#like you still prefer whiteness over...anything

[mari-writes]

Jayce "Man of Progress" Talis is contacted by a Piltover fashion magazine, asking him to pose for a special photograph spread along with Mel Medarda. 

He’s been interviewed and had his photo taken so many times by this point. He’s usually alone. The addition of Mel is interesting, and he can admit a bit exciting too.

But it’s also frustrating—why would they ask him to pose with Mel, but not his literal partner on the actual project?!

So he agrees, but under one condition: “You need to include Viktor, as well.”

After he receives confirmation, he takes to begging Viktor to join them. Just this once! And Viktor reluctantly agrees, weak for his friend’s pouty, puppy dog eyes.

The magazine sends designers to Viktor’s place to take his measurements. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but thankfully one of the them is knowledgable about fitting disabled models. So he’s (mostly) okay with it.

When the three of them arrive for the photoshoot, they’re impressed with what the designers created. For Jayce are outfits that show off his wide shoulders, strong arms and thighs. Meanwhile Mel’s prominent curves and her beautiful, slender neck is highlighted.

As for Viktor, the designers work with his sharp, angular features and slender waist. One outfit in particular has Viktor raising an eyebrow: It’s backless. They’ve decked out his back brace with gilded gold and blue gems.

A month later, the magazine is released—and the public goes absolutely wild.

The front cover has Jayce sitting in the middle, wearing a crisp white shirt with half its buttons undone, possessively holding the other two’s hips. Mel is facing forward, bracketing one of his legs. She wears a tight dress that leaves little to the imagination. One of her arms reaches around Jayce’s head, clasping Viktor’s shoulder.

With his back to the camera, Viktor’s brace is on full display. He’s partially sitting on Jayce’s other leg, with his arm angled as if he’s about to caress the other’s man’s cheek, glancing at the camera out of the corner of his eye.

The photo had been quite awkward to put together—Viktor winces at the memory—but he has to admit it turned out pretty incredible. And yeah, Piltover definitely agrees.

Viktor’s name, at least for a moment in time, is on the public’s lips almost as much as the other two. Who knew the reclusive scientist from Zaun was this beautiful?!

News articles and opinion pieces pop up about him, wondering why Viktor isn’t featured more. Men and women alike faun over his high cheekbones, pretty golden eyes, and slim body.

Viktor is full of embarrassment from all the attention. The other two tease him about it a bit, but they know he has every right to retreat back into the lab if he prefers. So he does. He lets the other two burn as brightly as they want, and slinks back into the shadows.

But he still keeps a copy of the magazine in his nightstand. You know, for archiving purposes. Or posterity. Or something like that. 

Sometimes, on days he’s feeling down or in more pain than usual, he takes it out and flips through the pages. Reminds himself that yeah, he looked good. And other people had thought so too. Even Jayce had blushed slightly when he saw Viktor walk out of the dressing room.

Viktor probably won’t do anything like it again. But he’s oddly glad he did. Just this once.

//

Please accept this silly little drabble I wrote last minute! PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED! I imagine this story takes place in the early years of Jayce and Viktor’s lab partnership. The story inspired by this incredible meljavik art by @lucinfernos! My bi ass can’t stop looking at it lol

[phalangemedes]

Oh now.. you know the internet can't do nuance lmao

WORLD'S BLACK AND WHITE, BABES

But no, you're quite right, they do have some unhealthy coping mechanisms that share parallels with co-dependency, but it's the "being choked out and asthma must be the same because they both leave you short of breath" thing that alotta people are missing. And the "symptoms" worsen in New Rho because it's a crisis situation where there's a certain expected amount of non-ideal behaviour because it's a TERRIBLE SITUATION?

I'd also hazard people find their relationship off-putting cause it's non-traditional: On the outside, sure, there's a man and a woman but... they kinda aren't. It's not that they're smashing down any big gender walls, but they aren't claiming anything either, not particularly. Their preferences aren't delineated into specific boxes and they as people aren't either. Palamedes is not off put by embodying a woman which is very much not a heteronormative thing and seems unusual even in the Nine Houses, Camilla is not off put at the masc connotations being 'the dead eyed cousin' and cavalier entails, nor time sharing with a man.

Oh my god I'm so sorry but I'm gunna go into that now lmao. Forgive me my impassioned shout at void!!

I also think people are so caught up in the concept of romance as a prelude to lust and / or fucking they don't really clock what they have is desperately romantic? Were they a cishet couple who were traditionally in love, lust and coitus I can see there being less problems. Toxic yaoi/yuri or whatever gets a bigger pass cause it’s a big dramatic love thing where people can bay for blood and buttsex. But these lil dudes who just wanna be together get curb stomped cAuSe ThE wOmAn iS BeInG AbUsEd.

Then again, over archingly, the issue seems to be... they're just people? Nuanced and odd and wonderful and a bit fuck-uppy and sincere and traumatised.

But to circle back around, are they people actively participating in a negative or toxic relationship? I genuinely think no, they are trying to be good, healthy, happy and sane adults in increasingly batshit situations. Do they make mistakes? Plenty. Are they still there for each other? Yes. Do they both still seek consent? Yes. Does that lessen that some of the things they have done separately or as a pair have been just straight up Not Great? Also no.

& Nah, agreed, RE: the "diagnosing" thing, cause, yeah, honestly. I think people themselves are so desperate to "fit" they tick box fictional people too. I am old and tired enough to have been through various epochs of slurs and acceptability and lemme tell you.. Long term, specificity of self is a prison over a comfort. I like to extend that lack of rigidity onto my blorbos as a form of self love

And they do embody the good bits too! They're lil buddies who wanna protect each other. That's neat as hell!! you go lil nerds!!

I have such a big beef with the way that the TLT fandom talks about Cam and Pal being codependent. I have not seen any word of god quotes that talk about them that way, but it seems to be this widely accepted truth that just doesn't click with my reading of the characters.

Certainly by NtN Pal has a dependent relationship with Cam, as they are sharing a body. There are even some parallels to codependency with how their use of necromancy in Cam's body causes her harm.

What I just don't get about the codependent label is that I don't see Cam and Pal enabling one or the other in destructive behavior. Certainly they partake in risky behavior that Pyrrah criticizes them for, but it seems to be a mutual decision. Cam is just as reckless as Pal is, and possibly moreso.

(And also Pyrrah is a huge projecting hypocrite. Love her tho I may, it's true.)

Pal's quotes about how grand lysis wasn't their inevitable end, but was the best and kindest option left to them complements the discussions we overhear in their recordings. Pal's pursuit of Cam's consent and her enthusiasm in giving it just doesn't match the codependent relationship that fans keep referencing.

[ladysophiebeckett]

mid week was called 'gringo' for literally no real reason imo, other than an assumption bc my posts are in english when referring to a spanish speaking program. and im ending the week with twitter discourse bc a reporter told jenna ortega she was latina enough. okay. lets pack it up.

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[nezuscribe]

there was a moment in which you really thought nothing could happen to worsen it. life with arranged!gojo was truly perfect, and you couldn’t imagine anything but.

nights were spent either each other, skin to skin, shading the warmth. mornings came and he’d awake before you, pulling you closer to his chest as he nudged his nose against your ears. sometimes you’d grumble about it, other times you’d laugh softly. gojo wasn’t what you imagined he’d be like, but it’s nothing to complain about.

when he wasn’t busy, or if he made time, he’d take you out to the forest on horseback as he listened to you speak. other times he’d take you to different bakeries, asking which one you’d prefer. you could feel his anxious stare, hoping that you were enjoying your time. you’d always smile back and assure him you were.

it had been months sense everything had worked out, and truly you couldn’t be happier. though the rumors and gossip never stopped, you just stopped caring about them. after all, people could say all they wanted, but they could never be as happy as you were and that’s all that mattered.

on the days when he’s with his advisors and counselor members you’d go to the village or find something to do around the estate, but every night he’d find his way back to you and so you never worried.

except for now.

you were aware he had a longer meeting than usual today, but with your anxious pacing around your shared bedroom, fidgeting with your ring as your eyes never left the grandfather clock, about to strike one in the morning. this was strange.

you had tried going to sleep, but you awoke in only half an hour to see that your husband had still not returned, and this put you in an even worser headspace.

gojo had assured you that nothing was wrong, but there had been strange chatter around the estate walls this past week that you couldn’t shake off. maids sparing worried glances to you whenever you passed. it was common knowledge that they were the ones that knew the gossip first, but you so desperately wished to know it now.

it took nearly another hour of your frantic effort to stay awake when your bedroom door creaked open and gojo walked in.

you stood up anxiously from the corner of your bed, taking in his tired appearance. his white hair was messy, eyes sunken in. when he saw that you were awake his glare softened slightly.

“you’re not asleep?” he groggily asked as he began to take off his boots, his back rippling with muscles from under his tunic as you gnawed on your lips and he stood up.

“couldn’t,” you simply said, leaning into his outstretched arms as he pulled you into his chest, planting a longing kiss to the side of your head. one of his hands pressed tightly against your back, not moving.

there was a moment of silence, one heavy and unknown as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

“is everything alright?” your voice was muffled, but still audible, as you finally asked the question that was searing into your head.

there was another beat of silence, but this one was uncomfortable. gojo hadn’t let go of you yet.

“yes,” he finally said, but you had heard better lies from your sisters after they ate your pastures and said they didn’t than this.

your brows furrowed as you looked up to him.

“what took so long?” you pressed, pulling away slightly as his lips formed into a thin line, and he dragged a hand down his face.

“just…state affairs,” he turned away from you, against eye contact as he ran another hand through his hair.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest. you thought that he had at least begun to trust you enough not to lie this blatantly.

“have ogres come back from extinction?” you tried to tease, but your voice was flat and you couldn’t hide the curiosity and hurt behind it. gojo didn’t laugh, which hurt even more. you leaned back on one of the pillars of your bed and watched as he stood with his back to you , contemplating something in utter silence.

how you loathed silence.

“what’s wrong?” you ask again, your tone heavy.

your brows furrowed even more, arms tighter around your middle as he heaved a heavy breath, and when he finally tuned you wished he would’ve just stayed hidden from you. because there were spots of red in the whites of his shimmering eyes, and that was more fearful than the quite.

you tilt your head, not knowing what to do, and see his breath in shakily. the only time you had seen him cry was that night he confessed to you in the field. never again. not until now.

you take a tentative step forward, eyes searching his but he can’t bare to look at you.

“there’s been some conflict with the south for a while,” gojo finally says, though it seems like speaking is physically hurting him, “and tensions only worsened when my father stepped down.”

you nod, knowing all of this. after all, you might’ve been kept in the shadows in your old life, but you weren’t daft. you tried to keep up with the relations of the state as much as possible.

“before i married you…i,” he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply, “my father had made a agreement for me to marry the southern princess to mend our relationship,”

this you knew too. but you’re hoping that all your knowledge was just trivia and nothing that was serious.

you knew of the women gojo had lined up, but in his favor and not. the southern princess being one of them.

“so?” you shake your head in confusion, stomach churning, “you’re married to me now.” you say the obvious, but you see the way he smiles softly at that, nodding.

