m1stm3

[m1stm3]

do yk how like. some ppl when they wanna ask “what happened?” or “whats wrong?” they give that tiny little nose crinkle with furrowed brows and a curious expression?? suguru does that

[m1stm3]

"Suguru?"

Your little whisper echoes through the dark halls of your shared home."Honey, is that you?" Silence responds to your call before–thump! "ughh..." well, there it is.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were at all holding before making your way toward what you are sure to be your poor, tired, pitiful boyfriend.

And lo and behold, it is your Suguru, in all of his sleepy drowsy glory. Poor thing bumped into the wall on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water probably. Whatever the case may be, you step closer before placing a hand over his flaming-hot forehead, you can feel him shudder and flinch at the contact.

"What are you doing here?" You scold gently while mentally noting the urgent need for a wet rag "we've gone through this already love. No sneaking out, you're sick, you should stay in bed" you slide your hand down, brushing your fingers against his sweaty neck and moving his hair back. An affectionate gesture, to assure him that you could never truly be upset with him.

Suguru is silent except for the occasional sniffles and grunts to moisturize his itchy dry throat. His gaze is glued to the floor like a guilty misbehaving child caught elbows deep in the cookie jar.

A weak raspy sigh barely makes its way out of his heavy chest and Oh does it tug at your heart strings "I'm sorry to worry you it's just..." he swallows a lump "you haven't eaten anything today".

...Sigh.

You don't know if you're feeling fond or disappointed really. Suguru is barely standing at all. A high fever, wobbly legs, a dry throat, a runny nose, and yet he still has the nerve to leave his soft warm bed, escape the room of his confinement, bump into the wall on his way to the kitchen, to make you, his dearest darling, a meal. It would be adorable if his health wasn't on the line, seriously suguru forgets that he is your baby just as much as you are his.

Suguru needs some tough loving to keep him in line sometime– is not a ridiculous statement honestly, but God is it hard to be mean to him.

"Oh, Sweetheart " you try again, a little softer this time, no scolding, he's your boy after all. "This is the last thing you should worry about" he turns his head away like he knows the lecture is coming.

Enough.

He's not running away. Two soft hands rest on either side of his face before moving his head back down to face you. Direct, raw eye contact.

You're not sure if it's the troubled breathing due to his stuffed nose, or your sudden solidified tone. But his breath visibly hitches and he jolts back a bit.

"Listen to me." You begin with sudden authority "You're going to sleep, right away" and it feels like a gavel striking the sound block. "Now come on" You take his hand in yours and start marching back in the direction of your shared bedroom. Suguru stumbles right behind you like a little wobbly puppy, desperately trying to match your hurried steps, he hasn't earned your consideration just yet.

The act is dropped once you enter the safety of your bedroom, and watch your boyfriend get cozy under the soft covers and a swarm of plushies you placed there for his protection.

"There you go, honey" you're looming over him in the blink of an eye "I'm sorry for being harsh, but you needed the lesson" your hands smooth over his sides, ensuring he's safe and shielded from the pesky cold of the night, before running your fingers through his gorgeous hair.

Suguru is seemingly not yet over your earlier exchange. He tries to blame the redness of his face on being sick but you know better.

He's visibly hanging by a thread.

"Come on, let's just take it easy tonight. Okay?" There's a second of unresponsiveness followed shortly after by a hesitant little nod. So so so adorable, seeing him this shy really isn't an everyday occurrence, the big and bad Dobermann reduced to a little black kitten at the palm of your hand.

"My poor baby" you absentmindedly coo "I know...it must feel terrible" You look up to meet his half lidded brown gaze "but you're tough, I know you'll be back on your feet in no time" you kneel down to peck his warm forehead, feeling his hot breath against your collarbone. Suguru shudders in response. And with your lips still tenderly placed on his skin– "My big strong man".

The final nail in the coffin. Suguru turns over and hides his face in one of his plushie warriors, hugging the toy tightly enough to cut its circulation if it were alive. Poor baby would usually just chuckle at your teasing, the fever must really be messing with his brain, he seems to think the stuffie is there to keep him safe from you.

Safe to say you're pretty taken aback at the sudden reaction. You sit there unblinking looking at his well built back, wow..this has really never happened before Still, you choose to spare him for now.

Okay maybe one last jab wouldn't kill him.

You place one hand over his strong shoulder before rubbing slowly and coming closer. Suguru's eyes are blown wide open once his overheated brain registers the soft weight of your chest pressed against his back.

