Work Text:
ichi ♡
baby, wyd?
cupcake ♡
just got home from work ! whyyyyy? 🥺
ichi ♡
gonna take you out. i’ll be omw in thirty.
thirty? after all this time he still doesn’t understand how time consuming it is to get yourself ready to go out. definitely when you weren’t aware of where you’re going. your boyfriend didn’t give you any hint so you were unsure of how to dress. on top of that, it was nearly midnight. your late shift at the hospital draining you, and the moment you came home and kicked off your scrubs, the last thing on your mind was to get ready to go out. your bed was calling you. so close yet so far. ichigo had literally messaged you the moment you leaped out of your convertible. sucking it up just for him, you hop in the shower with no further questions. it has been a while since you’ve seen him, both equally busy.
maybe he just missed you the same and wanted to do something nice for you. or just craved to be in your presence again. weekends were really the only time the two of you were available. the sweet scent of olay white strawberry and mint body wash mixed in with the thick charcoal rag scrubbing against your skin relaxes your body to the fullest. phases by chase atlantic booms through the cream tile of your shower walls, vibrating in your ears inimically as the hot water beats down onto your skin. you made sure to leave the door unlocked for ichigo to step inside, usually welcoming himself in without letting you know. one time having to smack him for being inconsiderate even if he blamed you for leaving it unsecured. cleansing your face and then finishing with your to die for tree hut strawberry scrub, you’re wrapped up in a towel while you brush and rinse your mouth.
patting dry, you lather yourself in baby oil from head to toe, hair still caught in your shower cap. you smile down at your chubby black cat brushing up against your ankle with a silver anklet labeled with your boyfriend’s name. a gift for your first anniversary. the short feline skips behind you as you stroll through your studio to reach your bedroom, sighing to yourself because you’re suddenly stressed about what to wear. nothing could possibly be open this late to really head out for. he has to be fucking with you. what if you get all dolled up just for him to pull up to mcdonald’s? you’d be irritated, but thankful nonetheless. quality time is all that mattered. even sitting in his car listening to music would mean everything right now. a passenger princess is what he called you one time. you just loved the idea of being around him.
when he said thirty minutes, he meant it. a heavy knock on your front door before it’s pushed open alarms you instantly. sucking your teeth at his obsession with always being too early. as you’re closing the curtain that blocks your bedroom, out peaks an adorable fluff of tangerine hair from the door, a smile on that face you love so much, teeth bright as pearls.
“hey, cupcake!” ichigo chirps, closing and locking the door before he takes off his travis scott dunks, knowing you don’t allow shoes in your house. he’s picking up the cat the same time he’s glaring at your silhouette past the sheer white curtain.
he catches you slipping on a piece of clothing over your head, taking off your cap and shaking out your curly head. he respects your privacy by keeping himself from walking in there and smacking your ass as a proper greeting . . . his way of one, at least. takes a seat on the low emerald, velvet textured sectional, the animal in his arms purring as he caresses it.
“i hate you.”
it’s the first thing he hears, and it immediately has him cackling. “why? i’m taking you out, aren’t i?”
“well, yeah, but . . . you could’ve told a girl mid-shift. i would’ve had more time to plan an outfit. i can’t even do my makeup now. my hairs lifeless. it’s midnight. i worked a twelve hour shift, you know that? no consideration for me as a woman whatsoever.”
“all i’m hearing is that you’re ungrateful.”
“fuck you, carrot top!” a heavy slap following with a gust of wind is nearly enough to overshadow the low level of slow rnb. ichigo raises a brow at you, slowly licking his lips while tilting his head to the side, humming as he observes you. body clad in a white spaghetti strapped bodycon dress that accentuates all your curves, tits pushed higher due to your bra being adjusted halfway up your back. a hot pink, suede chanel bag hanging on your shoulder. big curls flowing around your face like a greek goddess. an angel.
“baby, you lookin’ good as fuck. but you're gonna be cold as a bitch.”