“it worked out for us but the south wasn’t fond of…this,” you watch as he twirls his ring around, “they’ve been holding off on trade with the north and anybody who’s pledged alliance to us.” gojo jams his palms into a his eyes. for a moment he doesn’t look like the ruler he is or the warrior he’s always been but a scared boy who doesn’t know what to do.

you take another step forward, leaning into him as he deflates into you, one hand protectively going around your shoulders and the other around your waist.

“we’ll figure this out,” you say as confidently as you can, “we’ll ask for a smaller cut of their exports than usual….or offer another northerner of higher ranking for their princess,” you offer, looking up at him only to see his eyes wavering, the tip of his nose pink.

he swallows thickly.

“we did,” he mutters, “we did all of those things. all of those things and more. but…”

he trails off and you shake your head, eyes wide.

“but what?” you press and he rubs at his eyes, at his stray tears.

he goes to open his kith but he can’t. you’ve never seen him like this. you feel tears coming but you don’t know why.

“the southern king, he,” your husbands voice cracks, and you pull away in shock, in fear, in terror as he tries to control a sob. the most feared man of all the land fighting down a sob, and all you could do was watch in fear.

“he’s promised war if we don’t abide by his terms.”

your own tears have stung at your eyes, maybe because your terrified of the response, making because a part of you knew that something good like this could only last for so long.

“and,” your lips tremble and how gojo longs to kiss it away, if only his hands weren’t shaking and heart pounding, “and what are his terms?”

a sad, sad look takes over his face, one that looks like a knife has been dug into his stomach and has begun to twist. he opens his mouth once, twice, and fails. he can’t speak. he can’t say the wretched words out loud.

“that,” a tear streaks down his cheek, hanging on his chin, “that i uphold by the initial promise. that i marry his daughter. that i separate from…” he blinks slowly, his mouth closing and then opening, a little gasp of horror leaving your own lips as you piece together his final words,

“that i separate from you.”

[d-emeter]

Types of lingerie they'd go a little feral over — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

CW: mid/plus-size reader, photos of people wearing lingerie!, mentions of sex/sexual activities

Photos are not indicative of reader's body type/skin colour/other physical attributes! Just meant to be examples, but us bigger girls deserve some rep on here (but also why is it so hard to find cute pics of mid/plus-size girlies that aren't ads or extremely edited?)

All rights go to owners of the photos! I tried to crop out their faces as best I could <3

John Price

Price would love anything feminine. He adores when you play into his housewife kink, parading around the house in babydoll dresses and fur-lined robes (preferably sheer). He wouldn't even bother with taking the pieces off once he gets his hands on you, simply pulling and adjusting where necessary. Not above ripping either, but don't worry, he'll gladly buy you some new sets. Maybe he should get you some of those crotchless panties, poppet, would save him a lot of hassle.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

Listen, as much as he loves it seeing you all dolled up, there is nothing that gets him going quicker than you in some raggedy, hole-ridden comfy clothes, preferably when they're his. His boxers framing your plump ass so nicely, digging into your flesh a bit when you move and his shirt doing nothing to hide the jiggle of your tits while your nipples poke through the fabric. If he sees you like this, his hands are all over you in a split second. God forbid your shirt is cropped, showing off your soft tummy and the underside of your breasts — you couldn't pry him off with a crowbar.

(you cannot tell me Johnny doesn't own some dumbass boxers like this)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

In fear of repeating myself, I think Simon would also go a little dreamy-eyed over you in your comfies. Except, unlike Johnny, he loves those sweet little pj-sets you wear. He's still a little taken aback every time he comes home to you curled up on his — your — couch. The realization that he has something this sweet to come home to — that he has a home at all, hitting him like a freight train. Like Price, doesn't bother taking your pajamas off when he pounces on you. Just makes it easier for him to tuck you into bed after he's done with you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Garters, belts, straps, buckles, the whole thing. And best believe he's the one picking them out, too. You'll randomly find boxes on your bed, the contents in different styles, colours, fabrics. He insists you model them for him, or send him pictures if he's deployed. The sets are an absolute nightmare to get into, but he'll gladly help you take them off, darlin'. Don't mind him though, if he snaps a photo or two in the process. Also loves it when you wear lingerie as part of an actual outfit. What can I say, the man loves showing you off (with the knowledge he's the only one that gets to see the full sets and everything underneath them later).

König

Anything resembling some cheap halloween costume from party city. It honestly doesn't matter to him what; sexy secretary, naughty nurse, you name it. Literally whatever. He will lose his mind a little if you go as far as to engage in some roleplay pertaining to whatever you're wearing — acting like he's your boss or your patient. Oh, a pair of animal ears can and will make his eyes roll back in his head. (He will, however, ensure that your outfits are of relatively good quality — they've gotta outlast a least a few rounds, Schatzi).

Philip Graves

Ugh, he's so nasty (affectionate). He wants you to look hyper-feminine. His perfect little all-american wife (even if you've never set foot in the usa, or don't yet wear a ring on your finger) in her hyper-feminine lingerie, waiting for her soldier to come home. Frilly bras, lacy undies and silky night dresses in white or pink or any pastel shade. He gets off on the innocence they exude — makes him want to ruin you. And then wife you up. Maybe give you a baby or two.

Alejandro Vargas

Corsets!!! Or anything somewhat structured, really. This man adores the shape of your body no matter what, and the way the corset only accentuates the curve of your waist and pushes your tits up so deliciously has him rock fucking hard. If you choose to add some thigh-highs to that with the plush fat of your thighs spilling over the edge you may as well have killed him. He also has this weird infatuation with the marks the corset leaves on your skin after you (or he) take it off.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

This poor man nearly faints the first time you wear lingerie for him (and pretty much every time after that). It doesn't particularly matter to him what it is, but he does like it when you stick to the classics: simple lacy bra and panty set. He likes that it makes you feel confident and (relatively) comfortable, as your comfort is always his number one priority. He also just thinks the simplicity of the sets helps accentuate the beauty of your body, rather than distract from it.

Valeria Garza

Anything expensive. Like, crazy expensive. She has the money, amor, why not spend it on something she enjoys? She'll make sure you only wear the highest quality fabrics (and that goes for all your clothing, by the way, she likes taking care of her girl). There are diamonds glittering all over your body, highlighting all your curves and twinkling with every move you make, and a nice string of pearls disappearing between your folds.

(I couldn't find ANY photos of this type of lingerie on bigger bodies, my apologies. Rest assured Valeria will get everything custom-made for you — remember, only the best for her girl)

[blackkatdraws2]

[Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint] 5 years of waiting for Han Myungoh to reappear in the manhwa only for him to be changed into a completely new person. Disappointment.

[NOTE: I don't have anything against people who like Han Myungoh's Demon Earl design.] This will be me ranting/venting about Han Myungoh's new design. Don't get me wrong, I still like Han Myungoh. I love him a lot, I'm just letting out my frustration.

-------

"There were many small wrinkles on Han Myungoh’s face. Moreover, his whole skin was blackened. Putting aside the wrinkles, the skin discoloration was a sign of a species variation. The longer I looked, the more I could see the old face. Still, many human traces were missing and it was hard to know without looking closely." - chapter 204, Unidentified Wall

-------

Getting this out of the way before I start: I know that the manhwa design is accurate to the novel description, I know that there are many technical reasons why his design in the manhwa differs from merch/official art/etc., and I'M NOT HATING ON HAN MYUNGOH'S NEW DESIGN.

Okay.

I'm sad at the manhwa version of Han Myungoh's demon form.

Particularly, I'm upset since I doubt they'd make such a drastic change with any of the other KDJ Co. members. [There's Kim Dokja's demon form, but even then I could still tell that it's Kim Dokja, unlike with Han Myungoh.]

I knew he was gonna look different but something this drastic makes me feel distressed. Han Myungoh was the first, and currently still the only comfort character I have in my life, which is surprising since I never expected to even have a comfort character. Loved him in the novel, loved him even more when he was finally drawn by artists, then the manhwa adaptation trailer dropped and I was PUMPED.

I think what really pisses me off even more is that there's barely anything about him in the first place. I live off of scraps. I really only read the manhwa for him if I'm being honest, I prefer the novel ORV. I've waited for so long for him to finally appear in future chapters again, and when he does come back, he's completely unrecognizable!

It's not even the fact that HMO got redesigned, it's the fact that he looks like a completely different character! What happened?! That's not him, who is that?!

Like, just put yourself in my shoes for a second. Imagine Yoo Joonhyuk disappearing for the entirety of the manhwa adaptation and then when his long awaited comeback is here, he suddenly has long white hair, blue eyes, a chiseled jawline and a completely different outfit, like- you see where I'm coming from, right?!

I'm genuinely so distraught over this lmao, like /gen /extremely neg.

With that out of the way, I've processed this loss for a long time now and I've accepted the fact that I'll never see "Han Myungoh" in the manhwa ever again. I will love both designs even if I favor one more than the other, because it's Han Myungoh and I love Han Myungoh. I'll love him even if he was a worm.

[fakebwitch]

rafe tries to teach you how to play golf…

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you’ve always accompanied rafe with topper and kelce at the golf course, you sat on the golf cart a few meters from them, a small cap with a visor covered your eyes from the scornering sun while you sipped in your hands the cold drink you had taken with rafe’s money. you had never tried to play seriously, only a few times with some of your friends. rafe had insisted for almost more than a week that you learn, arguing that he would have preferred to play with you rather than with kelce and topper. it was rare to see rafe so insistent about something and so you decided to please him, maybe that way he would have realized that it would be a waste of time.

that’s how you found yourself in this situation, rafe’s hands placed firmly on your waist, holding you still in the correct position, his bulge right against your ass, feeling his warm breath on your neck while he indicated what you should have done. he moved his hands over yours, which were firmly holding the bat, “wait... like this” he addressed you, moving your hands so that they were positioned correctly and then angle the bat better.

“once you are in this position you calmly pull back the bat, maintaining the same angle, you focus on the hole and then with a sharp blow you hit the ball” his words were firm and clear, explaining the basic rules of golf, while with his hands still firm on yours he showed you how you should have moved the bat back and then close to the white ball.

“got it?” he asked you bringing you back to reality, you nodded without uttering a word, “words baby” he incited you by lightly pinching your waist, “got it” you said, trying to convince both yourself and him. “try with a shot” he said moving away from you, the warmth of his hands left yours as well as his body, watching you from behind waiting for you to put into practice what he had explained to you.

you swallowed looking around you, nothing he had told you had entered your head, your mind was focused entirely on him, on how his body was so close to yours, how he seemed so attractive patiently showing you the rules. “c’mon princess ‘s easy, just hit the ball like i told ya” he said reassuring you, you turned your head crossing his gaze, he gave you a small smile.

you looked back in front of you, focusing on the hole, you raised the bat a little and then hit the ball. you watched as the ball slid on the green lawn, unfortunately it stopped a few centimeters after the hole. your shoulders fell disconsolate turning with a slight pout towards rafe, “it’s okay baby it’s your first time, we’re gonna try again” he said approaching you again placing his hand down on your back.

“don’t know if i’m good” you said squinting your eyes at the sun, meeting his gaze while he took another ball out of his pants pocket, “you just need a bit of practice angel, you can do it” he reassured you by lowering himself to place the ball on the tee.

