#this will be more pretty when time goes on...

[tonycries]

Type Dangerous - R.S.

Synopsis. Five times Ryomen Sukuna’s “wingmanning” family is the biggest cóckbIock in existence, and the one time he finally gets what he wants - you, his nephew’s hot preschool teacher.

Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, 5 + 1 things, Itadori family shenanigans, unckuna, he has the BIGGEST crush on you, making him blush, face-ríding, síxty-nine, Sukuna with tattoos, PÚSSYDRÚNK Sukuna, he goes feraI, p sIapping, p talking, he’s BIG, chokíng, tummy buIges, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, creampíes, through pantíes, cúmplay, slight bréeding, getting together, nosy families, lowkey crackfic, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.6k

A/N. HEHE TOLD Y’ALL I’D WRITE IT…

“This is my uncle, he just got out of jail.”

“Hell yeah.” Not the most courteous introduction to Yuji’s wide-eyed lil’ friends - but if Jin had bugged n’ blackmailed him into picking the brat up from preschool today then he was going to make sure it never happens again.

And as Yuji starts swinging from Sukuna’s broad, beefy biceps, he grins at his miniature crowd. “He also has tattoos and likes to drink.”

“Hell yeah- don’t forget about the cars, twerp.” Sukuna’s nodding, breezing past the horrified faces of parents that tugged their children at least seven feet away. Seriously, how long was this teacher going to take? He could see your back hunched by another corner of the classroom, hugging a sniffly student goodbye.

“Oh yeah- and he likes driving fast and slashing tires.”

You straighten, probably hearing every word - not that he cared, Sukuna couldn’t imagine who’d want to be around this all day. “Hell ye- oh.”

Until you turned his way.

And Ryomen Sukuna feels his heart drop- right along with the muscular right arm that was stuck out for Yuji to climb all over like a handlebar. And with it, his nephew. 

Who seems quite disgruntled at his sudden meeting with the soft, padded floor of the preschool classroom, standing on his own two feet for the first time since Sukuna had arrived here. He furrows his light brows, “Hey- wha’s the big- oh! Teacher!”

Seems like it runs in the family, Sukuna muses - because all it takes is one glimpse of you starting to head their way before Yuji lights up as brightly as the Sun itself. And to Sukuna, whose nephew was a perpetual Christmas tree, it almost made him wish he wore his usual shades.

At least that would’ve hid the way his crimson eyes sweep up n’ down your figure, languidly. Breath stuttered, mouth partly agape. 

Sukuna’s utterly forgetting himself before he’s called out by one of Yuji’s friends- a squeaky, orange-haired girl no older than five. “Ewwww- why are you red?”

“Shut it, bob-cut.”

“So—” Perfect timing, you sidle up to the bustling little group right as Sukuna spits out the tail end of his sentence. A brow of yours raised, bob-cut? 

And oh- you’re even more perfect up close. Is it really too late for him to enroll in preschool? He didn’t see any age restrictions around, and he could count till ten, surely. Genuinely considering, he’s gulping at the way your pretty eyes narrow. “Jin’s not here today? Yuji, do you know this man?”

The boy in question bounces with excitement, “Of course! This is Sukuna, my uncle who just got out of jail and drives fast cars.”

“Ah- ahah.” Said Sukuna chuckles gingerly, eyes flitting between his beaming nephew and your blank expression. Finally settling on the kid, “Yuji! What have I told you about uh- the benefits of um- safe driving and caring for our fellow civilians on the road?”

And there was Sukuna’s first mistake - asking a question, because surely that was a sign for Yuji to nod solemnly. “That it’s for lame pussies who- mmpf!”

“Ah…” You blink.

The damage was already done- but Sukuna’s clapping a meaty palm over Yuji’s mouth already. Oh, he was smashing this kid’s iPad when they’re home. A thin line of nervous sweat beads down his temple as he stares up at you, “K-kids these days, right, ma’am?”

Yuji frowns, “But you do call them lame pussies who-”

“Yuji!”

“Right right, miss.” The lively girl from before - Kugisaki, he thinks her name was - latches onto your swaying skirts. “And he also likes to drink.”

“And slash tires.”

“Tuna mayo.” 

The crowd mercifully quietens down for a split-second. “…”

Until a grumpy black-haired boy peeks through his bangs at that last line, as if translating. “He says he also sets fires.”

Sukuna never said that - but he doesn’t get a single chance to say so. Too busy staring at the constant knit of your brows, the way your gaze was darting from the children to Sukuna like a tennis match, trying to bite back a smile. “I-is that so?”

“And he has a lotta tattoos.” Yuji pries off his uncle’s muffling palm, back to climbing him like his very own jungle gym. As if to prove his point, he pokes the bulging band of black ink that encircles Sukuna’s bicep. “See?”

And if he was any less devastated about making himself look like an absolute fool in front of his nephew’s pretty preschool teacher, then maybe he’d have noticed that look in your eyes. 

Maybe.

Maybe he’d have seen the slight glint in them as you followed Yuji’s pudgy, directing finger - from the wide tattoos at his biceps, to his wrist, to the circles peeking through Sukuna’s off-white undershirt. So tight that it was like the pale color was nearly painted onto him- if Itadori Jin was the sweet, soft single dad that was always early for pick-up, then Sukuna was just rugged. 

From the dishevelled state of his twinning rosy hair, to the studded piercing on his left earlobe, to the naturally-honed muscles that made him look hulking.

And it almost seemed like you were…checking him out? But surely that was a figment of Sukuna’s imagination, right? Right?

You’re nodding as Yuji looks to you impatiently for approval, “Why, you’re quite right, Yuji.” The corners of your glossed lips curl upwards as you turn to Sukuna - and he feels electricity pang down his body. “Uncles these days, huh?”

Ah, he was gone for. 

It was almost a comical sight, you’re thinking - such a large, towering man well over six feet, speechlessly gawking at you. Leaned forwards, ears red; barely even registering the way his nephew grabs onto the tufts of his coral pink hair like a horse- whispering for the rest of his friends to join in.

Kugisaki makes two treks grabbing onto his sides before she’s looking up and crinkling her nose, “Ew. You’re red again, Mr. Felon.”

“He’s not Mr. Felon, he’s Mr. Tire-slasher.”

Yuji shakes his head, “No, he’s Mr. Mugshot.” Seated upon Sukuna’s broad shoulders, the boy adjusts his body to stick a hand inside his backpack and search. “Would you like to see the mugshot, miss-”

“Okay, time for us to get home.” 

Firmly, Sukuna tries to shoo away the army of toddlers trying to climb him as gently as possible - only four glares, now that’s a record. Nephew still on his back, bag now wrestled into his hand and well away from where Yuji could procure any printouts of his (admittedly flattering) mugshot. 

He’s feeling his heartbeat pick up just a lil’ as he darts his eyes back to you, “I-it was just probation, by the way. Happened to slash some uh- tires…” 

“And also drive fast!” Yuji pipes up happily.

“…That too.” Grouchy face wincing at the amused smile on your face- goddammit he’s never going to be able to show his face here ever again. Sukuna simpers out a wave, making sure to flex his chiseled biceps at you ever-so-slightly - if he couldn’t keep reputation, at least he could make you stare. “See you ‘round, teach.”

“See you around, Mr. Mugshot.”

Fuck. 

.

.

.

“I thought I said I’m not doing shit for the brat’s school again.” 

Jin patiently gestures for him to hush with the swearing in front of the gaggle of children, humming as he keeps handing out sugar cookies - half-off for dealing with Sukuna’s shoddy customer service. “Well, technically, we’re not in the preschool. We’re in the park.”

His younger brother seethes, flicking the ribbons of his pretty pink apron (Jin’s doing, of course.) “Having a damn bake sale-”

“Shush, Ryo. There are children around.”

“Exactly my point!” Was Sukuna the crazy one? He must be the crazy one. And he’s running a grumpy hand through his unruly pink locks- before remembering that one of those damn kids running around this bake sale had called him cotton-candy head and now he’s both irritated and unable to self-soothe.

It’d been Jin’s idea to drag him to the preschool bake sale, held at the nearby children’s park- something about raising money for a talent show.

Honestly, fuck talent shows. It didn’t even take two minutes surrounded by all the fanfare for him to have half the mind to eat those sweet treats himself and just leave-

“Oh hey, you’re Mr. Mugshot.” A little boy wearing a panda mask, one he’s never even seen before, points up at him and giggles as Sukuna glares. Did that nickname really spread?

He’s bending over their frilly pink stall with a damn good word or two about-

“Oh! Jin, thank you for coming.” Before he’s hearing the sound of the pearly gates of heaven, and an angel to accompany right along with it. You. Who’d silently meandered up to their cookie stand with an expression of both delight and concern. Your gorgeous mouth pursing as you stop to think, “And…Sukuna, right? Thank you, too, the children really appreciate the work you’re putting in.”

You remembered his name. He has to hold back a squeal. 

“A-ah, yeah- yeah! Of course, of course.” He’s swiftly leaning over the stall, arms crossed so that you can fully take in the way they streeetch his tight sleeveless turtleneck. 

In the faint distance - honestly, it feels like miles away - he’s hearing the panda-mask boy unsubtly whisper something to his father about how ‘Mr. Mugshot has turned red.’ 

Not! Obviously not- smooth. Ryomen Sukuna is supposed to be smooth, and he’s desperately attacking his features into something that resembles suave nonchalance. “I’m a…real philanthropic type of guy, y’know?” Cocking his head with a smug grin, “So, you come ‘round here often?”

You’re smirking, your giggle sounding like his favorite song. “Well, it is my preschool class.”

Ah, shit. His eyes widen just a fraction, right. 

Scoffing, “Tch, uh, yeah. I knew that.”

So many days spent mentally praying that yet another one of Jin’s work meetings went over time again - just so that Sukuna would have an excuse to see your pretty face. And that’s the first thing he says?

Suddenly, he’s too aware of the ogling toddlers, of the snug pink apron that he was currently donning - and the way your eyes seem to stray down to the gaudy bow settled between his pecs.

At this point, it seems even his brother takes pity on him. Adjusting his glasses with a soft chuckle, “It seems Ryo here had the greatest time at pick-up last week, he only had good things to say about you, ma’am.”

You blink in slight surprise, eyes taking in Sukuna’s large, fidgeting figure. “I’m quite flattered.”

Yes! Sukuna’s pleading eyes snap to the interested twinkle in your eyes, and then to the other man- yes, keep going!

“Of course, Yuji did tell me he was upset he didn’t get to show you his printed mugshot of him. It was all that he could-”

Fuck no! 

Catching the other’s urgent eyes, Jin sputters- “B-but- but, it was just a little vandalism, of course. Just a little ah…a little driving and- eek!” Cutting himself off promptly as soon as Sukuna steps down on Jin’s foot, syllables stumbling, looking ‘round anywhere for any distraction. “Why don’t you- ah! Why don’t you give our lovely teacher here a cookie, Sukuna. Free of charge.” 

You’re waving your hands, oh-so-sweetly, “I could never, please let me pay-”

“Nah, a pretty girl like you? I should give you more, ma.” He could give you a totally different type of cookie but this might just not be the place to say those words out loud- ah, he’s still got it. 

Sukuna’s thumbing out the biggest baked treat between a fluffy tissue and handing it over to you- ready to feel the sweet, sweet graze of your fingertips, if he was lucky.

But oh- it seems like the gates of heaven really have just opened up to him, because instead of taking it from his hands, you’re leaning down and taking a bite. Straight from where he held it. Humming as the candied taste floods your mouth, the soft pushness of your lips taps against the edge of his thumb.

And he wonders how they’d feel on his lips, instead. 

“Ah, sorry.” You’re taking a peek at him through your lashes and maybe he doesn’t still have it because Sukuna feels his breath hitch. “It just looked so good, and my hands are a little…”

And it’s only then that he’s noticing just how many boxes upon bags of things you’d bought from nearly every stall here. Happy to support your students - oh, you really were an angel. 

“Oh, let me.” Ever the gentleman, Jin hastens to move around a few bags so that you’re more comfortable. All while Sukuna can only hold out the cookie and freeze. Slack-jawed. 

Completely ridiculous. 

He doesn’t move a single millimeter, not even when you’re now able to easily grasp the baked good from him. Expectantly waiting, palm raised - while he only ogles you. 

“I uh- let me just-” And it takes Itadori Jin both hands to pry the crumbling cookie from Sukuna’s hands, sighing before wrapping up about two more in apology and handing them over to you. “We do hope you like them, ma’am.”

“Mhm—” Rubbing over the crumbs at the edge of your lower lip with one hand, you look dead-set on Sukuna as you murmur. “It was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

Sukuna might not have been the chef - baker, whatever you said goes - it was Jin, but he can’t help but feel on top of the world as if he was. Waiting just until you’re out of sight, walking through the sunny Spring park up to the next parent-manned stand, to pump his fist with a low ‘hell yeah!’

“Ryo, you haven’t been this smitten since- well, ever.”

“Daddy, Mr. Mugshot is really weird.”

Sukuna whirls at a few staring parents- “The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

.

.

.

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

Arguing with a thirteen-year-old wasn’t very high on Sukuna’s bucket list, and yet, it seemed to happen on a nearly daily basis. He would blame middle school for being the root of Choso’s attitude, but he suspects the new emo look has something to do with it, too.

And maybe the fact that the older man was accompanying one of his weekly visits to Yuji’s preschool playground. Cutting off just the last of Friday’s classes just so that he could walk down the street to see his little brother. Despite seeing him at home every day, but still. 

That’s also what Sukuna himself was here for- of course. Why else would he-

“Ah ah- Kugisaki, what have I told you about using the toy construction hammer for things other than construction? We don’t hit, m’kay?”

Sighing, the way that Sukuna’s towering frame leans against the playground’s cherry blossom tree for support draws such disgust from Choso. Dark eyes flickering between his blushing uncle, and you - in the middle of the sand pit, trying to wrangle a class of toddlers. “You’re pathetic.”

“Shut it, scrawny.”

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

Sukuna’s life flashes before his very eyes, and strangely it’s mainly made up of every moment where he’s embarrassed himself in front of you. Looking away with a huff, “It’s…complicated.”

The other snickers, “Well, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated because she’s coming up to us right now.”

Oh, fuck.

Now, he might have had the sense to ‘accidentally’ bump into his oldest nephew just as he was on his route to meet Yuji (Sukuna had memorized his schedule, sauntering by this very block for an hour until he’d run into Choso) - but he didn’t have enough wit for this.

Conversations? With both parties and a classroom of preschoolers participating? 

He was just about ready to race right out of here and leave Choso to the wolves-

“Cho! You’re here as always.” You’re smiling as you waltz up to them, a neat line of toddlers following you as they would a mother duck. Hitting him with your scent of flowers n’ the sunniest of days, “And I see you’ve brought along a guest with you- how are you, Sukuna?”

“F-fine.” F-fine? With a stutter? Sukuna simply bristles at the smirk his nephew shoots his way, already feeling the tips of his pierced ears start to scald bright hot. 

“Bubba!”

Saved by the bell-like shriek of Yuji, enough to make Choso take a few steps over and hug his toddling brother so tight that the former squeals. Checking him over for scratches, dust, stickers- you name it. 

You’re catching the raise of Sukuna’s brows and chuckle, “He is always quite the attentive older brother. You should join us more often, I’m sure Yuji would enjoy having his favorite uncle around.”

Mouth dry, “I’m- I’m his only uncle.”

Yet, your grin still stands - a slight knowing curve in them that makes his brain fuzzy, and his lips just a bit too loose. Did he say he liked drinking again? What a fucking lie, you got him more buzzed than a shot of straight vodka pumping through his nerves. 

And he’s finding himself reaching over to brush a stray petal of cherry-pink from your crown. Blurting out before he can stop himself, “Hey…so what’s your ty- I mean, are you seeing any-”

“She’s mine!” Cuts off an annoying, grating voice - one that understood what you evidently didn’t, with the few syllables that Sukuna had been able to croak out.

And he’s looking over your shoulder to find himself being stared down (stared up at?) by a boisterous, buzz-cut boy slightly older than Yuji. Protectively standing behind you as he glared daggers, “When I’m old like you, she shall be my bride, Mr. Mugshot.”

Huh.

You’re droning out in your nicest tone, wagging your finger. “Now now, Todo Aoi, what have I told you about not proposing to your teachers?”

“To not.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Proposing.” Stifling a sigh, you realise that it would be yet another chat with Todo’s guardian about the boy’s harmless little puppy crush. 

But before you can direct the conversation back towards anything else, he’s stabbing an accusing index up at Sukuna’s looming frame. “Miss teacher here-” Not quite your name, but close enough. “-and my sweet idol Takada-chan are the only ones I shall marry. You can’t have either!”

“Who the hell…” Sukuna furrows his brows- what was this boy talking about? “Listen, kid, I-”

“Pffft–!” He could recognize that burst of muffled laughter anywhere, and at least Choso was having a grand ol’ time- whispering to Yuji, “Don’t you think this is like those late-night dramas dad pretends not to watch?”

No! Sukuna’s internally groaning. 

“Oh- oh yeah!” An over-hearing Kugisaki bounces at the mention of dramas, “My mommy watches those. Times like this the two guys will fight over the pretty girl.”

Todo puffs up his chest, “Then fight me, old man- I demand a duel!”

“I’m not even thirty?”

“That’s old.” Choso nods.

“You’re thirteen.”

“I’m five!” Yuji jumps up, and immediately his older brother’s pulling his phone out to snap a few hundred photographs at the cuteness. 

Todo stomps, “Fight me, fossil–”

And his young nephew - that traitor - is the next one to shrill with glee at the altercation, clapping his hands once Todo charges forward with a damn war cry to pummel Sukuna’s abs with hits about as fierce as cotton. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

At the slight raise of your brows at the chaos, Sukuna rushes to explain, “Please excuse my nephew’s behaviour, ma’am, I don’t know where he got it from-”

Choso deadpans, “But you’re the one that taught us that the best talk is to talk with your fists because-” The two brothers turn to each other in unison, as if preaching the truth and nothing but the truth. “-we’re no weakass bi-”

“Their father.” Sukuna grits out- okay, maybe that kid’s punches were getting a little more painful. Or maybe it was just the way you were cocking your head at him that made his stomach churn, “Surely.” 

“Defend the honor of your woman, geriatric–!”

Seemingly snapping out of the little reverie of taking in whatever the fuck this was, you clap your hands in that teacherly way to demand silence. “Alright alright, break it up. You wouldn’t want me to take down any of your star points, would you, Aoi?” Tugging away the boy from Sukuna, you grimace up at him. “I’m so sorry about all of- well- this.”

Waving off- remember, Sukuna, nonchalance. Nonchalance. “Don’t worry about it, mama.”

“Y’know how they apologize to each other in the dramas?” Kugisaki speaks up, and honestly, this girl really did speak up at the most inopportune times. She glows at all the attention on her, “They kiss.”

And she was a genius.

An absolute genius, bob-cut!

Yuji - ever his lil’ ally - starts pumping his fist with whoots- “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Starting up a slight chant within your group, you turn to him in question.

“I uh…” Sukuna starts, tilting his body down ever-so-slightly, until you could could nearly every thread on his dark hoodie. The way his slashing tattoos framing his jaw ripple as he gulps, “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, ma- that’s assuming you wanted to do something, and what I meant was-”

It was one second. A singular, heavenly second that your lips graze the right side of Sukuna’s cheek as he rambled - fluttering away right before his skin started to scorch with a blush.

Quite frankly, fuck nonchalance. 

“Ewww, he’s red again. What’s wrong with him?”

“Were you this red when you were setting fires, Mr. Mugshot?”

“He looked nothing like this in his mugshot- wanna see?”

“Salmon.”

Ears tinting a shade that matches his hair, voicebox void of any coherent words, Sukuna barely even functions until he’s hearing the sharp ka-chick! of a camera shutter. Whirling his head ‘round to find Choso with his phone pointed at him, catching him in all his flustered glory. “I’ll send it to the family groupchat.” He turns to you. “And to you on the preschool groupchat.”