“why?” you frown.
“we're going to the waterfront pier.”
a cheerful gasp you bellow makes ichigo’s smile extend, your cat jumping out of his arms from the noise of you jumping up and down. “babyyyy. the birria truck is there! you remembered?”
“of fuckin’ course,” he leans back with an arm thrown behind his head, hand on his bare stomach he tucked under his white tee. ichigo swings his legs dressed in black adidas joggers inward and outward, elated from the smile still on your face as you giggle and walk around the house in search of a shoe, eyes tracing you. “they're open till 2am.”
you glance at the oval clock on your wall, pouting. “i didn't do my makeup.”
“it's one in the morning. we coming back and cuddling.”
sucking your lips in, you nod.
“now come give daddy a hug,” ichigo motions you over with his finger.
standing straight with giddy in your heart, you stroll towards him, your hips switching effortlessly, the silver chain labeled 'daddy's girl’, which you bought for yourself, dangles along with the ocean blue evil eye as you bend forward to press a kiss to your man's soft lips, the tingle from his blistex vibrating your own. he sits up with you standing between open legs, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs as he hugged you around your midsection with his cheek on your stomach.
ichigo let's out an exasperated sigh, as if he was getting into a comfortable bed after a long day, squeezing you tighter. “missed you so much, baby.”
the tips of your fingers strum through his hair as you reply, “missed you too. thank you for taking me out tonight.”
“don't thank me yet. i need to see if you'll like the food first before we decide what mood you're gonna put on.”
“are you saying i'm bipolar?”
“i'm saying you're picky.”
“correction!” you announce loudly while pointing up a finger. “specific. i like what i like.”
“i can say the same,” ichigo groans before smacking your ass with a hiss, grabbing a chunk full before shaking it in his hand.
you laugh at him and shove him away. “stop! let's go.”
“lemme jus’ . . . ” ichigo gets lost in his thoughts, your eyes widening as he reaches down to grab your calf to lift. “get a taste real quick.”
“boy!” is what you exclaim as you give his hand a firm smack, like you're popping a child for misbehaving. ichigo snickers, saying he was joking but you knew he wasn't.
by time you leave the house, it's one fifteen in the morning. the streets are partially clear for your city's night. ichigo passing you his phone to browse through his playlists, immediately going for the ‘late night drive' one which was your favourite considering you helped him pick most of the content. the windows are cracked halfway, warm air breezing your faces as he speeds down the road like an asshole in his pristine white nissan gtr, two usual hand placements; one on your inner thigh and the other gripping the steering wheel.
it's so hard not to smile like an idiot when he does that. hiding your face in your shoulder as you look up at him like a lost puppy. singing to bryson tiller’s song in check as you intake the scent of the vehicle. it smells just like him. tobacco vanille by tom ford. the opulent scent lingering onto your body whenever he hugged you long enough, or when you stole his hoodies and shirts to wear just to keep him close.
the drive wasn't long. not even twenty minutes and you were pulling up to the pier, barely packed since it was a sunday night. lots of teenagers came out around this time to smoke and since there was plenty of food available it'd help with the munchies. hand in hand, the two of you walk towards the beaming taco truck with various of color's ranging from yellows, reds, and greens. birria landia was their label. very well known and talked about business. they moved locations so you were super excited to finally get your fill on it.
ichigo has his right arm thrown over your shoulder, pulling you close to his chest where you rested and listened to his heartbeat and the rumble of his torso as he ordered your food. each order came with four quesabirria’s and a side of consommé, totaling fourteen dollars each which was a steal to be honest. ichigo wanted to try horchata as a drink, getting a large so the two of you could share.
