#artist: tonight alive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saintobio · 20 days

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blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable.

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it?

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family.

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this.

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight.

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.”

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first?

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really?

“I want to do it.”

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.”

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure.

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was.

Did Sukuna feel the same?

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.”

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was?

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.”

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face.

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk.

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed.

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was.

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.”

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.”

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.”

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.”

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.”

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom.

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds.

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it.

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked.

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here.

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?”

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.”

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V.

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking.

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it?

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.”

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such.

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.”

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?”

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.”

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?”

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment.

Holy fuck was all you could say.

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty.

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.”

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier.

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing.

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.”

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself.

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out.

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?”

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw?

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.”

“Okay…”

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you.

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be.

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding.

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore?

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance.

“Haaa—!”

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock.

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!”

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!”

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you.

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.”

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.”

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have.

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.”

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.”

Why did he sound like he was giving up?

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.”

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.”

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.”

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay.

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly.

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s.

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.”

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.”

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on.

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued.

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this?

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.”

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.”

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school.

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.”

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.”

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.”

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.”

“Be serious,” you warned.

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.”

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?”

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?”

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.”

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment.

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.”

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark.

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?”

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?”

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires.

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.”

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?”

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.”

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this.

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too.

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue.

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together.

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating.

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close.

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face.

His ex-girlfriend of three years.

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?”

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies.

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.”

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?”

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.”

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here?

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.”

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?”

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.”

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve.

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.”

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!”

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head.

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed?

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it.

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?”

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.”

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?”

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.”

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?”

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?”

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.”

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life.

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right.

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart.

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?”

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.”

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp.

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.”

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.”

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.”

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?”

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad.

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit.

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.”

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared.

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.”

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.”

He knew what she was about to do next.

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses.

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face.

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.”

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night.

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you.

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago.

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do.

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart.

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?”

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?”

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.”

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?”

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.”

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?”

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out.

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.”

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!”

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!”

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.”

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you.

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you.

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way.

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others.

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up.

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop.

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.”

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully.

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.”

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well.

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.”

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.”

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.”

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future.

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader

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msgexymunson · 1 year

Text

Rumour

Description: you share with Eddie, your older neighbour, the rumours you've heard about him. They might not be all fictitious...

Warnings: smutty smutty smut smut, lotta angst, tiny fluff. NSFW, Minors DNI I will whack you with a dinner plate, Eddie is mid 30s, tattoo artist, dom, reader uses sher/her pronouns, sub, fem! Oral receiving, praise kink, potential for Sir kink, a tiny bit of penis handling, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) genital and tongue piercings.

A/N: well, this thought gripped to the inside of my thighs and refused to let go. I had to share it with you before I started humping my furniture. Have fun. Again I'm English so I try with the Americanisms, anything I got wrong soz babe. BTW ST 4pt2 never happened soz babycakes ❤ Reblogs are what keep me alive FR. They keep Tumblr alive (and my own heart beating)! If you want more smut reblog my stuff. I'll love you forever, promise.❤

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

5.2k words

Walking back to your ground floor apartment after your shift, your feet aching, you spot your neighbour sitting on a lawn chair in the courtyard smoking a cigarette. Your incredibly hot, older neighbour. Mr Munson.

The neighbour that sends shivers up your spine at the mere mention of him. The neighbour that you think about at night when you're in bed, all alone.

No doubt about it, he looked both hot and intimidating. Not that you would care to admit but that was entirely your type. Mid thirties, broad shouldered, and appeared to be as confident as a wolf, and about as self assured. He reminded you of one; gruff looking, proud, stalking around, making you feel like prey.

He looked particularly jaw dropping tonight in a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up; part of his muscular arms were on display, covered in countless tattoos. You've heard that he works in one of the tattoo shops down town. In fact you've heard a lot about him, but that was one rumour that you actually believed.

Elbows resting on his knees, his messy hair fell in waves just brushing his shoulders, full lips taking a drag on a rolled cigarette. Peeking out of his shirt collar, between the waves of hair, you can see a skull like tattoo on the side of his neck.

Is that new? Oh God, he's so hot. Okay just walk past, act normal.

You saunter past him with as much confidence as you could muster.

"Hey Mr Munson." You nod in his direction, trying to stop your voice quaking, fumbling for your keys.

"Hey sweet thing. You good?"

Jesus, does he really need to call me that?

The nickname travels to the pit of your stomach making you squirm hotly.

"Yeah sir, just a long shift at the bar. Idiots tonight, you know?"

Mr Munson shifts in his chair taking a sudden breath in.

"Shit sweetheart, sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?"

Well, it couldn't hurt, right?

You flop down in the chair bedside him, gesturing for a drag on his cigarette.

"Can I?"

He smiles wickedly and puts his roll up to your mouth. The roughness of his fingertips brushes on your lips making you clench, almost rucking your hips up, albeit briefly. You hope he doesn't notice. Of course he does.

Taking half a hit you realise that it's not a fucking cigarette, it's a blunt. It's not like you'd never tried anything like that but it was certainly not what you were expecting. The heavy, sweet, herb feeling lays on your tongue. Eyes wide you breathe out, coughing slightly much to his amusement.

He holds it out at you so you can take a proper hit. Sucking at the blunt so you can take it all in, your lips brush against his calloused hands, adorned with rings.

Breathing out, you gaze at him. His smile splits his face wide open, thick tongue rolling to a point, licking across his upper lip in a teasing manner. You cannot help but focus on the tongue stud pierced right through the middle of the muscle, a long stainless steel bar penetrating his whole tongue. You had certainly never noticed it before. It's presence made you wet, sticking between your thighs at the sheer thought of what he could do with it.

"Something on your mind pretty girl?" A cocky side grin plastered across his handsome features.

Shit, I was totally staring.

Blushing, you look away and try to change the subject.

"You know, you should really warn a girl before she takes a hit of a blunt."

He laughs deep in his throat. "I thought you knew! So, why was today so terrible?"

"Just customers thinking that I'm nice to them because I want them, not because it's literally my fuckin' job. Couple dudes tried to hit on me, one of them grabbed my ass." You sigh into the night air.

"Shit, I hope you taught him a lesson."

"Of course, hit him on the head with my tray."

He laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back. You gawp at his neck, sexy stubble running down past his Adam's apple. Turning his head towards you, he flashes his teeth.

"Didn't know you had it in you. Good girl."

Holy shit.

Your whole lower body clenches at his words of praise as you take in a shaky breath. The apples of your cheeks are on fire. Mr Munson gives you a knowing look, eyes glittering darkly.

You stand up on slightly unsure legs.

"Okay I'm- I'm gonna have a shower. See you around Mr Munson."

You fumble for your keys. Turning to your door you hear a gravelly voice behind you.

"Eddie. Call me Eddie."

********************

A few nights later and your surrounded by the rough brick interior of the bar, busy wiping down sticky tables. There's only half an hour until closing; half an hour and you can go home and rest. It's pretty empty tonight, just three regulars dotted around in the semi dark, nursing their drinks.

You haven't been able to get your latest encounter with Mr Munson, sorry, Eddie, off your mind. You liked to think you were a strong independent woman. You were 22 after all; having had to live on your own since you were 18, life hadn't exactly been kind. You had to be strong to survive. So why exactly was it that a few moments with Eddie had turned you into a blushing, giggling school girl? He had disarmed you with a few words and a rough grin and now you couldn't stop thinking of him. All he had done was call you a good girl and you turned into one. A simpering mess.

Doing a final sweep for glasses, you make your way back behind the bar just as the door opens and a brisk breeze blows in.

Oh fuck its him.

You see his broad frame silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, leather jacket hanging open. His wild mane is in a low messy bun for once, tendrils of loose hair moving in the wind. He stalks over to you and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Dark eyes finding yours, he leans against the bar on one elbow, towering over you.

Plastering your customer service mask across your face; social armour to hide the nerves, you smile at him.

"Well good evening sir, what can I get ya?"

He grins at you devilishly, biting his lip, like he wants to devour you whole.

"What did I tell you? Call me Eddie."

"Sorry Eddie."

"Good girl. I'll have a bourbon, please."

Only just realising your mouth is hanging open, you slam it shut, cheeks burning. He looks at you smugly, like he's just proven a theory. Your body goes on autopilot, grabbing a glass, adding ice, measuring bourbon.

When you hand his drink over he slides over a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

You blink at him. "I couldn't, it's too much-"

"Then have a drink on me. I just finished a piece and got paid today. I'm celebrating."

You wouldn't usually, but you're on your own and it's nearly closing. Fuck it.

You pour yourself a bourbon, adding a dash of soda water to yours and take a sip. Eddie beams at you.

"Well thank you." You smile back at him, losing yourself in those dark brown eyes of his, watching the way the skin crinkles at the corners when he grins.

He sticks the ball of his tongue piercing out, rolling it between his lips as he stares at you. It seems like a subconscious movement, you're not sure he's aware that he's doing it.

"Why do you have that?" You blurt out, word vomit pouring off your tongue.

"Have what, pretty girl?" You're staring at his mouth, and he understands, sticking his tongue out at you.

"Thith?" He lisps at you, still poking his tongue out. Giggling, you nod.

His hand drops to the bar, thumb reaching out, stroking back and forth over the knuckles on the back of your hand. An involuntary shiver creeps down your spine at the touch of his rough skin.

"Oh, sweet thing. I think you know exactly what it's for."

His eyes are deep pools, inviting you in. Your thighs clench at his words, biting your lip.

"Oh."

He smirks at you, humming. You pull your hand away, looking at the time.

"Er, just a sec."

You move away slightly and shout out last call. Two of the patrons leave; the other walks over to the bar, slight stagger to his step. Serving him a final Scotch, he pounds it back and walks outside.

