your pockets. 

“Long time no see.” 

You hum and nod, your lips curling into a small grin. “It would seem so.” 

“Have a good close?” 

Shrugging your shoulders, you turn to glance around the parking lot, immediately clocking the absence of the usual buzzing energy that surrounds you whenever he’s around. The lack of drunken bodies and blaring music making the conversation abruptly stop. Your mind suddenly failing to fill in the blanks as you continue to stand, distractedly picking at the fabric inside your pocket. 

Which is something Shiu recognizes as he lets out a chuckle and looks at the ground, his expression shifting from confident to nervous in a single second, making you feel weirdly calm as you join in, laughing over your shared silence. 

“Sorry, I tend to forget how to properly talk after a long shift,” you eventually admit, moving your hands to rub your eyes.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk,” he replies. “We can just stand here.”

As your hands slowly peel down your face, you can’t help but curiously narrow your eyes at that. Your interest piquing as he pulls out a carton of cigarettes, popping a single one in his mouth before pocketing the box, and switching it out for a lighter. 

“You smoke?” 

“Sometimes.” 

Cupping his hand around the end, he flicks his thumb against the spark wheel —the familiar crackle of flame sounding between the two of you before he sucks and sighs, releasing a plume of smoke strategically away from your face.

“That’s a bad habit.” 

You can’t help but snort, watching as he hands it over. His fingers gently grazing against yours in the process. “Bit of a hypocritical statement, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t smoke.”

“Ah, of course. So this is one of those healthy cigarettes they’ve supposedly invented?” 

He motions towards your hand, nodding. “Good eye.” 

At that, you roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as you press your lips around the aforementioned cigarette. Allowing that familiar bitter taste of nicotine to hit your tongue as you take a deep breath and hand it back. His fingers brushing against yours for the second time. 

“So, what are you still doing here anyways?” 

You know it’s a bold question, despite the answer being obvious. More than likely he’s here because he wants to talk to you. To speak to you without the pressure of a purchase or a time limit lingering in the background. To vocalize whatever thoughts might come to mind without having to yell across a counter coated in the remnants of sticky cocktails.

All of it’s obvious to you before you even ask, but still, there’s a portion of your brain that can’t help but deny it. That small sliver of space making you question his intentions. Your insecurities lingering, making you wonder if he finds your pretty or interesting or if he just wants to fuck.

“Thought I’d wait to see if you wanted to continue our conversation from back there.” As he speaks, he motions in the general direction of the bar with his chin. All while his hand rises to take another few puffs of smoke into his mouth. His lips parting to push the excess out in a steady stream before he grins again. “Sorry, is that too forward of me?” 

You shake your head almost immediately. Then, you raise your hand for the passing of the cigarette, holding it for a moment as you try to articulate your thoughts into words. Eventually settling on, “No, I like forward. Forward’s good, makes things easy.” 

In response, he raises a brow, watching you part your lips and suck, his eyes never leaving yours even after you’ve finished smoking and have moved to give it back. His stare intensely making you almost shiver when his fingers bump against you. “Glad we can agree.”

You let out an approving hum and cross your arms over your chest. The urge to do something with your hands overwhelming your mind as you look down at the pavement and readjust your stance, moving a tad bit closer. 

“So, uh, do you want to hang out or just…?”

“Just what?”

His expression contorts again, the previous casualty of it shifting into some foreign and heavy. The weight of it making you clear your throat and glance at the ground again, trying to find the right words to say in order to convey your preference without actually outright stating it. 

“Hang out,” is what you end up saying, your tone a bit more suggestive, praying he understands the difference.

“Hang out or hang out?”

“Yeah….”

The moments that pass are awkward. A mess of silent tension and narrowed eyes. His gaze lingering against the side of your face when you inevitably turn your head in embarrassment, knowing you’ve fucked it. Whatever this is, you’ve absolutely, truly fu—

“Can I pick both? Is that an option or is it more of a red pill, blue pill situation?” 

You quickly turn to face him, unable to hide the surprise that appears across your face as you open your mouth, partially stuttering. “I’d uh —I’d be fine with both, yeah.”

He hums almost happily as he finally takes another drag. After flicking the excess ash that’s formed, he smiles around the smoke and takes a few deep inhales before he makes the pass, watching you shake your head before he drops whatever’s left on the ground to stomp it out. 

“You hungry?”

You are —starving, actually. But, at the same time as you look around, trying to gauge how to say that, you can’t deny the lack of options. The obvious late night hour forcing a potential limit as you inevitably look back and your eyes sharing a flicker of something you can’t quite place before you say, “We could go back to mine and I can make us something?” 

It’s enough to force his smile to branch out further. The obvious excitement taking over when you then ask for his phone, inputting the address to your apartment before you tell him you’ll meet him there. The anticipation of it all nearly killing you as you appropriately part ways to your respective cars, wondering what happens next. 

As expected, the whole way there your mind fills with various scenarios. Each one eventually leading to the same result, prompting you to instinctively tighten your fingers around the steering wheel with a heavy breath. Every end scene making you swallow hard and feel a bit warm, imagining what he might be like. How he might approach the hang-out portion of your time spent together. What his hands might feel like. Or his mouth. 