“you cold?” he asks briefly, spotting you rubbing your arms before you nod frantically, muttering a tiny ‘yes’. embraces you into a hug instantly, tall frame towering you as he rocked the two of you side to side while you waited alongside a few other people, laughing between his armpit where you buried your face.
you were talking on and on about cotton candy, looking up at him with your chin on his chest, a pout on your lips. glancing deeper into the boardwalk and catching glimpses of big bags of pink or blue cotton candy hanging horizontally beside jumbo cartoon character while that song from ten years ago that always plays at amusement parks blast through the speakers. yes, it's call me maybe.
“hey, i just met you,” ichigo begins, bouncing his knees to the beat of the song.
“no!” you groan.
“and this is crazy! but here's my number. so call me maybe!”
one things for sure, you fucked those tacos up. licking your fingers and swinging your feet like nothing else mattered in the world. ichigo lovingly resting his palm in his hand as he watches you squeak as you bop your head to the music. could never stay still when you ate. you thanked him dozens of times with your mouth stuffed, dunking your tacos into your lime infused broth before chowing down, juices dripping. unfortunately, you weren't full enough after, and by then the truck had already gone. the two of you cleaned up your area on the bench before ichigo decided to grab a bag of cotton candy for you before you headed back to yours.
his favorite thing about your living room was the beautiful collection of the weeknd’s entire discography hung up on your wall in vinyls. a glass record player sitting beneath. choosing an album, going with my dear melancholy because why not? sliding the disc from out of its slot, blowing on it to rid any dust before twirling it between the pads of his fingers and inserting it. you were sitting on your dark gray tufted bench displayed at the bottom of your bed, dressed comfortably in a white tank and royal blue panties. the tips of your pink toes are arched in the fluffy white rug beneath them, a tropical baby blue scarf on your head and your necklaces still in view. you were rolling a blunt on the alice in wonderland tray that sat on your lap.
ichigo had just gotten out of the shower, ruffling his damp hair with the towel and finding a pair of his basketball shorts in your bottom drawer. the projector on your wall is silently playing avengers’ civil war. it's about five in the morning you presume, wanting to smoke just because. both of you love how quiet the home was, your cat sound asleep on her strawberry printed pillow by your foot, ichigo laying in your bed while scrolling through twitter on his phone until you were finished.
crawling to him with a tired smile, you flick your plated heart shaped vivienne westwood lighter and pass it to him first, arching over his body sinking into your mattress as you hold it to his lips as he stares you in your eyes. ichigo takes a puff, drags it too long which has you snatching it away and giggling. his hand takes the back of your neck in his grasp, tugging you closer to blow the smoke directly into your mouth before kissing you. he sits you entirely on his abdomen and watches you take your share of it. caressing your skin lazily, and gazing behind you as you hold his face in your chest with your hand sprawled over his cheek, both of you watching the movie.
the air shifts without the two of you even realizing it. it's when your clutching onto the duvet that's falling halfway off the edge of the bed you bury your face in as you bounce dirty on his cock in cowgirl that it resonates. ichigo now has possession of your blunt, holding it like a cigarette between his fingers in his left hand he uses to gently pinch your ass. fixating on the grip your slick pussy has on his dick, coating it perfectly, driving yourself up and down slowly. he's got his phone on camera mode, recording the way you fuck him in your mirror, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth as his brows crease.
you rock forward after your lips quiver when a shock strikes up your spine, heaving and slipping off. gripping onto his ankle for support.
“put it back in,” he's haste when he hits your ass, your salacious whimper making his dick jump. raspy voice completely succumbing you as you reach behind yourself to wrap your dainty hand around the base, sinking back down and rocking your hips. his eyes scroll back when a ring of white centers his cock, a deep ‘fuck’ escaping his mouth as you cream around him. “yeah, pretty girl.”
“ooh, baby,” a guttural moan vibrates deep within your throat as you drop your ass lower, taking in as much as you could. gasping as you fist the cover in front of you and move quicker, eyes crossing. “ichi !”