“put yourself in position” he said getting up, you did as he said, slightly opening your legs holding the bat tightly between your hands, “your legs are too open” rafe positioned himself behind you, his hand rested on your thigh, tightening the skin under his hands while slightly closing the space between one leg and the other. you felt yourself blush at the gesture pushing you unintentionally against his bulge.

“you’re too rigid princess, loosen up” his tone low while with the same hand he wrapped your biceps, indicating you to relax the grip, you breathed deeply shaking your shoulders trying to relax your muscles, “you’re tense baby, what’s wrong?” he asked you frowning his face, his hand still tight around your arm. you tried to do your best but you couldn’t focus on anything other than his hands on you and his bulge in contact with your ass.

your skirt, already short in itself, due to the slightly bent position had risen, so that the fabric of his jeans was in contact with the thin material of your panty. you moved slightly, so as to create some kind of friction between your pussy and his dick in the pants.

rafe knew you too well, and immediately realized what you were doing, using him to please you. “rafe...” you almost gasped, now completely distracted, no longer caring about where you were and what your boyfriend was trying to explain to you.

“stop this shit you need to be concentrated” he said stopping your movements by placing his hands on your hips, his cock now semi-hard. you snorted squeezing your fingers around the handle of the bat, it’s hard now to ignore the growing need between your thighs. “center the hole and i’ll take care of it or keep snorting and not focusing and we’re gonna stay here all day until you make it ” he warned you, his voice was serious and you knew that if he wanted he would’ve keep you in this exact position all day, even ignoring his growing bulge.

you decided to listen to him. you took a deep breath while slowly repeating the action of a few minutes ago, hitting the small white ball with a sharp blow, both you and rafe stared carefully at the ball that was sliding quickly on the lawn, hoping that it would end up inside the hole.

and so it was.

a smile grew on your face as you turned towards him with a small jump, “that was perfect angel, wasn’t that difficult right?” he said putting a hand around your waist, pushing you towards him. “right” you said wrapping your arms around his neck, his soft lips finally on yours in a sweet kiss, but this cute moment was soon put aside by your hand that rested on his, carrying it between your legs, his fingers came into contact with the wetness of your underwear.

“s’all you were thinking about when I was teaching you how to play?” he said with a smirk, his voice hoarse as he met your gaze, your eyes innocent as you shrugged your shoulders unable to hide your smile.

“let’s go take care of this, we gonna try again another time” he said giving you a little slap on the ass, you gave him a kiss on the cheek as you rolled your eyes jokingly at his determination to continue with these “lessons”.

[saintobio]

blank canvas. (3)

in an attempt to rekindle an already fractured relationship, you open your eyes to the harsh reality that some things, once broken, can no longer be repaired.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

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

tags/warnings. strong language, degradation, explicit smut, toxic relationship

notes. 8.3k wc. here’s the last part !! although there will still be an epilogue, which will be posted a few days from now (let’s not jinx it lol). but thank you for supporting this three-part fic :’) feedback and reblogs are most appreciated!

part 2 | epilogue

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. 

Sighing, you stood behind the counter of your floral shop, absentmindedly picking on the rose petals like an infatuated teenager. It was almost ridiculous what you were doing out of boredom. And although the sweet scent of the flowers surrounding you were supposed to feel calming, it did little to lift the terrible weight on your chest. 

Two weeks had passed since you had given your virginity to Satoru. Two weeks since you tried to move on from Sukuna.

Others might say you were too irrational with it. Others might say you did the right thing. But honestly, what was so good about having sex with a guy you barely knew when you spent years refusing to do it with your actual boyfriend? 

Yes, you were definitely, undeniably irrational with it. You realized it all too late after you had already given your virginity to another guy. You weren’t even sure what compelled you to ask Satoru to do it with you, but at the time, it felt right. It felt reasonable that you were trying to get over an ex-boyfriend, out of spite, for not setting boundaries with other women while you were still together. You thought it would be fair to play a similar part in this tragic tale, that it wouldn’t be too bad not to set boundaries with other men who showed attraction to you, too. 

After all, Sukuna had countless women constantly latching onto him, while Satoru was the first guy within your past relationship who developed an interest in you. 

Besides, it wasn’t some kind of fairytale scene when you two slept together. Because to Satoru, it was nothing but a casual encounter. He did his best to make sure that you enjoyed it from finish to end, and you appreciated his sincerity in guiding you throughout, yet you couldn’t deny to yourself that all you had been thinking of at the time was Sukuna. You contrasted everything Satoru did with Sukuna—like how Satoru was slow and sensual, while Sukuna was rough and vulgar. Satoru enjoyed cuddling afterward, whereas Sukuna would likely go straight to sleep. Satoru was too clingy and playful, while Sukuna was more reserved and mature.

The worst part was, your heart still preferred one over the other. And it wasn’t the guy with the white hair and blue eyes. 

Satoru was a good guy, and he had genuine intentions, but after being intimate with someone you weren’t in love with, you understood that your potential relationship would never be as good as your previous one. You longed for a man like Sukuna, because despite his typical bad boy persona, he was anything but boring. Being with him was a thrill, and no matter how toxic it was, you were addicted to him.

And that’s wrong. Your lips curled into a frown. 

You glanced out the window for what felt like the hundredth time that day, your eyes drawn across the street to Sukuna’s tattoo shop. The neon sign that once buzzed with life now hung dark and lifeless. Every now and then, you could see some of his old clients passing by the shop, hoping for a chance that their favorite tattoo artist was back in business. But Sukuna still hadn’t reopened the shop in days, for almost a month now as a matter of fact, and his absence filled you with a gnawing sense of worry and longing. 

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, while that was certainly true, it also drove you crazy. Why hasn’t he opened his shop? you wondered, biting your lip. Did he move out? Did he forget about me entirely?

You turned back to your flowers, but your hands stilled as your thoughts consumed you. What would Sukuna think if he knew someone else had taken your virginity? The thought made your stomach twist. You could already hear his voice telling you that you had given yourself to someone else out of desperation, but it clearly didn’t work. If anything, it only made you miss him even more.

Your fingers traced the petals of a rose as memories flooded your mind. The way Sukuna used to look at you, his intense eyes softening just for you. The way his laugh would rumble through his chest when you said something funny. You missed him. You missed everything about him, even the way he could infuriate you with his arrogance.

A sigh escaped your lips as you placed the finished bouquet in a vase. The floral shop was quiet today, save for the distant hum of traffic outside. The city would be busy again during rush hour, but for now, you leaned against the counter, your gaze drifting back to the tattoo shop across. He’s probably with his ex, you thought, feeling a lump form in your throat. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if he still thought about you. Did he miss me too? Or had he moved on completely?

You pressed your hand to your heart. You wanted to be with him. You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, how much you regretted trying to move on so quickly, how much you wished you didn’t break up with him. You had no backbone when it came to Sukuna. But the fear of rejection, the fear that he no longer cared, kept you rooted in place.

Pushing yourself off the counter, you walked to the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed.” It was best to close off early today. You needed a moment to yourself, a moment to clear your head in the safety of your bedroom. But as you locked the door, you couldn’t stop yourself from stealing one last glance at Sukuna’s shop. The light flickered at first, making you wonder whether you had just imagined it, but then your heart skipped a beat when you saw the lights completely turning on inside.

Your pulse quickened, and you found yourself drawn to the sight. If it was him in there, maybe this was your chance to talk and clear the air. Or maybe, it wouldn’t be wrong to simply check on him since he had been away for almost a month. What if something terrible had happened to him during those past weeks? What if he had gotten sick? With hesitant steps, you eventually crossed the street and approached his shop. There, you could see him through the window as you got closer, shirtless and his rib wrapped in a bandage, clearly covering a fresh new tattoo. In seeing your presence, he looked up, but his eyes passed over you as if you weren’t even there.

You knocked lightly on the glass door, and he glanced up again, but his expression remained indifferent, like he was trying to suppress his emotions. He didn’t move to open the door as you expected. In fact, he seemed to be arguing with himself in his head.

“Hey,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Can we talk?”

Sukuna didn’t respond right away when he wiped his hands on a rag, still not meeting your eyes. Your heart ached from the heavy silence, but before you could say anything more, the sound of a car engine broke the stillness of that scene. 

An expensive McLaren car pulled up to the curb, and you were quick to recognize its owner. 

It was Satoru rolling down his window, a bright smile on his face as he looked at you. His beam was almost blinding, distracting you from the presently awkward situation you had placed yourself in.

“Y/N,” he greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the tension. “Did you miss me?”

Oh, Jesus. 

The words hung in the air like a bomb, and you felt the color drain from your face as you thought of how dangerous this situation would be for you. When you saw Sukuna’s eyes flicker with interest, his posture stiffened as he finally paid attention, and you realized it was too late. Way too late. 

“Is that guy bothering you?” Sukuna finally asked, his voice unusually calm as he approached the door. The closer the proximity, the more your heart started to race. It was running at 250 km/h like it was on track. 

Satoru’s smile then faltered, now sensing the shift in the atmosphere. It was his first time meeting Sukuna, and based on the stories you had shared with him and Suguru, he was smart enough to recognize that the tattooed man was your ex. 

“I got what you asked for.” Satoru ignored Sukuna and looked back at you, holding up a small bag. “Birth control, right?”

Never in your life did you want to disappear like a puff of smoke. The sudden turn of events was so wild and unexpected. You could see that Satoru was enjoying provoking your ex-boyfriend, but the whole exchange was making you feel nauseous. The tension was so overwhelming that you couldn’t speak, or move, or do anything at all. You were simply frozen. 

It was also at that time when Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his gaze moving between you and Satoru. The pieces began to click into place, and a dark realization settled over his features. “You slept with him?” he asked, his voice low and accusatory.

“Sukuna, I…” Your breath caught in your throat because you couldn’t find the damn words to respond. Should you deny it? Should you say it wasn’t anything like that? There was no way you could get out of this situation even if you wanted to. 

But Satoru stepped out of his car in your defense. “It’s none of your business what she does—”

“Shut up, you douchebag,” Sukuna snapped, his glare turning deadly. He looked at you with sharp eyes, ones filled with a mixture of hurt and fury. With the way he was glaring, you knew he was murdering you in his head. “So this is how you move on?”

Your eyes stung from the incoming tears. You wanted to explain, to tell him that you only did it out of spite, but the words just wouldn’t come. You knew it was still wrong and that it would be a huge slap to his face hearing that you had hooked up with someone else before him. You hadn’t even confirmed anything, yet the intensity of Sukuna’s gaze already made you feel like you were suffocating. 

As the two men stood there, locked in a silent standoff, you recognized it as the loudest silence you had experienced in your life. That was, until Satoru broke that silence by reaching for your hand. “Let’s go,” he said gently, guiding you towards his car.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes lingering on Sukuna, but the look of betrayal on his face was too much to bear. It was either you turn away and leave him behind or you stay there and explain to him. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the courage to do the latter. 

— —

The roar of Sukuna’s bike echoed through the night, slicing through the darkness as he raced down the highway like a motorcycle racer on a professional track. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, jealousy and rage fueling his every movement. With every thought of you, his knuckles felt cold. 