Imagine Sukuna’s surprise when he finds you nodding, “Mhm, oh, and I should really be getting the kids back now, it’s almost time for the bell.” Making the kids waddle into a neat line once more, you wave. “Thank you for the visit- do come again, it was quite…interesting.”

And they stare - Choso at Yuji, Sukuna at you - as you and your classroom disappear back within the preschool walls. “No phone for you for two weeks.”

“No hot teacher’s number for you forever.”

Only after a second- “Hey- hey kid. Show me that number again? I’ll make it one week.”

.

.

.

Sukuna had almost, mercifully, forgotten about that damn talent show. 

The bake sale? Gaping at you for nearly five full minutes straight? Never happened. 

And he’d almost convinced himself of that- until the time came for him to be seated right on the very front row of the cozy preschool auditorium. Taking up nearly three chairs as he squeezes himself into the humble seat, arms crossed and scowling. 

“You know…” Jin claps as Yuji and Kugisaki fight to clamber onto stage first, with a reluctant Fushiguro in tow. About to showcase whatever it is that they’d been practising with doves and sticks all week. From the corner of his mouth, “When we had the kiddos over, Megs told me something very interesting the other day.”

“Hm.” Sukuna’s grunts noncommittally when Yuji pulls out a comically large fairy wand - ah, a magic show.

“Something about you duelling with a kid for the hand of a certain someone.”

Letting out a strangled groan, his eyes immediately find you - as they always seemed to do. Stuck on the way you were kneeled by the front of the stage, motivating each little performer tonight. “Y-ya don’t say…”

Jin beams, “You know, you should really ask her out, Ryo- oh! Do you need our help? I can tell you this, the Itadori family makes great wingmen.”

“Ya don’t say.”

Tattletale, Sukuna’s grousing. And just as Fushiguro Megumi finds himself being stuffed into a box - to be sawed in half as all good magicians did, apparently - the older man slowly, menacingly pulls out his prized camcorder. 

Just in time for Fushiguro to glance over and have his face pale at the blinking, recording lens. 

“After all, Megumi did say you were blushing like a- what was it- ‘maiden in love’ that day. How cute.” 

“Ya don’t say.” Sukuna zooms in, right on the black-haired boy’s ashen face once the saw raises high in the air to magically cut him in half. And to make things even worse, he starts pointing at his camera, mouthing through a grin, ‘Oh yes.’ At Fushiguro’s slight shake of his head. ‘You are dead.’

But, alas, it was too good to be true.

And instead of having the little snitch be the casualty in one of Yuji’s magic tricks, the talent show goes shockingly smoothly. Hell, Wasuke slept through only about half of it, which was as much of a compliment as one could get. 

All because of your efforts, surely - and when the entire thing ends with (surprise, surprise) every little brat getting awarded a winning prize, Sukuna finds himself not half-annoyed that he’d actually sat through all of it.

Well, right up until about when it was time for the exhausted preschoolers to be taken home by their families. 

And Yuji comes bounding up to the four with a squealing—“Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps–! Mr. Mug-”

“Another word out of you and I’m throwing your iPad out the window.” Sukuna grumbles, heart leaping to his throat when he’s spotting your chuckling figure follow up behind his nephew, as if Jin’s elbowing wasn’t a sign enough.

Yuji frowns, “Aw, but I already told everyone here.”

Damn gremlin- but before he can get another word in, you’re already greeting his brother and father with a smile. “It’s so great to see you again, Mr. Itadori- I hope that blood pressure you were telling me about is better now.”

“Ah, ya know- I won’t be dying any time soon.” Wasuke barks out a hoarse noise of laughter, before beadily eyeing Sukuna. “This one, however…”

Your gorgeous face drops in worry, and he doesn’t know whether to whine at his father for letting you make that expression, or giggle because you cared about him. Fuck. “Oh no- everything alright, Sukuna?”

But Wasuke answers for him, “No. Not at all, quite the incurable disease, my dear.”

He watches on in matching confusion with Yuji as Jin lights up beside him, “Ah- ah! Right right, that-” Soothing his face into something pitiful as he turns to you, “That ah- thing that only heh- one person can solve.”

About as subtle as a sledgehammer. 

And just as efficient in bagging the woman of one’s dreams.

Because you only furrow your brows in confusion, “I’m…sorry? What?”

Sukuna’s older brother’s smile tightens in desperation, nervously laughing. “You- you know…that thing?” And you tilt your head, eyes darting between the four as if trying to work out the punchline. “The thing like- the heart condition? No- not something serious but like…the butterflies?” Now looking to Sukuna for help - as if the other man wouldn’t just let him rot in the very grave he’d dug for himself. 

Then at Choso, who’d been quietly attempting to disappear into the wall plaster. Trying not to laugh as he dotes on Yuji, “The doki-doki.”

Jin snaps his fingers, “Yes! Like the doki-doki? The-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- he wants to fu-”

“That’s enough for tonight, pa.” It really does run in the family - because in a split-second, Sukuna has his palm clapped over Itadori Wasuke’s mouth. Smile painfully plastic, “Did you take your meds today, dear father? I don’t believe you took your meds today.”

He plunges his sprightly father into Jin’s arms, “Say, Jin, why don’t you get dad his meds.” Making note of the way that you - still thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly off your shift helping each student get to their guardian - were toyin’ with the cute decorations of your car keys. 

Letting his mouth work before his brain could regret anything- “And why don’t I walk you to your car, ma?”

“I- what.” You’re somewhat shocked at being addressed so directly, and at the kindly incline of Sukuna’s head. “Don’t you have a heart condition? I wouldn’t want to exert you, Sukuna.”

Wasuke grunts, “Exert him in another- mmpf-” Hastily shushed by Choso’s palm, more for his sanity’s sake than his uncle’s.

These damn- he narrows a glare down at an unabashedly-eavesdropping Jin and Wasuke. “No. No, don’t worry about it, they were just joking. Ha. Ha.” 

Well…it was quite dark outside the building, even with the surrounding streetlights. And your vehicle might just be a little ways away but it never hurt to be extra safe, did it? Especially when his stature was so intimidating anyways?

And so, you nod. 

And he walks with you.

More like floats beside you on cloud nine, actually. Sukuna’s sure you two made quite a sight in the corridor, if the way passing parents whispered to each other signalled anything - him, with his ears flared red, unable to even look at you directly as you two were alone. You, as perfect as ever.

“Ah- so-”

“What did you-”

You’re both speaking at the same time once you’re out of the school building, laughing into the nearly-empty night air that forms clouds out of your puffs of laughter. The few minutes of a walk to the parking lot seemed like eternity - and Sukuna would have gladly let it be. 

“You speak.” You’re urging.

“No you.”

“You-”

“I refuse.”

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you never noticed the way he always seemed to nudge his head ever-so-closely to you whenever you spoke. As if he was hanging onto your every word. “What did you think about the talent show?”

“Brilliant. All because of you, of course- got so much blackmail to use in ten years.” He cackles.

Though, that’s stopped short very soon the nanosecond you’re nudging him playfully. Heat touching heat. And he shivers, “Hit me if this is strange.” Letting the tense air clog his throat, at least, that’s his excuse for it. “But do you remember that thing I meant to ask you that one time at the playground…”

“Yes—?”

“Are you-” Sukuna’s husky baritone cracks and he twists his face into a wince, “D-do you happen to be seeing anyone?”

You blink, and there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like you’re holding back such a smile. How he wished to see it right now. Musing into the silent night air, only thrumming with your footsteps towards the car, “Nope.”

“O-oh.” And if this was any other time, then he’d be embarrassed about how obviously relieved he sounds. How you surely must have picked up on it.

Faking nonchalance, he’s stuffing his hand into the baggy cloth of his ripped jeans, “Cool.” And it was a damn good thing you didn’t have x-ray vision like all the heroes in all those weekend cartoons Yuji watched - because then you’d have seen the way his painted nails dig in so deeply into his palms in pure excitement. Nearly hard enough to draw blood. “Very cool.”

“Very cool.” You’re echoing, now stood by the driver’s seat of your car - just waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

Waiting as he opens his mouth- “What’s your ty-”

“Yuji- Yuji noooo- don’t interrupt your uncle’s k-drama moment- oh, dammit.” Itadori Jin, who’d been chasing after an adventure-hungry Yuji, balks at the way you were both so close. Snatching up his struggling toddler, “Forget about me! We- we never here- go back to doing whatever you were doing!”

And somehow, you lurch apart as if you’d just been shocked. Only now realizing just how warm the temperature of his proximity was, fighting to keep your professional façade in front of your spying audience. 

“I bid you goodnight, Jin- Yuji.” Gesturing out a wave, you’re getting into your ride so quickly that Sukuna thinks he must’ve been dreaming you up. “And you, Sukuna.”

Nevermind- not a dream. 

Definitely not a dream. Because even in his sweetest hallucinations he wouldn’t have been able to make you say his name like that. Almost a purr. Almost batting your lashes.

Almost ripping out his heart from his very chest as you then speed down the road.

“That’s the best ya could’ve done, sonny? Even after I taught you everything to know about wooing a woman?” How very much like Wasuke to manifest from nearly thin air, from somewhere out of the shadows of the building. 

“Not that.” 

“Especially that.”

The older man only waves off Jin’s bemoaning concern about ‘ruining the moment- they had a doki-doki moment!’ “Choso’s in the car, can’t believe I lost a bet to a middle-schooler. Dammit.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen, “You…bet on me?”

“Whaddaya think, sonny?” 

Jin smiles, “Guilty.”

“Gwuilty!” 

“No- no, Yuji, not guilty.”

Wasuke paces away, shaking his head. “Thought I raised you better- keh! Thought I’d get grandchildren from you, too. Tch, now I owe a middle-schooler fifty yen, oh, woe is me.”

It takes a second for Sukuna to register the words, “Wait- only fifty yen?”

“Yeah, that’s just about my belief in you, kid.”

.

.

.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! 

“Oi- oi, Jin. Go get the door.”

“I’m cooking dinner–! Cho, could you get the door?”

“I’m in the middle of homework- ask uncle.”

Sukuna grumbles, why the hell was he the one to always answer that damn door? Honestly, Yuji could buck up and get some experience yelling at sleazy salesmen sometimes. Sprawled out across the TV room couch, he stares at his nephew playing with a toy bow and arrows set on the floor, “Yuji, could you get the-”

“I can hear you, Ryo.”

Dammit- there was a reason why Itadori Jin was the older brother. 

And there was also a reason why Ryomen Sukuna had a reputation in this quaint neighborhood for being a boor - not that that was much of a brag. But at least it explained why he was stomping up to the oak front door, damn near ripping it off its hinges with a growl- “We’re not buying any- oh.”

‘Oh’ was right.

Because standing right there on his porch was a damn sight for sore eyes - you. 

You, with your mouth parted and your brows slightly raised as you looked from the messy bangs of his locks to the oversized sweater he was wearing. You, who doesn’t even flinch about the fact that he’d just answered the door yelling. You, donned in a pretty lil’ skirt that makes him gulp- 

“You okay, Sukuna?”

“No. So how are you doin’ on this fine day, ma? ”

“Oh!” A happy call of your name makes you turn - even though Sukuna just stares, shell-shocked. Jin shoves him bodily out of the way, opening the door wider, “Please- come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

Looking down at the slight stain of something at the hem of his sweatpants, the other man frowns. It’s not like that was news he’d ever forget - so why the hell was he looking like that? “We have?”

“Yes?” Jin’s showing you the way in- only for you to be dragged in by an overeager Yuji anyways. And as the two of you disappear down the halls, he’s turning to his taller brother in genuine confusion. “Did Cho not tell you that we were having Yuji’s teacher over for dinner tonight?”

At Sukuna’s sputtering, Jin wastes no time grasping a nearby broomstick and thumping the wooden end up against the ceiling. “Kamo Choso–!”

And out comes a muffled reply, “I told grandpa to tell him!”

“Haaah? I told Yuji to.”

It sinks in. The fact that you were here, all prettily dolled-up and at their family home - and you’d happened to see him in nothing but a stained, ratty sweatshirt and pants torn down the side of his thigh to show off one tattoo. 

Jin grimaces, “Um…we can still wingman our way through this?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Murder does not, in fact, come before dinner; as all good manners dictate. And Sukuna decides that revenge can wait after he’s totally, completely, utterly made you swoon.

“S-so-” Only after a quick change into his best tightly-fitted turtleneck and his silver chains did he dare to show his face ‘round you again. Spritzing enough cologne to almost overpower Jin’s omurice, he tries to smize from where he was sitting right opposite you on the kotatsu. “Nice place, huh?” 

The shot of extra, extra strong sake that Wasuke slides over is a consolation as much as a ‘you’re not in a restaurant, you fool!’ He finishes the cup in one go.

“You do have a very beautiful home.” You’re nodding over at a proud Jin. 

“And the- food- how is the food?” Another cup- what moral support, father. 

“Mmm- amazing, I usually never have the time to cook much for myself with the kids n’ all.”

Which Jin takes as the cue for him to butt in on the conversation, helping it flow as smoothly as an enclosing dam would to a river. “You like kids, huh?” Kicking Sukuna underneath the kotatsu, he rattles the plates. “Our Ryo here also…tolerates children.”

“Really?” You’re teasing, “I couldn’t tell.”

“Why I love kids, yeah.” Sukuna tuts as he lifts his hand to pat the crown of Choso’s head- who only swerves out of the way, food finished n’ leaving the room to join his brother playing. Hiccuping, you were so pretty sat in front of him like this- too pretty, that the vision of you was starting to get blurry. 

And another cup.

He’s jostled by the tap of Jin’s hand on his arms- “And he’s actually quite sweet in his own way once you get to know him. I’m sure dad agrees-” Ignoring Wasuke’s ‘I don’t’. “-that he’d make such a responsible-”

“U-unless you don’t like kids.” Still stuck on that - still. Sukuna downs it and then shakily pours himself another. “In that case, I don’t like kids either. Yeah, can’t stand them.”

And another. 

Jin and Wasuke share a glance between themselves when the hulking man leans over the kotatsu towards you with what sounded suspiciously like a whine. “Would you want kids with me?”

And- 

“Sukuna-”

“W-well—time for Ryo to be put to bed, I think.” Jin hastily stands up, struggling to hoist his oversized younger brother from his seat. Failing, evidently, as in that time he’s managing to gulp down another two or three sake cups. “Dad- a little- help?”

Wasuke only shakes his head gravely at you, “You should know he was switched at birth.”

“We’re nearly identical twins–”

“Twins? What-” Sukuna babbles, “Does she want twins?”

Glassy eyes blinking n’ squinting furiously down at you as if trying to figure out whether you were real. Before ultimately giving up, it seems.

Because he’s stumbling a few unsteady steps forwards, pulled by Jin, before dropping to his knees and toppling his head over your lap, just by the gap of the kotatsu edge and your stomach. He’s nuzzling his face right against your tummy, “Mmm— maybe triplets. Would be the cutest fuckin’ things if they looked anything like hck! her.”

You giggle and he gasps- as if the epiphany had just struck him. “Quadruplets?”

Starin’ down at him, at the rosy blush painting his ears, you’re muttering. “You wish.”

“Dammit- even this hck! illusion of her is fine as fuck. Shit. I wonder if her type is…” 

Trailing off, he looks to his older brother for assistance- who helpfully supplies, “Sad and drunk?”

Wasuke’s contribution- “Zero game- as the kids say?”

“Dangerous?” You pretend to think, assessing over the mountainous heap of a man. “Actually- only pretends to be but is really a softie inside?”

“Yes! That- wonder if he type is dangerous…pretend dangerous. I’d give her all the kids she’d ever want- all big…n’ glowing…” It was almost like the setting of the sun, and just as quietly that Sukuna’s dipping past the edge of consciousness. “And…mine…if she wants. Oh, only if she wants- I’ve gotta- hck!” He turns up slightly to you, “-gotta woo her first, you see? Gotta date her…marry…but- but most of all…” Words slowing, heartbeat still racing whenever he looked at you. “I…just want to love you, pretty girl.”

And with that, he was out like a flickered light. 

With only Wasuke, Jin, and Choso with his camera snooping through the doorway as witnesses for when you’re snaking a hand down to the phone bulging in Sukuna’s pocket. Quickly entering a few coordinates and a date. 

And a heart emoji.

.

.

.

“Oh- oh, shit, mama.” Sukuna’s tongue lays over the sheeny insides of your thighs, throat muddled with groans and the cloying taste of your slick gluing to his rovering mouth.

Honestly, fuck whatever tips his family had made him memorize before coming over for his lil’ ‘talk’ at your cozy apartment, as promised. Because the two of you had barely made out two or three words before Sukuna found himself sprawled on his back on your bed. 

Your knees framing his face, your clothed cunt right near his mouth.

Right near where he’s dotting your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your entire body tremble. Whimpering over your shoulder, “D-didn’t think you’d be such a tease, Kuna.”

“Because this isn’t real.” He’s breathing out, as if he’s just so sure of that fact. As if he can glide his ringed index down the dampened slit of your folds and drool- because this feels like a dream n’ he was going to savor every moment. “Fuck, there’s no way this is-”

And just at that very moment, he’s craning his head up further between your pretty, pretty legs. Greedy tastebuds darted out just so he can catch the treacly splat! of your leaking slit.

Dampening his tongue n’ drooling all down the edge of his tattooed chin, “Do you even know how many times I’ve imagined this exact moment?”

“Mmm- no-” You’re wrenching out a heady puff of air- spread on your front in the meanest sixty-nine. You gulp down your parched throat as you’re taking in the wet, bulging outline of Sukuna’s erection through his boxers. “But I can guess.”

He was just so big, aching- 

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just rock-hard. He was hard enough that he’s sure his round, bawling tip was damn near ready to fall off, twitching oh-so-painfully in his pants as he’s snapping back your soaked panties with a wet thwack!

Just a glimpse of the wet haven you were hiding and he’s groaning throatily, “Guess-” He hisses, close enough that the straight end of his nose slides down your puffy pussylips. Nudging your panties to the side and sniiiiiffing you, “You’ll never be able to guess how badly I want you, pretty girl.”

Never.

Never would you have even been able to register that within mere split-seconds, he’d have one beefy arm looping around your hips to make you sit on top of his mouth.

Slamming the edge of your cunt against his chin, plopping your full weight down until he’s nose-deep between your quivering legs. “Fuck-” Letting the first gush of your saccharine juices flood his throat, lips against lips. “Fuck fuck fuck- what was I even…saying?”

“W-wait–” Your breath hitches, spine arching into such a perfect curvature. You claw onto his meaty thighs in an attempt to regain balance, “You won’t be able to breathe like this, Sukuna-”

“You think I fucking care?”

It’s spat - spat - out right against the swollen nub of your clit. Hazed crimson irises rolling to the veeeery deep, dark depths of his skull at the first long gliiiide of Sukuna’s tongue from top to bottom of your pussy. 

Cheeks hollowed the very moment he’s pushin’ himself even closer, “You think I ngh- can care about anything else?” The very moment he’s tugging you back down - with the full force of his upper strength, hard enough that your heated aches with raw, primal bruises. “Be a good girl n’ put that hah- pussy on my face. Fucking- sit-”

“I don’t- fuuuuck—” Fingers twitching, it’s all you can do to fumble with the drawstrings of his wettened boxers. 

Thighs shaking at every flicker of his slimy tongue swirlin’ and stirrin’ every inch of your outer pussy. Your head muddles with the realization that Sukuna’s tongue was just so long that he could lap at your glisten hole n’ still have enough length left over to snag on your clit. “You’re not going to be the only hah- one-”

Whimpering, you find your eyes blurring up each time the ridged texture of his tastebuds glissade between your folds. Curlin’ in just past the elastic circle of your entrance-

And you’re gasping - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the lecherous intrusion or because of the way you’re pushing down Sukuna’s snug underwear to free his massive cock.