It's just you and Eddie. All alone.

"I've got to, um, finish closing up."

"I'll give you a ride if you'll have another drink with me."

You open your mouth. Then close it.

He pouts at you, looking at you with big doe eyes. "Please?"

Well fuck.

"Okay, just let me finish up."

You collect the rest of the glasses, wipe down the last of the sides and sort the nights takings, getting it all in the small safe in the back room.

After locking the front door you return, hang your bar apron up and pour the drinks. Eddie gestures for you to join him on the bar stool next to his. You perch on it lightly; he reaches for his wallet but you wave it away.

"No, I've already done the takings, this ones on me. For the ride, you know."

He shrugs, returning the wallet to his back pocket.

"So" you say, taking a sip of your drink, "you said you finished a piece. You're a tattoo artist, right?"

"Yep, that's right."

"Thought so, I heard a rumour."

"Rumour, eh? What else you heard?" Eyes glittering, he took a mouthful of bourbon.

You giggle "Hmm, well, I heard you were some Satanic cult leader in high school-"

He waved that off, "oh that's so old. If playing D&D is satanic then I'm the devil himself." He sticks his tongue out again, creating little horns with his fingers on his forehead.

You laugh at that, starting to finally feel at ease in his company. The bourbon helped.

"Someone said you sacrificed a goat in the woods once."

He nearly spits his drink at that one. "Now that's more like it, even I've not heard that one. Got any more?"

You blush, realising you've only heard one more.

"I heard you had... other piercings." You mumble, not wanting to say it too loud despite the lack of company.

"What other piercings?" He eyes never leave yours as he finishes his drink.

You're sure it's not normal to have so much blood in your cheeks. You can hear the blood swooshing in your ears. Finishing your own drink for courage, you gaze down at your hands in your lap.

"I heard you have a pierced..."

"Dick?" He ducks his head, trying to catch your eye again, cheeky smile on his face.

"Yeah." Your whole body feels hot and small under his gaze.

He just smirks at you and shrugs.

Is that a no? A yes? Now I'm dying to know!

He winks at your obvious frustration and says "come on I'll take you home."

********************

The ride home in Eddie's Mustang is uneventful. A little small talk is shared, but mostly you're staring out the window, trying to catch glimpses of him when he wasn't looking, eyes wandering to his crotch.

Pretty soon he was dropping you off at your front door, hand leaning on the door frame, crowding into your personal space. Just breathing the same air as him felt suffocating in the best way.

"Well, goodnight then sweet thing." He winks at you, glancing at your lips. For a split second you think he's going to kiss you, but he breaks away and turns to leave.

"Do you wanna come in?" Shit did I just say that out loud?

"You sure?"

You nod and he throws you a wolfish grin. You've never felt so much like a lamb in your entire life. You may as well baa at this point.

You lead him into your tiny apartment, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch, turning on a couple of dim lamps as you go. He flops down, manspreading, large hand resting on his knee.

"You want another drink? I've got bourbon but no ice I'm afraid."

"Sure thing sweets." He responds whilst slipping his jacket off, placing it on a nearby chair.

"You mind if I smoke? Just a cigarette, promise."

You smile at the reference, "sure, there's an ashtray just there."

He pulls out a pre rolled smoke, lighting it and taking a few drags.

When you've poured the drinks you make your way to the other side of the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table. He offers his cigarette to you. As you nod, he shifts closer, holding it to your lips. You take a couple of drags, relishing the feel of his fingers on your mouth. Every time your skin touches his it sends a flutter through your nerves.

You watch him take a sip of his drink, seeing him press that perfect bottom lip to the glass. He drinks and puts the glass down. Not even looking your way, he says "something you wanna share, pretty girl?"

"Do you? Is it?" You say doltishly. Well done, real eloquent.

"You really wanna know, huh?"

"Yes!" You say loudly, bourbon well and truly in the drivers seat for that one.

He laughs and looks at you dead in the eye, another chance to make you squirm.

"Yes."

Gaping at him for a few seconds, your brain and mouth finally connect.

"Do you- did it hurt? What's it look like? What kinda-"

Stopping you mid babble with a wave of his hand, he simply asks, "you wanna see it?"

Brain short circuiting, you merely stare at him dumbfounded. You nod, curiosity well and truly getting the best of you.

He stands up and undoes his belt, sound echoing through the apartment. Your gaze is fixated on his large hands as they deftly unbutton his jeans. A glimpse of a tattoo teases you on his lower abdomen. His happy trail is peeking out, leading to the large thatch of hair that snakes down to his manhood. You swallow hard.

He slowly pulls his boxers down and you scoot closer to have a look. It emerges from the fabric, to your surprise half hard.

You gape at it. You've seen dicks before. A handful. And they are just that, a handful. This is more than a handful. You think you'd struggle to get your hand around his. The girth of it was truly intimidating. It certainly looked long too, and that was at half mast.

The end of it was pink and rounded, and the piercing went through the slit at the top, down to the underside of the tip. The piercing was thicker than you imagined, a curved bar with thick steel balls on either end. You never thought you would be into this sort of thing, but just looking at it made you think about what it felt like. What it tasted like. You wet your lips and continue to stare.

On instinct, your hand reaches out. You only notice when it meets the roughness of his jeans, touching ever so closely to his exposed member.

You look up at Eddie's face. He's looking right back at you sinfully.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. Ached like a bitch the first time I got a boner though."

You giggle, staring at it again.

"Can I touch it?" What the hell. It just slipped out, unbidden. You see his dick twitch at the thought.

Eddie chuckles darkly. "Did you seriously just ask if you-"

"Sorry that was dumb of me-"

"Sure you can sweet thing."

Before your mind can even comprehend what's happening, your hand shoots forward with sudden bravery, reaching out to hold it. You inspect the tip, looking at the piercing, feeling his hardness grow under your delicate touch. Inquisitively you rub the jewellery with your thumb, inadvertently smoothing the pad of your thumb over his tip in the process. Eddie hisses through his teeth.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

"No," Eddie manages through gritted teeth, "just felt really fuckin' good."

Oh.

You back off, moving your hands from his piercing and placing them in your lap. He tucks himself away again, doing up his jeans, subconsciously palming his length.

"Well? What do you think?" He sits on the couch next to you, denim clad knee touching yours.

"It's really big Eddie."

He laughs, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa.

"You talkin' about the piercing or my dick?"

"Both." You couldn't help it. It had to be said. It was true. You knock your drink back, feeling entirely too sober for this conversation.

Eddie's mouth splits into a lazy smug smile. Finishing his own drink, he turns to you, eyes roaming over your body.

"So, do I get a turn now sweet thing?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "At what?"

Well, you got to touch me. Can I touch you?"

Your eyes widen at his brazen attitude, but you'd be lying if you said this wasn't the reason you had invited him in in the first place. The very air around you feels heavy, hot with anticipation.

"Ok."

You stand up shakily, mirroring his movements from earlier, unsure hands unbuttoning your jeans. Eddie's eyes travel down to your core, predatory gaze shamelessly wandering over you. Your jeans are a little big, slipping straight to your ankles when they're undone. You kick them off and away. Standing there in your tank top and tiny white panties you've never felt so exposed in your life.

Eddie stands up for a second looking down at you, eyes shining with mischief. He winks, and drops to his knees between the couch and the coffee table, grabbing your hips and pulling you to face him.

Sizeable hands hovering over the hem of your underwear, he looks up at you. "Can I? Can I take these off?"

You nod, cheeks flaring with heat.

Eddie licks his lips, eyes never leaving your cunt. "I'm gonna need you to say it, sweet thing."

"Y-yes Eddie." You manage to stumble out.

"Atta girl."

He peels them off. They stick for a moment between your thighs, slick and heat pouring from your core. The tops of your thighs are already damp with expectancy. Your muscles clench, pressing together with angst. Eddie pries your thighs apart slightly, thumbs massaging calming circles into the flesh.

Eddie presses a kiss to your mound, stubble scratching the delicate skin ever so slightly.

"Eddie what are you doing?"

"You said I can touch you."

"Yeah, so why-"

Eddie's tongue pushes between your folds firmly, tongue bar flicking right over your clit.

The noise you make is nearly inhuman, breath knocked out of your lungs in shock. Your legs buckle at the knees, ass falling to the carpet. He takes the opportunity to wedge his head between your legs, your thighs pushed as wide as far as the narrow space allowed, stuck between the sofa and the table.

His stubble is burning the insides of your thighs, roughly rubbing against your soft skin. Eddie licks into you, pushing his tongue inside your hole. You feel the warm wetness of his thick tongue and the foreign bump of hard steel forcing shockwaves of pleasure into you. The moan he rips from you reverberates in your chest, full of want.

Eddie groans into you, tongue making it's way to your clit, running in dizzying circles. The feeling is almost too much as you buck up into him, writhing your back on the carpet.

"Oh my God, Eddie!"

You can practically feel him smirking against your dripping pussy, getting his large hands underneath your ass so he can push his face into you even further. His tongue is everywhere, eating you out messily, hungry for you. The occasional rub of steel sends your senses into overload, hips rutting shamelessly into his face.

He moves one hand from underneath you and pushes two fingers deep onto your cunt. You're on the verge of screaming, tears gathering in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure. The pressure of your desire collects in the pit of your stomach.

His fingers make you feel so full, reaching somewhere you've never been able to touch on your own. The rough sure movements of his hand so close to sending you over the edge, pussy grateful to have something to clench around.

"Eddie! Holy fuck." You cry out, an unsolicited tear spilling from your eye.

Eddie's mouth unlatches from your heat briefly.

"You gonna come, pretty girl? Come on, soak my face, that's my girl." And he's diving straight back in, tongue movements unmatched, strong fingers fucking into you. Desperate, filthy noises pour from your throat at the sudden onslaught.