Look, he wasn’t planning to pursue you after you left with that guy, but his ego just wouldn’t allow it. After piecing the situation together, something inside him just snapped. Like a timebomb. A very dangerous one. He couldn’t control his emotions, and he couldn’t just let you go like that. Damn it. Almost two years of forcing him into celibacy, and you suddenly threw yourself at a guy you just met?

He revved his motorbike, scoffing bitterly behind his helmet. He was riding recklessly, without a care to the other vehicles he almost crashed into. Fuck. He had spent nearly a month sulking over your pathetic breakup, he had tried his hardest to avoid you, when all this time, you were out there offering your virginity to some random trust fund-looking guy. How ridiculous was that? How utterly, goddamn ridiculous was it? Maybe you had just revealed your true colors right there. You had always felt uncertain about Sukuna because he had nothing but a tattoo shop and a decent motorbike. Now, you’ve met the picture-perfect guy your parents always wanted for you, so you found it easy to spread your legs open and allow some other guy’s dick inside.

You were worse than a whore. 

The wind whipped against his bare chest, but he paid no mind to the cold. He didn’t care anymore. Even if the police were to chase after him, he didn’t fucking care. His focus was on the red taillights of your new guy’s McLaren car ahead of him. Sukuna pushed the throttle, his bike accelerating with a ferocious growl, causing a scene along the highway. 

He mapped the situation in his head. Who was faster in this highway chase; the McLaren or his bike? While the McLaren 720 had a higher top speed, Sukuna’s Yamaha YZF-R1 was highly agile and could be more maneuverable in tight spaces. In a straight-line chase, the McLaren would eventually outpace his bike, but in scenarios involving a lot of maneuvering, he could have an advantage.

Too bad for you and your new guy though, since this highway was Sukuna’s domain. His superbike had already passed through the tightest of spaces in the midst of traffic during rush hour, so he was a clear winner here. 

And in saying that, the distance between you closed rapidly, and soon he was right behind the car, the bike’s engine roaring like a beast unleashed. With a piercing screech of tires, Sukuna maneuvered his bike alongside Satoru’s car, forcing him to pull over by kicking the driver’s side door. The car drifted and screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, and Sukuna followed suit, cutting the engine and dismounting in one fluid motion. His precious bike, now discarded on the floor, all for the sake of confronting the woman he thought had loved him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Satoru demanded, stepping out of the car with a confident swing. He tried to look tough by using their height differences against him, but he wasn’t intimidating to Sukuna at all. 

“Get out, Y/N,” Sukuna ordered, his voice dangerously low as he ignored Satoru and the countless cars honking behind them. His eyes were locked on the passenger side where you sat, your expression an amalgam of fear and hesitation. “I said get the fuck out!” 

“Dude, chill out.” Satoru tried to put a hand on his shoulder, only to have his hand swiftly rebuffed. “I’m not letting her go with a man who’s clearly upset.”

“Stay the fuck outta this,” Sukuna growled, his fists clenched at his sides. The white-haired punk should take that as a warning. He should back out before his fist lands on his precious face. Plastic surgery isn’t cheap nowadays. “Y/N, if you don’t wanna cause a scene, I suggest you get the fuck outta there.”

**

Your chest rose and fell as you looked between the two men. You knew Sukuna well enough to understand that he wasn’t going to back down. And with a line of angry cars honking at the unnecessary traffic jam you were causing, you had no other choice but to open the door and step out.

Satoru's first instinct was to gesture for you to stay back. “Y/N—”

“Satoru, it’s okay,” you said softly. “I need to talk to him.”

The white-haired man hesitated at first, clearly worried for your safety, but with your insistence, he eventually nodded and stepped back to give you space. Sukuna’s eyes burned with intensity as he watched that interaction between you two.

“‘Kuna, can we at least pull over on the side and not talk in the middle of the highway?” you practically begged, your voice trembling as a few cars managed to squeeze their way between the McLaren and the YZF-R1, throwing harsh curse words towards you and your ex-boyfriend for the road blockage you had caused. Sukuna didn’t even flinch. All you could see was the anger in his eyes, and the pain lurking just beneath his irises.

“I’m perfectly fine talking here,” was Sukuna’s reply, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me why you’re with that douche. I think you owe me a damn good explanation, angel.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. You just wanted to get this conversation over with. “W-We broke up. It shouldn’t matter to you anymore.”

Beep. Beep. “Get off the road, you idiots! You’re holding everyone up!”

Beep. Beep. “Who do you think you are, blocking traffic like this?”

“Is that so?” Sukuna scoffed, taking a step closer as he cornered you. “You moved on pretty quickly, didn’t you?”

You flinched at his tone, but you knew you had to tell him the truth. You knew you would not be able to escape this situation if you didn’t admit it sooner or later. “Something did happen between me and Satoru,” you finally confessed, feeling uneasy from the lingering eyes of the heated drivers. “I didn’t plan it, it was just…”

Beep. Beep. “This is a highway, not a soap opera set!”

Beep. Beep. “Take your drama somewhere else!”

Sukuna’s eyes were clouded in disgust, the color of his lenses becoming red from the fire of his fury. “So you really gave it to him?!” he demanded, his voice rising. He looked like he could punch someone at this rate. “After everything we had, you gave yourself to someone else?!”

Beep. Beep. “Learn to drive and pull over if you want to argue!”

You could feel your entire body shaking, but you tried to hold your ground. “I-I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it would help me forget about you.”

“Forget about me?” Sukuna’s laugh was harsh, almost maniacal, because he was truly losing his shit. “You think you can forget about me by sleeping with some random guy?” He took another step closer, his presence far more overwhelming than the rest of the vehicle surrounding you. “You’re nothing to me now,” he snarled at your face, the reality of his words cutting through your heart like a knife. “You’re just another girl who threw herself away.”

Tears spilled over as you watched him turn his back on you, preparing to mount his bike again. “And what about you, Sukuna?” you challenged, despite his obvious departure. “Do you think you’re any better? You act as if you wouldn’t have cheated on me if I hadn’t confronted you about it!”

For a moment, Sukuna was silent, his anger and pain warring within him. Then he shook his head, his expression hardening as he pulled down the visor of his helmet. “But I never cheated,” he said that fact coldly, “So, don’t expect me to stick around and pick up the pieces. You’re just somebody’s leftover now.”

He turned away, the finality of his words hanging in the air to wreck you in half. As soon as he sped up the bike, he vanished into the highway, accelerating from 0 to 60 mph in 2 seconds. The roar of his bike was louder than a thunderstorm. He didn’t even care for his own safety. And as you watched him go, you could feel the rain pouring out with your heart breaking all over again, like a vase cracking against the floor, its pieces forever irreparable. 

His words hurt more than his actions ever did. And you were never one to handle it as good as you thought you would be.

— —

“I’m not trying to be biased here or anything,” Choso said, lighting his cigarette as he leaned against his Harley Davidson bike. “But even if you weren’t my step-bro, I still think you did the right thing. I wouldn’t be able to stomach hearing my ex-girlfriend be fucked by some dude after years of not giving it to me.”

Sukuna crouched next to his R1, the polished bike gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the garage. He had his shirt lay discarded nearby, leaving his toned torso exposed as he worked on changing oil. Sweat mixed with grease smudged across his chest and arms, emphasizing the taut muscles and the intricate tattoos that covered his skin. If he had women here, they would have fainted already. The sight of him sweaty and shirtless while working on his bike would have been an eye candy for them, but he didn’t need to think of that now. He merely focused on moving his hands deftly, loosening bolts and draining the old oil into a container. The methodical process offered him a momentary distraction from the chaos in his mind.

“It’s simple,” Sukuna spoke, pausing to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand and inadvertently spreading more grease, “The albino guy looks rich. She just proved to me she’s nowhere near being a good girl when a rich guy’s involved.” 

The memory of his ex-girlfriend as she was picked up by another man replayed in his head. He couldn’t stop imagining how your first night went on. Did you let him fuck you raw? Did you let him hit you from the back? Did you let him cum inside? Did you go for round two? Did you choke on his cock like a good girl? 

He remembered what your naked body looked like. How soft your breasts felt like. How sweet your pussy tasted like. Now, another man had a taste of it, and he couldn’t be any more disgusted. It was sickening to think that another man’s cock got to feel you inside before he did. And that you willingly allowed it. 

“Fuck that,” he muttered to himself, tightening the new oil filter. His eyes narrowed in concentration, but his mind drifted back to the breakup. He’d always prided himself on being in control, on not letting himself be caught in temptation. But you had pushed his buttons too far, and even though he still never betrayed you, he was sick in the stomach to see that you were the first one who did. 

“Women,” Choso agreed, grinning as he shook his head. “If she wasn’t Yuki’s friend, I would’ve cut her off.” 

The wrench slipped from Sukuna's hand, leaving it to clatter to the ground. He cursed under his breath, bending down to retrieve it, his movements were fluid and graceful despite the tension in his body. “You don’t need to cut her off. It’s between me and her. She still treated you like a brother.”

The younger man raked his fingers through his raven hair, checking himself out on the bike’s mirror. “Nah. She was closer to Yuuji than me, anyway.” 

Sukuna stood up, wiped his hands on a rag, and poured fresh oil into the engine. The task was almost done, but his thoughts remained tangled. Seeing you with someone else couldn’t stop igniting a fire in him, a possessive rage he couldn’t quite shake. He missed the way you two were before, the way you couldn't get enough of each other when you were together. He missed the connection you shared, because it was something he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

Finishing the oil change, he straightened up, staring at his reflection in the bike’s mirror. The man looking back at him seemed foreign, his usual arrogance tempered by a vulnerability he didn’t care to acknowledge. He then ran a hand through his hair, smearing more grease, and sighed.

“Maybe it’s time to go back to the old times,” Sukuna spoke his thoughts out loud, with his step-brother merely staring at him. “I’m single now.” 

With a final glance at the bike, Sukuna grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, the fabric sticking to his damp skin. He needed a ride to clear his head, to feel the rush of the wind against his face. As he swung a leg over the R1, threw his helmet on, and revved the engine, the powerful roar echoed through the space, drowning out his thoughts for a moment.

“Be careful out there!” was Choso’s last reminder.

He sped off, the world blurring around him, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t escape the image of your face or the sting of jealousy that burned in his chest. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, and your face haunted him at every turn. 

As he rode, his anger simmered, his frustration building with each passing moment. The pain of betrayal gnawed at him, further fueling his reckless impulses. You’re such a piece of shit. All this time, you were claiming to be this too good of a girl who was as innocent as a bunny. When, as a matter of fact, you and your new boy toy were fucking each other like rabbits. It was funny, really, how you made him wait two years for nothing. He was your boyfriend, and yet you deprived him of sexual pleasure by pretending you were scared of it. What kind of stupid virgin would throw herself to a random guy when she’s scared to lose her virginity to her own boyfriend? 

Such bullshit. With a growl of frustration, Sukuna veered off course, his bike skidding to a stop in front of a familiar building. The apartment loomed before him as a dark silhouette against the night sky. It had been several weeks since he had seen her, but tonight, he didn’t care.