“it's good baby, i know. i fuckin’ know,” ichigo whispers, hissing and clapping a heavy hand down, taking a quick pull from the blunt before putting it out on the ashtray on your nightstand. he abandons his phone, craning his neck to the side to blow out the remainder of clouds before he’s lifting you by your waist until you’re laying on your side facing him.
ichigo tugs you close, slotting himself in between your thighs once your leg hikes itself over his hip, entrapping him with your arms locked around his neck. both of you breathe in each other’s air, rotating your waist to get his cock closer, wanting it back inside before you cried about it. he sees how cute and whiny you are, sloshing his tongue and mouth all over your neck, the most sensitive spot on your body. it makes you insanely wet, gasping, bringing him in more, wanting to be completely entwined. ichigo groans in your neck, reaching between where you two meet to fist his cock, groaning when he finds that gushing hole of yours that sticks like honey and sliding back in.
now his lips are on yours, sloppily tangling tongues and breathlessly moaning into your mouths, the heel of your foot that’s thrown over his waist applying pressure to his backside to drown him in deeper. ichigo has his hands on your ass he’s squeezing until the flesh is imprinted with his marks, cursing and rutting up to sheath his cock in your sweet, sweet fucking pussy. something’s he’s been dying to do for days now. hating how busy the two of you were. there wasn’t enough time to do this as frequently as he desired. that had to change. effective immediately.
“i missed you,” a broken cry sings in his ears from you, slightly squeaky with cute hiccups, ichigo snapping his hips fairly faster, clenching his sharp jaw before kissing your forehead. “f-fuckin’ missed you, ichi.”
“daddy sorry, baby,” ichigo replies, skillfully rolling his hips to hit just the right spot that always makes you scream and claw at his back. he maybe crazy for liking it so much. but when you dig your nails into his strong back, and his skin feels like it’s bleeding . . . sometimes is, he fucking loves it. his strokes ease when he drags out a series of words you’re unable to comprehend. thrusts becoming sloppier. “promise i’ll make it up to you. know you get needy when i’m too far. gunna change that.”
“mng. you gonna make me cum, baby,” your voice is higher pitched now, eyes low and your mouth dry from hanging it open too long. ichigo knows what to do in an instant, pinning you flat on your back and holding your throat in his hand, raising and dropping his weight onto you so his dick sinks in how you like it. “baby you gonna make me cum.”
“cum,” ichigo pants, his face churning along with yours, your voice going silent as you reach down to rub your fingers over your clit, keeping your eyes focused on his as the faint sound of skin clapping echoed the room. your body’s jolting beneath him, a dry gasp crumbling through. “cum right now, baby. right fuckin’ now, please.”
your knees stutter by his waist, holding onto him tight as the tone in his voice lightens, begging you to cream all over his cock, to cum with him, to give him what he wanted. and you do, roughly slapping your hand on his forearm for security, streams of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ undulating past your puffy lips. ichigo loses his balance and falls down onto you, chest to chest, puts you in a headlock to hold you still while he switches his pace entirely and fucks you harder, his eyes white as pinballs. “fuck, baby. this my fuckin’ pussy. my fuckin’ pussy. can you tell me that, baby? let me know.”
“it’s. your. fuckin’. pussy,” your voice splits with every heavy pound, writhing in his entrapment. holding your knees to the bed with your hands. lewd squelching only gets louder the messier you become. eyes shut with your soul leaving your body. ichigo’s ‘mmm hmm’ as a reply enough to make you cum again, squealing and arching your torso off the bed.
going numb, mind distorted and ichigo holds the back of your head so it’s bending enough to see him fucking you. even with the low lighting from the television you could still spot how drenched you were. ichigo kissing the bridge of your nose, then chastely your lips. “be a good girl n’ watch me cum for you.”
your toes curl when he slows his hips to pull out, resting his cock on your stomach and being rewarded when he cums in long ropes of white, painting your tummy with a shaky moan before mashing his lips back to yours, still thrusting.
“i love you,” he says. “i love you, i love you.”
and you loved him more.