"O-okay..please that's e-eno"–"Get well soon for me, okay?" The hand on his shoulder travels down to rub his back again, this time making its way to his thighs. "I have a treat for you but I need to be sure.."Suguru is as quiet as a mouse. A little bunny playing dead "That you can handle it~" and with a long lingering kiss on the back of his ear, the deal is sealed.

"I'll be right back with a wet rag for you!" You skip away to the bathroom victorious, leaving a poor breathless man behind. Suguru swears he felt your tongue make an appearance during the kiss. You won't get away with this. He'll get you back for sure!

[m1stm3]

OHHHHH MY FUCKIGN GODDDDDD

Touch-Up

Geto Suguru x amab!reader

smut; Back at the shop, you're here for a simple check-up. The artist seems to have different plans for you. Still very much inspired by this post by local horny genius @m1stm3 <333333 mwah

║▌║ bottom!reader, brief rimming & mirror sex, reverse cowboy, praise & degradation ▌│║

~ 1.7k words ~ | MDNI | mainframe_access() | part 1 - Permanent damage

Standing in front of the shop over three weeks later, you're no longer so sure you really can do this. You're even more nervous now than when you came in to get your tattoo, that leftover tension still simmering below your skin. Your pulse is racing as you step into the building, and see Suguru lounging behind the counter, drawing.

"Y/n!" he greets you, eyes raking too low for a casual greeting. Suguru lifts himself from the counter, an easy smile resting on his lips. "Here for the checkup?"

You nod, walking ahead as Suguru points you to the studio, the familiar burn of his eyes raking over your lower back. There's a sliver of shame about your outfit choice creeping up your spine - purposefully showing off the tramp stamp. The excitement of having the artist's attention overshadows it by far.

"Cute," he mentions casually, smirking while closing the door of the sterile room.

"Yeah, you outdid yourself," you agree timidly, finding yourself in front of his mirror again, turning slightly to see the ink peek above your waistband.

Suguru chuckles as he walks up beside you, his steps slow and easy. He stands close now, too close, his gaze locked on your lower back in the mirror. "Wasn't talking about the tattoo, sweetheart."

A flash of heat pierces down your spine, sharp and sudden. Your breath catches in your throat, unable to say anything while desperately keeping your eyes on your reflection like it might help ground you. Until Suguru's hands find your hips.

His touch is firm but smooth, gently guiding you into a subtle turn, positioning you as he wants. Slowly descending to get a closer look at the tattoo, he purrs, "Let's check how my baby has been healing," and you feel lightheaded again. You're too frozen to even realize he's pulling your pants low, his attention entirely on your lower back, a small hum vibrating from his throat. "She's been good I see," Suguru murmurs, and it takes you another second to understand that the artist didn't call you his baby, but the damn tattoo.

A shaky breath allows you to unfreeze, blood pumping through your ears. It's almost embarrassing how riled-up Suguru gets you with only words and eyes that stare at your skin like it's rare. His touch ghosts upwards, tucking your shirt definitely higher than it needs to be, the curve of your waist exposed to Suguru's view. Featherlight touch ghosts over the edges of the tattoo, the air so charged you feel like you can't breathe again.

"No scabbing," he mutters half to himself, half for show. "Lines held up, colores settled real nice." Suguru's hands don't move away, instead, settle on your hips, thumbs brushing skin that doesn't need to be touched right now. "Took your time cleaning her, yeah?" Every night?" His eyes flick upwards to yours in the mirror, voice low - lazy, warm, knowing.

You know what he's doing. He knows what he's doing. Yet you nod, throat bobbing under nervousness. And Suguru smiles at you like you confessed to something lewd. "Perfect," he mumbles, his eyes darting back to your tattoo, face inching closer, warm breath raising goosebumps. Closer. Until suddenly, you feel his lips on your skin.

Your body feels like it's on fire from the contact, tingles shooting up your spine, freezing you in place, unable and maybe unwilling to move away. He pulls back only slightly, humming softly pleased like pressing a kiss against you has confirmed something. And then, Suguru does it again. Slower this time, lower too, and then again, each kiss softer, less excusable.

His lips reach a point where you can no longer pretend this is about the tattoo, his hands underneath the fabric of your pants, pulling lower still. You can't even breathe, much less stand without wobbly knees. "Wh-what are you doing?" your voice makes everything worse, breathy and shaky, praying he doesn't see your erection in the mirror.