Reddened, swollen.

He’s bulging all solid and girthy that it makes your hole clench ‘round his flexible tongue. The cutest ruby-red at the top of his shaft, forming a gradient all the way down to his tight, heavy balls. Mentally, you’re counting about nine- fuck, maybe even ten damn inches that hit the end of your chin as he springs up. 

And from where you’re straddling him, you can make out what looked like a matching thick, black band of ink around his bulky hilt. 

Letting the polished pink crown of his cockhead smear out a generous dollop of pre, you’re teasing your tongue out just enough to taste the salted caramel taste. 

“You’re so…” Sinking him past your spit-slicked lips, his swabbing mushroom tip is just so big that your jaw aches just by looking at him. Just by fitting him inside, right until his drivelling slit- “-s-sho big, Sukuna.”

“Fuck- fuck-” He’s spitting into your cunt and you find yourself flinching, hard enough that his pearly white canines nip at your thighs and you cry out.

And he’s only holding you back - not letting you shift your restless hips even a single centimeter as he’s eating you out like a man dying of thirst. Dry tastebuds lavishing himself with wads of slick, Sukuna’s stuffing your tight hole with the entirety of his tongue. “You’re m-making me drool.”

You swear you’re feeling the thin line of his wet spittle stain the front of your cunt, whimpering around his bulbous cockhead. “Made ya stutter, too, Sukuna.”

“Ohhhh- talkin’ smart, are we?” Snickering, he lets off a loud spank against the front of your pussy - one that makes your bones reverberate, and your mind numb. Pushin’ back to ride the circling girth of his tongue, to ride him. “Why don’tcha put that mouth into use elsewhere?”

Elsewhere - his cock was so hot and throbbing between your swollen lips. Just the slightest slip n’ slide makes it feel like he’s pulsing all the way at the back of your throat. 

Creamin’ out a spray of syrupy precum that slides down your tongue, “So big- too big.” And yet- it was just so cute how you’re suckling him like your favorite lolly, eyes criss-crossing when you’re trying to take more. He couldn’t even bottom out. “Mmm– dunno if it’ll even all fit.”

“Well…” 

The way he’s drawling out in a smoky tone makes you ponder that this won’t be ending well for you. And Sukuna’s dark chuckle hits your cunt in a murky gust, “You’re takin’ it in from here—” Just at that sultry second, he’s crowning the snug circle of your hole with two fingers. 

Making you break out with a shrill waiiil as he sinks in the thick, calloused curves of his fingerpads. Letting such thick digits stretch you out fully, make your head spin. “So shut it n’ take this looong fucking cock, ma.”

All that it takes for him to plunge a few more throbbing inches past your maw, oh-so-big that you’re drooling down the sides of your mouth already.

Striking the edge of your throat and making you choke on his sheer size, your nose wrinkles as you’re tickled by the curly tendrils of his pinkish hair. “This enough or you want three, pretty girl-”

“I-”

Letting out such a cloying squelch that spurts from your pussy once he’s teasin’ your entrance, “Not you, mama. She wants three.”

Moaning away wildly after each pump of his fingers- Sukuna doesn’t even have to try to dip into each nook n’ orifice. Slamming to fingers down to each knobbly knuckle with a resounding slam- “See? See?” 

So cockdrunk on the feeling of his velvety tongue that you’re only partly registering the way his vocals are higher. Unsteady. 

The way you’re clamping your dewy walls in a cute, squelching smooch ‘round his digits makes his voice fucking crack. “J-just take it a bit- fuck- deeper.” Mindless little half-thrusts up into your heated mouth like he can’t even control it- “You can swallow it up like a reeeeal good girl, can’t you?”

“Mmm—” Purposefully letting off your pretty sounds all over his fleshy girth, “Yes- yes yes yes- more.”

“More?”

“More.”

As if he wouldn’t fucking ruin you if he could. 

“You want more?”

“Y-yes- oh.”

Only to be gifted with such a rude slap of his doughy palm, “Not you.” And he’s waiting for the soppy squelches leaking out from your cunt, the way you’re talking to him from your swollen lips just to continue. 

Squelch after squelch.

Your pleas only spur him to tug at the sweet, softened ring of your cunt, latching his lips over the flexing muscle. “If you say so—” Crooning, you can feel the cold hiss of his metallic rings upon the insides of your thighs. Sukuna’s biceps shifting as he starts to tug them off–

“A-actually-” You’re popping off of the strawberry-pink curve of his cocktip with a plop! a few glittery strings of pre and spit still connecting you lewdly to it. “…Keep them on?”

“Oh. Ohoho- you naughty lil’ thing.” He’s swatting over the slope of your dripping wet pussy n’ giving your clit a good pinch with his ringed fingers. “You like it like this- like- this-?”

He’s spitting out each word into your cunt, thrusting the barrelling tips of his fingerpads to graze just below your pulsating g-spot. “All those mouthy lectures?” In vulgar tandem strokes with the thwack! of his heavy, curvaceous balls slapping your chin. “And you wanna take it like- this- mama? Ohhh, it just makes me wanna…”

Trailing off, Sukuna’s body is just bulky - oh-so-tall that he can bend and reach down to cup your throat with his one free hand. 

Digging five of his fingertips into the side of your throat as he’s holding your neck and squeezing- feeling the cylindrical outline of his cock bulging your poor mouth. Up n’ down, up n’ down- he’s feeling for the precise moments his plump cockhead lodges at the back of your throat. 

“Who’d have known the cute lil’ teacher would be such a slut f’me. Cat got yer tongue, girl, orrrr—s’it just my dick?” Humming over your clit, he’s adding a fourth finger that swabs at the texture of your gummy walls. 

“F-fuck off- ngh-”

“Wha’s that? Try- try and say my name?” Squeezing. Only feeling your ripped, pathetic vibrations. “Can f-feel myself over here.”

With four neatly pushing fingers. 

Pulling back with a sluuurp–! Slowly, just so that you whimper that the knobs of his joints, just so that he can thump right on the target of your g-spot and make you cry out in cute bliss. “So s’only fair that I’m over here, pretty girl.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Words bubble out and slur out of your maw, in unison with such sloshing spurts of saliva. 

You’re drooling everywhere - from both pairs of lips. Your mouth over Sukuna’s hard, vein-covered erection, glazing his puffy lines of veins with sap. And your pussy slide-slide-sliiiiding down the gaping area of his mouth, wide open and eagerly lapping up each sloppy drag of your hips.

Faster.  

And now that Sukuna had actually found your most favorite spot, he couldn’t fucking stop.

Not when each whack at that same exact spot makes you splash your sweetened slick all down his throat, not when you were clenching your walls and cryin’ out at the frigid brush of his thick rings.

Again and again, he’s probin’ his crowned fingertips to push against the insides of your pussy, “Don’t think m’gonna last ngh-”

 “Yeah-” And that’s not to say his tongue was letting you off easy, either- simply aching with the feverish state of his movements. But it hurt Sukuna more any moment he wasn’t snogging your glossy cunt, n’ so he’s slapping your clit with a wet one-two. Spank after spank to make your hips jerk back and forth, “Whaddaya want? To cum? S’that it?”

Blubbering over the taste of his slick, sensitive slit, “Yes- yes, please- m’so fucking close.”

“Not. You.” Each word ended with two swats on your simmering pussy, you’re webbing his chin all down with syrupy sap. 

Moving off from your throat with a final squeeze, a bicep tightening ‘round your hips to squeeze you in place. “Not you- but you, pretty girl.” Slickly gliding back and forth all over your pried-open cunt, all over the quivering rim of your hole. Everywhere and anywhere. “Why don’tcha talk louder?”

And it’s not just you riding his tongue dry - it’s Sukuna bucking animalistically upwards, too. Pressing the ridges of his washboard abs up against your front, you’re just fountaining out so much sappy slick that it’s running down to the large mouth that he had tattooed across his stomach. As if both his ravenous mouths were gulping up each of your slick puddles. 

Crooning at the oversaturated squelch that spills out of you- he’s nodding like he’s never heard a sweeter sentence. Nudging his knuckles to bump against your g-spot, “If you say so—”

You don’t get to find out what he’s hearing - but you’re registering the gist soon enough.

Because by then Sukuna has his ringed index swiping your g-spot, coldly massaging that bundle of nerves. Hard. Sloppy. At the very same second he’s settling the fringes of his canines on your perky clit and streeeetching-

“O-oh my god I’m—” Keening out a whimper, your high runs you over like a rollercoaster. And you’re rocking your boneless body to and fro just as much, thumping your thighs into Sukuna’s sharp jawline. 

“Yes-” Clenching around his motions so hard that he has to fight to unstick his digits from the sides of your bubblegum walls, still fucking you through your lecherous high. “Oh, hell yeah, been so good for you, mama- why don’tcha reward me? Use me- hck- use me.”

As if you weren’t thrusting your cunt back into his face in a frenzy already, he’s using the arm holding onto your waist to keep you repeatedly moving. 

Tired-out. Fingers tugging into each crevice of your velvety walls. Cheeks aching and hollow where he’s putting such force on your throbbing clit to suck- “Ride my- mmmf-” Talking with his mouth full, “Ride my fuckin’ face raw- wanted to taste y’cumming on my tongue for so long.”

With your spine arched, you’re pulling off of the bulged tip of his cock just as he’s spewing out a slimy ribbon of ivory white. Just a single drivel of cum- just from the way you’re cumming. 

“God- god fucking dammit.” Sukuna spits, right into your cunt. And he barely even takes his eyes off of your slobbering pussy to snake a free hand down and plug his geysering orifice with his thumb.

Stopping himself promptly from cumming if it isn’t anywhere near your pussy.

But that didn’t mean he was letting you get away.

Oh, no- he’s still pulling you back with inclines of his head like a man addicted. Thoroughly drunk on the heady globs of slick that travelled between your legs, pushing and pushing himself upwards to glue his glossed lips all over your cunt.

You can feel yourself squealing with each lap of his scratchy tongue- the primal overstimulation too much that great droplets of tears take over your eyes. 

“O-oh– fuck- m’so sensitive, Sukuna.” You’re arching your back away- “I don’t know if I- oh!” Only to get pulled back down. Toes curling when this only spurs him to dive himself even deeper, flopping out the flexible end of his tongue to try n’ flit past your squeezing hole. 

Drawling, “Remember those fuckin’ sugar cookies? You taste- hah- even fucking better.”

Sniffling, your spine zings with a few more zaps of electricity as he’s starting to caress your sweetened g-spot once more. 

And the only thing you can do is try and pathetically pry his firmly-planted palm from his lengthy shaft, trying for the life of you to just get another taste-

“Oh. Oh.” Sukuna gasps from behind, pink brows raising. “I see what you’re doing, pretty girl. H-heh…hungry for more, are you?”

He didn’t need any further answer - because the way you’re cutely clenching to glaze his scouring digits tells him more than enough.

And before you know it, you’re finding yourself pulled off of his long, aching cock like some glorified ragdoll. Sukuna was just so large - in every sense of the word - that he could manhandle you with only one arm. 

Clinging onto the side of your waist as he’s sitting up, he makes you straddle the twitchy length of his cock. And now that you were seated upon his lap- oh, could you admire him.

Ryomen Sukuna was a fucking masterpiece. 

From the bands of tattoos circling his biceps, his wrists, straight down to the plush of his sculptured thighs. “Like what you see?” He tilts his head cockily down at you, slouching sexily back on your wooden headboard to let you take in all of his tensed core. 

Glistening pecs all temptingly large, abs ripped. 

“M’gonna get those pretty haaah- fucking initials of yours tatted.” He’s tapping the prominent side of his left v-line with a polished finger, “Right here.”

Climbing further upon his lap, you rest your ass cheeks back against his swaying cock, bobbing so hard n’ proud between your sheeny thighs. Pouting, “Only if you fuck me, Kuna— ngh-”

“Kuna? Tch- you see that lil’ tattoo here, mama?” He sounded as if he was shattering, and he’s leaning back so that you can take a goood, long look at the circular tattoo on his base. Nuzzled by the tufts of his pinkish happy trail, and his tender underside - but it was still there.

Like a target. And Sukuna’s thinking the exact same thing, “You’re gonna take it riiiight- till- here-” Lodging the swollen end of his shaft to plug your hole, it’s such a tiiight fit as he starts bullying inside. “Until- hah-” Feeling a hand down your tummy, your womb. “-here.”

He was going to fit himself until your pretty pussy won’t be able to forget him.

And it takes only seconds for you to be clawing onto his tattooed deltoids for dear life, feeling the inner parts of your thighs slip n’ slide down his own with perspiration. You scramble with the stringy, slightly-torn fabric of your panties still on- “Kuna- Su–Kuna, this-”

“Nah, let it stay.” Snickering, he claws onto the top of your scalp. “You have much…heh- bigger ngh- problems ta worry about, pretty girl.”

Bigger - his prolonged shaft was simply ravaging your walls. Plumply ballooned-up enough that his veiny layer rubs your sweetest spots without even meaning to, and you’re just seeing stars with every inch deeper his mazing cock spears through. “Fuck- fuck, it really is big-”

“Mhm– and you’re going- to take- it all.” Times like this he’s wishing he had just about four fucking hands. Because one’s pushing down, down, down on the lolling top of your head, the other’s pushin’ your trembling thighs apart just so you could straddle his meaty hips. “All hah- say my name. Say my name while you take it-”

And he always did love the way you said his name.

The way you’re letting free a few bubbly spurts of saliva as you’re babbling away–”Sukuna- Su-” Throat clogging up with so many sobs of utter bliss, “Kuna—”

“Again with the ‘Kuna’- s’not my name, silly girl.” Even though each sound of that slurring nickname makes him twitch against your deepest insides. 

But you can’t even hear him properly, eardrums distantly popped until the only thing you can feel is the thump! of your heartbeat between your legs. And the way that his reddened, slick-glazed tip was thrashing your tight insides, “Kuna- ngh, please, Kuna. Wan’ it a-all hck! Inside.”

The swabbing girth of his cock was so fat that he has you stupid with just his size, biceps bulging as he’s pressurizing down on your head. “God-” And you can only blink pathetically once he’s bringing up his free hand to your blurry line of sight. Hissing, “Bite down-” Lips smirking as you plant a kittenish bite, he fucks up into you once to make your force increase. “Bite down harder and take it.”

He wasn’t wasting any time - he didn’t have the fucking patience.

He barely even had the sanity to tease you and edge you for hours on end like he’d always wanted to. Instead fucking up into you like a damn animal- he’s swatting your cunt with the edge of his throbbing cock. Spitting through clenched teeth, “O-oh, if yer gonna ask for all of it then m’not playin’ around, ma.”

You sink your teeth in and nearly scream into the flesh of his forearm, gnawing down right at his tattoo. “Mmmpf- big- nghh–” Unable to fucking take it, the only thing you can do is arch your hips deeper and let his pummeling rams spike your poor insides.

Hitting the very back of your cervix with a wet thwack! that makes your eyes damn near bulge out of your head.

He…bottomed-out. 

“Lemme check now…” Taking a single peek at the way his hilt was all covered up by your bloated folds until he couldn’t see that tattoo anymore. “S’all in.”

And the towering man wasn’t celebrating once he did - he was pumping all his fleshy inches into you like he’d gone feral. 

Eyes dazed and hooded, mouth frothing with a line of silver drool - Sukuna grunts after each singular gliiiide of his watery orifice drawing down the bottom of your pussy. Sloppy. “F-fucking hell, never felt like this- what the…”

“Are you okay- oh god nghh–”

“M’fuckin’ more than okay.” Spitting out crassly, Sukuna swerves his hips off of the rickety bedsprings to drag his cock harder down your cunt. And it just felt so delicious to have his swollen veins stir up your walls, “S’just— who let you feel this good?”

Your honeyed cunt has made him way too pussydrunk that now he’s tattling out everything from his melty mind. And you can only whine– “Heh-” One hand grazing his scorched ear, “You’re blushing, Kuna- better not be ngh- tapping out on me.”

“Tapping out?” Punctuated by a hard spank against the door to your womb - exactly where he said he would be - and then a harder one against your mapped-out g-spot. “Me? Me tappin’ out?”

Blinking through the splotchy whites sparking in your vision, “Y-yeah- fuck!”

SPANK!

Oh-so-hard, he’s swatting your pussy with enough stinging force that it makes glittering drops of slick splash across his slamming palm. “You n’ this smartass pussy are gonna see.” He’s gritting through dangerously grinning teeth, “There’s a fuckin’ reason I’m Ryomen fucking Sukuna.”

Because he’s rude - and he fucks even ruder.

Pounding away upwards into you like he doesn’t care if he’s bruising great purple bruises at the bottom of your cervix. The mattress creaks in fervent protest after each gyration of his hips, “P-please-” The only thing you’re mewling out like a broken record, “I-it just feels so…”

Trailing off, your movements are sluggish as your hand starts to slither down between your rutting legs. Yearning to just touch your neglected clit-

SPANK!

“Oi- and who’d ya think you are to touch- hngh- my pretty girl?” He’s grinning, manhandling you in an instant. Before your candied brain can catch up, Sukuna has both your arms pinned behind your back, chin hitting his cushy pecs. “I’ll touch her when I feel like it-”

Such a fucking tease, at the constant timing of his slimy mushroom tip spearing your cunt like a headlight- Sukuna lifts off one of his hands downwards.

Replacing your own with his roughened fingers, he pinches your poor clit—“Sh-shit m’so sensitive there- keep going, Kuna–”

And at this point you weren’t just drooling you were sheening the entirety of his smooth pectorals with a shiny polish. Letting it smear down the side of your cheek as you drunkenly lean on them like pillows, “Chehhh-” He’s spitting out, staring down at the glistening glaze dripping down to his bumpy abs. “Tha’s supposed to stay inside, pretty girl.” 

“I-inside?” Dazedly, the only thing you can think of were your rummaging insides, the way that Sukuna was fucking you like he hated you.

But it was the complete opposite. And he’s draggin’ on your clit, giggling to himself like he’s in love as he watches you huff n’ puff. “God you love it like this- c’mon, ngh- teach, milk this fucking cock- why don’t ya?”

“I-I am-”

SPANK! 

“Harder, mama, make me feel it.”

With a right spank to emphasize his sentence, he’s jostling his hips upwards so you’re left throwing your head back at the full, stretching impact. Unable to even handle the slightly spring recoil that comes with striking your cervix, he’s bouncing you on his pelvis. 

“S’this what you thought about every- hah- time you saw me?” Taking hold of your neck for a brief moment, he’s spitting doooown your throat. “Wantin’ me to fuck this- ngh- pussy raw?”

And the locked restraint on your neck helps bend you into the perfect geometrical curvature to stare up at him as he collapses forwards. Hot breath wafting your features, you whimper- “Y-yes.”

“Not you.”

“Kuna.”

“I’ve been dreamin’ of this for aaages now-” His clammy forehead crinkles as he’s scratching down your clit with the rough texture of his happy trail. Leaving it all stinging n’ raw to make sure the impact is extra sensual as Sukuna rubs over a slooow ‘K’ right on top. 

Rutting into your poor cunt so hard that the skin surrounding his v-line was all reddened- and he can’t help but take one look and moan. “M’getting that tattooed.” Watching as his mean, curvaceous cock molded your walls constantly to him. “Oh- trust when I say-”

And then a ‘U’

“Fuh-fuuuuck, please-” It almost feels like you’re begging for your damn life by now, lungs ripping with moans every time he’s thumping up. You ride your hips in a sexy figure-eight and feel the way Sukuna’s thumb trembles on your clit. 

A wobbly ‘N’

And you already knew what was headed next- oh, you were already prepared. 