Tensing up, you feel the unimaginable tight hot ball of desire suddenly drop. The feeling ignites through you like wildfire, coalescing into a burning, broken scream of his name.

Once you've chased your release as far as it could possibly take you, your back finally touches the floor again. Eddie moves away from you, sitting up, gazing at your fucked out form. Panting, flushing, sweating, you manage to look at him.

Eddie looks wild, feral, hair a mess, face covered and dripping with your slick. You can even see a wet shiny patch on his forehead. You giggle, dopey in your post orgasm haze.

"What? Have I got something on my face?" Eddie stares at you unblinking. You laugh loudly at that, pointing to where it was on his forehead. He laughs back and pulls his t shirt off, wiping his sticky face all over it before tossing it onto the sofa.

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him shirtless. Taunt, muscular frame, dark patch of hair covering his chest, matching the rough hair of his happy trail. He is littered with tattoos, some dark and bold, others lighter and faded. There's small patches of alabaster skin here and there. He's glistening, clearly having worked up a slight sweat just from the force of which he'd eaten you out. Muscles shining, catching the dim light.

He catches your lust filled stare and leans over you, caging your head with his strong arms.

"So, you wanna know why I've got the other piercing?" Sinful smirk turning his mouth up at the corners.

You crash your lips into his, throwing your arms around his neck. Desperate hands snake into his hair as you open your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie's kisses are messy but skilful, one hand moulding to the back of your head, pushing you towards him almost painfully. The need for each other is tangible, bodies colliding, rolling into one another. He sits up, pulling you along with him by the waist, tongue continuously dipping into your mouth. Finally, you break from the kiss just to breathe. It's like all the air has been sucked from the room and all you can breathe is Eddie.

He's kissing along your jaw line, down your neck; yearning, robust kisses. Heaving breaths are coming from each of you.

"Bedroom?' Eddie manages between heavy panting and pecks.

You gesture to the hall and he wastes no time in standing up, pulling you along with him, eliciting a surprised squeal from you. You wrap your legs around his waist, firm hands holding you steady, as he attempts to navigate your hallway whilst still kissing you.

Nearly tripping on your discarded jeans, he slams your back into the wall. You couldn't care less, tongue invading his mouth, pressing your naked heat against his solid bulge. His groans are so low they're almost growls, bearish and dominant. He takes the opportunity to press your form against the wall so he can pull your tank top over your head, eyes rolling back at your braless chest.

Finally, he carries you through your bedroom door, dropping you onto the bed. Unbuckling his belt and exposing himself to you for the second time today, this time he's taking his clothes off completely, standing in front of you naked in all his glory. Further tattoos cover his hairy legs, you see his thick thighs flexing. He gives you a ravening look; predacious in its delivery, with a smile that belies the lust in his eyes.

Quivering before him, he roughly widens your legs and slots his hips in between. You feel the hard shaft of his dick pressing against your slick folds, whimpering at the contact.

Hovering over you, one of his hands engulfs the side of your face, stroking down to your chin, holding you there. You stare at him open mouthed, consumed by the feeling of him rubbing up and down your wet pussy.

"You sure you want this, sweet thing?"

"Yes, Eddie please." Your voice doesn't sound like you, its smaller, meek. Your eyes plead with him.

Leaning in to you further, his hot breath whispers, deep voice on the shell of your ear. "Are you sure you can take it? Can you be a good girl for me?"

You moan loudly at him, small hands clasping at his biceps in desperation.

"Yes, please Eddie, I'll be so good for you!" You writhe underneath him.

He chuckles, biting his lip. "I knew you were into that. You got a condom?"

"No I'm on the pill, I need you, please."

"Holy shit." Eddie wastes no more time, rubbing his cock up against your entrance, strange feeling of the piercing hard against your slippery cunt.

He starts to push into you and your mouth falls open, no sound coming out. You grip his shoulders hard, trying so hard to take him. The stretch is intense. He's looking at you with concern, softer than he's ever looked at you.

"You gotta relax, my good girl, or its gonna hurt."

You nod, pupils blown, trying so hard not to clench around him. He bottoms out, the final push making you whimper.

Stroking your face, he gives you a moment to adjust.

"So fuckin' beautiful like this."

Your cheeks burn at the praise, lips enveloping his in a soft kiss.

He moves, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, a loud whine escaping from your lips. The burning feeling has been replaced with pure ecstasy. You're sure you can feel the steel of the piercing hitting that spot inside you.

Thrusting into you slowly a couple of times, you already feel pressure in your stomach, knots tied tight and begging to be released. The sensation tightens further, shoots of it flying down your legs and up your spine. You clench around him hard, moaning.

"Fuck Eddie I'm gonna cum, fuck." You pant out, eyes wide.

"Already? Shit you're gonna give me an ego."

"You already- oh God, fuck- you already have one."

He laughs loud and thrusts into you harder. Instantly you release, the ropes holding your stomach snapping. You come with a high pitched squeal of his name. You hear your wetness before you can feel it, a squelching noise resonating with each drive into your sopping cunt.

"Oh fuck, sweet thing, you squirted. Soaked me. You're- perfect" he groans. You keen at the praise.

Getting on his knees he pulls you bodily into him, slamming into you harder, hands digging at the flesh of your hips. You've never felt so full in your life, his cock piercing nudging your g spot with each thrust.

Eddie's grunting with effort, hair completely loose now, wild around his shoulders. Your fingernails bite into his flexing muscles leaving crescent moons in their wake.

"Shit, sweet thing, oh fuck."

Eddie pushes himself forcefully back on top of you, folding you in half, knees pressed against your stomach.

"Oh Eddie!" It's just so overwhelming. You're full to the brim with him, satisfaction coating your insides, eyelids coated with emotion. Tears spring out the corners of your eyes, running down your temples. You're trembling, inundated with emotion and sensation.

"Hey, hey, you ok?" He slows.

"Yes fuck please Eddie don't fucking stop!"

Grinning wickedly he thrusts into you without restraint, slamming his hip bones into the flesh of your thighs, cock breaching you like nothing ever before.

Clamping down around him, your third orgasm is an ocean; wave after wave of sinful pleasure washing over the very fabric of your being, stripping you back to your bare components and leaving you breathless, sweating, and as exposed as a raw nerve. You babble, and cry, and whine his name, eyes tight shut, utterly taken by the moment.

Eddie's plunges into you start to falter. Feeling him twitching, becoming impossibly harder inside you he comes, spilling his seed deep into your cunt. The warm, rushing feeling just expands the length of your own release, waves finally ebbing and retreating.

Eddie pulls out from you, leaving you feeling emptier than ever before. He lies on his side next to you, thumb approaching to rub a stray tear from your cheek. You're both perspiring; glowing forms gasping for air.

Finally catching some semblance of breath, he strokes your cheek again, wide grin dissipating on his face.

"You ok pretty girl?"

"Yeah you could say that." You huffed a laugh, still trying to focus on how he'd made you feel.

"But you cried?" Its a question, but he looks concerned, hands attempting to comfort you.

"It was just, so much. Too good, you know." Taking in his smirk you say "don't you let that go to your head!"

"Bit fuckin' late for that" he laughs. "C'mere."

He gathers you up in his strong arms, holding you close, and kisses you on the forehead. The affection honestly takes you by surprise, expecting him to have bolted by this point, having got what he wanted.

"Can I level with you?"

Oh shit here we go.

"I've wanted to do that since you moved in." He grins at you.

"Oh, really?" You look up at him, surprised that he'd been feeling the same as you. "Well, same. You're really hot."

He laughs and strokes your back.

"You working tomorrow?"

"No, why? Are you?"

"No. I wanna take you out somewhere, if you want." He almost looks embarrassed. Almost.

"Are you asking me out on a date Mr Munson?" You smirk at him in disbelief.

"I mean, yeah, if you wanna. Unless you just wanted this to be a one time thing, I get it, I can just leave." There's a quaver to his voice. A weakness your not used to hearing.

You stare up at him. Cocky, confident Eddie Munson, was about as unsure as you were. You giggle.

"I'd love to go on a date with you." Smiling, you attempt to hide it into his inked chest.

"So, wanna take a shower?"

"Well" you say, leaning up on your elbow, "we could. Or..."

"Or what, sweet thing?" He rubs your arm, furrowing his brow.

"Or, we could do that again."

Tag list (please reblog this fic if you want to stay in the tags ILY ❤)

@angelsarecallin @cutiecusp @pxrxcxa @spencerinmydrawls @munsquinns @sillypurplemurple @tiannamortis @walleloveseve @sinczir @biblichornerd @frogers @lauraasiain @madiisixx @leftdonkeygothgoop-blog @rafestarkeysblog @kittykatvenom @southside-serpent-bae @psychedelicsandsunsalutations @biblichornerd @angelina16torres-blog @ocean-of-rage @kirksslut @venisvendetta @pretty-vulture @munsonology @miss-nothing29 @lady-jane3 @eddiemunsonwife222 @reidslittlegenius213 @sombodynotimportant @mystars123 @bloodsuccaaa @rabbitsf00t @scrumplump @crazylove-69 @wonderfulw0rldx @ifiwereazombie @spencerinmydrawls @athenamunson1 @soggycinnamonroll @skunknuts-wine @residentdreamy @ab05 @janaedaze @midmare2000 @pollenallergie @spiderlily02 @eddiemunsonsbedroom @gumballsglassofmilk @gnomesboi3002 @kiwi-bitchez @mangodrgnfruit @skinij3fx @6charly66 @50shadesofuncomfortable @fvckpretty @the-fairy-anon @spooks97 @figsfigsfigs @cutiecusp @cherrychilli @devilinthepalemoonlite @magnificantmermaid @chickpeadumpsterfire @lightvixxen @eddiemunsonfuxks @corrodedhawkins @munson-blurbs @indouloureux @eddiemunsonsheart @eddiesprincess86

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ioniiaa · 3 months

Text

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 4:

From here on out, you saw Alastor almost every single night. You felt brighter and Alastor definitely felt a change in you too. He wouldn't pry, for as long as you were happy, he was happy too.