"Just checking the healing process," he murmurs, eyes fixated on the parts of your body he's exposing with the slow downward drag of your pants, "standard aftercare procedure." Your pants pool around your ankles now, Suguru's hands ghosting up your legs, settling on your ass. "Don't tell me you're getting shy now..."

Biting your lip, you keep your eyes averted from the mirror as best as you can while his hands grope into your flesh, pulling apart ever so slightly. Your gaze flicks down without your consent, catching sight of Suguru's dark gaze set on yours through the mirror before they're out of sight and you're jolted by the feeling of his tongue licking over your hole.

Barely containing a squeal, you try your hardest to remain upright while Suguru's warm muscle pushes just past your rim, causing your body to twitch forward, but held in place by the other's firm grip. "Fuck~"

Suguru hums against your skin, lapping into you a few more times before pulling back, sounding far too satisfied with himself. "Let me reward you a bit more, yeah~" he murmurs, one hand ghosting close to your hole, pressing into you curiously. You hiss from the sting. "For taking such good care of my baby..."

You barely remember agreeing, so deeply lost in the haze Suguru has you, barely manage your steps as he pushes you over to the leather sofa in the room, barely even manage to feel embarrassed completely naked now with an erection so prominent like you haven't been touched in years. Which would be partly true. No one's touched you the way Suguru has maybe ever.

Suguru helped you position yourself, straddling his thighs but facing away from him. He has perfect view of your ass and tramp stamp. You have nothing. Only the burn of the artist's gaze and the surprise when his hands decide to explore a new area of your body.

Currently, they're occupied with your insides. Two of his fingers, wet from the lubed condom he put on himself moments prior, stretch you open, lazily like the only thing on his to-do list today is you. You shut your eyes tight, praying you don't fall over while his praise fills your ears and makes everything even more blurry.

"Mhh, relax, sweetcheeks. Yeah, just like that. Let me in~" he groans as your muscles give in for him, wrapping tightly around his digits, making you gasp, high off his voice. "This what you came back for, hm?" You can feel him scissoring you open, preparing you for his cock. Your thighs quiver already. "Knew from the moment I saw you I'm gonna wreck you. Only sluts get that fuckin' shy while I work on them."

You gasp when Suguru drags his fingers out of you, one hand now gripping your hip, pulling you back slightly. You feel his tip press against you, gasping as he pulls you onto him, so slowly it has you whimpering. "Breathe for me, darling. There you go," he coos, his other hand now pressing against your lower back. "Let me see that arch- fuck. Look at you," he leans forward, chest against your back, the rest of his length disappearing inside of you, "so perfect for me, sweetheart."

You try to breathe through the stretch like he told you to, every muscle quivering, face and chest desperately hot from the building arousal. The moan that slips when he starts moving your hips is entirely involuntary and embarrassing. Suguru only chuckles, continuing to guide you - impossibly slow, sensual like this is more than a random fuck.

"Oh fuck," you gasp as he spreads your ass with his hands, clearly enjoying the view, breathy grunts echoing from behind you. Your back arches further, body begging to feel him deeper, every guided thrust making your dick twitch uselessly between your tensing thighs.

"Feel that, baby?" Suguru growls, suddenly gripping the back of your neck, guiding you from there. "That's what you get when you sit so pretty. Fuck, no one else should see my work like this." his voice is deep, vibrating almost deeper than his cock does, possessiveness seeping into the artist's language.

Your moans fill the studio, praying none of his colleagues are in today, their volume increasing every time Suguru penetrates deepest. Raspy moans replace his dirty talk, his guidance becoming rougher, hitting harder, perfectly driving you into an orgasm so drawn out it almost hurts. Your whole body shakes, throat so tight you can't even moan your way through it properly while cum spurts from you, weak but much like Suguru is milking you with his languid thrusts.

Suguru grunts, his grip around your nape tightening as he pulls you back onto him, his hips lifting to press even closer, your ass snug against his hips and you feel him pulsate, knocking the air from your lungs with how deep he is as he comes into the condom. "Mhhhh fuuuuck," he draws out, heavy breathing filling the air, his body slumping back into the couch, hot and wet underneath you.

Suguru is still inside, seemingly not planning to part any time soon, his hand slowly trailing from your nape down the curve of your spine and spread over the tattoo on your lower back. He chuckles before he reaches around and pulls you against him by your waist. "You did so good, doll," he murmurs into your ear, his touch sneaking around, finding the mess you made of your crotch.