But what you weren’t ready for was the completely vicious way that he’s accelerating his papping hips, so fast that the dark tattoo nuzzling your entrance was almost a blur. Thump after thump- 

You’re falling over until that symbolic inking of a widely-opened maw on his stomach licks up your core. Body twitching with white hot flashes of something electric running through your veins, “F-fuck- fuck, s’not gonna last-”

“S’that soooo—?” Sukuna asks down at your pussy to confirm, and only after a few ‘uh-huh’’s does he bore into your stupidly heart-shaped eyes. Tongue lolling straight out for him to lap up into his own mouth, “She says you’re close-”

A firm ‘A’

Another SPANK!

“-and I say you’re cumming already.”

“Wh-what…”

He’s ending off with a perfect heart shape rolled over your clit. What’s that spell- he’s asking mentally. 

Only for you to mewl wantonly as if you’d just heard. “Kuna- Sukuna- Yes- yes m’cumming m’cumming—” 

It’s like you’re enveloped in a tidal wave - you didn’t know where your orgasm started and where it ended. Just that Sukuna’s moans break into something octaves higher as he fucks you through your bliss.

You claw down the expanse of his flexing back with each burst of pre splattering your gooey insides. Toes curled, eyes all teary. “I-it’s so- hck! Feels too good…”

Turning you into absolute mush every time he pumps his thorough inches into you- and the mean fingers on your nub just tug n’ tug.

And it’s only after a few more of your shrilling whines that you’re still feeling the hot entrance of his shaft plummeting through, your walls squeezing ‘round his flared tip. “I want you to cum, too, Sukuna.”

“F-fuck.” He lets out, softly.

Cupping his attractive face, if you thought you were gone then you weren’t ready for the way that Sukuna looked. Cheeks burning hot and red, mouth parted with overspilling drool, brows furrowed into such an expression that it almost makes you feel shy.

Repeating those very same words, you start sloppily swervin’ your hips straight to his. “Cum inside m- ngh, please?”

All this time and his cute lil’ teacher was still minding her p’s and q’s. 

So, of course, when you’re asking him that nicely- it’s the least he could do to listen. To let out a final, vulgar stroke that has him spilling over the edge.

In great, piling heaps of ivory cum that puddles at the bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that your ears ring with the lecherous sluuurp–! as your cunt walls suck up every last steaming drop. 

You can feel it trailing down the insides of your thighs like a waterfall and keen, “Just like that, f-fuck…” Almost like you’re hypnotized, you drag one of his much-larger hands to palm the outside of your tummy. “Can feel it all the way here.”

“O-oh my god…” He’s groaning, eyes drifting off to the back of his head as soon as you’re meeting his tempo. Slamming down to rob his aching balls, milking him all dry - you were overspilling and it still wasn’t enough. “Y’really are a dream.” 

And there’s something about the way he’s sluggishly brushing away a stray bead of perspiration from your temple. Something about that lazy, half-lidded look in his eyes, the complete n’ utter reverence in his tone as he asks- “So…s’your type ‘dangerous’, mama?”

Almost…shy.

Oh, it hits you. He’s pussydrunk.

You’d made big, bad Ryomen Sukuna completely and utterly pussydrunk.

To the point where his studded ears flare a deep crimson once you giggle, “Mmm- pretend dangerous, Kuna.” His eyes shine. You think back to that night at the Itadori household, “And I also remember something about quadruplets?” 

It’s then that Sukuna whimpers. 

Not even pulling out. Not even considering such an impossible feat for even a split-second before he rolls your weakened body over.

Hovering over you now, it’s so easy for his beefy arms to tug your legs over his shoulders. Still shaking. Still suffering from the aftermath of your orgasm as he’s holding them tight and bending down, down, dooooown.

Straight into a mating press. 

Oh, your breath catches.

“Before I pound you until you can’t haaah- walk, mama-” Uncharacteristically, Sukuna gulps as he shifts his crimson eyes away from you. “-m’I giving you quadruplets that’ll have my last name?”

Now that was a round-about way to ask someone out- and he knows it, too. 

But it only makes you shuffle up onto your elbows on the now-ruined sheets, sticking to you like glue. You place a lingering peck on Sukuna’s wobbly, overstimulated lips, “Mm- I love you, too, Kuna.”

Oh, how he loves you. He almost cums right then and there. 

Fuck.

He does. 

.

.

.

“You.”

“You.” Yuji narrows his eyes down at the sight of Ryomen Sukuna towering over the busy preschool pick-up. Trying to look over his broad shoulders for any sign of his father, “Huh? But dadda said he was coming to pick me up today?”

Sukuna gingerly scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, well…listen, twerp- I mean, kid. There’s something I need to-”

Only to be cut off by a dramatic gasp—“Oh no- Did dadda go to jail just like you-”

“No,”

“Did he drive fast-”

“No.”

“Did he drink-”

“No-”

“Did he slash tires-”

“Maybe once?”

And fuck- he really didn’t understand tiny children, because explain to him why the pink-haired boy starts bawling in his arms. Pitiful enough to draw the glares of parents wrenching their own children away from the perpetrator, loud enough to draw the sweet concern of you.

Walking from your station saying goodbye to one other student, “Yuji what- oh!” You’re pressing your lips together to contain your smile as you happen to see who was throwing Yuji on his shoulders to soothe him. Bouncing him lightly until he smiled- and you did, too. “I didn’t expect you so early today, Kuna.”

“Yeah, well.” He’s using Yuji’s palms to cover the pinkish ends of his blushing ears, “Decided I wanted to see ya off from work today.”

Now past grief and straight into utter nosiness- “Wait- what do you mean ‘see off’.” He gasps, “Is she going to ja-”

“Brat-”

“What your uncle means to say, Yuji-” Playfully pinching his chubby cheeks, you try to ignore the gawking stares of every other one of your remaining students as you promptly turn to face Sukuna. Giving him a sweet, sweet peck on his. “-is that you’ll be seeing a lot more of me around.”

Another gasp - well, multiple.

One from Itadori Yuji, who gapes, open-mouthed between you and his uncle - as if wondering how he ever managed to bag you, and wait does that mean you’re his auntie now?

About twenty from your crowd of students, right along with a few whispers. 

“Hey, isn’t that weird Mr. Mugshot?”

“So that’s why Mr. Mugshot was always red- eugh! In my momma’s dramas they don’t get together, they just die.”

Fushiguro frowns, “I would rather die than watch him like this. Gross.”

“Caviar.”

Walking up from the group, Fushiguro tugs on your skirt. Innocently - but Sukuna could feel the evil intent. He just knew that boy was a villain. “Inumaki asks whether you mind that he sets fires, miss.”

What the fuck is with the fires-

And then finally - three distinct, unfortunately familiar gasps that make Sukuna dread turning around. Struggling against it, even as his nephew tugs on his locks of pink hair with a delighted squeal- “Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps-”

You smile, watching Choso take flustered pictures of his uncle. “How the hell did you even win her over? All of these are going in the blackmail folder. Maybe your wedding presentation too.”

Sukuna bites back a shy blush- turning it into a scowl, “Maybe…”

“Well, I’ll be.” Wasuke nods his head in approval, “All thanks to the ah- ‘wingmanning’ as the kids say. I’ll be expecting at least three grandchildren in the future, sonny. And when I say ‘future’ I mean in nine months-”

“Dad! It’s too early for that.” Jin, ever-the-voice-of-reason, gives you a breezy handshake. “Congratulations- by the way.” And it’s all soft. It’s all sweet- that is, until you’re trying to pull your hand back and he only tightens his grip. Smile still tightly in place, “I will be the kids’ godfather, by the way.”

Settling an arm around you now, You and Sukuna don’t know whether to laugh or stand in shocked silence as Jin finally sets you free - but you don’t have to make the choice.

Because the annoying, grating voice of Todo Aoi breaks through—“Noooooo– my bride!” 

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ninisdollie]

more boyfriend Ni-ki with his hyperfemenine gf thoughts (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧

Your boyfriend Ni-ki pretends to judge you for spending so much money in makeup, telling you that you need to save or spend it in something that really worths it, but at the end of the day, he sits through every one of your Sephora unboxings like he’s your assistant. He’ll lay on your pink sheets, black hoodie cap over his messy hair, watching you with a half-lidded gaze as you peel the bubble wrap off your sixth gloss of the week like it’s a treasure. He’ll say things like, “Another one?” or “25 dollars for a gloss is insane” with the driest voice, eyes lazy as he’s sooo bored, but when you flute your eyelashes at him, small smile on your plumped lips, he’s the first to hold out his arm when you start testing swatches.

He lets you paint his entire forearm with shimmer eyeshadows and bronzers and cherry red blushes, grumbling under his breath warning you to not tell the boys later. He even holds still while you paint his thick lips with a shiny, sheer pink gloss, and even smacks his lips together like he’s on a get ready with me video. 

“It’s sweet” he shrugs “Suits you better” and then he kisses you, soft and messy at the same time, the gloss falls from your hand as you kiss him back and fall on your back on the mattress. 

Then a few days later, when you’re stressed because you can’t find your new strawberry lip balm and ask him if he’s seen it, he doesn’t even blink. “What? You have like ten of those” 

“You literally stole it. It’s mine!” he just looks at you, so nonchalant, and goes, “Yeah, but it makes my lips soft. Plus… it smells like you.”

You ended up finding it on his desk. Not tucked away or hidden, just lying there like it belongs next to his wallet and keys. Like he didn’t swiped it from your vanity and started using it like it was his all along.

Ni-ki used to groan every time you said “Just ten more minutes” before a date. He would lean against your bedroom doorframe with his arms crossed and a dramatic sigh, saying things like “How are you not done yet?” Or “It looks good, I’m hungry” But instead of actually getting mad, he started watching you. Watching how your hands moved when you did your eyeliner. How your lip combo needed to be layered just right. How you curled your hair in sections and flipped the ends out naturally. 

And one day, he just… asked. “Which one makes it wavy?” You paused, mascara wand mid-air, staring at him. “You wanna help me get ready?” “I wanna help you get faster,” he said flatly. But you saw the little spark in his eyes.

So you handed him your curling iron.

Your boyfriend Ni-ki watched one tutorial on YouTube from a beauty blogger, and then practiced on a doll head you had from your childhood “just for fun,” but secretly he wanted to get it perfect for you. He learned to section your hair, to twist and hold, to use the glove so he wouldn’t burn his fingers, though he totally did once and blamed you for distracting him by being “too pretty.”

He now stands behind you while you sit on your vanity and do your makeup, tongue between his teeth in concentration as he wraps a strand of your hair around the barrel. You’ll be focusing on your eyeliner and hear the soft click of the iron turning off, then his voice: “Next section.” Sometimes he clips your hair back with one of your frilly pink claw clips, totally unfazed by how cute and domestic he looks doing it. Other times, he hums Enhypen songs under his breath while working, casually asking, “Big curls or soft waves today?”

To be fair, he still says, “You take forever to get ready,” but now it’s while he's smoothing a section of your hair down and checking the back with his phone camera to make sure it’s even.

Ni-ki is one of the most dry texters in the world, but you don’t care that much, because when he’s on tour, he doesn’t say “I miss you” too much, but always comes back with something for you tucked in his bag.

Not big things. Not the kind of gifts meant to impress or flex. But cute things. Thoughtful things. Things that say “I saw this and thought of you” in the quietest way. Like the time he was in Japan, and you sent him a half-joking, half-serious message at 2 a.m. that just said, “Bring me back something My Melody or I’m breaking up with you.” But forgot about it immediately, he didn’t. 

He came home with a little box wrapped in pink tissue paper, handed it to you without a word, and inside were three keychains—Hello Kitty, My Melody, and Kuromi—each one in a tiny outfit matching the city he’d been in. There was also a fluffy pouch with sparkly zippers and a note in his handwriting with pink pen that just said, “Don’t break up with me.”

Or the time that he went to Milan for the fashion week and rolled his eyes when you told him to buy you something expensive. But when he came back, he handed you a pink Prada purse and a silk scarf with little hearts woven into the trim. 

“This reminded me of you. The memory was prettier tho” You punched his arm and he kissed your cheek.

He’s too cool to gush but always notices. Always remembers. He never forgets that you love sparkly keychains and girly pouches and lip balms shaped like desserts. And even when he’s thousands of miles away, he walks through each airport, each city street, each backstage area wondering what tiny, soft thing he can bring back to make you smile. And when you tease him, “You miss me that bad, huh?” He’ll just click his tongue, toss a plushie onto your lap, and mutter, “Shut up. It was cute. And you like cute things.”

Your boyfriend Ni-ki pretends to be soo bored when you push him into your bedroom to try on new clothes. He flops onto your bed like he’s been inconvenienced for the millionth time, phone in hand, legs crossed at the ankle, but the truth is? He lives for this. For the way you light up when you’re in front of your closet. For the way you model outfits for him like you’re on a runway made of pink carpet and perfume mist. He barely looks up when you walk out in the first dress, just gives a quick glance and hums, “Cute.”

But by the third outfit, when the top dips a little lower and your shorts hug a little tighter, he suddenly forgets how to breathe normally. You know what you’re doing. You twirl slowly, hands on your hips, acting innocent. “Too short?” you ask, lifting the hem just slightly to adjust it. He sits up straighter. “You’re trying to start something.” You just flutter you eyelashes. “I’m just trying on clothes.” 

Ni-ki is so whipped for you that he starts biting his lip by the fourth outfit. You come out in a little skirt with bows on the sides and a cropped cardigan that’s one button away from scandal, and he’s already shoving his phone into the sheets and leaning back like he’s trying to stay calm.“Babe,” he warns, voice low, “what is this, a fashion show or a test of my self-control?” You smirk. “Depends. How am I doing?” He drags a hand down his face. “Terribly.” 

He breaks the second you spin around in front of the mirror and bend a little too far while adjusting the neckline, the skirt showing the perfect curve of your ass. He’s behind you before you even realize he moved, hands sliding around your waist, lips brushing your ear.

“You know I’m not gonna sit there like a good boy when you parade around looking like that.” Your outfit ends up on the floor. He never gives his opinion. You both forget you were even getting ready.

Your boyfriend Ni-ki doesn’t just say “You’re pretty” when you’re writhing under him, he says it like a prayer, like it hurts him how pretty you are.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this.” “Look at you… look how perfect you are for me.” “Made just for me, huh? That’s it, baby—show me.”

His voice never raises. It stays soft, reverent, like he’s telling you a secret that only the two of you should know. Even when he’s breathless. Even when he’s deep inside you, thumb brushing your bottom lip while he watches your eyes flutter and roll.

“Such a good girl for me… always take me so well.” “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” “You make me lose my mind, princess. Fuck—look at the mess you’re making.”

He says the filthiest things while holding your jaw so gently, like he’s cradling something delicate and priceless.

“You’re dripping just from my voice, aren’t you? You like when I talk to you like this.” “You want me to make it worse? Want me to ruin this little body while I tell you how much I love it?”

Because he does love it. Every inch of you. And he says it, over and over, between kisses and thrusts and choked moans.

“I love you so much, baby. So fucking much.” “No one’s ever gonna touch you like this. No one’s ever gonna talk to you like this.” “You’re mine. Say it. Say it again.”

He gets off on your pleasure more than anything. The sound of your voice, the way your fingers curl in his hair, the little gasps you make when he presses deeper.

“That’s it, my pretty girl… you gonna come for me?” “I want you to fall apart, yeah? Be good and make a mess for me.”

And when you do, when your voice breaks and your body trembles and you cling to him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to this earth, he kisses you everywhere he can reach. Your cheek. Your shoulder. Your chest. The side of your neck.

“You’re okay, baby. I got you.” “You’re my princess. My everything.” 

And when he finishes, he doesn’t just roll over and catch his breath after, t’s like the second you fall apart, he pulls himself back together just to take care of you. Because he knows.

He knows that after you finish, your voice goes quiet. Your fingers reach for him, searching without words. You blink slower, lips parted, too overwhelmed to speak. And he knows that’s when you need softness the most. So he gathers you up. Instantly.

Ni-ki wraps his arms around your trembling frame and pulls you into his chest, skin to skin, his hand cradling the back of your head like he’s shielding you from the world. “Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing your forehead. “You’re okay.” He kisses your temple, your eyelids, your damp hair, even the tip of your nose, like he needs to cover every part of you in warmth. In reassurance. He speaks softly, over and over, even when you’re too tired to respond.

“I’ve got you.” “You’re so perfect for me.” “Still with me, pretty girl?” “I love you. You’re my everything.”

His fingers draw lazy shapes on your back, his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets. When he feels you start to drift, he kisses your shoulder and tightens his hold. “Don’t disappear yet,” he whispers, teasing but gentle.

And when you finally look up at him with hazy, fluttering eyes and a sleepy pout, he smiles like it physically hurts how much he loves you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and presses his forehead to yours. “Still my princess,” he murmurs, voice low, “even when you’re all messy and dazed like this.”

Boyfriend Ni-ki, who gets up just to grab a warm cloth and clean you softly, slowly, never rushing, like he’s touching something sacred. Then helps you into his hoodie, kisses your cheek, and pulls you back into bed with a quiet “Come here, need you close.”

Because he knows you go small after. And there’s nowhere safer to be small than wrapped in him.

[boyfhee]

MAGNETICㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗆𝖾.

21O7 ᛫ 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝒐𝒇 芸 bf ! 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗑 𝖿 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ᛫ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿───𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ꣼ ﹙𝐁𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐔﹚

for wifey @tzyunaes >< thank u girlfie ri for helping mwah

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ REBLOG FOR KISS ᶻz

HEESEUNG almost drops the glass of water from his hand when he sees you waltz into the kitchen with a spin, wearing that miniskirt you got a few days ago.

it’s crazy, you look prettier than he had imagined. and he is already gravitating towards you, hands resting low on your hips. “are you trying to kill me, angel?”

his voice is barely louder than a teasing whisper, and you can see how he is trying so hard to keep himself from losing his mind.

he draws soft circles over the thin slip of skin visible between your skirt and top over your waist, eyes finding it impossible to look away from your thighs.

he gives you a gentle peck on your lips, taking a step back. “spin for me one more time, slower,”

JONGSEONG sits patiently at the edge of the bed, waiting for you to emerge from the bathroom. you had insisted on showing him everything you bought today and as always, who is he to say no to his pretty girl.

“okay,” you step out, fixing the skirt and stand in front of him. “is this good?”

he’s starstruck, gone, trying to find words to answer your question. you do a little twirl, and his face goes red with the inappropriate thoughts that flood into his mind.

“i—um,” you tilt your head at his lack of response and he gives up with a sigh, immediately pulling you onto his lap with hands on your hips. “c’mere,”

you’re straddling him, his face buried in the crook of your neck and hands on the back of your thighs. he adjusts you, pulling you closer, and you gasp when he nips the skin over your collarbone. “jay—”

“shh,” his eyes meet yours when he looks up and he adorns your jaw with a tender kiss. “you look so good, baby. might have to cancel the dinner plans tonight,”

JAEYUN is speechless, sure he did not expect you to wear that— not that he is complaining.

your boyfriend is trying his best to not tunnel vision on your thighs and end up making you uncomfortable, but the second he sees you giggling at his antics, his face turns a deeper shade of red than it was before.

“are you sure you’re not cold?” he deflects, scrambling for that ounce of composure left inside of him.

and you nod with the sweetest smile that melts his heart and makes him spiral all over again. “yes, baby, i’m sure,”

he nods helplessly, as if hypnotised by the sight of you in that apparel. he offers you his jacket to save you from unnecessary stares, and save himself from going crazy.

“damn it, sweetheart,” a sigh, he shifts his chair closer to you, hand resting on your thigh from above the jacket. “you’re making it really hard for me to keep my hands to myself,”

SUNGHOON is shocked, for the lack of better words. he freezes, blinking profusely, head tilted to the sigh. he takes a deep breath. “isn’t that too short?”

and you’re just as confused, because he was the one who picked it for you when you both went shopping. “you don’t like it?”