By the time you arrive, standing outside waiting, your thoughts are a mess. The wreckage of lewd thoughts mingling with more appropriate ones to create a buzz of nerves as you shift your weight on each foot. Your body slowly but surely pacing across the length of your apartment entrance as you quietly hum to yourself, thinking about how to greet him. Which, unfortunately, is a thought that causes you to spiral further. The expectancy to be charming and appealing suddenly becoming less of an afterthought now that he’s going to be entering your space. 

No longer in a neutral zone, you’re well aware you have to make some sort of impression that isn’t just flirting behind a bar for tips. You have to be nice and attractive in a less abrupt, business-y way. To give him what he wants without being too desperate. To be endearing. To keep him interested despite knowing next to nothing about him or what he likes or wants or needs. 

Biting your thumbnail, it comes to a point where you’re left exhausted before he even shows up, and stupidly, the thought of cancelling on him does cross your mind. Feeling the expectations are suddenly too high you debate waiting until he gets here to make some bullshit excuse about being too tired or feeling sick. But then he parks and gets out of his car, offering you that same soft grin from earlier and you kind of melt on the spot. All of your previous desires rushing to the forefront of your mind, causing your heart to beat a little quicker when you press your fob against the edge of the door and invite him in. No longer feeling as anxious as you walk up the stairs to the third floor, casually chatting about the drive. 

“You didn’t get lost or anything?” 

He shakes his head, following you down the hall. His face still sporting that same grin that makes your own mouth upturn without warning. “I’m assuming you found your way without any trouble, too?” 

You scoff out a laugh and nod, eventually reaching down to unlock your door when you make it there. Feeling your fingers twitch as you work the lock and push it open, suddenly realizing that he’s here —stepping inside your apartment like it isn’t the most nerve-wracking experience you’ve endured in a while. 

“You can hang your coat there if you want,” you then tell him, motioning to the hooks behind the door when he slowly closes it. Your eyes lingering as he casually steps out of his shoes before following your instructions; his own eyes glancing around. 

“Nice place.” 

Moving towards the kitchen, you drop your stuff on one of the stools that line the island, offering an appreciative hum. “Thanks. It’s a bit small, but it’s just me, so…”

After nodding, he steps further in to continue surveying. His eyes focusing on the overflowing bookshelf in the corner and the cluster of plants near the window. His eyes shifting position with each new object he takes in, clearly finding certain things more interesting than others.

“You ever get lonely all cooped up in here?” 

As expected, the question catches you a bit off guard, but you quickly recover by turning away to open the fridge. Taking a moment to scan the contents before deciding that some kind of stir-fry is probably your best chance at a proper meal. “I guess sometimes I do,” you eventually say after gathering your thoughts. All while collecting a handful of veggies from one of the lower drawers before turning back around to place them on the counter. “Why?”

He presses his palms against the marble that separates you, his expression softening when he looks up to see you already whizzing around to grab an apron and tie it around your waist. The speed of your hands afterwards darting to grab a knife off the magnetic strip on the wall, making him huff. 

“You said you lived alone,” he points out, watching you dip down to grab a cutting board from one of the drawers beneath you —your head bobbing in and out of view before returning not long after. “Got curious.” 

“About my loneliness levels?” You raise a brow at him, reaching for a handful of mushrooms to chop. 

“Yeah, what would you rate them?” He grins.

As you quickly guide your knife back and forth, you smile back and glance up for just a second. “Right now? Probably a two.” 

“Okay, but how about in general?”

You scrunch up your face, trying to think of an accurate number. “Maybe a seven?” 

“A seven?”

Sensing that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, you let out a nervous laugh, feeling your hands begin to still as you look back up, watching the shock on his face. “What? Is that bad?”

He lets out a scoff, shaking his head. “That’s a dangerously high number, sweetheart. Don’t you have friends that can help lower that?” 

In response, you roll your eyes before pushing your chopped mushrooms aside and reaching for some carrots. Your thoughts shifting to whether or not he’s simply flirting or if there’s a genuine hint of concern in his voice. 

“I mean, I’ve got weird work hours, so no. Not really.”

“What about Himari?”

You shrug. “She’s usually with her boyfriend.” 

He goes silent for a couple of seconds after that, causing you to look up and see him appear lost in thought before he inevitably catches your gaze. Both of you staring at each other for a couple of seconds, your eyes narrowing in curiosity until Shiu finally clears his throat and wanders around the counter to your side, holding out his hand. 

“You shouldn’t be cooking for me after a long shift,” he suddenly tells her. “Especially not if I’m the first friend you’ve hung out with in ages.”

You’re not sure whether to be offended or flattered at that moment, so you just resort to parting your lips and staring. The entirety of you unable to comprehend why this guy —this incredibly stable and attractive-looking guy— has decided that out of the blue, you’re his friend and he needs to cook for you.

“It’s not a big deal. I like cooking.”

Stepping closer, he starts to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt and roll them up, shaking his head the entire time. “Nobody likes cooking, sweetheart. Not after a shift of dealing with shitty college kids throwing money in their face.”