His fists clenched at his sides as he marched up the steps to her door. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anger and desperation swirling inside him. He was going crazy and he wanted to blow off steam. He wanted to let his frustration out, so he banged on the door, the sound of his fist colliding with the wood echoing through the quiet street.

After a moment, the door swung open, and a stunned Yorozu stood before him, bleary-eyed and disheveled. Surprise flickered across her face as she took in his appearance, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Ryo… What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The last time they spoke, he was very vocal about having a girlfriend and wanting to keep things professional. 

Sukuna, this time around, didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I need you.”

Yorozu’s eyes widened in surprise. “But you—”

“Please, Yorozu.” He pressed a hand against the door, cornering her in between. “I really, really need you right now.” 

She wasn’t naive. She understood his implication, and he had certainly conveyed that he was no longer with you. And without hesitation, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter without a word. Sukuna felt a rush of adrenaline as soon as he was inside her place, his mind consumed by the need to forget, if only for a moment.

The door closed behind him, and in the darkness of the apartment, Sukuna grabbed Yorozu’s face and kissed her lips, drowning her in the heat of passion. Things were a blur after that, because he wasn’t thinking clearly. Because he wasn’t in his proper mind. He was letting his rage cloud his thoughts, his bitterness driving his every movement. The next thing he knew, they were stumbling into her room, unable to break their intense kiss. He had kissed her like there was no tomorrow, like her mouth was suction that he couldn’t escape. 

And soon enough, she was naked in her room, knelt before him as he forced his cock inside her mouth. He couldn’t get a sense of time. He couldn’t even tell if it was already midnight. All he knew was that his next few hours were spent with Yorozu, this time around, with him burying his digits in and out of her soaking pussy. 

“Haaah!” She arched her back as an intense wave of pleasure hit her insides. “R-Ryo!” 

Fuck. Fuck it. Sukuna, without warning, put his cock inside her cunt. And her fucked her with rage, jostled her body like a sex doll, while her eyes rolled backwards in overwhelming satisfaction. She was grinning in absolute ecstasy, her breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit her sensitive spot before he leaned forward to suck her perfectly round breast. 

Listen, he blacked out after that. So, if you were to ask him what happened after that session with Yorozu, he wouldn’t be able to answer you because he genuinely passed out from exhaustion. All he remembered was them fucking each other’s daylights out, and the next morning, she took good care of him like she was his girlfriend again. 

No, she wasn’t. 

In fact, Sukuna was labeled an asshole for ghosting her. He didn’t contact her after that night, nor did he have any further encounter with her. Instead, he went back to his old life way before you. An addict, an alcoholic, a womanizer. 

For the next few months, that became his life without you. 

He slept with different girls every few nights, especially his clients. It got to a point where he couldn’t even recall their names, and he couldn’t remember having brought them to his apartment the night prior, because he was often too high off his mind. Every girl who came to his tattoo shop for an appointment became his companion during the night. And today, one of those girls was among the many who annoyed him afterward.

“Hey,” the girl spoke in a lascivious manner, running her slender fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure if her name was Rina or Kiko. “You slept throughout the afternoon. Do you wanna go grab something to eat?” 

Sukuna groaned, covering his head with a duvet. “Why are you still here?” 

He didn’t need to see her face to know that confusion settled her delicate features. “But I thought we were…” 

“Leave,” was his harsh reply. “You’re just a one-night stand to me.” 

— —

“So, Y/N,” Suguru began with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Why haven’t you made Satoru yours yet?” 

You rolled your eyes at Getou’s antics. He was clearly on it with his best friend, and their goal today seemed to be to tease the heck out of you. “Maybe I like to keep him guessing,” you retorted with a smirk, though your mind was far from the playful banter. 

“But there’s nothing to guess!” Satoru, on the other hand, protested. He was even displaying a childish pout. “We’ve seen each other naked, you know—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you swiftly covered his mouth with your hand, earning a cackle from Suguru in return. Thank goodness there weren’t that many people in the cafe today, because you were never safe around those two. They were inseparable, like two peas in a pod, sharing one brain cell. Like yin yang.

“Shut up,” you merely replied. 

“Baby, don’t be shy,” Satoru teased again, giggling like an immature child together with Suguru. “You’re an adult who did adult things.” 

You sighed, wondering if you would ever get a break from these idiots. “This is exactly why I don’t date you.” 

It was a joke, of course. The delivery, however, was a bit dry. But nonetheless, your statement caused Suguru to laugh at his best friend who, in his defense, tried to recover his trampled ego by denying your statement. 

“She’s lying,” Satoru denied, as if convincing Suguru was his top priority, “You never told me your cousin’s hard-to-get.” 

 “Yeah,” agreed Suguru, playfully, “Definitely hard-to-get. The only girl who can make Sukuna pussy-less for two years.”

“Hey!” It was Yuki who intervened, knowing full well that Getou was below the belt on that joke. “Enough of that.”

In truth, you felt it was a touchy subject for you. Anything related to Sukuna, especially that aspect of your past relationship, was something you avoided like a plague. You wanted no mentions of him, and of what he did, and of what you didn’t do. He had simply become that person who can’t be named, like Voldemort. 

But the thing was, it was unavoidable sometimes. You weren’t mad at Suguru for bringing him up. You knew that him and Satoru, ever mischievous, were just playfully ribbing at you, but you couldn’t muster up the same enthusiasm to banter back. You were just upset because hearing Sukuna’s name reminded you of the very reason why you hadn’t been in the happiest mood today.

If it wasn’t obvious to them, your mind had been elsewhere since this morning, too fixated on the influx of girls you noticed had been frequently visiting Sukuna’s tattoo shop lately. You knew you didn’t have the right to feel jealous anymore, you knew you should no longer care about what he does with his life, but you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that something was off.

And Yuki, sensing your distraction, gently pulled you to the side for a private conversation away from the chatter of your friends. 

“Hey, Y/N. Everything okay?” Yuki asked, her tone soft and understanding. She wasn’t forcing you to open up, rather, she was allowing you to share only what you wanted to. 

You did hesitate for a moment before finding it safe to confide in her. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. And those girls at his shop... I don’t know, it’s just been bothering me."

Yuki listened attentively, her expression empathetic. “Y/N, I know this might be hard to hear, but have you considered that Sukuna might be seeing other people?”

Your heart sank at Yuki’s words. You had entertained the thought before, but hearing it from someone else made it feel more real. “Is… Is he?” 

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted reluctantly. “But Choso told me he’s been sleeping around.” Yuki then placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, anticipating your heartbreak from the news she delivered. And she was right. In just a few words, it felt like someone had stabbed you with a knife on the chest. “I'm sorry, Y/N. I agree, you deserve someone who respects and cherishes you. If Sukuna isn’t that person, then maybe it’s time to let go.”

You forced a nod, feeling a mix of sadness and regret wash over you, but you didn’t want to break down in front of Yuki. You definitely didn’t want to cry with Satoru and Suguru around. You knew deep down that Yuki was right, but accepting it was just another matter entirely and you weren’t sure if you were prepared for it.

“Listen, why don’t we go out?” she offered, a smile of encouragement spreading on her peachy lips, “Let’s have a drink or something. Anything just to keep your mind off of him. What do you say?” 

— —

It was a mistake. 

You fidgeted uncomfortably on the barstool, feeling out of place amidst the pulsating music and the raucous laughter that filled the rooftop bar. Yuki, Getou, and Gojou seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, chatting animatedly over their drinks like it was a scene that they were used to. But for you, this environment was foreign territory. You weren’t accustomed to the loudness, the crowdedness, the palpable energy that thrummed through the air. Heck, you didn’t even drink alcohol. You couldn’t stand the taste nor could you see the benefit of drinking. 

But you didn’t want to be a party pooper. Yuki did you a favor here, and it was for you to get your mind off the man who kept torturing your soul over and over. If you were to leave now, it would just beat Yuki’s purpose of tagging you along. 

You were supposed to enjoy it. You were supposed to have fun, dancing with them, singing along to the music. They weren’t even the type of music Sukuna listened to. 

“Y/N, bottoms up!” You weren’t sure if it was Satoru or Suguru who said that, but they both offered you a small glass of vodka, urging you to drink it in one shot. 

As much as you wanted to, you had to refuse, speaking over the loud music. “I’m good, thank you.” 

And as you scanned the room, your eyes inadvertently locked onto a figure across the bar. 

Amidst the throng of people. 

The one person you wanted to avoid. 

Sukuna. 

He stood out effortlessly in the crowd, exuding an aura of confidence and charisma that drew your gaze like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t believe it. No, you just couldn’t believe it. You could be hallucinating because it would be too much of a coincidence for him to be here. 

But as soon as his eyes met yours, you knew he wasn’t just a figure of your imagination. Deep in your heart, you knew it was him. You couldn’t be mistaken when those eyes, those lips, those goddamn tattoos, were all him.

Though, as you two locked gaze, his expression told a different story. They were a jumble of surprise, guilt, and bitterness. He seemed just as startled to see you as you were to see him. But beneath it all, there was an undeniable tension, a silent acknowledgment of unfinished business between you.

No, you can’t walk away from me. Excusing yourself quietly, you slipped away from the table, unnoticed by your friends, and made your way through the crowd of people towards him. He was already walking away at that point, ready to avoid your presence as if seeing you was torture for him. But didn’t he know? You were too stubborn for your own good. You relentlessly followed him, squeezing in between a drunken crowd, realizing that Sukuna was heading down. 

In the abandoned part of the building’s parking lot, you finally caught up to him, your heart pounding in your chest as you faced him. 

“‘Kuna,” you called out, “Please.” 

Sukuna turned to face you, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with dark, intense eyes. “Hey,” he replied coolly, his voice a low rumble in the night air as he walked closer to his bike.

“You’re not supposed to ride when you’re drunk,” you began. 

To which he sneered at. “Why? You think I’m here to offer you a ride back home, angel?” 

Aggravating as ever. He was still that arrogant bastard you knew, and loved. “No, you’re probably doing that to someone else.” 

“Why don’t you go back to your filthy rich boyfriend?” 

“Are you jealous?” you bit back, now feeling a palpable tension transpiring between you, but you tried not to let it stop you from speaking to him. “Whatever happened to me and Satoru was just one time.” 

Sukuna scoffed at your statement. “I didn’t ask, angel.” 

Truthfully, he was the most frustrating man in the world right now. And dealing with him was definitely the hardest job ever, but your purpose of running after him wasn’t to bicker. All you wanted was to confirm something that had been bothering you. So you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. “Have you been sleeping around?” 

His expression remained stoic, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of defiance. “Are you jealous?” he mocked, returning the same question back to you. “So what if I am?” 

You couldn’t tell what overcame you more; was it the pain or the anger? But surely, a hundred percent, your frustration was definitely boiling over. “So you are,” you huffed, “See, that wasn’t so hard to admit, isn’t it? This is what you’ve always wanted to do! To sleep with those girls!” 

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the tension was crackling in the air like electricity. Then, without warning, Sukuna closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your jaw.

“You don’t get to turn this back around on me,” he spat, swallowing the obvious pain in his voice, “You’re the one who started it all.”  

Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt the heat of his body so close to yours, his touch igniting an altogether new fire within you. Despite the anger building inside your heart, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, the magnetic attraction that seemed to draw you together like two black holes ready to destroy one another. 

“I fucking waited for you,” he continued, his voice now deepening in a more sincere tone, “I know I was wrong for not setting boundaries, but I never, not once, cheated on you. I never fucking did! But you couldn’t trust me, right? You couldn’t fuckin’ trust me.” His pupils dilated as he raised his voice. “You’re so caught up in being too goddamn insecure about yourself when all I wanted was to have intimacy with you—”

“All you wanted was sex, just admit that!” you yelled back, jerking his hand away as tears began to fill your eyes. “And maybe I was right for giving my first to someone else, because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it when you’ve always pressured me into giving it to you.”

Sukuna’s laughter filled the air, a disbelieving chuckle that bordered on frustration. He threw his head back, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Without hesitation, he snatched his helmet and hurled it across the floor, the sound of impact startling you.

“I never fucking pressured you!” His voice was raw with emotion as he walked back towards you, frustration and hurt evident in every step. “You’re the only girl I genuinely respected. You think I enjoyed being celibate for two fucking years?! No, the fuck, I didn’t! But I waited. I waited because I didn't want you to feel forced! It was all in your fucking head, Y/N. Your doubts, your uncertainties about me. I’m a man too, damn it! Of course, it frustrated me, but that doesn’t mean I would ever leave you or cheat on you.” And just when you thought it was over, he spoke again, his words now silencing into a painful tone, his eyes shining from the tears blanketing his gaze, “Did you think you were the only one who was insecure? Every damn day, Y/N, I was scared you were gonna leave me. That you were gonna find some other guy, someone who could give you everything you want—a big house, a nice car, a successful life. I didn’t have all that. And it kills me every single day knowing that that’s exactly the type of guy you went after the moment we broke up.” 

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, as Sukuna’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t find the words to refute his accusations. Because deep down, you knew he had a point. Your doubts, your insecurities—they had clouded your judgment, poisoned your perception of Sukuna. And now, faced with his raw honesty, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words.

But accepting that truth was a bitter pill to swallow. It meant acknowledging your own flaws, your own role in the breakdown of your relationship. And it meant coming to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, you had let your fears drive you to push away the person who had truly cared for you.

As Sukuna stood before you, frustration and hurt etched into every line of his face, you felt a pang of regret twist in your chest. You wanted to reach out, to apologize, to admit that you had your wrongs, too. But no words came out, choked by the weight of your own self-doubt.

“I…” you struggled to respond. It was a battle you weren’t ready to fight, so your only option was to run away. To turn away like a coward, and to flee the agonizing reality of your relationship. 

But Sukuna didn’t let you. Instead, he closed the remaining space between you, his lips crashing down on yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

In that moment, all thoughts of anger and confrontation melted away as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of Sukuna’s touch. Lost in the heat of the moment, lost in a puddle of strong emotions. You fell deeper into the trap of your undeniable sexual tension, your bodies becoming entwined in a passionate embrace in the empty parking lot. 

His lips were soft against yours, his tongue rolling in the opposite motion as you kissed him deeper. More, more. He was hungry for more. And so were you. 

So when he kissed your neck, you allowed it. 

When he squeezed your breast, you allowed it. 

When he raised your skirt, you allowed it. 

You released a moan into his mouth as he sat you on top of his motorbike, standing in between your legs as he reattached his lips back to yours. Your mouths enveloped each other perfectly. The bittersweet taste of his tongue, now moving south down your neck. 

“Sukuna…” 

While his mouth was busy doing its own work, his hands too were occupied in touching areas he had once explored. One hand travelled to your thigh, squeezing your flesh before he reached your crotch. Two fingers touched your underwear, as if he was checking if you were wet, before he pushed them onto the side to set your cunt free. 

You ended up wrapping your arms around his neck, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingers played with your entrance. Your clit, your sensitive bud, also wasn’t ignored when he began moving his fingers in a circular motion. 

“Mmmh!” 

What was going through his head? You knew he was aroused, but why did his gaze look so dark? It was too grim, to the point where it scared you. But you were far too distracted when his other hand went to grab a hold of your tit, squeezing your mound, and kneading the soft skin. He had pulled down your neckline to release your tits in the air, quickly attaching his mouth onto one breast as soon as they were out in the open. 

“Haaah!” 

You were going crazy, both from the fingers that were entering your cunt, and the mouth that was sucking your tit. You had your back arched into a C, your arms grabbing onto his shoulder as he became more and more aggressive with his touch. 

And you weren’t exaggerating when you said he was being more aggressive with it, because when he pulled himself away from you, it only lasted for a few seconds before he grabbed your waist and twisted your body around. In a blink of an eye, he had you position against his motorbike, with your body leaning against the seat and your ass high enough for his crotch. 

“S-Sukuna, s-someone might walk in—”

He had pulled your underwear down, letting it stay in between your knees, before rubbing your pussy from behind. His breath was warm when he whispered into your ear, “Don’t act like you hate it.” 

He wasn’t wrong with that either. Because while he was touching your entrance, testing if the tip of his cock would smoothly glide in, you became an animal in heat, ready to be devoured by him. You had to cover your mouth, forcing yourself to keep your voice down as he finally buried his cock six inches deep inside of you. 

“A-Aah!” your body jerked forward as Sukuna rawdogged you from behind. “S-Sukuna, aah!”

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he cussed under his breath, feeling a painful stretch on your scalp as he pulled your hair, “Did he fuck you this good?” 

“Mmh—no!” 

The sound of skin-slapping was reverberating across the empty lot.

“Did you let him cum inside?”

“N-No…!”

He was insatiable. He couldn’t get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He, too, was moaning from the feeling of your velvet walls milking his cock like a warm glove. So he continued to thrust inside you, his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside faster, and harder, and deeper. 

Your buttocks were becoming too sore, the stretch of skin on your bum vibrating in waves every time he hit you balls deep inside.

And while you were a moaning hot mess below him, a realization suddenly hit you in the face like a truck. Throughout your relationship, this was all he had ever wanted to do with you. He had always talked about doing it slowly, in a romantic set up with candles lit and petals around, in a place where you can lay yourself comfortably. You dreamed of him whispering I love you’s into your mouth as you two made love. You fantasized about him lovingly looking into your eyes as he reached his high. You used to picture him out, intertwining his hands with yours as he tells you you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

Yet now, you were doing it in the basement parking lot. In a dark, dirty place. Bent over against the uncomfortable seat of his bike. 

And more importantly, he was treating you like a whore. 

Tears welled up your eyes as you felt Sukuna pull out after finishing. For a minute, he gathered himself together, his head pressed against your nape as he sighed. 

“It’s not working, Y/N,” he mumbled against your skin, voicing the exact words you were afraid to hear.

“I know…” You sniffed, pulling the strap of your dress back up and adjusting your skirt back down.

He didn’t need to say anything more. When he gave you one last kiss on the forehead and wrapped you in his jacket, you understood the full weight of his words. It wasn’t just about this moment; it was about everything that had led you here. 

It didn’t work because you had already shattered your perceptions of each other. Both tarnished the way you saw one another. He would never come to terms with the fact that you gave yourself to another guy, just as you could never accept that he had slept with the same girls you had always warned him about. It would only lead to a constant game of back-and-forths, of pointing fingers, of toxic love.

So you watched him mount his bike, rev the engine, and look at you one last time before speeding away. His figure disappeared into the dark like a shadow, like a dream you only once knew. 

That was the last time you ever saw Ryomen Sukuna in your lifetime.

[servicpop]

loosing a bet delinquent oc x president bttm male reader

It was a bet amongst your friends against some silly game. They all supported one team but you supported the other — whether you actually had a big interest in the game or not, it didn't matter, you still preferred one over the other to win. If your team won, they would have to embarass themselves by wearing a cheerleader outfit, if their team won, vice versa.

What could go wrong? Both teams were good and predicting the win would be difficult.

The flashes of your friend's cameras caused you to hold a hand up to your face, desperately trying to hide the bright pink blush spreading across your cheeks. How did he mess up that last shot? The game was so close and right at the breaking point, the player missed and costed the whole game and your dignity.

It was a skimpy outfit with thigh high tights, no sleeves, and a skirt that probably met your mid-thigh. You could not let Adrien see you in this. Like a group of laughing hyenas, you and your friends finally walked out of the changing rooms, your head glued to the floor as you walked through the hallways. Everyone's eyes were on you and you swore someone wolf-whistled in your direction as a half-assed joke.

"You gotta wear it the whole day, you lost the bet," you felt a harsh clasp on your shoulder and your friend was met with a cold glare. You honestly wish you just bet money at this point. You were about to round the corner when you heard a familiar voice — Adrien's sickly smooth tone. Your heel grounded into the floors and you dashed the other way, ignoring the confused shouts of your friends.

Adrien's head tilted when he watched someone dressed in a pink cheerleader outfit practically run for their life in the other direction. At first, he genuinely thought it was some cheerleader girl who probably missed her practice or something, but the more he stared at the running figure, the more he realised. "Shit, is that prez...?" Earning a nod from the group, a smile curled onto his face. He's totally forgotten how different your friend groups were seeing as they furrowed their eyebrows being so close to a delinquent.

"I'm gonna... get a drink from the vending machine, go on without me," Adrien flashed a toothy grin at the boys and walked in the direction you ran, picking up his speed but not breaking into a sprint. You two still weren't an official or public thing. You hadn't run very far, opting to retreat back to the student council room — people wouldn't come in here willingly anyways. But one person would.

A whistle caught your attention and as you whipped around, Adrien was already in the room, closing and flicking the lock on the door. "What a sight," He chuckled, slinking a hand around your waist to get a better look at you. "It's not what it looks like," you try to defend yourself, pushing at his shoulders as he leans closer. Your back is pressed against the table and he's gripping your hips like you're about to fall.

"How'd you even get this?" Adrien drags his tongue along his teeth flipping up your pink skirt, "Wearin' anything underneath?" He muses, and to his disappointment, you were, but he couldn't complain since it was a pair of lacy white panties. "It just came with the outfit," You mutter, pushing the fabric back down as you turn your head. "And...? You still put it on," Adrien laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn't deny the fact that you had the choice not to put it on, but you still did so you kept quiet.

"Are you mad at me?" His voice is nothing but a whisper now as his head leans dangerously close to your ear. The delinquent has one hand on your waist while the other descends your back, trailing down to your cute skirt, pulling it up enough so that he could push your underwear down. You don't have half the mind to swat his hand away when he's so close to you. He slips the white fabric down just enough, spitting on his fingers before he teases you lightly. Adrien's brownish hair brushes against your ear as his head is positioned right next to yours, peering over your shoulder to look at his hands and your ass.

"You're always mad at me baby, I'm sorry," He cooes a gentle tone but it's deceptive. You flinch when he slips a finger past your rim, your arms instinctively moves to grip his shoulders. "I can't help it when you're dressed so cute," You can't see his face fully, but you know damn well he's smirking.