“don’t be stupid,” he retorts, fixing the dainty locket around your neck, taking a good look at your beautiful face. “you look perfect,”

his hand is on your waist the whole time you two are out, eyes scanning around like a predator ready to fight anyone who looks at you wrong.

you look up at him, noticing his uncharacteristic silence as you both enter your favourite restaurant. “you good?”

“yeah,” sunghoon nods, although your heart does a flip or two at the way his hold on your waist gets tighter.

SUNOO is so sure you’re doing this on purpose. you have no reason to wear a miniskirt around the house unless you want to drive him mad, which you are.

“right so, i was saying—” he clears his throat, getting back to the conversation you two were having, but the words die on his tongue when you tip toe to grab two coffee mugs from the shelf, the hem of your skirt riding just enough to make his brain short circuit.

“hm, what?” it’s almost frustrating, the way you turn around, looking at him so innocently, ever so clueless about the effect you have on him.

and when you accidentally drop the spoon, he leaps forward to pick it up for you so you don’t have to bend over— sunoo doesn’t think he would make it out alive.

“you’re wearing this on purpose, aren’t you?” he hands you the spoon, sighing at your perplexed expression. “trying to drive me crazy?”

“no,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “i’m really not,” and too bad for him, you are driving him crazy, unintentionally so.

JUNGWON freezes, wondering if you are real. he blinks, once and twice, eyes automatically travelling down before he shakes his head, blinking again.

“you’re wearing that?” he asks, more concerned for himself, because he is going to have a hard time at the exhibition when the actual art would be next to him.

and his ears turn all red when you lean in with a smirk, knowing exactly the effect you have on him. “does it bother you?”

“n-no—”

he barely gets to finish, you’re all up in his face, enjoying the sight of him so flustered and shy, stuttering over his words. “then why are you all red?”

he looks away, feeling his face heating up at the close proximity and the scent of your perfume that he likes so much. he knows you’re not going to let him live this down and honestly, he doesn’t mind getting teased if he gets to see you wearing that every day.

NI-KI is pleasantly surprised and equally flustered, almost wanting to cancel the movie plans and keep you all to himself.

“you look good,” he gives a nonchalant response, and then words fall off his tongue on their own. “great,”

“thanks, ‘ki,” your sweet giggle and honeyed voice melts his heart into a puddle, but the next second his brows furrow when you look down at the skirt with a silver of uncertainty. “i want to wear it but i feel like it’s too short,”

and your boyfriend scoffs at your words, finding your worries fruitless as if he isn’t ready to knock anyone to the ground who makes you uncomfortable.

his lips curl into a grin at your pout, hands reaching out to cup your adorable cheeks in a way that only makes your lips jut out even more.

“wear whatever you want, baby,” he plants a kiss to your forehead. “i can fight,”

[dollyswishingwell]

Hiiii!! It's me again 🎀✨️...I suddenly got an idea. Like let's say Mc is watching a drama or reading a novel and the male lead is sooo good that she goes "omg..please become my husband" y'know fangirly mode. And how will the guys react to that! All that possessive jealousy and fluff..if you don't mind writing this. I feel like only you'd do this a justice 😭😭🎀

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Second husband

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, this is for allll the fangirling requests i got

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You fangirl over your fav male lead

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You’re sprawled out on your velvet chaise in one of the sun-drenched sitting rooms of Rafayel’s estate, a sheer lace robe over your lacy lingerie, sipping something sparkly while flipping through a romance novel. It’s so dramatic, an aloof villain-turned-devoted-husband who’s rich, cruel to everyone else, but worships his wife like a queen. You’re giggling and kicking your feet like a true fangirl.

“Oh my god… Please become my husband,” you sigh, absolutely swept away, clutching your chest dramatically. “That’s it. I’m getting a second husband.”

And Raf, who’s been lounging on the opposite couch sketching a seashell-inspired frame for your new vanity mirror, freezes.

His pencil snaps in half.

“…Second what?”

His voice is so sweet and singsong, but that slight twitch in his smile is dangerous.

You blink innocently, teasing, “Well he’s just soooo charming, cold and powerful but secretly soft for her? That’s sooo my type. If he proposed I’d say yes right away—!”

You don’t even finish before he’s already on you. Drops his sketchpad to the floor with a thud, climbs over you like a wave crashing the shore. One long leg on either side of you, his arms trapping you as he leans down, eyes glittering like an angry sea under moonlight.

“Oh?” he whispers, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. “So now I’m not enough for my precious housewife?”

You giggle and squirm but he’s already attacking, playful nips to your neck, fingers tickling down your sides, his cold rings trailing fire over your thigh. You’re squealing now.

“A second husband, huh? Should I call the movers again and have your whole wardrobe burned? Maybe he can buy you another. Or should I drown him instead?”

He’s so dramatic, so possessive, so pouty. You’re laughing but he’s growling like a feral cat, burying his face in your tummy like it personally betrayed him.

“You’re mine, pretty thing. Say it.”

You pout and whimper dramatically back, “I was joking Raffyyyy…he doesn’t even exist—!”

He just kisses your pout, deep and slow, like he’s trying to overwrite any memory of that fictional man.

“Then don’t say such cruel things again,” he mumbles against your lips, “or I’ll have to become even more fictional. Watch me rewrite your whole novel into just me.”

And from that moment forward, Every time you even glance at your novels, Raf’s there peeking over your shoulder like:

“Is he stronger than me? No. Prettier? No. A better husband? Hah. Let me know when he buys you a castle with hand-carved pearl bathtubs.”

And god forbid you giggle again. He’s instantly pulling you into his lap like:

“What did he say? Hm? Repeat it. Actually, don’t. I’m jealous enough already.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You’re curled up under a plush throw in Zayne’s private library, your tablet in hand and a steaming cup of tea beside you, courtesy of your ever-doting husband. He’s sitting across from you, going through patient charts, pristine in his dress shirt and slacks, glasses perched on his nose.

But you? You’re emotionally spiraling.

Because your favorite manhwa just updated.

And the male lead? A cold, overworked surgeon with a tragic past who’s secretly obsessed with the female lead. He just shielded her with his body during a building collapse, confessed with bloody lips, and called her his “only cure.” You let out a gasp so dramatic it actually makes Zayne look up.

“Are you alright?” he asks, clinically calm.

You clasp your chest with both hands. “Oh my god… please become my husband,” you whisper at the screen, eyes shimmering. Then louder, just to tease him:

“That’s it. I’m getting a second husband.”

Zayne blinks once. Then slowly sets his tablet down.

“…Excuse me?”

You peer up with a tiny smirk. “You wouldn’t understand, Dr Zayne. He’s just… so selfless and cold and obsessed and hot—”

He’s already standing.

Zayne walks over calmly and plucks the tablet right out of your hands. Doesn’t even look at the manhwa. Just sets it down and gently pushes you onto your back on the sofa, bracing himself above you with the quiet, unreadable expression he always has during surgeries.

“You want a second husband,” he repeats, tone flat. “Interesting.”

You can see the tiniest twitch in his jaw. Oh no. He’s jealous.

“You do realize,” he murmurs while running a slow hand up your thigh beneath the blanket, “if this fictional man really knew you, he’d see how easily you cry when you run out of syrup for pancakes. How you hum when you brush your hair. How you sneak cookies after dinner. You think he would handle you well?”

You’re already blushing and squirming but he’s so composed. So focused. His hazel-green eyes narrow, calculating.

“He wouldn’t know how to keep your iron levels up or how to ease your migraines. He wouldn’t know your skin’s exact sensitivity or the cadence of your breathing when you’re overwhelmed.”

Zayne’s voice drops lower, surgical smooth.

“But I do. I know everything about you. And if you ever ‘joke’ like that again…”

He kisses your cheek once, so gently. Then leans to whisper in your ear:

“I’ll prescribe you a month of tech detox. No manhwa. No tablet. Only me.”

You squeak and immediately start apologizing, hugging his neck and whining that you were kidding, and he hums with a smug little smile.

“That’s what I thought. You don’t need a second husband, sweetheart. You need to hydrate, and keep your hands off delusional fantasies.”

But the next day? He’s mysteriously started wearing black gloves and an open white coat at home. Like the manhwa ML.

And when you ask if he’s copying the character you liked so much?

He adjusts his glasses coolly and says:

“No. He’s clearly imitating me.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You’re wrapped in a mountain of silken blankets on the oversized bed in your penthouse, the air dim and cozy with the faint smell of candles and tea. Xavier is curled up beside you, half-asleep with his face buried against your shoulder, his breathing soft and even.

But you?

You’re kicking your feet and squealing because you’re rewatching your favorite historical drama, the one with the stoic general who sacrifices everything for the princess he loves. He’s got blood on his armor and tears in his eyes and he just said:

“Even if I must burn the heavens and betray the throne, I will protect you.”

You clutch your chest, eyes wide and glossy. “Oh my god… please become my husband.”

You gasp and press your face into your pillow dramatically. “I’ll marry you in every timeline. That’s it—I’m getting a second husband.”

You hear the soft rustle of sheets behind you.

And then—

“You’re already married in every timeline.”

Xavier’s voice is quiet, almost sleepy, but his arms are already tightening around your waist, dragging you back into his embrace like you belong there. His silver hair tickles your neck as he nuzzles close, no trace of emotion on his face, but you can feel the pout in his grip.

“Why would you want another husband?” he mumbles, as if you’ve just wounded him deeply. “Do you want a sword next time? Or a war horse? I can bring one.”

You giggle and try to turn back to the screen, but he rolls with you, pinning you beneath him with lazy, catlike precision.

“No,” he says simply. “No more watching.”

You gasp, “Xavi! It’s the final battle—!”

But he rests his head on your chest and closes his eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. He dies. I read the synopsis.”

You blink. “You what?”

He doesn’t answer. Just holds you tighter.

“He’s fictional. I’m not. And I don’t need a palace or a title or a horse to ruin the world for you. Say you’ll only have me.”

You pout, playing along. “Even if a general prince confesses with blood on his lips?”

He opens one blue eye.

“Even if a god kneels in gold, you are mine.”

You squeal and kiss his forehead, and he hums happily like you’ve given him all the reassurance he’ll ever need.

But after that, Xavier becomes very aware of every historical drama you start.

“Is he stoic again?” he murmurs one night, kissing down your collarbone. “Cold and devoted? I can do that too. I’ll rewrite history if I have to.”

Possessive Xavier doesn’t yell. Doesn’t scold. He just clings. Sleeps wrapped around you tighter. Kisses your hands like you’re his queen in exile.

And casually says things like:

“If I were born then, I’d be the one hiding a blade in your hairpin. I’d bury empires for you.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’re lounging in your marble soaking tub, bubbles up to your shoulders, wearing that expensive silk headband Sylus bought just to keep your hair out of your eyes. Your tablet is propped up on a gilded stand, and you’re deep in your reread of your absolute favorite manhwa, the one with the cold, terrifying Duke who rules the north, never smiles, murders nobles with his bare hands… and then turns into a love-crazed fool for his sweet wife.

And this chapter?

He just broke off an engagement, kicked in a ballroom door, and declared in front of the entire empire:

“She belongs to me. Touch her, and I’ll erase your bloodline.”

You slap the water. “OH MY GOD. PLEASE become my husband—”

And then you giggle, teasing under your breath like a brat, “Honestly… I should just get a second husband. A Duke, like him.”

You hear it. That sound.

A slow, deliberate click of a door opening.

You peek up over the rim of the tub.

Sylus is standing in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from the rain outside. His eyes glow that eerie crimson and he tilts his head as he speaks, voice low and silken:

“What was that, princess?”

You blink. “Oh. Um. Nothing.”

He’s already stepping closer, loosening his cufflinks as he watches you with that quietly unhinged little smirk.

“You were comparing me to a fictional man again, weren’t you?”

You shrink a little. “Well, he’s cold and terrifying and secretly romantic—”

He drops to a crouch beside the tub, hand dipping into the water as he cups your jaw and makes you look at him.

“And what exactly do you think I am, sweetheart?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Gulp.

Sylus chuckles darkly and kisses your cheek gently, mockingly.

“I have twelve armories. A fleet of assassins. I bought a continent last week. And you’re fantasizing about a duke in a cape? What did he do, raise his voice once?”

“You want me to play your little story? Fine. You’re now the duchess of my empire, and I’m the cruel tyrant who locks you in his estate to keep you safe from the nobles who ‘want a taste.’”

You blink rapidly. “…That actually sounds kinda hot—”

He grins wide. “Thought so.”

He snaps his fingers and calls one of his aides into the room just to say:

“Prepare a red ballgown. She’s attending the council meeting with me tomorrow as my ‘obsessive’ wife. I want her sitting on my lap while I execute a traitor.”

You: “SYLUS—!”

But he’s already pressing a kiss to your wrist, eyes glinting with dark glee.

“You don’t need a second husband, pretty girl. Just tell me the fantasy and I’ll make it real. Even if I have to burn a country down.”

The next time you open that manhwa?

Sylus scoffs. “He’s not even holding her neck right. Amateur.”

And you’re squealing and blushing as he flips the tablet off and declares:

“You want to be ruined by a cold duke? Get over here and let me show you how it’s actually done.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

It’s a lazy Skyhaven afternoon, and you’re cuddled up on the oversized cloud couch in Caleb’s penthouse, dressed in one of his big Farspace Academy shirts. Your hair’s in a messy bun, snacks within reach, tablet on your lap, and your favorite K-drama blaring: “Doctor of the Moonlight.”

The male lead?

A gorgeous, cold trauma surgeon with a tragic childhood and silky hair that always falls into his eyes. He saves lives with one hand, shatters hearts with the other. But the moment he gently tucks the heroine’s hair behind her ear after she sprains her ankle on a rainy rooftop?

You clutch a pillow to your chest, starry-eyed.

“Please become my husband,” you sigh dreamily. “That’s it. I’m getting a second husband. One with a PhD and arm veins.”

And somewhere behind you… there’s a pause. Then:

“Excuse me?”

You turn and see Caleb, still in his black officer uniform, leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of water forgotten in his hand. His purple eyes are narrowed. His jaw ticks.

“A second husband?” he echoes, voice low and dangerously calm. “You want some pretty-boy drama doctor who cries over surgeries to take you away?”

You blink. “It’s just a show, he’s so gentle and calm and—”

He’s already stalking toward you.

Drops onto the couch like a panther and pulls you onto his lap without another word. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as he leans in, nose brushing your cheek.

“I flew into an asteroid field for you,” he growls softly. “I’ve bled, killed, and retired an entire fleet just to make sure you never lift a finger again.”

You pout playfully. “But does he look good in scrubs?”

Caleb grins, slow and dangerous. “pips, I look good in my colonel uniform”

Then he flips the tablet shut and tosses it onto the table with military precision.

“You want a doctor? Fine. I’ll be your doctor.”

He adjusts his grip, one hand slipping under your thighs to carry you like you weigh nothing.

“Mandatory health check. Right now. Can’t have my wife fantasizing about other men while she’s clearly suffering from a short-term memory issue.”

You squeal and cling to him, whining that you were joking, but he’s already carrying you off, kissing your cheek and murmuring:

“Don’t need a second husband, sweetheart. You need to be reminded who your first—and only—one is.”

Later, when you’re curled up on his chest, pouting and saying the drama doctor was still cute, Caleb just hums and strokes your hair lazily.

“Tell you what,” he whispers. “Next time I’m deployed, I’ll film myself dragging a soldier out of an exploding ship with one arm. You can have your little K-drama moment then.”

You whine, “That’s not romantic!”

And he just kisses your nose, utterly smug.

“You married a colonel, not a drama actor. But if I ever catch you giggling at him again…”

He pulls you closer, voice dropping.

“I’ll ground you.”

[unluckiestmember]

K-Pop Demon Hunters X Reader

Characters: Mira, Zoey, Rumi and Jinu

Warning: Some curse words, kind of hints to spoilers if you squint hard enough but outside of that, none. SFW.

A/N: Guys, I'm scared that I might be becoming CoryXKenshin. You know what else I'm scared of?... How much I love Mira, help me-

Mira

“That was a pretty cool show, right?… You were checking me out, weren’t you? You were totally checking me out.” Dating Mira is the literal definition of chaos. One minute she’ll have the two of you relaxing in her bedroom watching corny tv shows or criticizing a bad rom-com if not a horror movie. The next she has you two rolling heads at a press meeting, loving how people swoon over your relationship and quick to bite off the heads of those who criticize. Mira’s not exactly super romantic, more playful than anything. She shows her love in initiating pillow fights or tickling you suddenly, but that doesn’t mean she’s above a makeout session or cuddling before a show.

If you need to be affirmed of your love, she will cup your cheeks and tell you how much she loves you. She never really had affection from her family, so she knows how it feels to not be cared for and reminded of how precious you are. But she’ll remind you every damn day if she needs to. You’re her partner in crime and, as cringy as it may sound to her saying it aloud, you’re her one and only. A real ride or die.

Zoey

“Soooo what did you think of that one? Did you love it?! Because guess what? I wrote that one for you~!” Out of all the girls in Huntrix, Zoey is arguably the one to not hesitate showing her heart on her sleeves. It’s one of the reasons why you two are together. When she first saw you, she just knew you were the one. Were you her type? Yeah, that was a plus- But just your personality was enough to make her feel as if she was standing in the presence of pure light. To her, you are so cute that sometimes she’ll just. Freeze and get lost in your eyes or cup your cheeks and admit how breathtaking you are, even at the most weird of times. Same goes for kisses too! She will not hesitate to jump off the stage and pull you into an electrifying kiss!

Whenever she has free time, she’s running straight to you, talking your ear off about the many ideas she has for songs mainly about you or telling you stories. Even when she is on tour, she makes sure you’re there every step of the way. She hopes one day she can take you to visit her old home, but for now, she’s content just with being your sweet, loving, sometimes clingy girlfriend that totally doesn’t always daydream about you two getting married.

Rumi

“Okay. The show’s over, Mira and Zoey are stocked on snacks and the fans all got their autographs! Which means I am all yours for the evening~.” It’s honestly a miracle that you were able to date Rumi and even the rest of Huntrix along with Bobby believes that. That passionate workaholic found herself intrigued by you, mainly in how you looked at her and spoke to her as if she wasn’t some idol but just. Well. A person. It took some easing up before she actually tried to give things a shot between you two, but when she finally did, she had to admit she’s never felt as happy as she did with you. She loves how you help her get out of her shell sometimes and remind her to relax when necessary. In return for such sweet gestures, she showers you with sweet touches, beautiful whispers and affirmations as well as a nice meal when possible.

When she told you about her past, she was sure you would leave her. But when you stayed by her side, helped her become comfortable in her skin and even let your love grow stronger? Well, it made her just realize one thing; You were everything she could ever want and more.

Jinu

“Sorry for the wait, sweetheart, for a second I thought the fans were gonna snatch me up. A shame they can’t see I’ve already been swept off my feet by you.” For Jinu, love was never on his radar. He never dismissed the idea of being in a relationship, but he never thought it would be possible either. Until he met you. Honestly, when you two first met, he thought you could be useful, a tool even and that was all. But the more you two hung out, the more he realized how much his heart beat for you. He began to crave you by his side, enjoyed your company and how you treated his pets. He especially loved how you saw him as a person and not just some demon. Eventually, he asked for you to be in a relationship and when you accepted, he was more than elated.

Of course he tries to keep you away from Gwi-Ma with a ten foot pole when he’s working and makes sure you’re never in harm’s way. When he’s free to relax, he’s quick to slip into your arms and just enjoy being near you. He’s lost so much, due to mistakes or not. But he’ll be damned if he loses you too. You’re too precious to him. As far as it’s concerned, to him, you are his soul.

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[munsonsmixtapes]

Sweat

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You and Eddie find a great way to distract yourselves from the heat wave that moves through Hakwins

cw: MDNI (18+) smut ( p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) masturbation, oral (m receiving) choking, dom!eddie

You lie on your bed as the ceiling fan spins above you. Hawkins has reached an all new record as far as heat goes, making this the hottest summer in history with temperatures reaching over one hundred. The ceiling fan mixed with the oscillating fan you’ve got by the bed is doing barely anything to cool you down. You’re stripped down to a tank top and your panties and even though your parents aren’t home, you’re still hesitant about being stripped down to nothing. You know Eddie wouldn’t mind, especially since he’s your boyfriend, but still. 