The nightly meetings occurred for a month or two before one night, you saw Alastor and Mimzy chat before he came over to see you. Mimzy had finally told him that the reason that you were at the bar every night was because you were staying with her for the time being until you could find a place to live.

Alastor couldn't deny his affection for you any longer after hearing about your situation. He knew what he had to do. He had to make you his.

With a confidence like no one has ever seen before, Alastor twirls you around to face him, away from the patron you were helping serve drinks to.

He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, "My dear (y/n), I must ask you to accompany me to my home tonight. There is something I must ask of you."

A rush of blush appears on your cheeks, a reaction that he often and easily elicits from you. You nod in confirmation, speechless, mind racing at what he could possibly want to ask you.

Sure enough, Mimzy witnesses this encounter and walks up to you two "Alrighty, alrighty, I think we've all seen enough! (Y/N), you're done for the night! Get out of here you two!"

Bewildered, you look at Alastor. He held his arm out to you to hold on to, "Shall we head home, my dear?" Without any hesitation, you link your arm through his as he escorts you through the dimly lit streets back to a small home on the outskirts of town. It was secluded, bordering a forest.

"We have arrived, welcome, to my humble abode dear (y/n)"

After a small tour of the house, the two of you sit down on the couch in his living room. You turn yourself towards him "Your home is so lovely, Alastor. But.. what did you want to ask me?"

A gentle smile and expression creeps up onto his face, "Ah yes, I was enjoying your company so much that I nearly forgot!"

He tilts his head slightly and leans in towards you as he asks, "(y/n), it would be my honor for you to call this your home as well."

Alastor stands up and paces around the living room while he talks, "When Mimzy informed me of your plight, I couldn't resist taking you home with me. For you see, I am quite fond of you my dear."

You shoot up from the couch and immediately hug Alastor, "Oh my stars, I would love nothing more than to live with you, Alastor! It is no secret I am very fond of you as well."

Taken aback by the sudden contact of the hug, it takes him a second to adjust before reciprocating the hug, "My dearest love, I will do everything to make you happy."

From this point forward, you spend many happy months together, painting many a painting out of love for him, helping assist his radio shows, and still occasionally heading into town to pay Mimzy a visit.

It was almost pure bliss. Until one fateful night many months later.

-> Part 5

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #fanfic #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin #hazbin alastor #radio demon #alastor x y/n #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x female reader #fem reader

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riwriwaseem10 · 2 years

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#jenna mcdougall #artists on tumblr #tonight alive #art #skethes

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hyunsvngs · 9 months

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𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 - hwang hyunjin x gn!afab reader

wc: 5.3k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: casual sex w no strings attached, reader is afab but no gender-specific language/pronouns are used, background reader x minho, smut warnings under the cut.

synopsis: it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

a/n: part four of our fratboy series, hot bitch summer!!! i really hope you all enjoy this bc i'm completely in love with our sweet, sensitive, artsy, pervy fratboy hyunjin <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, nude painting and photography, mutual masturbation, cumswapping, casual sex, a little bit of bickering, mentions of male x male sexual activity, very poetic descriptions of many types of genitals, hyunjin is a pervy little boy but still very lovely.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn't know if you'd ever seen the frat house this quiet. Even with the red solo cups littering the coffee table, hoodies and shirts strewn over furniture, clear remnants of a recent rager, the place was almost peaceful. That was probably because it was mostly empty, though. Minho and Felix were helping out at the dance studio they frequented, Chan and Changbin were at the gym. Jisung was napping, which contributed to most of the peace and quiet. Jeongin was away visiting family, and you had no idea where Seungmin was - that man remained a mystery.

Hyunjin, however, was lounging on the couch in the lounge, sketchbook in his arms. It appeared that he would be your target for tonight. You leaned on the back of the sofa, looking over the boy's shoulder. "What are you drawing?"

Hyunjin yelped, clutching his sketchpad to his chest. "Jesus, Y/N! You scared the life out of me. I didn’t even know you were here tonight."

You couldn't help but laugh at the absolute terror that had flashed in his eyes when he looked back at you. You really hadn't meant to ambush him - honestly - but it had been entertaining nonetheless. "Sorry, Hyunjin," you apologised, not sounding very sorry at all. You reached over his shoulder and tapped his book. "Can I see?"

"Um. No." He clutched the notebook closer to his chest. “Not this one.”

You rested your forearms on the back of the couch, leaning next to him. "How come? Are you shy?"

"I'm not shy." He was looking ahead, but you didn't need to see him. You could hear the eye-roll in his voice.

"Show me then!" you insisted, prodding his shoulder gently.

"This one is private, okay?"

"Private?" You fake-gasped. "Hyunjin, are you drawing dirty things? Are you a porn artist?"

"What? No!" He squirmed at the accusation.

"You're drawing nasty things, aren't you Hyunjin! It's not hentai, is it? Tentacle porn?" In all honesty, you wouldn't have cared, or judged him at all. But it was funny to play with him.

“Obviously not! I’m not Jisung.”

You snorted at his quip. “Okay, well… are there any drawings I can see?”

He pondered for a moment. “I guess so. You really wanna see?”

“Of course.” You knew Hyunjin was studying fine art, and you were aware that he spent the majority of his time in the makeshift art studio he called a bedroom, but you hadn’t really seen much of his work.

When he led you up there, you immediately understood why he’d want to spend his hours here. It was a cosy respite from the chaos that so regularly consumed the rest of the house. Strings of fairy lights came alive at the touch of a button, casting a warm glow on the space. An easel sat in the corner of the room, and most surfaces were lightly cluttered with various art supplies; notebooks, paintbrushes, pencils, as well as a few completed works. There was a vase of what looked like lavender; you breathed in and the scent confirmed it, sweet and gentle.

“Take a seat,” Hyunjin murmured, before rifling through a pile of books. He tossed one into your lap as you sat on his bed, although you were a bit more preoccupied with watching him move around the room. He did everything so elegantly, despite his extra-long limbs; it wasn’t hard to tell he was a dancer. He sifted through a box of records, his fingers flipping through them deftly, before setting up a pale blue record player. You turned your attention to the book in your lap.

It seemed to be full of off-handed sketches. They were absolutely gorgeous, but you could tell he’d done them absent-mindedly as he observed the world around him. There was one of Felix and Jisung, cuddling on the couch. A sight you’d seen many times before, you had no doubt it had turned to play-fighting before Hyunjin had even finished his drawing. You flipped the page. A sketch of Changbin curling a weight, his bicep bulging - if Hyunjin had followed the man to the gym just to observe and draw him, you truly understood. You couldn’t help but gasp, as you turned the page once more. You and Minho, standing in the kitchen together, his arms wrapped around you as you beamed. You remembered the moment. He’d been attempting to make lunch, but you’d been rather successful at distracting him.

“Hyunjin, these are so beautiful,” you told him honestly, your heart swelling at the charm with which he captured such everyday moments.

He thanked you, looking a little bashful.

You took a break from flipping through his drawings to survey him for a moment.. He was different when he was sober. Most of the time you'd spent with him, he was near-blackout drunk - utterly white-girl wasted. He was the life of the party, really. Loud, giggly, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Maybe he was just one of those people who took some time to warm up to someone, you considered. You didn't doubt this, but beyond that…

He just seemed so gentle. So sensitive, so sweet.

"You're… not the typical fratboy, are you?"

Hyunjin looked over at you from the other side of the room. His eyes were so round, so innocent-looking. "What do you mean?"

You paused, choosing your words carefully. "You're just so lovely, Hyunjin." He blushed, looking away from you and resuming what he was doing - lighting a candle? - but he didn't speak. "Some of the other boys… great guys, don't get me wrong. But they have such fuckboy energy. Not you, though, Hyunjin. You're so sweet."

"Hmm," he hummed, appearing to think on your words. "I guess so. But…" he trailed off.

"But?" you asked. "I don't believe there's a but. Not with you, Hwang Hyunjin."

His voice was barely above a whisper, hardly louder than the scratching of his pencil. "I'm still a man, Y/N."

You blinked. "Well, I've noticed that."

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm just saying… men are all the same. Even if some seem nicer."

You placed the book on his bed, your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out what the fuck he was trying to say. "What are you getting at, Hyunjin?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, okay? Let's leave it at that."

You hummed. "I don't want to leave it at that. I feel like you're hiding something now, and I wanna know what it is." Hyunjin stayed quiet, although you saw his jaw tense, noticed his cheeks redden. "So, if I shouldn't judge a book by its cover… does that mean you're not the sweet, kind, artsy boy I thought you were?"

"Well, no. I am those things. I'm just… other things, too."

“Other things?” you asked. You watched him light another candle. The cogs in your brain turned a mile a minute, trying to read the situation. The fairy lights, the candles, the record turning quietly. It all felt so sensual. He wasn’t trying to set the mood, was he? In all fairness, the boys had been constantly joking about how you were fucking your way around the whole frat. And it wasn’t even really a joke. You decided to test the waters. “Hyunjin, do you mean… you’re a little dirty?”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose so.”

“You’re a horrible pervy man? Who brought me up to his room to have his way with me?”

Hyunjin jumped. “What? No! I brought you up here to hang out. And look at my drawings. I’m not trying to take advantage of you!”

You partly believed him. You chuckled. “What if I like dirty pervy boys, though?”

“Fine,” Hyunjin mumbled. He picked up the book he had been drawing in downstairs, a plain black, very nondescript sketchpad. He brought it to you, dropping it in your lap before going to the chair by his easel, sitting down and looking away from you. You looked at him expectantly, but soon realised you weren’t going to get anything more from him.