He's doing that knee thing where its pushed forward enough that if you rutted against it just a little bit, it would send sparks flying through your veins. "Adrien..." was basically the only thing you could whine when he's slipping a second finger, and then a third past that tight ring. He's really overestimating himself. His palm is against your tail bone as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, your warm, wet walls squeezing his fingers just right.

"Fuck, why do you have to feel so good, I can't just fuck the prez here," Adrien groans and you catch a glimpse of his eyebrows furrowing, he was genuinely frustrated. "I just wanna dick you down and make you take it like a good boy, I wanna see how loud you can— sorry that's corny," he bites his lip, slightly shivering from his own words. He knew you weren't like that, especially being such a goody-two-shoes; it was like second hand embarrassment from himself. He felt a twinge of guilt, a guy up to no good corrupting an angel like you.

"It's fine," and suddenly Adrien's head clears. Your reassurance was like cupid shooting multiple arrows into his heart, was he having a heart attack or was it just you? Adrien's head moves mechanically, like it was programmed to kiss you right then and there but he stops, short-circuits even. Kissing was out of the question. His relationship with you wasn't like that but oh how bad he wanted to. Adrien let's his head plop onto your shoulder, his fingers finding motivation to speed up, causing your body to straighten up.

He even adds a cruel curl to his fingers, pressing harshly against your prostate. "You're so evil," he murmurs, "Says— you!" You couldn't help the embarrassing moan that rips from your throat, the jerk of your body made you grind against Adrien's clothed knee, the cool fabric of the skirt rubbing against your tip wasn't helping either.

So you're stuck here, humping Adrien's knee as he fingers you from behind. Adrien slips his index finger out, leaving his middle and ring nestled inside you. Somehow, this allowed him to slam his hand deeper, pressing against your prostate once again. You could feel his breath fan over your shoulder, his back rising with each breath as his knee shifts, pushing against the underside of your dick behind the skirt. Your hands claw at his clothing, moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips.

His fingers work to aimlessly stretch you out before he pushed them in deeper, stilling them and curling them at random intervals. He was just playing with you at this point. You could feel your orgasm building but you weren't at the edge yet. Adrien seemed to hear your whines and desperate grinding, he smiles, "Alright sorry, sorry, I'll let you cum." He pulls his fingers out, groping your flesh before slapping his fingers against your hole, eliciting a confused gasp out of you.

Before you could open your mouth to insult him, he plunged his fingers into your entrance once more, fingering you as roughly as he could. His other hand that was holding you in place moved to the tent in your skirt. He smiled at the dampness pooling at the fabric, cupping the head of your dick with the fabric wrapped tightly around. The cool sensation of the fabric on your sensitive tip make you squirm, your body was unfamiliar with the feeling. Adrien clenched his arms around you, holding you still as he thrusted his fingers faster, humming at the wet sloppy sound.

You felt your eyes rolling back and your hands balled into fists, leaning on his shoulder for support. "W—wait!" You groaned as your body convulsed from the pleasure, tears welling in your eyes as you came, the mess contained by your skirt. "That's it," Adrien whistled, letting you ride your high out as he rubbed the fabric over your tip for a bit before stopping.

"Keep this," he grinned, "I'd like to see this next time."

a / n ; my motivation is in the dumps right now TT

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[andywritingstuff]

It wasn't a secret that Kento Nanami is a romantic at heart; dreaming of a white picket fence life. A wife, kids, all that jazz. However, how he lived his life wasn't exactly marriage material. He swore that he wouldn't fall in love with anyone. He erected walls around his heart, guarding it behind lock and key.

  And it worked. Until you came along.

  You, with those long lashes and gorgeous eyes. That smile and oh how soft your hands were when they accidentally brushed against his, how you always spluttered out “sorry,” quickly and quietly - his demeanor didn't give anything away, but he felt like he was burning from the inside out whenever he was in your presence.

  He started to linger around you, wishing to just listen to your voice or feel that electric buzz of cursed energy that flowed in and around you - unique, just like anything and everything else about you. Although quiet, he was satisfied. Did you think he was weird? Perhaps you did. But for Kento, being was enough.

  “It isn't worth the hassle,” he tells himself. After all, he'll probably die early. On a mission. He probably wouldn't be grieved if he died right now. And you don't deserve that instability. You deserved a man that could come home, guaranteed, every single day. You deserve someone that could strike up a conversation with you so easily. Just like Gojo—

  The mere thought has him fuming in a way he has no right to. Of course, you could choose to be with anyone you wanted. Still, the mere thought of Gojo Satoru, of anyone that wasn't him, being the only person to have the exclusivity of your affections, of those discreet glances, of knowing you like he wants to, has his heart thrumming against his ribcage at an unsteady rhythm and his jaw clenching like he wanted to chew on his own teeth. No, pulverice his own teeth. 

  Little by little, pebble by pebble, you have, unknowingly, broken down the barriers that Kento Nanami had built around his heart. All with just being there, doing nothing but existing.

  “It isn't worth the hassle,” that's something he keeps telling himself, but he's made up his mind.

  He's completely devoted to you.

  Small gestures such as buying your favorite drink from the vending machine because he's seen you drink the same thing every time. Offering you some “spare” lunch because he “accidentally” made too much food yesterday. Giving you a ride home because “it's on his way” (it isn't). Finding little excuses every day so he could spend time with you. So he could get to know you outside of fighting curses or bad-mouthing the higher ups or teaching the students.

  Kento Nanami, as previously mentioned, is a romantic at heart. He fully believes you're the woman that's supposed to be his until death do you part, but he just… Can't bring himself to do this to himself. To you. What if he doesn't come home again? What if he gets too injured by a curse and he's not the same again? 

  But even as the thoughts plague his mind and make his face contort into a worried expression, your presence eases his heart. Your presence, your soft “hey, what's up?” And he can just smile - a tiny one, sure, but a smile nonetheless. 

  “It's nothing,” he replied, “thinking about some curse.” Love is the most twisted curse, isn't it? Inserting itself like a nasty maggot and eating his dead insides and replacing them with a warm fuzzy feeling all over, a crave for you. A need for you, you, you, you.

  Over the course of a couple of months, you've been growing closer to one another. Close enough to know you're not just a friend, but someone he holds dearly. Someone he cares about. Someone he loves against his will. 

  He remembers the first time you called him by his name. Until then, you've only called him Nanami - which is fine. He prefers professionalism while on the clock, but it slipped out of your lips so naturally, so easy. Like it was meant to be.

  A curse had hit him. A Special Grade grade - it was supposed to be a lower grade. Still, he got too careless, and the curse hit him. “Kento!” You had yelled out, and, despite the pain that radiated through his entire body, he could still feel the movement of that nasty love maggot eating away at the last of his dead insides to make space for all of you. The last pebble of the wall around his heart being destroyed like it was never there. 

  “It isn't worth the hassle,” he tries convincing himself but loving you is like second nature to him. Running to shield you from a cursed energy hit, only to see you do the same for him. Loving and protecting you comes like breathing to him - no, like having a heartbeat. It wasn't a hassle. It was in his nature.

  “It isn't worth the hassle,” but as he sees your worried expression and he brushes his thumb along your cheekbone with relief painted delicately over his features, he can't help but give you a kiss to your forehead and wrap two strong arms around you, keeping you close to his chest, listening to his heartbeat, a silent reminder that he was here. Alive. Safe. Just like you were. And he has to remind himself that this isn't a hassle. This isn't a chore. This isn't something he's expected to do - he just does it.

  The silence after the fight settled. The air was crinkling with energy, his entire body was shaking with adrenaline and he could feel you, too.

  “Darling,” he finally murmured against your hair, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax. "I'm here." He assured you, his caresses on your hair and back a silent confession to his feelings.

  Kento Nanami is a romantic at heart. And only you've been able to know how much of a romantic he truly is. 

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[chososcutie]

"Beautifully Scarred"

featuring osamu dazai

｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊

art found on pinterest !! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊

synopsis: soft, intimate sex with dazai, where he unwraps his bandages and shows reader his scars for the first time, unveiling the most vulnerable parts of himself.

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now, so i had to write it, especially because this topic is kind of personal to me, and i truly can't imagine anything more romantic than the love that comes from accepting another's body, no matter how broken or scarred.

word count: 1.2k

tags: mentions of sh scars, intimate sex, slight teasing

₊˚⊹ ─ 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 ₊˚⊹ ─ 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 ₊˚⊹ ─

osamu dazai was always wearing bandages. always.

from the time that he was in the port mafia, to when he was in the detective agency, even around you, his loving girlfriend of a couple years now, he always had white gauze wrapped over his arms, neck, chest, even his legs.

not even when you would become intimate would he take them off, bandaged hands wrapping around your hips while saccharine moans slipped out of him, some of them becoming loose and unravelling around you two in flowy white strips, but never quite revealing the flawed skin that hid underneath.

which is why, one morning when the light of dawn was just barely peeking through the windows, illuminating you two in a warm glow, the sleepiness of morning still upon you, you decided to find out why.

you slung one leg over his slender frame, straddling him before nestling your face in his neck, to breathe in his warm, familiar scent.

when you feel him, hard and pulsing against your stomach, you look down to see his half-lidded gaze, mouth lazily curved up.

"mornin' wood," is all he says before capturing your lips with his, one delicate hand coming to slide up your body, shifting to grind against you in slow strokes.

you giggle softly into his mouth, spreading your legs wider for him, which he eagerly takes as an opportunity to cup your pussy, already wet and seeping, quickly pulling your panties aside to swirl his fingers over you, drawing out a small moan.

you reach for the loose sweats he always sleeps in, pushing them down past his hips and drawing an involuntary shudder, as your hands dip down to stroke him gently.

"f-fuck.." he whines as teasingly, your thumb sweeps across his slit, gathering the precum that had already started to spill out.

your hand pumps up and down lightly, never quite tightening enough to his liking, as he writhes slightly, gasping, with his hips bucking into your hand for more.

"s-stop teasing.." he groans out, and finally you relent, lining yourself up with his length, before finally beginning to sink down on him, your warm heat encasing him almost immediately.

your cunt throbs and flutters around him, as he sinks fully in to the hilt, his length pressing all the way to your cervix.

you groan, never quite getting used to your boyfriend's sheer size as he presses into you, already beginning shallow thrusts in and out with warm palms coming to cup your breasts, massaging and kneading eagerly.

you moan, leaning into him as his shirt slightly lifts up to show his toned, bandaged waist, unfurling slightly.

you quickly take the chance to lightly pull against the bandages lining him.

"why do you keep these on?" you question as his hips immediately slow, ever so slightly, hesitance clear in his eyes.

"hm? oh, I just have... scars." he admits quietly, hands coming to cover yours, where you’re toying with the bandaged strips. "not new." he rushes to add. "just.. there's a lot. i prefer to keep them covered.”

your eyes soften, as you gaze at him. “but why? there’s no reason to be ashamed of them, you know.”

“i know.” he swallows nervously, and you go to mouth kisses along his neck and collarbone.

“i’d never judge.” you murmur out. “but i understand if you’re not comfortable or you don’t trust..”

but before you can finish, dazai's nimble fingers are reaching around you and bandages are unwinding.