He comes back into the room with more water in nothing but his boxers and you take the glass from him, chugging away. You feel like you’ve sweat out all the other water you’ve drunk so this is exactly what you need. Eddie sits on the bed next to you and pulls you close despite how hot and sweaty the two of you are. That never matters to him-he always feels so much better when you’re right beside him. As long as he’s touching you in some way, he feels right at home.

Your back is flat against your mattress and he lies on top of you, snuggling into your neck. He presses kisses to your neck, murmuring how much he loves you and you know exactly where this is going. You don’t even care about how sticky you feel, you just want to feel him. You’ve both been so busy that you’ve barely had time to see each other, let alone actually have sex. You’re needy and desperate and just need him so badly.

You know he’s not going to give in so easily, though. He’s going to make you beg and beg, on the verge of crying for him because he wants to be sure that you really want it. He eats it up when you’re that desperate for him-when you need him so bad that he can see tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“I know what you want, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, hand sliding into your underwear but he pauses. “Gotta ask for it. C’mon, beg for me.” He starts to suck on your neck and you can’t help but let out a moan. It’s been so long since he’s done this and you forgot how much you missed it. 

“Eddie, please,” you beg as his fingers move back and forth across your slit in a teasing manner. He continues to suck, clearly unsatisfied with how you’ve asked. His teeth slide against your neck and you let out another moan, already close to an orgasm. 

“More whiny,” he replies. “Gotta beg me, doll. Wanna hear you crying for me because you need me so bad.” You’re usually more than happy to play right into his hand, but not right now. The heat is getting to you and now you’re going to let him have it. 

“I swear to god, if you don’t do something, I’ll just take care of it myself.” Eddie actually likes that better. He’s never seen you masturbate and now he kind of wants to. He pulls away from your neck and looks you in the eyes, his getting darker as he imagines how pretty you’d look with your fingers inside you. 

“Do it, baby,” he says, removing his hand from your panties. “I wanna watch you make yourself come and then I want to be the one to lick your fingers clean. After that, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna be seeing stars.” You never thought he’d be so turned on by watching you pleasure yourself, but then again, he’s always surprising you. You need him now more than ever, but you want to be the one to make him beg this time. He’s not going to get what he wants until he’s the one crying for you. That’s the only way this is going to work. 

Eddie pulls off your underwear and you press your middle and ring fingers together before pushing them inside you. Eddie is on his hands and knees at your feet, watching your every move. And when you let out a little whimper, he’s sure that he’s never heard anything more hot in his life. He knows you do this a lot just by the way you move your hand. This is second nature to you and god, is he loving watching. 

You let out your first moan and Eddie’s already into it. So much so that he’s pulling his boxers down and spitting into his hand. He’s pumping rapidly, just trying to get some sort of release. And now you’re watching each other, getting off on seeing the other masturbate. Seeing his head thrown back like that, those breathy moans-god, he’s got to know exactly what he’s doing to you. 

You’re pumping even harder now, trying to match his pace. This isn’t something you’ve done together, but you can’t help but feel turned on by it, knowing that he’s only doing it because he finds you so hot. You wonder how many times he’s done this to the thought of you, even before you got together. 

He reaches his orgasm before you do, but you’re not long after. Your eyes open just in time to see cum shooting out all over him and your freshly washed bedding. As soon as he’s finished coming, he takes the fingers you’ve removed from your cunt and brings them into his mouth, licking and sucking on them like an animal. This is his reward and you’re going to let him enjoy it. Once they’re clean, he takes them out of his mouth then kisses you, placing himself above you as he lines himself up with you. 

He’s sticky with sweat and his cum that he didn’t bother to clean up, but you don’t mind. You just need him inside you now. His hands grab onto your headboard as he pounds into you so hard that the bed squeaks underneath you. He’s moving so fast and you’re somehow able to keep up as you buck your hips against his. 

“Such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” He asks. “Who knew my shy girl liked it so rough,” he lets out a chuckle as his pace somehow picks up even more.

Eddie’s always so gentle with you despite his teasing manner, but tonight is different. You like seeing more of this side of him, realizing that you like the teasing a lot more than you thought you would. You like when he bosses you around sometimes and that he lets you take the reins when you want to. He’s the perfect partner in every way. 

“You’re always too gentle with me,” you reply. “I can take it.”

“Alright, then how would you feel about being choked?” Your eyes light up at that and you watch his hand reach out for you. It wraps around your throat and he gives it a tight squeeze. You feel like you can’t breathe, but for some reason, that turns you on, making you even more wet as Eddie continues to pound into you. 

“I had no idea you liked this kind of stuff. More?” He asks and you nod so he squeezes harder, hearing your labored breath. He’s moving even faster as he chokes you just a little harder before letting go, his hand moving back to the top of the head board. 

He can see that you’re close, but he’s not letting up just yet. He wants to see how many times he can make you come this round. You’re both pouring sweat and your words are starting to slur. He’s beginning to think that maybe water is more important right now. 

You come more quickly than anticipated, those pretty sounds falling from your lips and Eddie’s not far after, not even bothering to pull out as he collapses on top of you. You’re both spent from all the sweat clinging to your body and you both decide that you’re in need of a shower. But not before Eddie gets his cuddles in. 

Once he feels like he’s lied there long enough, he pulls out and throws you over his shoulder before throwing you over his shoulder and heading into your bathroom where he sits you on the toilet before turning the water on. 

The water heats up pretty quick and you both step in before Eddie closes the door. It’s heating up and you don’t know why this feels so good even though the water is so hot.

Eddie puts some of your body wash onto your wash clothes before he wipes you down, whispering how much he loves you as he presses kisses to every inch of skin he can find. You really think you lucked out finding him, still unsure as to how no one else in Hawkins seems to notice how much of a catch he is. 

You step closer to him as the soap washes off of you and before you can stop yourself, you’re backing him up against the wall. You sink to your knees and look up at him as you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. You flatten your tongue against the tip as you grab hold of the base, giving it a hard suck. 

Eddie lets out a whine and you take that as an invitation to take him even further, inch by inch until you can feel him at the back of your throat. Your eyes are tearing up and you’re gagging, but you don’t dare stop. Your nose hits his bush and you continue to suck as his hands wind into your hair, tugging on it. You have to hold onto his thighs as it becomes even harder to not slip on the wet floor of the shower. 

You can hear his whiny moans and those mixed with the comforting sounds of the water running just make this the kind of thing you’ve only fantasized about. You can feel that he’s close. It hasn’t seemed to take much these days since you haven’t been as active in the bedroom with your schedules. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “That’s it. That’s-”

Rope after rope of cum leaks out into your mouth and you remove Eddie’s cock with a loud pop before standing to your feet. You grab hold of his face and make him watch you swallow before pressing your lips to his so he can’t still taste you in his mouth. His hands wind into your hair again as he kisses you deeply, pushing his tongue into your mouth. 

You both let out the loudest moans as you pull him under the water and only break away so he can wash his body and clean up before the two of you get out of the shower. Once you both are done, you dry off and get into bed, not even bothering to get dressed as your now clean bodies press together as you get some very much needed sleep, knowing that you’re going to need it before the next round. It seems like this is the only way either of you are going to survive the heat wave. 

[cassolotl]

This is such a good description of what it's like and what it does. It's so good that I'm reluctant to reblog it without something constructive to follow up.

~

I'm still trying to work out what the antidote to this is.

Something that worked for me for some of it, way back, was simply to decide that I didn't want it to work on me anymore, I was done with it and it could get out and let me get on with whatever. The rest of me got bigger than it. So I guess I would describe that solution as weaponised impatience-curiosity-compulsion?

But there is still some left that is older and more sneaky, and I'm not sure what to say to it. I'm trying "even disgusting blob people deserve to have a nice time and meet nice people" but it's not quite hitting the spot.

Ultimately I think shame just goes away when you expose the subject of the shame to other humans in some way, because there's two outcomes that mostly happen:

It becomes apparent that the thing is not anything to be ashamed of. (More common, by orders of magnitude.)

It becomes apparent that the thing *is* something to be ashamed of, and now you're facing it you can change it. (Very unusual, and usually for me the change is pretty straightforward - it's the looking at it that is the hardest part.)

And I would like to do this, but the subject of my remaining shame keeps squirming out of the way when I look at it, so I can't see what it is properly, so I can't share it and feel better. It's very frustrating!

Perhaps a good start would be to find out why it's so squirmy and hard to pin down. Maybe it's older than my memories.

~

(I'm not not okay, I *am* okay, I'm just a completionist - I ditched like 80% of my shame many years ago, and now I'm basically able to function with it and feel fine most of the time. I just want to get the rest of it out as well. Weird motive for self-healing, but whatever works, innit?)

I’m not okay

(from ask polly)

[katscki]

hiiii it’s me 🌷 currently obsessing over kats using my throat as long as he wants :3

also random but do u think he’s a titties or ass guy ? i really can’t decide im leaning more towards titties but idkkkk!

Omg

Sex Hcs for bkg

He would loveeeee when you lay down on the bed asking him to fuck your throat. He could never ask you himself because he doesn’t want to hurt you but when you ask… one hand is on your tit and the other is feeling him fuck your mouth through your neck. He loves it even more when you spread your legs to play with your pretty pussy while he does it, gives him a show.

He loves every single part of you but I believe he is an ass man through and through. It all started back in your third year when he began to have a crush on you. He noticed all the little things and that lead to him staring at where your perfect legs met your uniform skirt, dying to see what underwear you had over your gorgeous ass. He was a very respectful boy but he couldn’t help tilting his head a little bit as you walked away trying to get a good view.

Speaking of third year, you were his first everything. So when you finally made out for the first time and he got two handfuls of your ass? He was a mess.

He loves watching your pretty pussy stretch around his cock then looking up at your half lidded eyes that beg him to keep going. And once his thumb finds your clit they flutter closed in the most beautiful way.

He’s a slut for dirty talk, he knows that you can’t really respond to him, just moan out his name. And that’s why he loves it so much. It makes you make the noises he’s addicted to and your cunt tighten up around him. “Yeah~ that’s it baby… look so fuckin perfect under me. Feel good sweet girl?” All to have you nod uncontrollably.

He can get off on the sounds you make alone, nothing even has to touch his dick but when you’re moaning so sweetly it’s like the cum is already dripping from his cock. However It becomes a problem when you’re sitting in the common room just stretching out and then moan a little, the poor boy is so fucking hard and all it took was a little “ngh~” while your arms are above your head.

He would never tell you this but he knows exactly when you’re going to ovulate. As sad as it is he waits all month for this time because he knows that when he goes home you’re going to jump his bones and fuck him till he can’t speak. Waits at the agency all day like a teenager touching a girl for the first time. And he was right, when he got home you’re kissing him sweet nothings, asking about his day but not really caring. Then somehow you’re riding him right there on the floor. He loves when you ovulate because you force him to cum five times just to “make it stick Suki~”

As much as he wants to deny it, he was so horny when he was a teenager n when you get him in bed, it’s clear he tried to make up for lost time fucking you over and over again. He tries to have sex or at least make you cum once a day at least. Unless one of you is sick or he’s gone for work.

The first time he knew he wanted to marry you was when he came home to your shared apartment and found you in your room, wearing his hoodie moaning his name, as you plunged a dildo, that he got specially made to be like his dick, into you. Instantly he opens the door and comes over to you on his knees to eat you like a mf. Fucking you with the toy himself as he tongues at your clit.

All in all he is just fucking addicted to everything about you and wants to experience all the lovin you have to give.

[lxvvie]

loser!simon who literally like zones out when he's got his face buried in your cunt :( like that man is NOT getting up for the next few hours wdym you have shit to do? he's been fighting wars for you bby don't rip him away from his only sanctuary!!!

you try to get him up one day by yanking at his hair and he just grunts n tilts his face up which you KNOW is covered in slick and he's licking it off his chin and panting like a dog in heat and shit and when he realizes you have nothing more to say he just goes right back to it

You have work tomorrow, you wanna mentally prepare yourself, and maybe, just MAYBE, have a nice night of R&R and self care, but Simon kept fucking texting you to come over so he can eat your pussy and make you feel good. What the fuck would a sheet mask do that he couldn’t?

Not annoy you for starters, motherfucker.

Anyway, you came over to get your rocks off and it turned into this sexathon that pretty much guarantees that you’ll stay the night and be late for work tomorrow knowing how Simon gets down in the morning. Goddamnit.

You called yourself trying to assert your dominance or whatever by yanking him up by his hair, and… holy shit, the bastard’s gone. Just… ruined and, and god, it’s so disgusting, so bloody arousing, just…

Simon’s pupils are blown, stubble glistening with your cum, eyes focused and unfocused on you just the same. Pure greed, instinct, satiation, and lust all rolled up into one tattooed, chain smoking asshole, and it’s so fucking nasty you’re practically salivating. He licks his lips, tasting your cunt, and lets out a ragged breath. Jesus, he couldn’t even give himself room to breathe?

Simon quirks an eyebrow as if to say, “Fuck you made me stop for?” You don’t answer. Real Horny Clown Shit. You do loosen your grip on his hair, though, and that’s all the greedy bastard needs to go back to devouring your cunt like it’s dinner time.

Yeah, you’re gonna be late for work tomorrow. If you can even get out of bed to show up.

[xoami]

LIMERENT, ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 sick and in love

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, you and your stalker have a special bond. PAIRING. stalker!sunghoon x lovesick!reader GENRE. fluff, angst, suggestive WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, mdni

authors note ୨୧ This comeback has my creativity on 10. I spiraled and wrote several chapters to this prompt. I may release them depending on how this goes.

─────────

You met your stalker on a gloomy Wednesday. Well, that’s not exactly true…

You caught him.

It was raining that night, hard, cold drops hammering the pavement like they had a score to settle.

You’d just locked up the café, slipping your keys into your coat pocket when you glanced across the street—and there he was…

His tall, lean figure half-shadowed under the flickering orange glow of a busted streetlamp, camera pressed to his chest like a confession. Dark hair, damp and messy. Lips parted like he forgot how to breathe when you noticed him.

His tired eyes were blown wide under wet lashes…

You didn’t scream, You didn’t run.

You tilted your head, lifted your hand to wave, and he disappeared.

Sunghoon… Park Sunghoon.

That was his name.

You found it scrawled on the inside of a brand new book, ´The Fall of the House of Usher’ that appeared on your porch days later—delicate cursive, slanted and careful, and in pretty red ink.

You pressed your fingers to it, lips curling.

The book smelled like cologne—woodsy, clean, cold. Like cedar, mint, and winter.

Later you learned that Sunghoon always smelled like winter.

⸻

You’re not exactly normal either.

No one really talks to you much… not since you stopped trying.

You like your space, your routines.

Your tea cabinet is alphabetized, your bed is always made, except when he comes.

You talk to stray cats more than you do to people. They meow at the windows at sunset, and you always let them in.

So, maybe it wasn’t that strange to you when the gifts started…

Roses, dark red and wilting at the edges.

A little box with a dainty, golden locket.

A velvet ribbon tied around a cassette tape with no label… classical music.

An envelope of photos—grainy, warm, quiet. Some of you at the market, some of you brushing your hair in the mirror, some of you flat on your stomach in bed, dipping strawberries in melted chocolate.

You should’ve been scared, but you weren’t.

You felt closer to something…someone?...

You felt admired.

You felt pretty.

⸻

Days…

Weeks…

Months…

Time passed, slow as molasses.

Patterns continued, and eventually your stalker became less and less… out of reach. He never started to feel less like a ghost however.

Park Sunghoon.

You remember the first time you heard heavy footsteps in the halls, you were quick to type away on your phone.

You: Is that you?

Your phone had buzzed not even a moment later. One message:

Unknown: ;)

Soon, it became routine.

He’d crawl through your window, always at odd hours of the night.

Most of the time, you were already half asleep, your cheek mashed against the pillow, fingers twitching toward dreamland…

But you’d stir at the faint creak of the floorboards, the subtle shift of air, the familiar cold scent curling into your room like fog.

Then the bed would dip behind you, and arms would wrap around your waist. Strong, still trembling slightly.

You’d smile even in slumber.

Sunghoon’s fingers were always ice cold, and he’d tuck them beneath your night dress, pressing into the bare warmth of your stomach like he needed to feel it.

You’d wiggle your hips against him just to tease, and he’d choke on a quiet sound, pulling you closer. You liked the way he shook.

You liked that you made him shake.

⸻

He doesn’t speak much.

When he does, it’s breathy… flat but thick with meaning. His words don’t land—they linger.

“I’d never hurt you,” he whispered once, his mouth brushing the curve of your neck as he held you on the fire escape.

“I’d kill for you, though.”

You think he already has.

You never asked why there was blood smudged on his cheeks, or dried under his fingernails some nights…

Never asked why or whose it was.

You never asked why his hands tremble when you kiss over fresh bruises.

You just guide him to the bed, giggling as he sits stiff as stone on the edge, waiting for you climbed into his lap. You trace the veins down his neck, pressed your lips to the chiseled line of his jaw, and felt the tension coil in his spine.

He never moved first.

You always had to pull his hands from his sides, coax them to your hips, your thighs, your ribs…

Like he was scared he’d burn you.

You wanted to burn.

⸻

He writes you love letters…

Little scraps of obsession.

‘Hello Angel,

Your lips have been haunting me… your smile too. I saw you laugh at a joke from your co-worker today. The cashier. It made me want to scratch his eyes out. Anyhow, you looked beautiful… I’ll see you soon. Leave your window open?

- Yours truly, H.’

You tape them to your bathroom mirror like confessions.

Late at night, you write your name across his pale chest with cherry lipstick, his arms, his hips—right over his heart.

You like the way his eyes roll when you straddle him, brows furrowed, his mouth always parted like he forgot how to breathe again. He trembles when you kiss, like every touch is sacrilegious.

You think he cried the first time he saw you naked.

A single tear, down his cheekbone, as his hands stayed frozen above his head like he didn’t know where to put them. You kissed the tear, then kissed lower.

⸻

The photos keep coming… the ones he takes.

You sip tea and sort through them like postcards at your kitchen table.

You, always you. At your window, or stretching in bed, or with headphones on and unaware, mouthing the lyrics to a song he later asked about.

“I like knowing you’re watching,” you once told him, brushing his hair back from his face as he lay in your lap.

He blinked up at you, as if waiting for the punchline.

You smiled.

“It makes me feel wanted.”

Sunghoon’s lips curled—just barely. A twitch of something fond and unhinged.

⸻

You still leave your window open without asking, but he has a key now just in case.

You always sleep deeper with his arms around you… and he’s beginning to leave clothes for you in the mornings.

Your stray cats still curl on the windowsill, still keeping you company in his absence.

Your house smells like rose petals and cold cologne. Your walls are now lined with clothesline, his secret photographs pinned along them with fairy lights.

You never fail to wake to the softest kisses on your shoulder, the words “mine, mine, mine” breathed like prayer.

On the fire escape, you hold his hand and he presses his lips to your temple.

“You’ll never know a love like mine,” he whispers.

“I know,” you whisper back, smiling.

And that’s all you need.

[the-luckiest-guy-thanks-to-you]

Some additional notes

Window AC > 2 pipe portable > 1 pipe portable > swamp cooler. If you're spending money for a portable one, just get the window unit and ask for help putting it in if need be, put som masking tape around the edges if you're that scared of bugs. There is a huge difference between each of these. Swamp coolers can also be DIY'd by putting some cool water in a bowl, a wash cloth to wick it up, and a fan in front of it. There's many designs, and I'll post a link or two to vids about them. If for some reason you have like an Eco-flow battery powered AC, I don't recommend using them indoors unless you really need to. The reason for this is every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If it is cooling the air blasted at you, it is heating the air its venting, and because it takes energy to run the process, the average temperature in the room goes up rather than cooling down. Battery powered ones are made for out-door use.