“No, seriously it’s—“

He cuts you off with a huff. The kind that instantly has you pressing your lips together, knowing deep down he’s right. Aside from the hunger in your stomach and the desire to impress him, the last thing you want to be doing is cooking. So, you don’t argue when he eventually pushes his hand closer, wiggling his fingers for you to transfer over the knife, or when he tells you to take off the apron and sit down. 

“Good girl. Now what am I making here?” 

When he looks down to take a quick inventory of the ingredients, you feel your stomach flip at his words. The very obviously suggestive term of endearment making your eyes slightly widen when you know he’s not looking before you quickly reset your face and reply, “I was just gonna make stir-fry.” 

“Okay, good I can work with that. Where’s your sauces?”

You’re about to stand when he points the knife at you, scolding your behaviour like you’re some sort of child he’s been tasked with keeping in line. The sight of him making your eyes roll as you point to the cupboard left of the oven’s hood vent. “Noodles are to the right, too.”

In response, he puts down the knife, appearing pleased before he turns to gather everything he needs. His arms stretching upward, causing your eyes to trail the length of his back with interest, admiring the view.

“Do you have any hon— were you just staring at my ass?” 

Looking up, you blink and part your lips before shaking your head in embarrassment. “No.”

“No? Then what were you looking at?” As if to better prove his point he looks down at the space around him, examining seemingly every aspect of the kitchen before he looks back at you with a skeptical look. “I feel like you’re lying.” 

“I’m not, I swear.” 

Holding back the urge to laugh, you press your lips together and breathe, watching him shake his head before continuing the process of chopping produce and putting together a simple sauce. Both of which he performs with a surprising amount of ease while cooking the noodles and making conversation. 

“So, how’d you wind up bartending?” 

“Started doing it during college and realized I liked it more than sitting in a classroom. So, I dropped out and started doing it full time.”

“Good money I’m guessing?” 

You grin and nod, prompting him to snort as he eventually begins to sauté. His wrist flicking the pan with every burst of flame that surrounds the base. “What do you do?”

When he hesitates to respond, you already know it’s bad. Or, at the very least, an answer both of you know has the potential to change the trajectory of the night. A detail you don’t particularly want to think about now that you’ve decided that he’s actually kind of… 

“I’m kind of like a mediator,” he eventually says, his tone unsure as he stares at the pan, watching the veggies begin to crisp above the heat of the stovetop. “Basically, I connect a pair of clients together and make sure the jobs they collaborate on go according to plan.” 

“Bit of an odd way to describe a job,” you point out, leaning your elbows against the counter as you hold your chin in your hands. “I’m assuming it’s a little less than legal.” 

That comment surprises him. You can tell because almost immediately after he’s looking at you like he’s angry. All narrow-eyed with pinched brows and a frown, causing you to laugh. 

“Relax, I work a service job in one of the shadier parts of town. I’ve seen my fair share of illegal things.”

“Right.” 

He seems skeptical, but thankfully he doesn’t dwell on it for long. Seeming to accept your answer in at least some capacity, he instead moves on by turning his attention back to the food, combining all the finished ingredients to create a delicious looking dish that has your mouth already watering. 

“Question though, you wouldn’t happen to be a chef on the side would you?”

He snorts and wanders around your kitchen in search of bowls, eventually finding the right cupboard on his second try. “No. I’m just a guy who knows how to cut shit up and cook it in a pan.” 

“Hey, you made noodles and sauce, too. Give yourself some credit.”

This time, he rolls his eyes and hands you a bowl before opening a random drawer to successfully find your cutlery, causing him to grin. “You should probably try it before offering any sort of praise.”

“Fair,” you respond with a laugh, taking the fork he inevitably offers you with a dramatic before digging in without question. Your mouth practically inhaling the food he so graciously made with a hum. 

“Good?”

“So good,” you mumble, using the back of your hand to hide your lack of manners as he lets out a sigh of relief and starts to dish some up for himself. 

“Thank god. Imagine I made all this and it ended up tasting like shit. Fucking embarrassing.”

Too distracted to do much of anything but eat by that point, you merely chuckle and continue shovelling forkful after forkful down until you’re done. The entire concept of conversation lost as you focus on filling your aching stomach. Something you’re sure Shiu finds a bit awkward as he lingers near the oven, opting to lean against the back counter to eat and sometimes stare rather than sit next to you.

“You must be starving over there,” he eventually points out. "My food can’t be that good.”

Leaning over to rip a piece of paper towel off the roll on your counter, you pause to wipe your mouth before smiling. “Tourist season is so insane. I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner during my shift,” you reply honestly, dropping your napkin to prepare one of your final bites. “This is also really good, though. Better than mine.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, finishing the meal off. Every part of you feeling satisfied as you sink further into your chair, watching as Shiu’s face subtly lights up at your praise. “Really good sauce. How’d you measure?”

“With the heart? I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, flashing you a smug grin that has the inside of your stomach doing somersaults. Your body shifting in your chair to set down your bowl and slowly stretch. All while trying not to think about the way his eyes seem to linger on your frame, taking in your sudden discomfort —studying it with slightly narrowed eyes that cause you to anxiously glance away. 