You can't help but hiss when he takes hold of your shaft, spreading your cum all over, your body shivering against him. "Look at this mess, baby," he kisses your shoulder and you can feel the smirk, "all for me, yeah? So what's next?" his touch leaves your cock, finding your thigh, spreading your essence there too. "How about here, hm?" You can't help but whine with how high up his touch is on your inner thigh. Suguru's other arm sneaks around your chest, holding you close against him still, lips finding your ear to nibble along the lobe. His voice is barely more than a breath now. "If you keep being such a perfect canvas, I might do it for free..."

[m1stm3]

hell yea

[m1stm3]

the demons r telling me to smoke another bowl……… the demons…………..

[m1stm3]

nae nd vale tysm for tagging meeee!! ^^

currently reading: nothinggg >.<;

last song: my house by beyonce

last film: death becomes her

last series: jojos bizarre adventure pt 6, mha s7, nd the annual ohshc rewatch :3

sweet/savory/salty?: sweetttttt omfgjdjbfj

tea or coffee: coffee!!

working on: getting a second job to save for a place, con plans for july, nd getting a drivers license <////3

tags!!: @meanderingwistera @garten-of-eden @katsukilvr @iloveyoongi4321

TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW MORE

tried to reblog the original post but it was gone so here we are i guess. thanks for tagging me leigh!!!!! @poemeater <3 i love you to pluto and back come kiss me now

currently reading: nothing actually. walk of shame

last song: man in the mirror — michael jackson

last film: captain america brave new world

last series: new girl season 3, mha season 2 (rewatch), wbk s2

sweet/savory/salty?: savory + salty!!! but i would give up both kidneys for some cinnamon sugar pretzels rn

tea or coffee: tea always

working on: packing to move states in july, weeding through some rough friendships that no longer serve me, picking up guitar again, and. well. kinktober ‘25

no pressure tags 🤍 @carminechrollo @admiringlove @madaqueue @cheralith @bouqette @mochiqa @mosskissed @storiesoflilies @toadba @tokeposts @hiraethwrote sorry if you’ve been tagged i tried to choose people i haven’t tagged in awhile/at all hehe

[m1stm3]

there is something erotic about irritating a man. i’m really enjoying pissing you off. do you want fuck me yet

[m1stm3]

Tomura scenes from the season 8 teaser trailer

[m1stm3]

BUSINESS AS USUAL — poly!shigadabi

what it says on the tin: your business partners

a/n : i saw bkdkkrtd art that made me giggle and inspired this (specifically the business affiliate names heheheee)

m.list !

— 2025 © pwn. all rights reserved. do not repost, narrate, or translate my works. thanku!

[m1stm3]

mirko sketch

[m1stm3]

Mad as Rabbits Rumi Usagiyama x reader

cw: lesbian sex so MDNI, top!rumi, friends to lovers speedrun, 1.2k

You and Rumi Usagiyama have been “just friends” for nearly two years. The kind of friends who know each other's drink orders, training playlists, stress tells. Who sleep in each other's beds after long missions without a second thought. Who’ve seen each other naked in completely non-sexual contexts. Totally normal. Totally platonic.

Except for the part where you’re hopelessly in love with her. And have been, maybe, since month five.

It’s fine. She’s Rumi—loud, brash, cocky-as-hell Rumi—and you’re her sidekick-turned-partner. She throws an arm around you on red carpets. Ruffles your hair. Smacks your ass when you make a good hit during sparring. Nothing she does means anything. Which is why you’ve learned to keep your mouth shut. You say nothing when she calls you her favorite pillow. Nothing when she climbs into your bed after a night out, wearing nothing but a hoodie. Nothing when she catches you blushing and just smirks like she knows. You are going to die with this crush. Quietly. Respectfully. Professionally.

Until she completely ruins it at the Hero Commission Gala.

The night starts predictably: loud music, fake smiles, press everywhere. You’re only there to support Rumi, who’s being honored for a solo takedown that made national headlines. You both show up arm-in-arm, half-matching on accident—her in a red suit, you in a black dress with a similar red lining that made her whistle when you walked out of your room.

“Damn. You clean up nicely, baby.” “That nickname is gonna get you in trouble for harassment.” you joke. “Cool. You gonna cuff me?”

Totally platonic behavior.

What you don’t expect is for her to stick by your side the whole night.