Links at bottom about swamp coolers and portable AC units.

Shade is diet sun because you are being warmed 2 ways, through ambient heat, and the sun's direct radiation. Shade protects you from the radiation that makes it so you can cook an egg on the sidewalk, but if the ambient temperature is still 104°F, the shade can in no way protect you from that especially because even a shady breeze will be warmer than your body temp.

For the mister, bonus points if the water is below ambient and body temperature, but it's good regardless because it's basically doing the job of sweating for you, saving maybe a little hydration, and letting that heat energy evaporate the water, removing it from your body

For curtains, try to make sure they're a light color, or if they are dark, add an extra layer of insulation if you can. Dark curtains will absorb the sun's rays heating things up. The rays are already in your house anyways, but lightly colored curtains will help reflect a bit of that energy back out. If you want to be extra thorough, have any curtains of your choosing, but additionally, put tinfoil or mylar (space blanket material) over the outside of your windows to reflect the sun away so it doesn't make it into your house in the first place. This is most important on any windows that face the sun. The insulation will still be good for dealing with the ambient temperature though.

For Gatorade, a tip taught to me by EMTs and other folks is water it down. About half Gatorade (or whatever works for you) and half water will help hydrate better than Gatorade alone from what I've been told. Snacks like Pringles and salty and sweet snacks like pretzels and Carmel dip with a glass of water is a great treat for taking care of yourself.

The lightbulb tip mostly applies to anyone not using LED lights. LEDs are much much more efficient and don't output half as much heat as other lights so they're especially great for light during heat waves. As with anything, enough of them can add up to generate a not-insignificant amount of heat, but generally speaking, you need some pretty strong or a whole lot of them to do that. Likely if you're using LEDs, don't worry because your mere existence is outputting many times the amount of heat they are.

Additionally to damp rag, keeping some frozen washcloths in the freezer can be good. When one is done, toss it back in the freezer and grab the next.

Be sure to keep movement down, stay calm, and take it easy. Calm is slow and slow is cool.

For all of the northerners that stood up for Texas during our freeze and said, "Don't make fun of them, they've never dealt with this before. Their infrastructure isn't made for snow and freezing."

This one is for you.

Where I live 108°F with 80% humidity with no wind is normal.

Pacific North West is dealing historic best waves 35-40°C or 95-105°F.

First of all. Don't make fun of them for bitching about the heat. Just like Texas isn't built for a freeze and our pipes burst, Pacific North West isn't built for heat and a lot of their homes don't have AC.

If you live somewhere with a high humidity like 80+ HUMIDITY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. The "humidity makes it feel cooler" is a lie once it gets beyond a point.

If you live somewhere with a lower humidity, misters are nice to cool off outside.

Once you get over 90°F (32°C) a fan will not help you. It's just pushing around hot air. (I mean if you can't afford a small AC unit because they're expensive as hell, by all means a fan is better than nothing).

If you have pets, those portable AC units aren't safe. If your pets destroy the outtake thing, it'll leak CO2. Window units are safer.

Window AC units will let mosquitoes or other small bugs in. Sucks, but that's life.

Now is not the time to me modest. If you have to cover for religious reasons, by all means. If you don't, I've seen people wear short shorts and a swim top. It's not trashy if it keeps you from getting heat stroke.

If you do have to cover up for religious reasons, look for elephant pants or something similar. They're made with a breathable material.

Shade is better than no shade, but that shit it just diet sun after some point. Don't think shade will save you from heat stroke.

I know the "drink your water" is a fun meme now, but if you're sweating excessively you need electrolytes. Drink Gatorade, Powerade, or Pedialite PLEASE. I don't care if you're fucking sitting in one spot all day. That shit WILL save you from heat stroke.

Most importantly. RESEARCH THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HEAT STROKE AND HEAT EXHAUSTION PLEASE!

If you're diabetic and can't drink Gatorade, mix water, fruit juice, and either lite salt or pink salt

If you can afford it, cover windows with thick curtains to insulate the house

If you have tile floors, lay on them with skin to tile contact. If you don't, laying your head on cool counters works too.

If the temperature where you're at is hotter than your body temperature, don't wear heat wicking clothing. Moisture wicking is safe though.

Check your medication labels. Many make you more susceptible to sun and heat

-Room temperature water will get into your body faster. This is something I learned doing marching band in high summer in Georgia, and it saved all of our asses. Sip it, don't gulp it, especially if you're getting into the red; same goes for whatever fluid you're drinking. And just in general drink during the day.

-If you are moving from an air conditioned space to an un-air conditioned space, if at all possible try to make the shift gradual. When my dad and I were working outside and in un-ac houses a few years ago, he'd turn the air down to low in the truck about ten-fifteen minutes before we got where we were going. This way your body doesn't go from low low temps to high temps. S'bad for you.

-If you can, keep your lights off during the day. Light bulbs may not generate a lot of heat, but the difference is noticeable when it gets hot enough. I literally only turn my bedroom light on in the evening when it gets too dark.

Don't be afraid to just like... pour water on yourself if you need to. The evaporation will cool you off.

Put your hand to the cement for 15 seconds. If you can't handle the heat, it'll burn your dog's paws. Don't let them walk on it.

Dogs with flat faces are more prone to heat stroke. Don't leave them out unsupervised.

Frozen fruit is delicious in water.

Wet/Cold hat/handkerchief on your head/neck will help you stay cool.

Pickle juice is great for electrolytes! You can even make pickle juice Popsicles!

Heat exhaustion is more, "drink water and get you cooled off." Heat stroke is more "Oh my god call 911."

Image Description provided by @loveize

[Image description: an infographic showing the difference between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. The graphic is labeled "Heat Dangers: First Warning." Signs of heat exhaustion: faint or dizzy, excessive sweating, cool, pale, clammy skin, rapid, weak pulse, muscle cramps. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat exhaustion, get to a cool, air-conditioned place, drink water if conscious, and take a cool shower or use cold compress. Signs of heat stroke: throbbing headache, no sweating, red, hot, dry skin, rapid, strong pulse, may lose consciousness. If you think you or someone else may be experiencing heat stroke, call 911. End description]

Be safe.

-fae

[todosdream]

I can fix that | ony

2.7k wrds. black fem reader. fluff.

warnings: cursing, men can be sucky, bluecollar!ony, flirting

pliers, pliers, pliers, you think to yourself as you search through the store.

about a week ago, the stream on your shower head started acting funny. at first you could just hit it a couple of times with the perfect amount of strength and it’d be knocked back into its senses. over time, the trick started to work less and less.

one particularly frustrating day led to a swing with too much umph in it, unfortunately knocking the thing out of commission. after a brief moment of frustrated silence, you decided to just replace it. you’ve already picked out the fancy massage shower head you want. now, here you are in good ‘ole home depot, searching for all the tools needed.

you’re roaming the aisles and trying to look like you have at least the slightest clue what you’re doing, even though your source of knowledge for the particular task at hand is just… well, the internet. it probably isn’t a good idea, you doing this yourself, but there’s no way you’re paying out the ass for something you can let youtube guide you through. hopefully you won’t make it worse. if all else fails, you can just continue to take baths for now.

“pliers!” you smile to yourself when you notice the rack. your smile slowly but surely dwindles when you realize just how many types there are up on the wall, the variation of colors and shapes immediately making you regret your decision. “what the fuck,” you mumble.

combination, flat nose, linesman… the list goes on and on and on.

before you can let out a sigh of frustration, you hear the agitating sound of someone clearing their throat behind you. “need help, little lady?” a voice calls, sounding almost slimey in its delivery.

you turn, top lip already itching to raise in irritation, but you see it’s one of the employees. the bright orange apron is an insult to your eyes, but it’s not as bad as the look on the guy’s face. “oh. um... yeah, if you don’t mind. I just need a pair of pliers to change out my shower head,” you say casually.

he hums with a raise of his eyebrow, eyes flicking up and down your form. it’s a judgemental gaze, very telling for how this conversation is about to go.

oh, brother.

“you sure you can do that all by yourself? pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to get your hands dirty,” he drawls, a smirk tugging at his lips. it almost makes you want to gag.

“I’m sure,” you say blandly. you definitely didn’t come here to talk to mr. greasy, despite his attempt. “I just need a basic pair of pliers. please and thanks.”

he doesn’t seem to like your tone, smirk falling as his ego is bruised. he must pull shit like this all the time. it’s a wonder his ass hasn’t been fired.

“well, I can’t just sell you anything basic, sweetie. that’d be doing you a disservice,” he tries again. he walks past you to the wall display, gesturing with his arms. you get a whiff of funk every time he moves. “these here are top notch. definitely what I’d recommend. there’s no way you’ll mess up.”

before you can give the nastiest eye roll manageable, a voice grumbles from behind you.

“aye, bruh, you can chill with all that sales shit.”

ony had approached behind you a few moments prior, several feet back as he waited for the two of you to move and stop blocking the wall.

his trip to the store was supposed to be simple. he just wanted to get a new pair of tongue and groove pliers, maybe some more bug spray for his home, and then get an icee from the gas station after working all day in the damn heat.

but here he is, sighing softly to himself as he listens to the worker attempt to ruin both of your days. he figured he’d put himself and you out of your misery.

when you turn to inspect the newcomer, who’s quite frankly saying what you were thinking, it’s like a scene from a movie. you can hear the imaginary music playing and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

behind you is the finest man you’ve ever seen. dark skin, locs pulled up into a messy bun, bushy eyebrows pulled into a slight frown. he’s handsome, kind of like the men you’d expect to be in a monthly calendar of fine ass, hardworking beaus. light brown eyes, beard in slight need of a trim. his arms are crossed and big, covered in tattoos and small scars, and his form towers over yours. rugged but sexy.

“that’s what I’m supposed to do, sir,” the worker says with a tight smile. “is there anywhere I can point you to? I’m a bit busy helping this girl right now. as you can see.”

your gaze flickers back and forth, taking in both men’s demeanors. now, how did I end up in this? you ask yourself.

“nah. I’m good here,” ony responds with a shrug. his gaze is steady and doesn’t even shift your way. he stares down the employee with a calm look, seemingly unbothered. “this young lady don’t need you in her face if you gone be condescending. and she needs a basic tool for a basic job, not something she’ll have to spend big money on to use once.”

the worker’s eyes narrow, but before he can respond, someone speaks over the intercom.

“buford please report to aisle 13. buford please report to aisle 13.”

the worker, now outed as buford, huffs and crosses his arms. “alright, miss, I’ll be right back, okay? if this guy bothers you, just come grab me.” you give a tight lipped smile in response. “yeah, sure. thanks.”

with one last (supposedly threatening) look to ony, the employee walks off, grumbling softly under his breath. there’s a quiet tsk from the man still standing next to you, and he shakes his head as he watches the other retreat.

“sorry about that,” ony says with a nod in buford’s direction. his tone is softer now, but not overly so, and the strength of his gaze is now on you. it causes a warm feeling to bloom within you and a small smile to tug at your lips.

“yeah. being a woman means unfortunately being used to it,” you say with a soft laugh. “I’m not opposed to a knight in shining armor from time to time, though.” you tilt your head with the tease, a flirty sparkle in your eyes.

hm. ony doesn’t like that fact that you’re used to it, though he understands. but he does like the flirting tease from you.

his eyebrow raises as a smile crawls onto his face. such a pretty belle you are. and a fun personality is there too, he can tell. “I ain’t a knight, I’ll tell you that. but I can fix that shower head for you. if you want.”

“mmm, I don’t know,” you say, a playfully suspicious look on your face. “you’re still a man. don’t want just any stranger in my home.”

“I don’t have to be a stranger,” he smiles, obviously quite tickled. the action makes a deep dimple appear on one side, as if the man could get any finer. “but I do this shit forreal, I swear. here, let me getchu my card.”

he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a slightly crumpled business card, handing the item to you. you take the card and glance over it, noticing the lackluster design layout and plethora of services offered.

“interesting design. onyankpon, huh?”

“close. onyankopon, but I go by ony,” he says lowly, correcting your pronunciation. he tilts his head a bit, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “that face says you think it’s less than interesting. what’s ya name, pretty?”

“ᥫ᭡,” you answer with a smile. “the seems… slightly legit, I guess. I keep that thang on me though, so how about an exchange of services, mr. ony? I can design a new card for you. this is cute and all, but I can make it better.”

the idea is appealing to the man, but you’re where his full interest lies. there’s a teasing tug in the way you interact with him. he likes it. “a trade,” he says with a nod. “I can do that. I was fully ready to do it at no fee, though, darlin’.”

you shrug, face warming just a smidgen. “I don’t mind. keeps my skills sharp.” you pause, looking him up and down. “you are legit, right?” you question with a squint of your eyes.

ony chuckles then, rubbing at his jaw. “I’m forreal. got a truck with my name on it and everything.”

you hum and place your hands on your hips. “‘kay then. I don’t have to buy the pliers anymore, right? this place is a nightmare. spooky.”

ony shakes his head, dimple on full display with his handsome grin. you’re just too cute to him, all jokes and beauty. “nah. I do, though. ‘scuse me, ᥫ᭡.”

the sound of your name from his lips sounds unfairly addictive. you look up at him as he reaches over your shoulder, body close but not close enough. he keeps his eyes on yours as he grabs the pliers he needs, the scent of his cologne only adding to the experience.

gah damn.

the man gives you another charming smile as he steps back. “I have to go do another job in a few, but call that number when you wanna schedule somethin’. hope to see you later, pretty. don’t leave me hangin’, yeah?”

ᥫ᭡

“nice spot you got, darlin’,” ony murmurs as he walks through the doorway. it’s a cute sight, seeing his large frame treat your comfy home with so much respect.

he wipes his work boots on your doormat for a long moment, ensuring he won’t track anything around. he’s sure to adjust his work belt so he doesn’t budge anything. he’s looking around with rapt curiosity.

“thanks. took me a while to decorate how I liked, but it was worth it,” you smile. “c’mon, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

ony follows behind you, wondering if you wore the cute lounge outfit you have on for him. he intentionally keeps his thoughts respectful, but little does he know, you absolutely did.

he steps into the bathroom behind you, noticing the scent of jasmine and sandalwood from the wax warmer. your place is definitely a woman’s place in all the best ways, and he has no choice but to smile when he sees how cohesive the decor is.

“okay, darlin’. lemme take a look,” he mumbles. you step aside and wait with your fingers interlocked. after stepping into the shower and looking over the situation, he lets out a focused hum.

“yeah, definitely time for a new one. I’ll get this off real quick, you’ll be good as new in a few,” he nods. “where’s the replacement?”

“right here in the sink,” you point, happy to help. it feels like opening the door when someone carries a couch or something. like you’re not doing the hard work but still contributing.

ony lets out a warm chuckle, once again amused. you’re just happy to be here and he adores that. “good. you mind handing it to me when I ask?”

“nope!” you chime.

he shakes his head with a grin, dimple once again capturing your heart. he works efficiently for the next few moments, quickly dismantling, cleaning, and prepping. “alright, pretty,” he murmurs, holding out his hand.

you happily plop the replacement head into his hand and he takes it with a smile. “a lil helper, huh?” he asks as he easily completes his task. “alright. I just need to check for leaks and you’ll be good to go. easy peasy.”

“perfect, thanks so much, ony, I really appreciate it,” you smile. who knew a trip to home depot could kill two birds with one stone? free assistance with the shower and a fine ass man.

“no problem,” he chuckles. “just leave a good review on my site,” he winks.

“will do. five stars, I promise,” you grin. “I’m gonna run to the other room real fast.”

ony lets put a hum of acknowledgement as he checks over the shower head, vigilantly searching for leaks. you turn to exit, heading to the living room to grab the small cardboard box on your coffee table.

“what’s that?” you hear him ask from behind you. you turn and shake the box in your hands, enjoying the rattle. “your cards! you didn’t forget about our deal, did you?”

the man smiles as he crosses his arm, leaning on the doorframe. “I told you I was fine with doing it for free.”

“oh, well,” you roll your eyes. “c’mon, check em out. I only got a few in case you didn’t like ‘em.”

he hums as he approaches you, stopping just short of your frame to take the box from your hands. he lifts the lid and slides a couple out, eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees the new look.

“damn. this shit look professional as hell. I like the color too.”

“yeah?” you smile. “I made sure it looked as nice as possible, some color to liven it up a little. added your logo from your site. now you just need to keep them in something so they’re not rumpled when you hand them out.”

he chuckles in response and nods. “hell yeah. I like these much better, forreal. thanks, ᥫ᭡.”

“no problem,” you wave dismissively. it really hadn’t taken long at all. “service for service, right? I would’ve struggled with the shower, and no disrespect, that card was all over the place. misaligned, boring with no color. hope you didn’t pay the designer much.”

ony licks his lips and sheepishly rubs at his jaw. “mm. I was the designer, pretty.”

“oop-“ you immediately respond, laughing softly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that.” you did, but now you felt bad, so you feel the need to spare his feelings as much as you can. he probably tried his hardest.

“s’no problem. you were right. this is definitely an upgrade,” he nods, waving the card in his hand. he can’t be mad if he just doesn’t have the skill, and he never got around to paying someone to do it. “makes me feel all official and shit with my name on my truck and now this. I’d say this was a good trade. except…”

“except?” you ask with a raise of your brow. you were pretty sure you did a damn good job, checking several times that the design was crisp and typo free.

“except,” he starts, “I traded for you to redesign my card. not print them.”

you blink at him. “I’m missing your point? I told you I only got a few.”

he shrugs, twinkle of mischief in his brown eyes. “still paid for them. that’s technically a service and a purchase. it ain’t fair, y’know?”

“I mean, it’s not really a big deal…” you trail off with a mumble.

“ᥫ᭡,” he says warmly, looking at you with a dimpled smile and a tilt of his head. “I’m tryna ask you on a date. just go with it.”

you blink again before you have to fight a smile. cute. really cute. he’s fun.

“hmmm,” you start, tapping your chin. you’re playing the part now, and you have to admit it’s very amusing. “you might be right about that. s’not a fair trade. we should discuss this further.”

“mhm,” he smirks. “how about… dinner? my treat.”

you bite you lip and tilt your head slightly. “dinner and a drink,” you rebutt.

his smirk widens, a twinkle in his eye. “dinner and drinks.”

“you’re a bad negotiator. you know that?” you question, squinting playfully.

“I don’t know, I feel like I should throw in some extra for emotional distress,” he shrugs. “an unfair trade can be a lot to deal with, you know.”

you laugh and shake your head in disbelief.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal, mr. ony. dinner and drinks, I’m sold.”

a/n: just a little meetcute :) get the title reference?

this is inspired by one of my text aus lmao. writing a lil everyday is kinda gettin me out this funk ngl. feedback always welcome and wanted <3

[aventoru]

HI HI HIIIII

I just saw requests were open soooo

Id like to ask if its possible to write hcs on Dan Heng, Sunday and Phainon(yes im very biased) like during their wedding?

If it makes sense

IF ITS LIKE TOO MUCH DELETE THIS SJDJSJSJ

wedding hcs

ft. dan heng, sunday, phainon

tags : weddings, marriage (??)

a/n : HI NENSI tysm for the request!!! i know almost nothing about weddings in general…and im sure diff cultures have diff wedding customs so im trying to keep this as ambiguous as possible. and i also don’t know how weddings work in the hsr universe either LOL anyways hope u enjoy!