Which only makes the fear that grows worse, unaware of where his gaze might sit. Considering he seems to be far more curious and attentive than the average person you’ve experienced, the lack of awareness only serves to quicken your heart rate. The pounding drum of your organ making you swallow hard and slowly look back, watching as he reaches for your fork and bowl, turning his attention to the act of cleaning instead. 

“Oh, no, you don’t—“

Without missing a beat, he looks up at you with those same eyes as before. Two thin slits warning you to back off as he deposits each dish carefully into the sink. Then, without protest, each of his hands shift to grab your soap and sponge, lathering everything up beneath a steady stream of warm water. 

“You always this stubborn?” 

You frown, staring at his hands as he speaks, noticing the etchings of scars and freckles. Clusters of markings both grown and inflicted littering his skin like constellations. “No.” 

He scoffs out a laugh, prompting you to look up and see him shaking his head. “Hm, I have a hard time believing that.”

“Why?”

He moves each dish to the drying rack as he speaks, his tone lowering a bit, like he’s revealing a secret. “Well, first off, you’re clearly not used to the whole concept of being taken care of,” he points out.

You scrunch up your face at that, causing him to snort and shake his head again as he reaches for the tea towel that hangs off your oven door, using it to dry his hands.

“See? That’s a typical reaction from someone who’s overly independent.” 

“I’m not overly independent. I’m perfectly fine.” 

Well aware of how you’re merely trying to defend yourself, Shiu then breaks out into a small smirk and leans across the counter, resting his elbows on the edge as he inches forward. His body ever so slowly attempting to enter as much of your space as he can. “Then you won’t mind if I keep doing what I’m doing, then?” he asks, raising his brow. “Without complaint.” 

At first, you don’t really understand what he means. Thanks to the fact that you’re more focused on the proximity of his face to yours, the comment entirely flies over your head. The sultry tone of his voice failing to hit your ears as you narrow your eyes and cock your head, trying to make sense of it all.

Because truthfully, he doesn’t make much sense to you. With his pretty face and casually, suave demeanour, you can’t understand why he’d willing to dote on you merely for the sake of sex. Or, why, despite your lack of answer to his statement, he remains entirely still —his patience unwavering even after you’ve let out a gentle huff. 

“I’ll warn you now, I tend to complain a lot.” 

“During sex?” 

Almost immediately, you close your eyes in embarrassment, remembering that the trajectory of your conversation has since changed to that, prompting you to sigh. “No, I mean, just like, in general.” 

In response, he lets out a chuckle, causing you to pinch the bridge of your nose and release a deep breath, trying desperately to figure out how to recover until you feel his hand gripping the curve of your elbow, guiding it down to rest on your thigh with gentle fingers. 

“Ah, so not during sex,” you then hear him say, the cool tone of his voice forcing your eyes to open back up realizing he’s now at your side, twirling your stool around to face him. “Noted.” 

Somehow feeling even more nervous, you open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. Your appearance resembling the classic fish out of water look —all dead-eyed and empty-minded. Every previous thought and feeling lost once you’re ripped from the crest of the waves only to become wedged between his fingers. 

Which is a look that, unsurprisingly, makes him laugh as he lowers himself down to your level when he sits down next to you. While using his hand to curiously explore the exposed parts of your forearm, you can tell he’s enjoying your response. The way your body slightly twitches forward to chase his hand or how you uncomfortably shift and avoid his gaze. It’s obvious he finds it amusing, because not long after he’s drawing patterns into your calloused palm with a smile; his thumb circling each patch of roughness he finds, soothing the aches and pains of scrubbing bar tops and serving drinks.

“You’re not used to this much attention, are you?”

As he chuckles, you huff, unable to hide the obvious. “Not really, no.” 

“That’s a damn shame.” 

Suddenly, you feel his other hand move to steady the one he’s massaging; both thumbs dragging down the centre of your palm towards your wrist, causing you to hum and flex your fingers, the desire for more slowly growing. The needs you’ve long since pushed to the back of your mind returning with a vengeance in ways that make you swallow hard and glance between his face and the efforts of his labour. 

It makes your chest ache pretty much instantly; the sight. Considering it’s been ages since someone has touched you like this —like you simply deserve to be— you’re starting to feel a bit breathless. The gesture of his hands ripping the air straight from your lungs as you open your mouth again, needing to speak. 

“Why are you doing all this for me?”

It’s a question that’s pretty much driven you from the start. From the moment he first laid that hefty tip on the counter in front of you during your shift, you haven’t been able to stop yourself from wondering what he wants from you. Why he’s been so kind and giving despite knowing so little about you. 

In response, he shrugs his shoulders, continuing his ministrations. Refusing to stop for even a second as a small grin peels across his face and he looks up. “I don’t know. Felt like you needed it.”

And it sounds like nothing when he says it. All nonchalant and casual, as if he does this kind of thing all the time, but to you, it’s everything. It’s complicated, yet simple. Painful, yet pleasant. A reminder that sometimes you’re human and need these kinds of things despite constantly brushing them off. 

More importantly, though, it makes you feel desperate as your other hand shifts through the air to cup his cheek. And again when you suddenly lean in, pressing your mouth to his in order to finally taste the smoke on his tongue from your shared cigarette. The bitter flavour embedding itself in the cracks of your lips, driving you to push through the voice at the back of your mind telling you to stop.