You shrugged and opened up the book.

Oh. He really was a dirty boy.

You'd never in your life seen such a varied array of vulvas. Drawings, paintings, doodles. Shaved, trimmed, hairy. Innies, outies. Small, button-like clits, more enlarged ones. He didn't seem to discriminate at all - the man was pussy-obsessed. You flipped through a few pages, admiring the pussies like a field of flowers. Hyunjin's non-vagina art was beautiful, but he'd clearly found his calling here.

“So you are a porn artist?”

Hyunjin glared at you. “It’s not porn,” he said scornfully. “It’s art.”

"But, you must watch a ton of porn? For research?" The air quotes you put around research earned you a scathing gaze.

"I don't watch porn at all," Hyunjin stated with a roll of his eyes. "And ninety-nine percent of the time, when guys say that it's a lie. But I'm the one percent, promise. I mainly use erotic photography, for references. Or paint from memory."

"From memory? You must be some kinda pussy expert."

"Well, you're a dick expert, from what I've heard," Hyunjin murmured, just a little too loud to be under his breath.

You couldn't help but cackle. "God, you're a bitch."

Hyunjin smirked, before reassuring you, "I'm not judging, by the way. By all means, keep going."

"Thank you for giving me your permission, Hyunjin."

"Not what I meant and you know it."

You shrugged, and returned to flipping through the book. "I like this one," you mumbled. The model's legs were parted, dainty fingers spreading their labia. Stretch marks streaked across their inner thighs, pubic hair wild and untamed. These drawings, they were all so real. It made you wonder what you'd look like, through his eyes. How would he draw your lips, what would your clitoris look like sketched out by his hand? How would he look, as he painted your most intimate area? Would he study you closely? Would he lick his lips in concentration, would he peer at you as he tried to envision how you felt, tasted, smelled? Would he touch himself, later, thinking about what's between your legs?

You decided to cut to the chase.

"Have you ever had a live model before?"

Hyunjin looked like he was about to combust. He looked at you, mouth agape, and you could tell he was trying to determine whether he'd heard you correctly. "I've… I've never had the opportunity."

You smiled at him sweetly. You loved the way he made you feel as though you were bestowing a blessed opportunity upon him. You had blown his mind with the mere implication that you might let him see you naked.

"Do you want a live model?"

He nodded, still looking absolutely bewildered that you'd even offer. You didn't know why he was so surprised - you didn't exactly have a representation as a prude. You had openly fucked three of his friends in the last week, and here he was, utterly mystified by the idea of simply looking at your pussy.

You laughed at him, gently. "C'mon then, artist. Get your easel."

"Right - yeah. Let me just - get everything set up."

Hyunjin turned, and you saw how hurried his actions were as he rooted through drawers, gathering his supplies. You supposed you'd better get yourself ready, too.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he told you, raking through a box of pencils.

"I want to." God, you really did. The rumours were true; you were, in fact, looking to conquer the entire fraternity.

Hyunjin picked up his easel from the corner of the room, and finally turned back to you. "Oh. You're… naked."

You looked up at him from the bed, where you perched on the edge with your legs crossed. "Well. You're painting my pussy."

He looked absolutely lost. "I didn't expect to see your… I didn't know you'd take your shirt off."

You chuckled. "What am I, Winnie the fucking Pooh? Anyways, I didn't think you'd be so surprised by nudity, given the fact you draw genitals as a hobby."

Hyunjin merely nodded, before setting the canvas on the easel and spreading numerous pencils and what looked like oil pastels on a small table beside it.

"Hey, Hyunjin. Look at me for a second." He did, hesitantly. "Relax a little, okay? It's all fine."

He nodded again. "I know." He didn't sound sure. He was clearly nervous, which was understandable. But you wondered what it was, exactly, about the situation that was stressing him. Was he overthinking whether this would lead to sex? He wanted it, you could tell. Surely he knew that you wanted it too? Maybe you'd need to make your intentions clearer.

You sat quietly as Hyunjin worked. He brought a small lamp over, positioning it beside the bed. You watched as he tied his hair into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, gathering a few strands that had escaped and tucking them behind his ears. He was so pretty, even when he wasn't all dolled up.

"Okay," Hyunjin breathed. "Ready when you are."

"Where do you want me?" you asked, and yet again, he looked ready to explode.

"Anywhere's fine. As long as I can see it - you." He cleared his throat. "As long as you're comfortable. That's the most important thing."

You leaned back on your elbows, and slowly spread your legs. Hyunjin looked upon you, mesmerised. His eyes were sparkling. This was how a man would look at a work of art, Michelangelo's David perhaps. This was how a man would gaze out across Nepal, having reached Everest's peak. This was how a man would look upon a real, honest-to-god miracle, a biblically accurate angel come to deliver the news that he is the messiah. That was how Hwang Hyunjin looked at a pussy. God, he really was a perv.

After minutes of scrutiny, during which you'd never felt so fucking visible, he turned to the easel and began his sketch.

He spoke up again, after a few minutes of working. “I don’t mean to overstep, but…”

“You just spent at least three straight minutes staring directly into my vagina,” you stated. “Say whatever you wanna say.”

“What’s actually going on between you and Minho?”

You wished you knew how to answer that. “I guess it’s hard to explain. We haven’t really discussed anything properly.” You thought for a few moments. “I’m sleeping around, obviously, but at the end of each day, I go back to him. That’s all there is to it, really.”

He peered over at you, curious. “So, it’s true then?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

“You’re sleeping your way around the frat?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you’re having fun?”

“Well, obviously. You’re all hot as fuck,” you admitted outright.

Hyunjin nodded. “I get it. We’re a pretty fun group of guys to fuck. You haven’t fucked Seungmin yet, right?”

You blinked at him. “No. Not yet… to be honest, I don’t know if Seungmin’s even interested.”

Hyunjin waved a hand at you, dismissing your concerns. “Seungmin’s just like that, don’t worry. Anyways, look forward to it - that’ll be a fun one.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. That seemed like a strange thing for a man to say about his friend. Unless… “You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Hyunjin.”

“Duh,” Hyunjin said, as if it was obvious. “You said it yourself, we’re all hot as fuck. Most of us fuck around with each other, from time to time. It’d be a wasted opportunity if we didn’t, really.”

You took a moment to absorb this. You couldn’t believe neither Felix nor Jisung had ever mentioned this to you. Traitorous bastards. They’d been fucking around with their stupid hot friends this whole time, and hadn’t even invited you to watch, or join? They were sick in the head, both of them.

You went quiet, letting Hyunjin sketch.

There were many beautiful things in this world. Sensual, erotic, carnally beautiful things. The curve of an erection, the tightly-wound curls at its base, heavy hanging balls which almost looked like a heart, when caught in the right position. But this? Hyunjin, leaning over his easel, chewing on his lip as he deliberated over the perfect way to capture you on page. This was something else. This was beauty redefined.

It occured to you that it was impossible to hide anything from him. This took wearing your heart on your sleeve to a new level. He was privy to every one of your desires; he'd see liquid arousal drip from your hole, he'd watch as your clit slowly swelled. And if he took a moment to look away from your pussy (although he was so completely entranced that you didn't know if he'd be capable of it) he may even notice your nipples hardening, your pupils blown out with desire. He'd see just how much you wanted, needed him.

Although, by the looks of it, he was starting to get rather needy himself. His sweatpants were tented, though he was clearly trying to hide it, forearm draped over his crotch. You watched intently, trying to gain as much intel as you could from your obscured view. It looked big - that was about all you could gather.

"Maybe you should just take those off," you chanced.

Hyunjin looked at you, surprised.

"Your trousers. They look like they're getting a little uncomfortable. And maybe it'd be less weird if we were both naked anyways?"

Hyunjin put his pencil down, giving you an accusatory look. "You just want to see me naked."

You grinned brazenly. "Obviously."

Hyunjin laughed. "You are so shameless. Fine, have it your way."

Satisfied, you watched as he pulled off his shirt. Vast planes of tanned skin revealed themselves to you, and you fought not to drool. He was far from the muscular beast Changbin was, but he was surprisingly toned. Curved biceps, lightly defined abs, sweet little pecs with the loveliest pink nipples. So many places to kiss, lick, suck. And that was before he'd even taken his trousers off.

He stood, and as he tugged down his trousers, you could've sworn that his dick sprung back up with enough force to knock you out. You kind of wanted it to knock you out. It had a beautiful curve to it, not quite as thick as some that you'd seen recently - your mind flitted back to Changbin and his coke-can cock - but it was still undoubtedly long enough to ruin your pussy. And so fucking pretty. Your eyes scanned him slowly; the tip was the prettiest shade of pink, the long smooth shaft, the perfectly round, clean-shaven balls. He was perfect.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, snapping you out of your staring. He didn't meet your gaze, but you could tell he wasn't too shy. He knew how beautiful he was, and he was used to people staring.

You simply smirked at him. "Keep drawing, boy."

You felt your clit begin to throb - you couldn’t help it. You burned under his gaze each time he looked back at you studiously. You knew what Hyunjin was like, with his art. Although you were both clearly desperate, he would continue drawing for hours, putting off the inevitable pleasure that you both craved, in pursuit of his next masterpiece before he let you both indulge. If you wanted his touch, you would have to intervene.

It took him a surprising amount of time to notice that you were stroking your clit. He was peering at the canvas, eyes narrowed. You could tell he took his craft seriously. It was admirable, but incredibly frustrating when you needed him to just turn his head ever so slightly.

"Oh."

There it was.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at you with a blank stare. He looked you in the eyes, rather than in the crotch.

"Enjoying the view," you repeated, inserting a finger and spreading the wetness across your clit.