Not just stick by—she hovers. Refills your glass. Shoots glares at anyone who flirts too long. Laughs too loudly at your jokes, even the dumb ones.And then, in full view of a dozen pros and half the Commission, she leans in and licks the frosting left on the corner of your mouth.

You go still, heartbeat picking up dangerously quick..

“Had to,” she shrugs.

You're still red-faced when you drag her into the nearest empty hallway.

“What the hell was that?”

She just looks at you. Calm. Maybe even a little smug. “You had a lil something there. I took initiative.”

“You licked me, Rumi.”

Her voice drops. “And you liked it.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. She watches, eyes flicking down to your lips. And then she says it—casual, like it’s no big deal:

“C’mon. Let me take you home. I’ll be good to you.”

“We’re friends,” you say, because it’s all you can say.

Her smile shifts—softer, somehow. A little slower.

“Yeah. We are. But maybe we could be more, if you let me.”

You blink. She steps in close, mouth near your ear.

“Let me give you what you want, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You want to say no. Want to pretend you’re stronger than this. But your body’s already moving—fingers in hers, walking fast, heart thudding, like you’ve been waiting your whole damn life for this moment.

Her apartment smells like her and the door clicks locked behind you before your breath even catches up. You're still halfway processing the gala when she kisses you like she means it—messy, needy, like she’s been waiting years, like she's finally crossed a finish line she’s been sprinting toward in secret. Clothes come off in a blur of hands and laughter and low groans. She tugs her tie loose, then helps you out of your dress, teeth flashing when she sees what’s underneath.

“Fuck, baby,” she exhales. “You wore this for me?”

You didn’t, technically. But you nod anyway.

“Good girl.”

Her bed is wide, a little messy, and full of her scent. You land there in a tangle, and Rumi climbs over you with the ease of someone who’s been there in a thousand other ways—sparring, teasing, lounging on off-days. But this time, her hands are reverent. Focused. She drags her fingers up your sides, across your thighs, spreading you open with a gentle pressure that says I got you.

“You nervous?” she murmurs, breath warm against your jaw.

“Little bit,” you admit.

Her eyes soften. She brushes a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, then lower. “Don’t be. You just gotta take, baby. I’ll give.”

And god, she does.

Her mouth between your legs is everything—strong and sure, but slow enough to savor. She laps at your clit in languid strokes that have your thighs twitching, then backs off when you start to tremble, just to watch your face as you beg for more.

“Already this wet,” she mutters, grinning. “Fuck, you were starving, weren’t you?”

You whine her name, legs shaking as she sucks at your clit just right.

“That’s it. Come for me, sweet thing.”

You do. Fast and hard. Hands tangled in her hair, thighs clamped around her head, riding her mouth like it’s the only place you’ve ever belonged. She doesn’t stop. Not right away. She licks you through it and then eases back with her chin slick and eyes gleaming.

“Still with me?” she asks, kissing your knee, your thigh.

“Barely.”

“Good,” she says, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “You got one more for me before I ruin you properly?”

You blink, then flush deep as she pulls out a harness.

You’d seen it before—on a mission trip once, when her duffel bag spilled open and you pretended not to notice. But now she straps it on with the same confidence she carries into every battle, letting you watch every moment like a show just for you. You’re panting before she even touches you again. She lines the toy up, runs the head of it teasingly along your folds, just enough to make you squirm. Her voice is dark, syrupy.

“Still want it, baby?”

“Please,” you gasp. “I need it, Rumi—”

And just like that, she pushes in.

She fucks you like she’s meant to. Smooth, deep strokes at first, holding your hips still with one hand, the other splayed across your belly to feel how far she reaches.

“That’s it. Take it. Doing so good for me.”

The harness grinds against her own clit with every movement, and she’s panting too, sweat beading at her brow, muscles rippling above you as she gives and gives and gives. You reach up, instinctively trying to touch her chest, her waist—just anything—but she pins your wrists to the bed.

“Not yet,” she growls. “This is for you.”

“But I want—”

“You’ll get me after,” she promises, thrusting harder, lips brushing yours. “I’ll let you take care of me after. Right now, lemme wreck you.”

You lose count of your orgasms. One with her fingers on your clit along with the strap, another when she angles her hips just right and presses into something that makes your whole body shake. When she comes, it’s from grinding against the harness as you sob her name into her shoulder, your pussy clenching so tight around the toy she shudders at the sight.