Because usually, that’s what you do. Whenever you feel any sort of tether, you take a knife and sever them off; refusing to get close. Defying the urge to connect in order to protect yourself. Avoiding the offers of hands that might want to hold you through the hard times. 

However, beneath your touch, as Shiu stills for a moment in response, you don’t feel that at all. Instead, you just feel magnetized. The desire to move closer taking over when he inevitably joins by moving a hand to your waist —another to the back of your neck to pull himself further in. 

Humming softly, you then feel him tense beneath your fingers as you hungrily pull at his clothes. The rough touch of your roaming hands trying to find purchase in a place where the distance will hopefully feel less separate, driving him mad as he lifts you onto the counter and groans. Both of his hands returning the favour in unrestrained pushes and pulls as he maneuvers you to his liking and grins. 

“Can’t say I was expecting that,” he ends up telling you after you part ways; his tone haggard and heavy. The obvious presence of desire gracing the base of his throat, causing the heavy puffs of breath you share to quickly become the only sound other than the shuffling of fabric as he slides his fingers across the waistband of your jeans. 

“Me either, to be fair.” 

His grin widens a bit at that. “Not in the habit of kissing strangers I’m guessing?”

As you go to shake your head, you feel his fingers start to fiddle with the top button of your pants. His knuckles brushing against the exposed parts of your lower stomach. Every subtle motion making you feel incredibly warm as your own hands find a home in the fabric of his collar. 

“I tend to leave before the kissing happens. If I’m honest.”

“How come?”

You shrug, not wanting to get into it. Instead, wanting to feel what it’s like to continue moving forward and propel yourself into the unknown as you rest your forehead against his and close your eyes. Your scattered mind gradually calming down when his fingers understand what you need and begin to discard the lower half of your clothes. Each piece of fabric clumsily shifting off your skin, prompting Shiu to curse under his breath while you laugh and lift your hips to help. 

“Could you wear tighter fucking jeans, Jesus, it’s like a damn chastity belt.”

You snort and feel his fingers immediately pull your underwear to the side once he tosses your pants onto the floor. The dip of his mouth open and already watering, causing you to let out a panicked sound when he licks a long strip up your slit.

“Just relax.” 

The immediate heat of his words only serve to do the opposite as you try and shift your hips away only to be brought back and dove into once more. His hands now embedding themselves into your thighs to get a better angle, causing you to huff. 

“Wait, it’s okay. You don’t have—“

You’re immediately silenced by the flattening of his tongue alongside his eyes which turn up in annoyance. His obvious distaste for your constant protesting becoming old, especially now that his mouth is wrapped around you, making your resolve quickly melt away when he applies a bit more pressure. 

Breathing hard, you then keep your eyes locked downward, watching him pinch your thighs and explore with his tongue. The act of him pleasuring you for the sake of nothing in particular causing your mind to fog up. All the nervous energy you once felt seemingly evaporating like a puff of hot smoke now that he’s trailing his tongue through your folds, languidly inching his way across every nerve in search of something new. Like he’s mapping you out while he listens to every breath that falls from your open lips. Each pant spurring him further, prompting him to push his nose against your clit, prodding it with every movement he makes alongside the fingers that start to part your entrance.

Which overwhelms you completely. The presence of too many stimuli at once making you whimper under your breath and try to sneak away again. Your body craving some sort of release once you feel his tongue forcefully slip into your cunt; the softness of it slipping up and around until his face is practically embedding itself in your flesh. Joining you as one in ways that have you reaching for his hair just for something to keep you steady.

Because right now, you’re teetering on the edge of something. A precipice that you know should feel familiar, yet remains distant in knowledge. The feeling of him wrapped up in your thighs, eating you out like a man who’s never known the taste of something so sweet, causing you to revert to basic instincts. To touch and feel and groan and listen —every sense melding together as he pushes you over the edge and the rush of that something becomes everything at once.

He’s all you feel as you come. Quickly becoming all you want, too, when he ultimately pulls away, breathing so hard you honestly fear he might pass out on the spot. 

“You okay?” you can’t help but ask, causing both of you to smile as he wipes you off his chin and laps it up with a nod.

“I should be asking you that. You look—”

“Rough?”

He scoffs out a laugh and cups the side of your neck. Then, he shakes his head and runs his thumb along your cheek, gently caressing you. “No, you look good. Just a little out of it.”

In response, you hum and let your eyelids shift downward, realizing then that you’re incredibly exhausted. Your body becoming loose and low —relying on his touch to keep you afloat as you reach for his shoulders. “I’m a little tired.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, mentally preparing to apologize and explain why until he starts maneuvering you like earlier. His hands gently forcing your legs to wrap around his waist as he lifts and moves you further into the depths of your apartment in search of your bed.

“Where am I going?”

You point to the end of the hall, feeling him shift. The sounds of his feet padding across the hardwood becoming the only noise between you until he hits the carpet of your bedroom and thoughtfully hums. 

At which point, you’re already half asleep in his arms. The weight of the day finally hitting your mind when he lays you out across the bed only to linger above you, watching your eyes flicker. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out then, causing him to raise a brow and bring his face towards yours. 