"i trust you."

long strips of gauze flutter around you two before settling, and then all you can see is dazai.

an expanse of pale white skin you've never laid eyes on before, marred with criss-crosses of all kind, scars, which to you, could not be more beautiful.

some pink, some white, all faded. there's so many, and almost unconsciously, your hand reaches for him, to run your hand lightly down along them, following the curve of every line.

he flinches, and you look to him, where he's averting his gaze, a blush covering his cheeks.

"oh dazai.." you breathe, beginning to kiss down along his scars. "i think you're beautiful."

he turns to you, lashes fluttering, lip pulled in between his teeth.

"so, so, so beautiful." you bury your face into his chest, nuzzling into him as your hands wander to everywhere you can reach, smoothing over the newly revealed skin that you're too eager to explore, unable to get enough.

he makes a strange sound under you, somewhere caught between a gasp and a moan. he pulls you closer, and you feel his cock twitching inside you faintly.

you smile into him, before beginning to move up and down atop him again, the sound of skin against skin quickly filling the room.

he groans, throwing his head back under you, his breathing growing heavier as his hips begin to thrust up into you, hands quickly coming to squeeze your plush thighs to lift you up and down.

you continue to trace over his scars lightly, as if you were committing them all to memory, and he arches under you, his cock hitting even deeper into your sweet spot relentlessly.

your hands come down to his sensitive nipples, rubbing and tweaking them slightly, knowing how whiney he gets when you do that.

"mmph.. m'gonna cum soon if you keep doing that, sweetheart."

you laugh, quickly breaking into a moan as his slender hips piston relentlessly into your drooling cunt, arousal dripping out of you.

you lean closer, your perky tits pressing against his bare skin for the first time, without scratchy bandages in the way, able to feel and see all of him, no matter how exposed.

you notice dazai trying to cover himself, shifting further into the blanket and lifting it over himself, but quickly you spread your hands across him, blocking it, as you ride him even faster.

"i mean it, dazai. i want to see all of you, no matter how broken. you're perfect. so, so perfect."

he stares at you, breaths heaving. "you don't think i'm repulsive?"

"how could I?" you shake your head dismissively, like the thought had never even occurred to you. "i love you."

the second the words leave your mouth, it has him gasping, eyes searching yours frantically, as he bounces you on him, almost feral with desperation. "say it again." his voice is hoarse, almost strange coming from him.

you lean closer, hips rutting almost animalistically, as your lips ghost over his. "i love you. i love you. i love you."

and then with a shudder, he's cumming, pumping you full of ribbon after ribbon of his milky white load, so much of it that it forms a creamy ring around his base.

you're not far behind, letting go with a loud moan, as your cunt twitches around him, sucking him deeper before absolutely soaking him in the wet, warmth of your release.

he's still pulsing inside you as you come back down, both of you panting with exertion, as you lay on his chest, content weighing down your limbs.

absently, you trace over his pretty scars gently, and he lets out a final moan before settling.

he glances over at you, tired eyes gazing at you with drowsy affection. "can't believe you, of all people, could love this body of mine."

you smile, moving downward to press your mouth over his warm skin. "and m'gonna kiss every scar until you do."

[grugruel]

Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.

Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics 🩵

You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for you🥹 I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!

Keeping Him Company

Pairings: Viktor x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.

So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.

AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hill😭

"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"

Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.

"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.

The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."

Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."

Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.

She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.

"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."

"The solitude?"

He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.

"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.

"You're happy with that?"

Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."

"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.

They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.

Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.

She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.

Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."

He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.

-

It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.

Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.

"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."

-

And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.

"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.

Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.

In unisome, they sighed.

Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."

Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.

Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.

But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"

He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.

Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.

"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.

Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.

"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.

But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."

Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.

Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.

What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.

"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.

And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.

Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.

But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.

Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.

Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.

"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."

Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.

Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.

Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.

-

She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.

"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.

"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.

Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."

Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.

"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."

Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.

Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.

Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"

"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.

She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."

"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.

She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.

"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."

"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.

For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.

Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.

With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.

Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.

"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.

With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.

He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.

Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.

"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.

As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.

She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.

From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him

"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.

Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.

Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.

"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.

Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.

This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.

With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."

"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."

"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"

"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"

"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.

As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.

"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.

"I maybe think so, too."

[aplaceforhumancorpses]

ᰔ・︴ Jason is cold ｡°✧

𝜗𝜚 Genre: Smut 𝜗𝜚 Warnings: nsfw, mentions of female anatomy 𝜗𝜚 Jason Todd x Iceberg lounge waitress 𝜗𝜚 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REQUESTS 𝜗𝜚 Pussy eater Jason Brainrot -----------------------------------------------------------------------

𝜗𝜚 You're responsible for your own media consumption :)

Winter is cold, but Jason is colder. You thought you two had made notable progress. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. You had helped him before in a heated interrogation about some high profile criminal. In which he stood over you. Donning the sleek armor, helmet, and hood. Sharp jagged edges of his words, accusatory and calculated. He never touched you in those 6 minutes. Never raised a hand at you. A few words was enough to make you spill. To make you spill information you were not aware was stored in your brain. From then on you were his preferred server. His little spy who delivered everything he wanted to know. You sought his praise, you learned what he needed.

The clientele phased in and out. You brought out plates of caviar and daiquiris with olives and offered kind smiles and an ear to listen to the Gotham elite's rants about criminal life. Their troubles were yours too when they tipped you rent money for the week. You listened with an eye to their wallets.

That was a waitress's manifesto. Hospitality is an art form.

And so, when you saw the Red Hood that bleak night, all you could do was nod politely at him as he slid into a booth. He was a large man, he dwarfed the plush corner table that was supposed to provide privacy. You swerved in between servers. Dodging plates with drinks balancing delicately on them. You approached his table, sliding him a menu from under your arm.

"Hi there," You nodded curtly at him as you set the menu on the table. "Can I get any drinks started for you?" Your eyes glanced back to his face. He was watching you intently, like a shark scenting blood.

"I'll just have an old fashioned. Thanks."

You mentally jotted it down. It was common practice to memorize orders. professionalism was a highly respectable talent, especially in such a large venue. You moved off toward another group. A few tables away you noticed that he had not taken off his helmet or mask. But, his eyes kept following your every move until you disappeared into the crowd.

The slits of his eyes disturbed you the most. The mask dehumanized him. It was like talking to an unfeeling machine. The way he observed, how he held himself. A machine. There was no warmth in his eyes. You watched his fingers twitch, and the knuckles go white as his hands flexed around the curve of the table. He was capable of breaking someone like a Barbie doll.

When you returned with his beverage you set it down on a coaster, a bit of liquid splashing over the edge of the glass.

"Gonna take a few cents off for that?" He asked. Maybe it was a cruel attempt at humor. You didn't smile, still debating on his sincerity. Your eyes widened slightly and he chuckled beneath the breath. Like he knew what you were doing, panicking internally. You tried again, offering him a pleasant expression, "Apologies, Sir." You said. You waited for him to say something further, anything that indicated he would talk to you, but his eyes stayed on your own. He watched you silently until the silence got to be too much.

"They've got you trained like a dog."

"Sorry?…" You were staggered at the comparison but you tried to play along. "Like a dog," he repeated, "trained to obey orders. You're a yes woman for Gotham's Illuminati." He mocked. His fingers fidgeted, the gloves on his right hand slipping slightly.

"Well, I enjoy my work.." And now you had his full attention, looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate. "I've met a lot of interesting people."

"Honesty, If you would." He cut you off abruptly. He seemed amused by your answer. You took a deep breath and spoke.

"While it is… stressing," You admitted. You wanted to tell him that you had been through more stress than the average college student, and you had also faced far more threats than Gotham's most notorious mobsters, "it's nice knowing the ins and outs of it all." His lips quirked up slightly at this admission. But his attention turned to the rest of the restaurant. The diners seemed oblivious to your conversation, the noise drowned out by the music. No one seemed interested in what you had to say, save for the occasional patron who had heard the comment.

The Red Hood tilted his head towards the bar where a bartender was mixing cocktails. They looked delicious and colorful even as the light reflected off the glass surface. "Let me see if I can make you feel better." He rose gracefully from his seat and made his way towards the bar, taking care not to step on anyone as he passed. You followed him.

"Oh I can't drink on the job-" You began.

"Then don't. This will only last 5 minutes." He interrupted, waving off your protest. You followed to the bathrooms behind him, Hood entering first. After a few seconds, he came back and gestured you inside. Inside was a small area, dimly lit but clean and modern. With sinks that looked more like counters. On the opposite wall there were mirrors. Hood motioned at the counter. Not getting the message he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you forward and hoisting you onto the cold marble. You squeaked, your thighs sliding against the smooth surface as you landed on your ass. When you caught your balance, Hood was already moving across your thighs, his hands reaching into your pants. Your mouth went dry as you stared. He yanked at your zipper, your body jerking in surprise. You gasped, as you watched the black fabric slide downwards. Hood pulled off the slacks and threw them into one of the sinks.

He pushed his thumb into your underwear, pulling roughly at the cloth. "wait--" you managed to mutter between gasps. "H-Hold on. The.. um- door." You stalled.

"Locked tight. I checked." He assured you. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. He dropped down to one knee, spreading your thighs farther apart as he pulled the masked down, shielding his lower half from view as his mouth was buried in your cunt. His tongue flicked out, tasting your wetness as he worked you open, gliding deeper each time. You whimpered as he nipped at your clit gently, tugging the sensitive flesh in the process.

"Oh god… this is so- a lot.. so much-"

You squirmed in embarrassment. He smirked at you as you struggled to find some sort of control. He continued to flick his tongue against your clit, making you pulse against the leather of his glove. A warm wet spot formed in his palm. Hood paused, licking his lips as he eyed your pussy hungrily. "I thought I was overworked.." He murmured. His thumb traced a line down your inner thigh until he reached the apex of your thighs. You arched up towards his mouth. You were panting now, "You seem tired."

"Mmm.." you mumbled and you could hear the grin in his voice

"Can't fuck you to sleep, not unless you clock out early." He teased, using his other hand to hold your hips tightly. "Call this a private service."

You nodded. As his tongue lapped at your pussy again you felt a rush of desire shoot up your spine, a shudder coursing through you. He pressed his face against the moist heat, letting out a groan. He slipped two gloved fingers inside you slowly as you moaned. You arched your pelvis into his touch. One of his hands slipped free from your thighs, resting over your knee, pushing them apart. You felt hot and feverish, sweat dotting your forehead, making your hair damp and sticking to your skin.

"should be paying me." He mumbled against your pussy, vibrations thrumming from his lips. He thrust one finger deeply into you. It sank all the way to the hilt before he withdrew it. You cried his name. That was all it took for you to lose the control you had over yourself. All of a sudden you couldn't think straight. All of a sudden you felt your muscles spasm as orgasm slammed through you in waves. You gasped loudly as you rode out your climax, your whole body shaking. Your legs fell open, allowing his nose to poke at your clitt. It felt slick with spit and your juices. He rubbed it against your folds, leaving a trail that tickled your sensitive tissue. You moaned quietly as he lapped up the salty moisture dripping down your folds and thighs. He licked at his finger before wiping it across his lips.

"There we are~." He purred. You shivered as his fingers stroked over your sex.

Reblong + Like if you got this far or Jason dies again