“Oh f—fuck, that’s it—baby—fuck—”

She kisses you as she shakes, rutting against your body, your whimpers driving her over. You end up tangled in each other, soaked and sore and dizzy. Her strap is discarded somewhere on the floor, and your chest is still rising and falling like you ran a marathon. She’s holding you now. Soft. Quiet. Stroking your hair.

You murmur, half-asleep: “So, um, still just friends?”

Rumi snorts, then presses her lips to your temple.

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Happy pride to all the gay people in my phone but especially to my fellow lesbians <333

[m1stm3]

oh. omfg.

Permanent Damage

Geto Suguru x reader

suggestive; tattoo artist Suguru acts a little unprofessional while tatting your tramp stamp - based on this post by my dear @m1stm3 <3333

~ 850 words ~ | MDNI | mainframe_access() | a/n: lemme know if u want a second part where reader gets railed <3

Keeping the shirt pulled up, you examine the stencil Suguru had positioned perfectly - just low enough to make it scandalous, right on that sweet spot that peeks out when your clothes ride up. The design is perfectly flowy, playing with the curves of your body like it grew with them. Suguru did a better job with it than you could have ever hoped for.

"It's perfect," you grin, spinning from left to right to see each angle in the large mirror.

The tattoo artist stands to the side, watching you with a small smirk, eyes only sometimes cast to your lower back. More often, they rake the rest of your body. "Suits you," he comments, following you to the setup. "Face-down for me, yeah?" Suguru instructs while lowering himself onto the stool, rolling over to where you're positioning yourself.

You're already nervous enough getting your tattoo, but the way Suguru is wording these things, the way he's eyeing you, just subtle enough to be passed off as nothing - it has you buzzing with a different kind of tension. "Is this okay?" you ask, voice breathier than you'd like.

"Perfect, sweetcheeks," he offers you a very charming smile as you peek over your shoulder, propped up on your underarms. Your face feels warm from the attention, so exposed with your shirt ridden all the way up and your pants pulled so far down. "If it gets too intense, say the word," Suguru loads the gun with ink and you let yourself sink onto the bench, hands under your cheek, somehow feeling even more vulnerable like this.

"Will do."

You feel the buzz of the machine close, the warmth of his hand radiating through the black nitrile gloves against your skin. "Starting now," Suguru announces before making the first drag over your lower back, burying the ink inside. It's a very low scratching pain, very bearable - unlike the feeling of his touch lingering just above your ass.

It goes on, the pain becoming more dull and more serrated at the same time, remaining manageable. Suguru shifts, wrist pressing into a place way too intimate, making you want to flinch out of instinct. "So," he starts casually, his weight pressing more into you, "you got a boyfriend to admire this piece?"

Your breath hitches, thigh twitching underneath the pressure of his touch. "N-no," you mumble, swallowing heavily without looking back at him. Suguru's gaze burns right through your skin - you're not ready for that impact on your eyes. "No boyfriend..."

He only hums in response, once more reloading the ink in the gun before returning to his work, like his way too personal question didn't happen at all. You're not sure if you feel more tense when he speaks or when he doesn't. The air feels heavier now, pain switching very subtly from that buzzing scratch into a pressurized burn, becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second.

The cool vinyl of the bench sticks to your skin, every cell whirring with uncomfortability. Your efforts to remain still only partly take. "Almost finished, doll," Suguru rasps behind you, clearly deep in concentration. You only grip your own arm tighter, pushing through the discomfort.

Finally, the machine stops. One last very painful wipe and you hear Suguru sit back, eyes scanning the completed work proudly. "All done, sweetheart. Go take a look," he smirks, pointing towards the mirror.

You try not to look too awkward when getting off the bench, your body sore from staying still for so long. The pain on your back bled into a subtle pulsation while walking over to the mirror, breath hitching when you finally see the completed art in the reflection. "Holy shit."

"Clean lines, good placement... but really, it's the canvas that makes it," Suguru purrs while walking up to you, taking his place next to you in the mirror, eyes on the tattoo. You try not to let your nervousness show.

That plan fails when he kneels down, hands carefully pulling your pants even lower. You desperately, so desperately try not to think about half your ass in front of the hot tattoo artist's face like it's nothing. He starts explaining the Second Skin he's applying, warm hands smoothing over your lower back, far far down - you can barely listen to his aftercare instructions.

"One of my favorites I've done. Might have to keep an eye on how it heals," he finally says while standing up again, pulling your pants up for you. "Think you can do that? Come back in a few weeks?"