“What for?”

In your increasingly tired state, you huff and raise your hands to your eyes, rubbing them gently. “I didn’t return the favour.” 

“Favour?” He scoffs out a laugh, his head dipping to playfully bump your noses together. “What do you mean?”

“You just… you did all that stuff for me and now I’m falling asleep.” 

“Okay, and?” 

He sounds almost offended that you would even insinuate that he cares. Something that you figure shouldn’t surprise you at this point considering he’s been nothing but giving. 

“And…” 

As you trail off, you suddenly force your eyes to open a bit wider —to be more present as you begin to work through the weight of your own exhaustion and pull him down. Allowing yourself to be the one to take the reins by kissing his mouth again. Forcing this need to solely be kind and chivalrous to disappear as you both start to rush through the fumbling of more discarded clothes. His obvious desire to continue whatever this is between you causing him to let you sit up to discard his tie and untuck his shirt. Your fingers clawing at item after item in a mess of blissed-out confusion until eventually he’s buried deep inside of you, groaning your name. 

Which only fuels the impulse to be the one to take care of him. To show your appreciation for the company and the food and everything in between as you somehow shift to the top. Your body towering over his —hips melding together in a quick, steady rhythm of desperation.

“Relax,” you tell him then, leaning forward to run your hand across his cheek. “Let me take care of you this time.”

Despite the position you find yourselves in, he still manages to laugh. The call back to his behaviours making him merely roll his eyes and say, “Alright, go ahead then, sweetheart. Return your favour.” 

Smiling back, you do. Slowing down the movements of your hips so that you can work your way back up. Creating a tension of needy fingers that grip onto your sides, helping guide you through the ebbs and flows of his cock. And at first, it’s nice —simple. The constant drift between you making you feel a bit lightheaded as you both mumble each other’s praises between lazy kisses. But then, you feel yourself melting further down. Your consciousness beginning to falter with every push and pull until he’s left doing all the work again.

Letting out a laugh, he wraps an arm around your torso and kisses your face, still pistoning up. “What happened to all that… hospitality you were boasting about?” he jokingly chastises between breaths, glancing down to see that your eyes are already closed; your breath heavy as you let out a groan. 

“Too tired,” you mumble out. “I’ll make it up… tomorrow.” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Shiu manages to hear it. And soon after, thankfully accept it too as he slows back down again, eventually stopping to breathe until he sees you lift your head and shake it. 

“What? You want me to keep going?” 

You just nod and drop your head back down again, hearing him scoff and follow through. Every muscle in your body feeling simultaneously loose and tight once he begins to move again, gently dragging himself in and out and quietly groaning as you slowly drift to sleep, already dreaming about tomorrow.  

cont: smut, p in v, fingering, oral (f), choking, overstim, biceps, spanking

husband!shiu who doesn't let you lay A FINGER on his cigarette, he doesn't want your pretty lungs getting ruined.

husband!shiu who tried to make you quit your job when you two got together, claiming his girl shouldn't have to stress about things that "don't matter."

husband!shiu who, surprisingly, has maroon silk sheets in his bed. (sexy am i right)

husband!shiu who buys you EVERYTHING you ask for, and things you don't ask for too.

husband!shiu who always pays for your nails, hair, makeup, etc. even though he says you don't need it.

husband!shiu who calls you doll, pretty girl, babe, love, honey, and many more.

husband!shiu who always lets you use his card, in fact most of the cards in your wallet aren't even yours, they're his.

husband!shiu who was so short-tempered after work, and decided to take it out on you.

NSFW

"shiu, s-slow down. 's too much." you whine, blearily eyed.

husband!shiu who is between your legs with half-lidded eyes, licking all your juices up like a man who hasn't eaten in DAYS. all while he has his fingers knuckle deep in your small pussy.

husband!shiu who has you in reverse cowgirl with his bicep around your neck, choking you and making you arch your back.

husband!shiu who slaps your sensitive pussy every time you whine, making it harder for you (and him) to last.

husband!shiu who laughs in your neck when you beg for him to slow down, there's no way he can with your soft walls squeezing him so tight.

husband!shiu who eventually changes positions to missionary after making you cum so much with the last one.

husband!shiu who has your legs over his shoulders, while his dick is ramming into you harder and harder. while he is also rubbing your clit vigorously.

husband!shiu who after several round carries you bridal style to the bathtub for a nice warm soak, with bubbles of course.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n : might not be posting a lot his week, sorry baes 🥲

MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

i agree with the prev anon about shiu 😭 i just can't get bimbo reader x shiu out of my mind after that

OH MY GODD that made me froth :< // prev; alt !! f!reader; daddy kink; shiu's big horny always teehee // divider by @/plutism!!

shiu loves you so much; he loves spoiling you lots.

you're a sight for sore eyes, round and sweet, but that's not what only gets him going—you're kind to a fault, looking up at him all starry-eyed like he's not a bad man. like he's not broken and angry, and all mangled from within until it has him toying with people's moralities.

his empire stands firm from the shadows as proof of that.

you curl in his arms, so giggly and bright, almost like you're unknowing of what he does, of what he's capable of, but you've always known better than anyone else. after all, shiu trusts no one more than he trusts you.

you are so, so lovely; stoking his desires, filling him up with this miasmic need that burns from within. he aches every time, so desperate to feel you. to touch you. to have one more taste because you've turned shiu insatiable, his hunger constant, burrowing deep in the yawning of his stomach.

he wants more from you. he will always want more.