Hyunjin turned back to the canvas, apparently unperturbed, but you saw his dick twitch. You had him. You continued to circle your clit gently, letting out a soft moan as you did so.

Hyunjin snickered under his breath. "Screw you," he whispered, his hand wrapping around his length gently. Still, though, he didn't stop drawing. You watched as he stroked himself, torturously slow, head slowly disappearing into his fist before reappearing once more, all the while leaning over the easel.

And you'd thought Minho had been a master of restraint. Hyunjin was different, though. He wasn't hiding how much he needed this. He was perfectly happy to show you his rock hard, leaking cock. More than happy to jerk off languidly before you. But he was also making it clear that he wasn't going to rush into anything. He'd sit there and paint all night, if you let him.

Of course you wouldn't let him.

"Oh, put the fucking pencil down."

He met this with less resistance than you expected, and didn't hesitate, even for a moment. "Fine, but I really do want to finish this painting soon." He turned in his seat to face you, fucking into his fist as he watched you.

You shuddered under your own touch, fingers swiping over your bundle of nerves and sending jolts throughout your body. Your pleasure felt so heightened, as you watched the man before you. His hands were gorgeous, veins popping out as he stroked himself, long fingers wrapped around his member. His balls swung gracefully as he did so - how did he do everything with such elegance?

You thought about how he might feel inside you. His dick was so long, you knew he’d hit all the spots you needed him to. You knew he’d be princely and refined, even while fucking you. Even when he reaches his peak, when cum spurts out of that gorgeous pink tip, even if he lost his composure… he’d do it with poise.

You could hardly take it any more. “I need you, Hyunjin.”

“But I’m having so much fun watching,” he said, his voice hoarse - he sounded so fucked out already.

You groaned. “You’ll have more fun fucking me, and you know it.”

Hyunjin grinned as he shook his head, but showed no resistance. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, his long, slender fingers gripping you by the hips and dragging you towards the edge of the bed. “You ready for it?”

“More than ready, fuck, please.”

Hyunjin pushed the tip of his dick inside you, ever so slowly. You sighed happily; there was that feeling you craved. Centimetre by centimetre, he entered you deeper, gradually filling you up more and more. Eventually, when his hips ground into yours, when he was fully buried inside you, he let out the sweetest whine you’d ever heard.

You couldn’t help but grin at the sound. “That feel good, pretty boy?”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he fixated on the feeling. The slow pace was agonising, the drag of his cock against your g-spot positively electric. He was fucking you as if it was an art form, as if his dick was a paintbrush and you were his canvas. And, fuck, he was a master of his craft.

“Legs up, baby. I need to get deeper.” His voice was low, strained. You did as he instructed, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. “God, that’s good.”

Had anyone ever fucked you this deeply before? You weren’t sure. Although, to be fair, you weren’t certain you knew your own name, at that point. All you could see were stars, and the angel of the man above you. He pulled himself all the way out, until the head of his dick was barely inside you, before plunging back inside, slowly, slowly. Each time, he pressed up against your cervix, and it hurt, but fuck, it felt so good.

The room was hot, the air heavy. Sweat was dripping from Hyunjin’s forehead and landing on your skin. You were consumed with his scent, lavender and fresh cotton, You were covered in him, you felt his touch on every inch of your body, surrounded by soft moans from both yourself and him.

His hands explored your body as he fucked you. They tasted your thighs, squeezing gently. They caressed your hips, your waist, your hips, your chest. He handled you so gently, treating you with the utmost care. You could picture him so clearly, manoeuvring a delicate statue, arranging flowers in a vase, manipulating clay on a pottery wheel. He treated you with the exact same respect and admiration.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, babe.” He thrusted hard, but still so slow. “So fucking beautiful.”

Hyunjin looked down to the site where your bodies joined. He was enthralled, eyes fixated on the sight of himself disappearing inside you.

“Can I - shit -” His hands were shaking slightly, as he caressed your stomach. “Can I get out my camera? Just - fuck - just to take some reference photos. I need to paint you over and over, please-” His words trailed off into a whine.

You nodded. “Of course.”

He pulled out, and you gasped, feeling a sudden emptiness.

“Hurry,” you whimpered, as he gathered his equipment. He returned to you, kneeling before you and capturing the sight before him. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate to have him inside you once more. He didn’t leave you waiting too long fortunately, sliding his dick back inside you, snapping more photos as he did so, still moving at that lazy, unhurried tempo. It drove you crazy. It felt amazing, of course. He was hitting all the right places, sending shivers down your spine and spreading butterflies throughout your tummy. But with a dick that perfect, you wanted him to thoroughly destroy you.

“Put your fucking camera away and fuck me properly,” you urged him.

Hyunjin smirked down at you. “Minho wasn’t lying. You really do get bratty and impatient.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking rail me before I throw you on this bed and take things into my own hands.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head as he put his camera safely on his desk. “Relax, hon, I’ll fuck you.” He returned to the bed, looming over you with a teasing smile. “Are you sure you’re ready? You sure you can take it?”

“So help me god, Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t-”

Hyunjin swiftly cut you off, thrusting deep inside you. Your words trailed off into a high-pitched squeak. Sassy as he was, he did as he was told; he fucked you hard, pounding into you powerfully. One of his hands gripped your thigh, holding it close to him, the other tweaking your nipple, sending yet more bliss running through your system.

“You’re so fucking tight, hon,” Hyunjin rasped. So you’d heard.

“Keep fucking me, Hyunjin - fuck me harder!” You gazed upon his slender frame, tanned skin glistening with sweat. Maybe it was just because he was fucking you so well, but you could’ve sworn he was a real live angel, an almighty being. No person was this beautiful - no human being fucked this well.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long I can last like this,” Hyunjin grunted. He had a dark look in his eye.

“Cum then,” you encouraged him, “Give me your cum, baby.”

He shook his head. “Not until you cum first.” What a gentleman.

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it, the perfect amount of pressure. It was pushing you over the edge, embarrassingly quickly. You felt your heart rate rise, your skin begin to tingle. Your climax was approaching - you felt it throughout your whole body.

“Hyunjin - Hyunjin!”

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he coaxed you.

“I’m cumming!” With your announcement, it crashed over you like a wave. It exploded out from your core, white heat shooting through your entire body, coursing through your veins. You distantly heard yourself babbling Hyunjin’s name, although you couldn’t say you were quite lucid enough to be aware of it. All you knew were the fireworks spreading from your pussy, sparks erupting, setting you alight.

“You’re clenching around me so tight,” Hyunjin whined. “Shit - Y/N!”

He pulled out, gripping his dick at its base, crying out as he painted your pussy, shooting his cum across your folds. You watched intently as the hot white spurts landed on your clit, your lips, dripping down towards your asshole.

“There we go, baby,” you sighed, catching your breath.

Hyunjin kneeled before you, also panting with exertion. He leaned in, locking his eyes with yours before licking a gentle stripe across your clit. He hummed. “Tastes good. Wanna taste?” You nodded, wide-eyed. He delved in, licking and sucking, and you moaned at the sensation on your oversensitive parts. He sucked on your clit, swiped his tongue through your folds, spread your cheeks and licked at your asshole. You couldn’t help but squeal.

He stood, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks gently, forcing your mouth open. You stuck out your tongue compliantly, waiting for the salty substance to reach you. He allowed it to dribble from his tongue slowly, landing in your mouth.

Hyunjin pulled away. “Don’t swallow. Stick out your tongue, let me see.” You complied, and he picked up his camera once more, snapping more shots of you. Your face, this time, rather than your genitals. “Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.

He put the camera down. “You can swallow now - I know you want to.” He sat on the bed beside you, lounging back, and you cuddled into his side. You watched as he clicked through the photos he’d taken; your dripping wet pussy, his dick teasing your entrance, burying itself inside you. Cum dripping down your clit, decorating you. Your face, eyes hazy, looking beyond fucked-out, tongue coated in the tangy mix of Hyunjin’s cum and spit.

“We should blow this one up and hang it in the hall,” Hyunjin remarked.

You snickered weakly, tired as you slumped against the man. “You boys would like that, huh? You’re all obsessed with me.”

“And for good reason. I see what the hype is about.” Hyunjin kissed your forehead softly. It was so tender - this was a no-strings-attached hook-up, nobody was under any illusions here. But it seemed that everything he did, every action he carried out towards anyone, was so filled with love.

“Hype? What do you guys say about me, when I’m not here?”

“That would be telling,” Hyunjin responded slyly. “Let’s just say, you’ve gotten some pretty good reviews.”

You yawned. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Who’s next then, hm?” he asked.

“That would be telling,” you responded with a mocking tone. “I’m tired. You want me to stay here tonight, Hyune?”

“It’s okay, hon. Go crawl into Minho’s bed, he should be home soon.”

You sat up, kissing Hyunjin’s pretty, plump lips. “Thank you for giving me a good time tonight, Hyunjin.”

He smiled. “Thank you for being my muse.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When Minho returned home to find you curled up in his bed, you were barely awake, but still hanging on to your consciousness.

“Hey there, sleepy.”

“Hey, Minho.”

He paused, looking at you, eyes narrowed. “I know that smile. Who have you been with tonight, then?”

You gave him a smug grin. “Guess.”

“Not Jisung again?” He got into bed beside you, looking amused as he wrapped his arms around your frame. “You haven’t even showered, babe. I can smell Hyunjin on you.”

“You’re so good at this game,” you said, your voice slurred with tiredness.

Minho pulled you closer, kissing your neck from behind and making you sigh contentedly. He pulled you closer, and you felt his length press into you from behind - was he getting hard, thinking about you and his friend together? Was he imagining fucking you, with the scent of Hyunjin’s sweat still marking your skin?

He whispered in your ear, confirming your suspicions. “Are you too tired for another round?”