You nod, say something normal. Like your heart isn't beating too fast on your way out, and your skin isn't burning from just the tattoo... and like a few weeks don't suddenly feel like a lifetime.

[m1stm3]

Is tomura possessive over reader?

"Hey, mama-" The chef leans over the just cleaned blacktop, toasting himself on the still warm surface. "You coming out for drinks?"

You throw your head back with a laugh. "You gonna cut my lemons for me?"

"Nah," Hawks juts his tongue into his cheek and then sucks his prize in between his teeth, presenting you with a little white pouch. He pops it back into his mouth with a wink. "But I got a zyn with your name on it."

Tomura grips the mop do hard he thinks his skin might rip off from the friction. Even as you titter and gag, returning to your cutting, Tomura watches as Keigo keeps eyeing you over like a hawk-- hence the nickname. He was always getting an eyeful of all the servers. You especially.

Tomura is aware that Hawks would be the clear choice between them. He's short, but built in the gym, with a straight, white smile that melts half of the girls here on impact. It's also rumored that he has a big cock, which is. Well. Just annoying.

It's an open secret that you two have slept together before. Hawks won't shut the fuck up about it.

"Who's coming tonight?" you ask.

"You, hopefully."

You roll your eyes at that.

"Are you coming, Tomu?"

The idea of going to a club makes his head throb. The music always triggers his migraines, the idea of other people's sweat on him is vile-

But the thought of you grinding on him might be enough.

"Maybe if I didn't smell like like that fucking rancid ass fryer." Of course he had spilled the grease trap while emptying it earlier.

"We can go to your place and shower?" you suggest, and Hawks balks.

"Aw, you gonna hang out with Itchy and Scratchy tonight?" Hawks juts out a lip in fake sympathy. That stupid fucking nickname makes Tomura's skin crawl. "Don't you wanna hang out with the big boys?"

You turn on your heel.

"We both know you aren't one of the big boys, Hawks."

Apparently, the rumor isn't true.

"Oh, please, that's cause your pussy is a loose-"

Tomura lets the mop clack to the ground as he steps over to the other man, face jut into his.

"Felt pretty tight last night," he seethes.

[m1stm3]

just a lil snippet………. perhaps……………..

On the top shelf…

You bit back an annoyed groan, bitterly grumbling under your breath as you grabbed the stepladder and placed it in front of the tall shelf.

Was this a good time to mention your fear of heights? Probably not!

You stepped up the ladder, subconsciously holding your breath as if that would help you keep your balance.

Despite all of your (minuscule) attempts to keep your balance, you may have leaned back a little too far while you were tearing open the box.

And suddenly you were falling.

Wow.

This is really how you were going to die? Falling off of a stepladder at your dead-end service job while trying to get a lid for a kids cup?

That’s… pretty sad actually.

…

You always thought dying was supposed to be this huge deal, complete chaos before deafening silence.

This felt strangely mundane compared to what you’ve heard.

You kept your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the imminent impact that would be your demise.

The only thing is, you never hit the ground. Yes, you definitely fell against something, but it almost felt like you were being carried.

No, you definitely were being carried.

After the pounding of your heart in your ears died down you heard a familiar voice.

“- sorry! She’s always been such a klutz but the customers love her so it never crossed my mind to let her go and-”

“Oh no, letting her go won’t be necessary at all, darling. It was just a small mishap! I’m just glad she didn’t get hurt.” This voice was new and much closer to you than your managers.

You cracked your eyes open, sparing a glance at the person-

Wait, no-

Monster who saved you.

Oh wow he’s sparkly.

You stared at him for another moment before everything clicked.

Oh no.

See, when your coworkers and managers mentioned “the owner”, you always assumed it was the store owner. Someone who just owned the individual property you were so wonderfully employed at.

In short, you thought the chain of command was a lot more extensive.

But looking at your savior, you realized you were sorely, sorely mistaken. So mistaken that you now were being held bridal style by the sparkly, world-renowned celebrity himself.

i WILL post an undertale oneshot one day. one day…..

[m1stm3]

i WILL post an undertale oneshot one day. one day…..

[m1stm3]

“u never gave confirmation whether u were coming or not!!” maybe bc. i called like 4 times and it said the line was busy. every time.

i need to get pierced again…….. i neeeeeeed ittttttt…………….

[m1stm3]

i used to have HOOP DREAMS until i found out there were OTHER ways to score 😈