.

"daddy?" you call, pattering out of your room with a little pout. shiu's quick to drop the call, not bothering to say any goodbyes to toji, and turns all of his attention to you.

he gulps, feeling himself chub up underneath his slacks. you've got your neon green tube top on, the fabric taut as it clings to your skin. there's a little slip of cut by the front of it, and all that's keeping the fabric twined together are the little straps that converge in an 'X', framing your pretty tits in a way that has his throat constricting, his thirst palpable as it rolls off him in waves.

you don't notice of course, eyes turned to the baby blue slip of a dress you're carrying.

"hi, sweet'art," he croaks out, pulling your attention back to him, almost pleading.

you look up, blinking like you've forgotten he was there or that you were even asking for him, before a smile dances on your lips, tugging that kissable pout away.

"shiu!" you say, giddy, bouncing in your place and it—

jesus, it makes your tits wobble, your tight tube top not really doing anything to hide the fact that you don't got a bra on.

you tryna kill him or somethin', doll?

"c'mere," he grunts, patting at his lap.

you fall on top of him with a squeal, all your tender parts dimpling as you nuzzle close, humming in delight when shiu brushes his lips on your forehead. he adjusts himself on the seat, arm curling around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.

"so what's got you into a tizzy?" shiu asks, rubbing his hand atop your belly, his cock chubbing up even more at the softness of your pudge.

"oh," you murmur, breathless, your eyes tracking his caresses. "was jus' wonderin' if i should wear this top or the blue dress, s'all."

"yeah?" shiu begins peppering kisses along the shell of your ear, huffing when you squeak, body jolting at the ticklish feeling that his stubble makes. "and y'wanted daddy's thoughts, s'that it?"

"mhmm." you sound distant. distracted.

shiu trembles, just as dizzy with his need. he wonders if he can coax you out of that outing you were planning with your friends. he wonders if he can ask you to stay because there's something else he'd rather do than pretend he can stand toji.

(maybe he'll have you kiss his cock and have you smear that lipgloss all over the leaking slit; or have you sit on his face since it's been a while since he's got a taste, and shiu is parched.

or maybe he'll have you ride him, give him a view of those pretty tits bouncing, your nipples hard and in need of being sucked on. maybe he'll make a mess out of that top, yeah? lick you through it, watch it go damp and see-through, until the green of your top is muddled with the colour of your areolas.

or maybe he'll breed you, huh darlin'? you'd want that, wouldn't you? have him fulfill his promises—make a mom out of you?)

"well, baby," shiu begins, his voice gruff as he pulls himself out of his imaginations. he kisses the slope of your neck, and breathes in the smell of your body wash. "i do love that green top—shows more of y'r girls, doesn't it?"

you giggle, almost a touch shy, before nodding. shiu's heart swells, the aching need in the pit of his stomach peaking, bloating. he can't help himself—his darling love is warm on top of him, beautiful and soft. a lesser man would've crumbled faster; pawing at your body, hand rough as it fondles your tit—

really, shiu deserves a goddamn award for how saintly he's acting; holding back like he's not leaking in his boxers.

but he remembers how excited you've been about this night out and shiu would rather fuck his fist than ever be the cause of your disappointment, so he takes a ragged breath in, leashing his desires back in the pit of his stomach, weaving it beneath his blood, and taps your hip to send you off.

you climb out of his lap with a huff before you twirl, bending forward and planting a sloppy kiss on his lip. they go away sticky, marked by your lipgloss.

"see you later, daddy," you trill, waving, before you run back to the room. shiu can only grunt, unable to trust his weakened voice.

.

driven by his deprivation, shiu fishes a lingerie out of your hamper and pockets it. he'll need it for later—the night is young.

-

john’s version

The amount of incest, noncon, and pedophilic jjk smut content is getting out of hand.

"Just scroll if you don't like it!" - this doesn't negate the fact they're posting disgusting scenarios. They're targeting an audience of people who should seek therapy. That kind of shit is not okay.

It's like saying "scroll part a zoophile account on Twitter if u don't like it." See how stupid it sounds?

This Fandom is slowly becoming one i regret being in because of just how disgusting people are becoming. Come on guys, do better.

It's okay to have kinks and fetishes, but that doesn't mean they're okay. It's not okay to sexualize minors, it's not okay to sexualizw little space, it's not okay to sexualize r//pe! I get dubcon, but noncon? That's literally just nonconsensual sex.

Anyways. Rant over. Do better, people.