You turned around in his arms, eyes twinkling. “Never.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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dabisbratz · 11 months

Text

𝒮𝒰𝒞𝒦𝐸𝑅-𝒫𝒰𝒩𝒞𝐻 ! — toji fushiguro x male reader

w.c: 3.9k

warning: boxer!toji, size difference/kink, daddy kink, bottom!reader, manhandling, fingering, light feminization, light crossdressing ( ? ), unprotected sex, creampie, praise/degradation, oral sex, size queen ( king? )! reader, impact play ( slapping ), light choking, descriptions of violence (boxing) & blood, hair pulling, tummy bulge, spit, cliffhanger, breeding kink

sonny says..! a lot of ppl think tummy bulges in fics = skinny reader, but when i write them in s’not true for m’fics ! the reader has no body-type descriptions, it’s really jus that toji’s so big he makes one. your body is perfect the way it is, n fanfiction is !! not !! realistic!!

Fushiguro’s got a thing for adrenaline.

It gets his blood pumping— literally and figuratively. It gets him bouncing from one foot to another before his match even begins, his body shakes with uncontrollable tremors and he has to grit his pearly teeth to keep them from chattering. He feels it coursing through his veins, thick and steady as it pumps through with each passing beat of his heart, and he’s never felt more alive.

It gets his heart beating. Loud and rushed in his ears as the sound joins cheering fans in their symphony, muffled by the doors that separate backstage from the ring. Yet he can still hear it, the loud, constant cheer of ‘Toji! Toji! Toji!’ bouncing off his eardrums and straight to his racing heart. It’s almost incomparable.

He knows you’ll be watching tonight, back at home surrounded by memorabilia that reminds you solely of him and his success— his accomplishments and trophies. But you’re the best of them all, his boy, sitting pretty by the sofa as you flick on the tv to watch your man take home another. To say he’s excited would be childish.

He’s over the fucking moon.

“Fushiguro,” It’s his coach speaking, something incoherent in comparison to everything else— the inky black strands of hair already sticking to his forehead, the sight of his veins cascading up his forearm just to reappear thick in his biceps, his freshly bandaged hands being painted with chalk. But he hears it anyway. The man is quick to whip his head to the side, an intense shadow in his lime eyes that has his support team shivering. “Not too much this time.”

Right. Because last time he’d let himself get a little carried away. It was the atmosphere of it all, hanging heavy in the air as he sent punch after punch after punch into the guy, one headshot after another. And sure, maybe he went too far, but at least he never went for the back of the head.

See, Toji considers himself a capable man. He’s big, he’s strong, he’s got it figured out whatever they choose to believe in him or not. And, in the long haul, he’s got it. He’s who the fans turn to, who the reporters question; he’s the headlining artist. He’s the one who gets the title, the belts, the awards, the boy. If his opponent can’t handle a few punches to the face, that's their fault for signing up.

“I got it.” He says, teeth peeking from his plump, pink lips until they’re on display, predatory. And he means it.

The arena is big. A large stadium with an even larger venue meant to pack what looks like at least half of Japan’s population. Smack dab in the middle sits the ring, with black, padded turnbuckles and four crimson ropes. Getting thrown onto the ring ground feels like concrete, solid and rough on any skin that touches it. It’s unforgiving, it’s violent. It’s permanent, and every fight could well be Toji’s last.

But that might just be why he loves it.

His chest heaves violently, large intakes of air through his nose and out through his mouth as he pounds his gloved fist against his gloved palm. His lips part, salty and sheen with sweat as water squirts into his waiting mouth, dripping down his chin and cascading down his chest. He looks good despite it all— the bleeding lip and bruised cheek. It makes the scar on his lip look fresh, freshly split open, and he can’t help but prod at it with his tongue. In the crowd, you wonder if he feels as though it’s been reopened.

“Remember the formation,” It’s garbled through the shouting, the cheering, the pounding in his ears. He can’t quite remember anything, boxing just isn’t that type of thing for him. It’s not algorithmic, he doesn’t have to remember or practice a routine, it’s muscle memory. It’s natural. “You hear me, Scarface?”

“Loud n’ clear.” Though it’s gone through one ear and out the other.

It looks like he’s losing. He’s gotten a few good hits in, caused a few nosebleeds, but his attacks to the body just haven’t been cutting it. His opponent, the smug bastard of a man, with blond hair and woodsy brown eyes may not look as bad as Fushiguro does, but he looks just as tired. He can’t have that, no, not when you’re at home watching. Not when the jumbotrons are broadcasting in front of hundreds and thousands of fans.

There’s a pat on his back that has Toji jolting forward, more on his own volition, but if anyone asks he’ll blame it on that anyway. Because he feels it now, the pent up tenacity bubbling through his veins and straight to his fists as he bares his teeth and stares down his opponent. It’s not like he’s trying to look intimidating— Toji’s a big man. He towers over most, even if they’re in the same weight category. He’s just big, with broad shoulders and an equally broad chest. With a broad rib cage that dips at his waist and widens back at his hips, then travels down his thick, strong thighs and legs.

And, fuck, if his tired-looking opponent isn’t as strong. He throws strong punches that land square center, almost enough to have Toji stumbling. They’ve got matching, blooming bruises. Matching cuts, and Fushiguro swears if he has to watch the blond stretch between matches one more time he’ll knock himself out.

And then he hears it. He does, really— he knows it’s real because he’s fucking hard. His boy, his sweet boy, somewhere in the crowd chanting his name. The only name that ever leaves his lips, sweet as honey whether it’s being moaned or screamed— whether it’s serious or in a fit of boyish giggles. You’re watching. In person. . . In the stadium, you’re watching.

Toji’s cock twitches in his shorts and he’s never felt more grateful for protective cups in his life.

When he walks through the door the air changes.

There’s a small murmur of ‘I’m home, pretty.’ that’s deep and gravelly, accompanied by the sounds of duffel bags falling to the floor with a sharp thud. Toji’s hands look so big as he runs them through his hair, freshly bandaged and flexing effortlessly. How rough would they feel against your ass. . ? You can’t help but imagine his strong hands squeezing and groping your body, his palm cracking down on your ass as he holds you still by your waist alone.

He must catch onto your presence by the hitch of your breath, because the moment he opens his eyes they’re on you. You feel like prey, blinking rapidly as you watch him stalk over despite still wearing his shoes. He’s going to eat you alive, you’re sure of it, his green eyes narrowing as he tugs on the collar of his black compression shirt.

“Hi.” You start, unsure of what to say. It always comes naturally to you— talking to your boyfriend, his overwhelming presence, being able to talk to him despite how intimidating he seems. But now he’s got you stumbling over your words, staring at you in thick silence that makes you want to bury your face in his chest until he says something.

His eyes slowly roam your body, taking in your clothes with a sharp intake of breath through his teeth.Your legs feel like jelly, of course they do, wobbly and malleable and suddenly cold because of all the breeze they’re getting. Right, you’d rushed home to put on your prettiest outfit— a reward for the man. For the champion.

Though pretty might not be the word for it. Sure, it is, but skimpy is much more appropriate. With lace and ribbons and garters on each of your thighs, you’re a sight for sore eyes. The prettiest boy he’s ever seen, leaving little to his imagination (not that he needs it anyway, he’s seen you naked a thousand times over) and stumbling over your own legs with his gaze alone. It makes him want to pull out his phone and replace his lockscreen (already you, but much more innocent). Toji tilts his head to the side, a sharp grin growing on his handsome face.

“This all for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Whether it’s subconscious or not, watching his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips makes you swallow down a whine, squirming where you stand. Your boyfriend, big as ever, bends at his waist to fully tower over you, emerald irises darkening with something that has your stomach twisting and lurching. He’s seen it then, his very first gold medal adorning your neck.

“Toji!” You squeal, chirping in his ears as he whips you around and backs you into a corner. So cute, you look so cute wearing one of his medals. It adorns your pretty neck and glints under the light, his name encrusted into the gold. Like a collar, of sorts.

“Pretty baby,” He purrs in response, swapping the names with his fist curled around the medal, pulling you closer. The grin etched across his face shows nothing but pride, swelling in his chest and glinting over his sharp teeth. “What’d I say about comin’ to my matches?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, shaking your head before he stalks forward to close the gap between your lips. Fushiguro still tastes vaguely of metallic blood, but his busted lips are just as soft as they were this morning. They’re much more rushed, not as slow or smooth as before— but now he has a goal. His tongue is quick to slip into your mouth, wet and silky in your mouth, enough to have you moaning before he even starts. His hands creep up your body, large palms pressing against your throat until his hands find your hair and tug.

With a gasp you’re immediately brought back, blinking away unshed tears as your hand reaches for your boyfriend’s thick wrist, “Ow! You—”

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Yeah. Well, yes, he did. And you have an answer, you always do. Always have something to say, something that keeps his eyes glued to your pretty lips. Something smart, sometimes, that has the man ready to shut you up with a mouthful of his cock.

“You said,” You huff, bratty as ever, wrapping your hands around his wrist. Your fingers don’t meet, he’s much too big, and you’re sure your grip feels like an ant crawling up his forearm. “Not to, because,” Another tug. “ ‘It distracts you.’ ”

“Right,” He sounds noncommittal, eyes focused on the contractions in your throat as you swallow down your whines. The fist in your hair turns as a gentle palm, flattening against the back of your head as he holds you still. Your man smells faintly of musk and disinfectant— it makes you want to swoon. To drop to your knees and mouth at the fabric of his sweatpants until his dick— it’s yours though, really— is lined up against your cheek and his pre is dribbling down your face. “You distract me.”

“Am I. . .”His hand is on your chin now, lifting your gaze until you’re standing on your tiptoes. Always been so big, so strong, pressing his thumb into the plush of your cheeks with a bit more force than necessary. Your breath is caught in your throat, and your voice comes out breathy and soft and small, “M’I distracting you now, Daddy?”