(Update: read this post about my asks if you plan on sending a hate message or threat lol)

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, mating press, amazon, 69, pushing tush, butterfly, seated sissoring, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on the dining table, on the counter, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in a plane, in a hot air balloon, in a helicopter, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, pussy pulsing, ass clenching, nose sniffling, clit throbbing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could kill me and id still find a way to come back to life just to ride his dick to satisfaction. id fulfill his every desire to the most i can.

assorted nsfw headcannons

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, shiu, sukuna

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

Gojo: • Super cocky and confident when he's the one fucking, but if you go anywhere near his ass he's a goner

• Shameless with his pleasure and yours, he doesn't hold back his sounds and will grab your jaw and pull it open to hear you if you try to hold your own back

• He is insanely good with his fingers, and he always makes you cum around them before he fucks you

• Pushes down on your lower stomach when he thrusts inside you for the first time to make it feel even more intense

• Laughs breathlessly during sex when his cock makes you go dumb Always pushes his blindfold over his eyes so he can see better when you suck him off

• Successfully sucked his own dick once, came all over his face before he pulled off too late and never did it again

———————————————————————

Geto: • Has the world's most sensitive balls, has to stop himself from coming whenever you play with them

• Loves thrusting into you while you are on top, something about seeing your body bounce for him while you ride him to get yourself off is so hot

• Loves finger sucking especially when you get too loud, it doesn't do too much to shut you up especially when he has you in a mean arch and he's hitting it from the back but he loves the feeling of your tongue around his fingers, it makes his cock jerk inside you

• Fantasizes about fucking you in front of his cult, but he would never do it

• Chronic pillow humper

• Strictly jerks off with your panties or not at all, there’s just something about seeing your underwear covered in his cum that makes him hard instantly, ready to go again

———————————————————————

Nanami: • Loves hand-holding during sex, being inside you isn't close enough he needs his body to be crushing you while he intertwines every bit of his body possible with yours

• EYE CONTACT is a must, especially when he goes down on you, if you close your eyes after he warns you to keep them open he'll slap your pussy to get your attention back on him, not too hard but enough that it makes you clench your thighs around him

• Has a thing for heels, anytime you bring home a new pair you break them in by rubbing him through his pants while he sits back on his heels and caresses your calf

• Has little experience but reads erotica and romance books often which taught him a lot

• Prefers giving over receiving, but he can be pretty rough when you suck him off. It always starts gently while he lets you explore him, but he always ends up wrapping his hand around your hair and setting the pace for you as he gets closer to finishing

———————————————————————

Toji: • Is a meanie in bed

• Prone bone is his go-to position because it got him the biggest tips when he was fucking women for money.

• His fingers will never leave your clit, he tries to bring you the most intense pleasure he can, constantly, and god forbid you start whining about how it's too much after you came, he'll tease you while staring at your face as he picks up the pace of his fingers.

• Loves really messy head, that goes for giving and receiving, if his and your thighs aren't covered in spit and cum and your faces are flushed red from lack of oxygen, something is wrong.

• A chronic head pusher

• Plays with your ass when he fucks you from the back, he's dirty and shameless and doesn't care about your reservations, he just wants to see you debauched and filthy

• Also ass eater of the century, spits on that shit and eats it like he's been starving for months, shakes his head back and forth to get as deep as he can, groans while he east you

• Full body collapses on you after he cums

• Has suuuuper sensitive nipples and can come from them alone but he refuses to let you anywhere near them

———————————————————————

Choso: • Loves watching your face when he's touching you, your pleasured expression alone is enough to get him to the verge of coming.

• Loves kissing, he wants to be as close to you as possible. When he finds out what a breeding kink is you better pray your stamina can keep up with him because he will not be satisfied until his balls are drained inside you, even if he can't get you pregnant, the idea alone is enough to make him lose his head

• Really loves titty fucking you, even if you don't have big equipment he will push your chest together as much as it will go and fuck what he can

• Also loves rubbing his precum all over your nipples, thinks they feel really soft on his cockhead and likes how small they are

• Stays inside you after he finishes for as long as he can till you push him off so you can pee, even after he goes soft he just loves the feeling of being inside you

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Shiu: • Filthy fucker

• Is down to try most anything once and likes most of it

• Phone sex expert, in another life he was a phone sex operator

• His dirty talk is unmatched, once he figured out how much you like it he became your own personal asmr-ist in bed with a shameless, filthy mouth.

• Played with your pussy in a crowded train once and has dreams about it frequently

• Loves road head, he has very tinted windows so no one will know what you're doing to him as you suck the soul out of his cock

• Mesmerized with finger fucking his cum back into you, loves watching it fall out only for him to shove it back inside you and overstimulate you in the process

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Sukuna: • The first time the two of you had sex you couldn't take him fully so he used your thighs. He got frustrated every time your legs would go slack as you got closer to finishing so he flipped you on your stomach and forced your thighs together with his hands.

• ONLY comes inside you, he thinks it's a waste otherwise and finds it disrespectful that you wouldn't want to take what he gives you. He was super bad at kissing at first but that didn't stop him from trying to absolutely crush you with his jaw.

• Loves when he forces you to submit after you are even the tiniest bit disrespectful to him.

• He doesn't stop until you are on the verge of passing out and can only feel him inside you.

• Uses his bigger body and four arms to render you a limp fuck doll often, will manhandle you however he wants and you have little say in it

•His tummy mouth licks your clit when he fucks you

• Likes to keep his hand on your neck during sex so you never forget who’s in charge, he likes the thrill and dominance of having your life in his hands

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