There’s a sound akin to a purr the second he hears it, the title sweet as saccharin on your lips. Jet black bundles of hair swish and sway as he shakes his head, somewhat ignoring the question as his hands travel past your waist to grope and squeeze at your ass. Soft, squishy. You’ve always been so soft, so little in Toji’s grip, his pretty boy.

But you’re even prettier when your holes are stuffed full and stretched open. You’re even prettier when the sets you’ve put together are ripped and tattered on your body— when you’re a mess of sweat, and spit, and cum. You’re easy to move around— most are easy to be moved by Toji, but you especially.

You’re obedient when it counts, and the second he’s pushing your knees down to the floor you’re opening your mouth.

“Whose mouth is this?” Your brain is foggy but you know the answer to that one. You do, you do, because it always ends in cum down your throat and an array of ‘good boy’s whispered into the air. There’s a rustle of fabric as he fishes his cock from his sweatpants, no longer a large, girthy dickprint twitching under the cotton. Now it’s in his hand, hot and curved and leaking.

Daddy squeezes at his cock, his large hand sliding into a fist that clamps down around the thick, rose gold head, then sloooowly back down to the thick, pulsing, veiny shaft. You want his cock inside, stretching past your rim and splitting you open while you cry and whine over how big he is, you want his cock sliding inside until he fills you up with his sticky, hot cum— so much so it feels like you’re dying, being held down on his cock while load after load is released into your hot hole. He spits down onto it, saliva thick and runny, collecting at the tip until it’s smeared down to the base and mixing with his pre.

“S’yours, Daddy,” You're gasping around the sticky head of his cock, catching the leaking precum on your tongue as he taps it against your lips. It’s bitter and salty, but thick and invasive in a way that makes you feel properly owned. “Yours to fuck, gonna cum down m’throat, Daddy? Want. . . Need you to, wanna feel you shoot on m’tongue.”

“That—fuck— that mouth. . . A’course it’s. . . mine..” He trails off above you, and if you can think, you think you can barely breathe. You’re trembling against his strong thighs, struggling to form words around the jumbled and garbled moans leaving your mouth as Toji’s fingers rub in smooth, slick circles against your entrance. You don’t remember him having lube, but you can’t complain when his fingers feel so creamy rubbing your hole.

If you can think, you think you can barely breathe. You’re trembling against his strong thighs, struggling to form words around the jumbled and garbled moans leaving your mouth as Toji’s fingers rub in smooth, slick circles.

He appreciates the easy access.

You’re sure if he lets go you’ll fall straight through the floor, knees trembling, a needy puddle. And maybe you’re crying, sliding off his cock with wet pops and sticky whines— you’re not entirely sure. All you can hear are Toji’s groans, his grunts of ‘goodboygoodboygoodboy’ as his other hand squeezes around your throat so it tightens around his thick cock. That and his big fingers playing with your hole, swirling and sinking and teasing your mushy walls until you’re fluttering around the digits and letting out pitiful, bitchy whines.

You’re burying your face against his dark pubes, swallowing hard around his dick with thick, sloppy gags that have you coughing against his balls. Whatever Toji’s saying, it’s earned you a tender pat to the back of your head, sweet and light in comparison to his rocking hips that make you jolt back and forth. Your knees dig into the wood, but you don’t necessarily mind it. It's grounding, and you can focus on the drool pooling between your knees as he bends at the waist to finger you.

“. . .want it in here?” There’s a snap of fingers that makes you blink away the edges of fogginess clouding your judgment, and you find yourself being pulled free from his musky cock. Your throat is empty, you’re empty, and you can’t help but press your face into his spit-slick thigh. But there’s a tap to your cheek, a big palm cracking down on the fat of your face, and now you’re much more alert.

“Uh. . .Huh?” You blink away the emotional whiplash, leaning into the now gentle, bandaged thumb rubbing circles against your cheekbone. Then his hand moves lower, past your jaw to collect the ribbon of his medal where it hangs from your throat, and pulls.

“In here, baby,” There’s emphasis on his question with his fingers pounding into you enough to make your toes curl, and your eyes roll back as the digits press against that sweet, jammy bundle of nerves. “Want Daddy’s dick in here?”

You’re not sure whether to pout or nod. You’ve missed an opportunity for his load down your throat, but it’s even better when it’s in your tummy. It’s Toji’s night, decidedly, and it seems you’ve made your choice when you hear yourself whine, “Yes, Daddy. Please!”

You’re not sure how you got here, how fast he’s maneuvered you— back against the wall and knees over his big, broad shoulders— but you’re not complaining. There’s a light buzz in your hips, so you assume he’s picked you up, weightless in his arms, and folded your legs over his arms.

“S’big, s’so so big, Daddy, fuck,” You’re crying into your forearm as Toji holds you still by the neck, his other hand running up and down your tummy. It’s soothing just as much as it is hot, it doesn’t take much for his large hand to roam over your body. But it can’t make you stop whimpering at the feeling of his dick splitting your tiny hole in half. “Not gonna fit— it can’t.”

“It’ll fit. it’s fit before, hasn’t it? Y’have a greedy hole on you, baby.” You’re gasping and trembling with his cock sliding in and out of your opening, sticky lube pooling along with it and connecting his tip to your boyhole. He feels so big, so thick and hot when he taps it against your hole, barely breaching the tiny gape of your shy hole. “And if not we’ll just have to make it fit, won’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah. . .” You breathe, staring up into his eyes with a fucked-out smile. Toji— Daddy—looks so good, so handsome and strong as he offers a scarred smile back. “Can make it fit. Can take it.”

You hiccup, overwhelmed tears streaming down your face as you reach past your thighs to spread the globes of your ass open wide, your pretty hole slightly gaping and winking at his cock. There’s a breathy groan in return, deep and shaky as Toji takes the opportunity to slip past your rim,, past the burning stretch of your fluttering star that sucks him deeper and deeper into your slick, gummy walls. “Wanna feel you for days, wanna get so full, think it’ll take, Daddy? Your cum?”

“Fuck,” He moans, gruff and throaty at the implication. Breeding you, his cock-hungry boy, until you’re full of his cum and unable to move. Until you’re a daddy. “If it doesn’t we’ll just keep going until it does.”

Your hand clasps around the gold medal like a lifeline, eyebrows pinched as his long, thick cock stretches you open. The curve of his dick has you mewling, tears building in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks up into you, despite telling you to ride him. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it, the feeling of his cock splitting you open like he owns you, or the way his big hands press matching bruises into your hips.

“Open.” Your lips are already parted, hearty moans and whines leaving your mouth over and over. But you make the extra effort to stick out your tongue nonetheless, the wet muscle pretty and glossed over. And, much to your confusion, there’s a gentle kiss placed to the temple of your forehead before he’s hovering back over you.

“Good boy.”

A sloppy string of saliva falls from his lips, missing your tongue by a mile— instead landing on your cheek. It’s enough to make you flinch, a pitiful squeak of a sound escaping as your eyes clench and blink away confusion.

“Oh, I missed,” Fushiguro’s smile is fond and cruel. “Oops.”

You’re so whiny, lifting and rocking your hips as a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself full of cock. It seems you can go barely a few seconds without it, working your hips down the thickness of his cock even as you struggle to take it. His hand gathers the spit, a genuine smile splitting his lips when you move your head to suck them clean.

Such a good boy.

“Really workin’ for it, aren’t you?” Voice as sweet as it is mocking, lube gushes and trickles out with every tilt of your hips. The wet slurp of his dick goes makes you preen, body tightening as you tremble and shake. You’re speared on his cock over, and over, and over, again, and again, and again. It’s more like he’s using you as some sort of fuck-machine than actually fucking you, but it makes sense. Daddy’s much too big to bounce on, it’s easier if he uses you like a toy. It’s easier to keep yourself open, to welcome his cock inside your sloppy hole with the flutter of your lashes. “Good thing you got that medal on, really are the tightest cocksleeve I own. Deserve a trophy for it.”

You don’t have to imagine how deep he is, how far his slick cock reaches, because you can see it. Right there, in your tummy, his cock bulges big and pulsing. You thought feeling him twitch against your walls was enough to have you squirting along both your chests but. . . no. It’s his hand, big and veiny, pressing right into the bulge. Your eyes roll back until your back is arching off the wall— tummy pressed against his palm— and you’re cumming harder than you thought you ever could.

“Shit, did you—”

“C’mon, please. Inside me, Daddy. Please, please I want. . . I can’t, please.” It’s easier if you don’t think about it, it’s easier if you sit there, a tiny toy just barely able to take his cock. You don’t even process your voice as your own, letting your big boyfriend squeeze your hips and lift you on and off his cock until he’s twitching uncontrollably. Your hands ball into tight fists, eyes clenched shut as he uses your trembling hole.

“Barely even touched you,” His breaths are hitched and quick, eyebrows furrowed as he focuses on the slapping of his balls against your ass. So tight and warm, gooey and soft against his thick shaft— massaging his cock just right. You’re so good. “And you came. You’re so easy. So easy to get you dumb off cock, so easy to bounce you up n’ down. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Wait, don’t—” The words are caught in your throat, lips pulled into a small ‘o’ was thick rope after thick rope of cum shoots into your tummy, flooding your senses and spurting from your tight hole. You feel soaked, slick and sticky as your boyfriend offers a few sharp, heavy thrusts. His eyes are glued down, watching his cum make slick bubbles and slide down his own cock, just to disappear back inside your perfect hole. You can’t swallow down the drool escaping from the seams of your lips, instead letting it fall down your chest until your head is falling forward.

“Aht-aht,” You’re pressed dead-center into his chest, burying your messy face between the warm skin. “I’m not done with you yet. Want Daddy t’make you a daddy too, don’t you?”

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