DAN HENG

is pretty chill during the wedding planning

there’s only like 6 people at the wedding and that’s the astral express members + jing yuan (he lacks friends…)

since both your jobs is literally to travel, you’re able to pick out wedding venues that no one else would ever dream of, but in the end he allows you to choose (it’s probably earth then lol)

welt is obviously the pastor/host, himeko just acts like your mother the entire time, march goes crazy with the wedding photos, and pom pom is the flower girl (it was march’s idea)

dan heng doesn’t really get emotional like most other people on their wedding day, but he definitely shows more emotion than he usually does

you see him smile brightly when you walk down the aisle and even his kiss is more passionate

for the first time, he complies and joins you on the dance floor, actually letting himself behave more freely

you drag him around, eating all the food, laughing and talking (& catching up w/ jing yuan), and taking a gazillion photos

by the end of the night, dan heng even gets a little bit tipsy, and everyone is shocked witnessing him being a clingy drunk LOL

SUNDAY

you two get married in private — like literally zero quests, no wedding venue, no plans, just two rings and a dream

sunday actually does a 2 in 1 proposal and marriage

you’re laying next to each other one night and he just goes for it : “(name), will you marry me?”

you’re shocked at the abruptness but you’ve been waiting for this moment as well. so you say yes like any other lover would and he gently slides the ring onto your finger

you want to ask him whether he wants to have an actual ceremony, but after what happened at penacony, you know better than to rub more salt on his wound

sunday gets very shy afterwards and his wings briefly cover his face (to which you have to pull them off)

he also takes off the gloves he usually wears to fully admire your wedding bands, still in disbelief that you two are now married

shows his affection by pulling you into an embrace and disclosing his most vulnerable, real self to you

it’s cute, and now you two are soulmates for life 🫶

PHAINON

even during the planning, phainon’s already more fussy and picky than you are, so you can imagine what he’s like at the actual wedding 😭

it’s a relatively small wedding, and you two invite only the one’s you’re closest to (such as the chrysos heirs)

tribbie, trinnon, and trianne are the flower girls (so cute!!) and alglea is the pastor/host (HELP)

phainon ABSOLUTELY starts crying once he sees you walk down the isle in your beautiful outfit

he’s just constantly overwhelmed by his emotions and your beauty

says the sweetest vows ever and kisses you with salty tears running down his face still

once he’s over all the emotions, phainon goes wild on the dance floor and at the after party

now, his sentiment is replaced with bewilderment at his married status and he’s more excited (and drunk) than ever

definitely yells “WE’RE MARRIED NOW OH EM GEE!!!” for everybody to hear

the wedding pictures turn out so funny because the first half of the event is the sweet, romantic wedding atmosphere and the second half is just pure chaos

that’s just how phainon is, and you wouldn’t have it any other way

masterlist

[wasteofmfzb]

hope its alright to reblog with some tangential references i noticed, the second one may not be all that tied to dess but i found them interesting! (also apologies for my shitty screenshot quality, youtube hates me)

first off, in the knight fight, the dialogue that displays after susie or ralsei are defeated directly quotes mother 1 and 2. (i didnt notice this myself, i found out abt it thru andrew cunningham’s second chapter 4 stream, however he does falsely attribute both to being from earthbound, when only one is)

susie’s is from mother 1, being the dialogue for when your party members are defeated. pretty straight forward.

ralsei’s is from earthbound/mother 2, and its most notably the dialogue for when the teddy bear items are killed. teddy bears are an item exclusive to this game that will tank damage for your party when in your inventory. this one i actually caught on my playthrough as sounding incredibly familair, but i didnt quite connect the dots myself then. it is interesting the parallel placed on ralsei to just being an item, given his whole nature as a darkner, and i imagine thats part of the motivation behind the reference

this next thing is from the egg room in chapter 3. my immediate reaction upon seeing this for the first time was to completely lose my shit because Oh My God Thats Mother 1 .

(pulled up someones ancient old playthru for convenience, sorry lol)

for some context the forgotten man is a required npc in magicant, a realm created by the subconscious of maria (ninten’s great grandmother). he blocks the exit you need to pass through to progress the game, and will not disappear without agreeing to ignore him.

honest to god i could not tell you what to make of this reference, i barely have a read on anything going on in these recent chapters egg rooms, but its definitely an interesting connection to make. its one of mother 1’s more standout interactions imo.

(also, some context to the ninten’s mom being named carol thing for anyone unfamilar with the mother series; she is never named in game. same goes for ninten’s dad, and both of ness’s parents. the source cited on wikibound for her name was from earthbound central, which is now inaccesible afaik, however you can find a starmen.net forum post discussing this fact pretty easily, which ill link here if you wanna read it yourself. tldr is shes mentioned by name as carol in the manual for the original famicom release.)

hey toby. what are we doing here toby.

toby please

extra: did you know that ninten is called 'doug halloway' in the MOTHER choose your own adventure book? like. like. dess holidaAAAHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IM GOING FUCKING INSANE LET ME OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT GET ME OFF THIS CRAZY DAMN RIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[vin-taege]

slasher summer (m)

Summary: erik gets more than a little excited because of your couple costume for a summer-ween party.

Genre: pwp! smut

Pairing: Erik Campbell x f!reader

Words: 4.9k

CW: Knife play (not a real knife!), mirror sex, face sitting, roleplay (kinda?), very brief panty kink (erik is a freak), gagging, light slapping, degradation

Note: 0% proofread, 100% self-indulgent

It was game over for Erik the second you walked out of the bathroom.

A major thing that you both bonded over was your love for horror films, especially with slashers. There’s just something so fun about watching a group of teenagers getting picked off one by one. Not to mention, how hot some of the killers are. This fixation of yours was something Erik loved to tease you about—not that you were ashamed.

There’s something weirdly sexy about a big, strong man in a mask chasing you. And when he catches you, he pins you against the wall, and sticks something inside you? Verbatim, you’ve explained this to Erik time and time again, only to be met with a soft snort—and at times, followed by rough sex.

This time, Julia and a bunch of her high school friends held a mini-reunion, which was mixed with a Summerween celebration. For the first time in your relationship, you have never seen Erik get so excited over a reunion of any kind. He immediately agreed to putting on a couple costume with you—but of course, done in a way special to only the two of you.

So here he was now, sitting on the foot of your bed, starting to sweat a little under the shimmery, black fabric of the Ghostface robe. He passed the plastic knife from gloved hand to gloved hand while he waited for you to finish your makeup. The mask was lying next to him, ready to be used for the night.

Just as he was about to get up to check on you, the bathroom door opened. You walked out, adding an extra sway to your hips. Subconsciously, Erik licked his lips. The white sweater hugged your figure, tucked under light, baggy jeans. The bob wig was a bit silly, so you made the executive decision to ditch it. You held the cardboard phone up and pressed it against your ear.

“Oh, Mr. Ghostface, the star of your movie is here,” you sing-songed. You walked towards Erik, yelping as he pulled you into his lap. His eyes roamed your body, briefly stopping at the dip of your v-neck, just above the swell of your breasts. You whispered, “Someone likes the costume.”

“As if you don’t like mine.”

He pressed his lips against yours, slowly, deeply. He coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, letting it dance against yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer. His hand wandered to your chest, kneading your breast over the fabric of the top.

“Erik,” you murmured, trying to pull away. His lips chased yours, continuing to kiss you between words. “We’ll be late.”

“What if we just don’t come?” He pulled away to smirk at you, only to be met with the usual response of you rolling your eyes. He pouted, leaning back into your neck. Finding your sweet spot, he went back to kissing you. This time they came hot and heavy.

You moaned softly as he marked you, alternating between nibbling and licking your skin. When he was satisfied, he sat back, admiring his work. Right under your jaw was a pretty little bruise. You could only hope that the strobe lights and alcohol could mask it.

“Happy?” You furrowed your brows, pretending to be angry, though far from it.

He chuckled, his laugh low and beautiful. “You’d really rather be at that party instead of letting me fuck your brains out?”

“I promised Jules I’d go. She put a lot of effort into planning this, okay?” You ruffled his hair, already getting up. “And Bobby kept talking about how excited he was to show us his costume.”

“He goes as ‘human Lightning McQueen’ every year! You’ve seen this before.” Erik groaned, dramatically plopping back onto the bed.

You giggled at his antics. “We’ll stay for only 30 minutes, and I swear we can book it.”

Just like that, Erik reanimated back to life, a pleased smile on his face. He hurriedly fitted the mask back over his head. Standing next to you in the mirror, he patiently waited as you reapplied your lip gloss.

“Smile for me, gorgeous.” His phone clicked, followed by a flash.

────୨ৎ────

Erik has been eyeing you like prey for the past ten minutes. There you sat, amidst a sea of Bobby’s football friends and Julia’s sorority sisters. True enough, Bobby was chugging a pint of Hice Pale Ale, ignorant of the liquid spilling into his shiny, red, racer jacket. The yellow “95” gleamed across his back. Beneath it, someone had taped some notebook paper with the word “kachow!” on it.

The last time you saw Julia was when she greeted you at the doorway. You almost didn’t recognize her with the red wig. Fake vines wrapped around her limbs, little leaves jutting out of them. They all connected to the back of her green dress, the hem distressed to look like foliage.

“Poison Ivy?” you grinned at her. Her eyes lit up. She hummed in approval, twirling around for you. When she spun back, she took one look at your couple costume and snorted.

“Woah, you guys really are freaky.” She pretended not to notice the hickey on underneath your jaw.

Since then, she’s been whisked away into the backyard. You could barely hear the trampoline springs over the booming music, making you feel as if the whole house was jumping along. Beside you, Stefani was telling you about her latest college troubles. You would’ve taken her more seriously if she weren’t dressed as a Disney-bound version of Mirabel Madrigal. She lost you two topics ago, when you caught Erik basically undressing you with his eyes from his side of the room. Not that you could see his blue irises—of course he kept the mask on.

There he was, your Ghostface. A constant reminder of your 30-minute deadline. He was so focused that he didn’t even drink. You tilted your head, biting your lip as Erik followed suit. He lifted a gloved hand, making a call sign against his ear. You brought your attention to your phone.

Nothing.

You raised your head to look back at him, only to find that he was gone. Glancing around the room, you tried looking for the bright, plastic mask. Still no Erik.

“Hey, you okay?” Stefani asked, looking around with you.

“Yeah, sorry. I just thought I saw Erik just a second ago.”

Right then, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up. You held the caller screen up apologetically to Stefani. She waved you off, promising to get coffee with you the next day.

You side-stepped between bodies in various outfits, sighing in relief once you stepped out the front door. The music was fainter out in their porch, the air fresher. You took a deep breath of it before answering.

“Enjoying the party?”

Almost immediately, you scanned your surroundings. Save for a few costumed smokers, no one else was outside. You looked up at the windows looming over you, all of them blocked by curtains or blinds.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over finding me.” You could almost see Erik’s smirk deepen.

“What, you aren’t even gonna say the line?” you bit back sweetly.

“I already know what your favorite scary movie is,” he paused. “Just like how I already know that you’re out on the porch with wet panties. You thought I couldn’t see you rubbing your thighs together the entire time on the couch?”

Your breath hitched. Swallowing thickly, you heard him laugh. “You sure it’s not just the mask making your eyesight shitty?”

“You better fix your tone before I fix it for you.”

“Yeah? And how are you gonna do that when you aren’t even here?” You bit your lip nervously. It wasn’t beyond Erik to find a good, quiet spot out in the open and take you right there. Honestly, his primal need for you never failed to turn you on.

“That’s up to you to figure out, princess. I want to play a little game with you.”

“Wrong movie, smartass.”

“You mouthing off at me?” He chuckled as you stayed quiet, already slipping into subspace. You wanted to whine at him, to beg him to just take you home and fuck your brains out like he promised. But you also still had your pride, and if he wanted to prolong the chase, then damnit, you’ll give it to him before your ego takes a blow. “That’s more like it. What a good girl.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you know the game, ‘hot and cold’?” You perked up. The fucker was going to make you find him.

You took a tentative step towards the road. Erik, his eyes never leaving you from wherever he was, automatically responded. “Cold. Freezing, actually. You learn fast, smart girl.”

Turning around, you slipped back into the house, straining to hear him over all the noise. “Warm.”

You made your way to the kitchen, carefully surveying the packed crowd for even a glimpse of him. You felt eyes boring into the back of your neck. Before Erik could speak, you already knew he wasn’t there. Instead, you followed your gut, pointing you to the staircase.

Maneuvering around college kids passed out on the steps, you finally reached the second floor. The music was still going strong, but you could hear Erik clearly this time. Your eyes roamed across all the doors, some of them left ajar, others shut.

“Warmer.”

One by one, you peeked into each room. Before you could even fully step into one, Erik would already steer you away with an “uh-uh” or an even more annoying “cold, lukewarm.” Finally, you’ve exhausted all other options aside from the last door to the left. Without even looking inside, you already knew that it was Erik’s room, your backup hangout spot ever since he moved in with you.

The door was slightly opened, moonlight seeping into the floorboards as it strained against the sheer curtains. So that was how he could see you before.

“You’re on fire.” His voice was lower, dangerously quiet.

You pushed the door open with a creak. The room looked ordinarily chaotic, yet empty. A mountain of CDs was piled over his desk, next to the spot where he used to keep his PC. His sheets were a mess, a deep, blood red and crumpled. A single sock and a hoodie spilled from his tipped-over laundry bin. Laying neatly in the middle of the bed was the Ghostface mask.

Fully inside now, you shut the door softly behind you. At this point, Erik has fully succeeded in messing with you. You were horny, and now, a bit freaked out and spooked. The light still hasn’t been turned on. Your eyes were just starting to adjust to the darkness, the furniture farther away from you looking like dark splotches bleeding into his bedroom walls.

“Erik!” you whisper-shouted. You rolled your eyes, walking to the foot of his bed. All the noise from the party downstairs was muffled. It almost felt like you were in a separate place, an isolated reality where you lived out the character you dressed up as. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t catch how the closet door slowly opened. Instead, you were glancing at the ceiling, calling out to him mockingly. “Oh, Mr. Ghostface, please don’t kill me! I want to be in the sequel!”

A clothed hand wrapped around your mouth, stifling the scream from your throat. The tip of a plastic knife pressed against your stomach, forcing you back into the masked man’s body. Something hard pressed against your ass, rutting teasingly against you.

“Finally found me, princess,” Erik drawled out.

Your heart hammered against your chest. Blood rushed to your ears, adrenaline fuelling you. You thrashed around in his grasp, fully playing into your role. His grip on you tightened, pushing you until you were pressed against the wall mirror.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, you asshole,” you whined as soon as he took his hand off your mouth. You grinded your ass into you, making him let out a groan.

“Shut up and hold this for me.” He pressed the knife handle sideways against your mouth. Like a brat, you pressed your lips together tightly. Sighing at your antics, he drew a hand back and slapped your ass. When you yelped, he quickly slotted the knife handle in between your teeth. “There we fuckin’ go. Didn’t have to be so difficult.”

Sloppy kisses trailed down your neck. Erik took his time going over the marks he had already made, making a show of holding your gaze through the mirror as he sucked and bit on the little unmarked skin you had left. He pinned your hips against the glass, bucking into your jeans. You swore you were leaking into the denim.

“Did you have fun playing? I still need to give you a prize. Still need to stick something inside you. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” He softened his voice condescendingly.

He let go of your hips, hands travelling up your stomach. His fingers caught on the fabric of your shirt, lifting it teasingly, before settling on the neckline. You saw his knuckles tighten, your eyes widening as you shook your head in protest. Smirking at you, Erik ripped your shirt down the divot of the v-neck. He pulled the tattered fabric under your breasts, bunching it alongside your bra. You shivered as your nipples pressed against the cool glass.

Erik didn’t waste any time. His large hands enveloped your breasts, offering warmth as he kneaded the flesh. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, lightly tugging at them. Gritting your teeth, you threw your head back, letting it fall against his shoulder. The additional friction from the leather gloves made your head swim. He cooed, gently prying the knife from your mouth. Strings of saliva fell from it, dribbling down your cheeks and throat.

“You look so good like this, princess,” he whispered into your ear.

He pressed the tip of the knife into your sternum, putting just enough pressure for it to leave a red mark, but not to actually hurt. You brought your head back down, looking at your position. Erik stood behind you, still fully clothed—save for the mask. And you, on the opposite end of the spectrum, looked spent even before you had properly begun.

Your hair was a mess, stray strands sticking to your cheeks with a mix of sweat and spit. Red lovebites littered the sides of your neck, some of them only deepening in color. What used to be your thin sweater was now a mess of fabric crumpled under your breasts, almost as if framing them. You were panting hard.

On the valley between your breasts, Erik ran the knife up and down. He pressed the flat side onto one tit, slowly scraping it until the tip was digging lightly into your nipple. You moaned, steadying yourself against the mirror. “What are you gonna do to me, you psycho?”

Erik chuckled darkly, withdrawing the knife from you. He turned his attention to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them and unzipping. He yanked them down your legs, letting you shift from one foot to another so you could kick them away. With his free hand, he held you by the throat, dragging you with him as he walked backwards. Hitting the foot of the bed, he pulled you into his lap.

Tucking the knife into the waistband of your panties, he pried your thighs open. You breathed heavily, staring at yourself in the mirror. Reaching around you, Erik rubbed your slit through the ruined fabric.

“I’m gonna have some more fun with you. I wouldn’t want to waste something as precious as this.” He brought his fingers up to your face, pressing them together and separating them, a string of your wetness connecting the digits together. “You’re a sick little whore for enjoying this, aren’t you? Getting wrecked up here while your friends don’t know any better.”

“I-I’m not,” you protested weakly, shuddering when he circled his fingers around your clit. Subconsciously, you arched your back, chasing after his touch. He added pressure, listening in bliss as whines and moans spilled out of your mouth.

“Yeah, you’re not what? Enjoying this, or a slut? Can’t make your mind up when you’re too busy gushing through your panties, huh?” With his other hand, he unsheathed the knife from your panties, pressing the dull blade against your neck. His ministrations grew faster, coiling the rope in your stomach tighter. He growled into your ear, “Look at yourself when I ruin you.”

As soon as you tilted your head towards the mirror, you came undone. Erik rubbed you off, slowly down as you rode out your orgasm. Mentally, you thanked the loud music, clouding the animalistic shriek you just let out.

Limbs turned to jelly, you collapsed back into Erik’s chest. He set the knife aside, slipping both fingers into the waistband of your panties. With your remaining strength, you lifted your hips, letting him peel the ruined fabric off you. You watched, entranced, as he uncovered your wet core. Slick coated the sides of your thighs, dripping down into the curve of your ass.

Erik held your panties in his fist, closing his eyes as he took a whiff. “Jesus, I’d get drunk on that.”

“Fucking freak,” you muttered teasingly, grinning at him.

“What the fuck was that?” He raised an eyebrow. He cut you off with a sharp smack to your cunt. Though not painful, the contact made you jolt in surprise. He then cupped a hand over your heat, soothing you. “Color?”

“Green.”

He lifted you off, stretching your legs as he placed you gently on the bed. You waited patiently as he kicked his boots off, lying down so that the top of his head was pointing towards the mirror. He brought his hands up, gesturing for you to come to him. “Take a seat on your throne, princess.”

You chuckled, scrambling to get on top of him. As you slung a leg over his chest, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You lifted your hips, admiring the sight of Erik’s face between your legs. He grabbed both of your thighs, guiding your pussy to his mouth.

“Can you breathe?” You checked on him.

“Don't need to,” he grinned lazily. You rolled your eyes, slowly dropping your weight until you felt his tongue part your folds. You slotted perfectly on him, his gorgeous nose brushing against your clit.

“Fuck yeah,” you hissed, feeling him lick up your slit. His lips suckled your clit, alternsting between kissing and licking.

You whimpered, rolling your hips in time with each flick of his tongue. Steadying youself, you leaned back, planting your arms on the top of his thighs. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched yourself ride his face.

The feeling was addicting, and the noises were pure filth. Erik didn't shy away from moaning in contentment—the act of eating you out was already so sacred to him. He was loud, messy. Nothing turned him on more than to slowly become lightheaded from being smothered by your pretty pussy.

His grip on you tightened, and you thought it was a sign for you to give him some air. So, like a good girlfriend, you moved to lift your hips up. Almot immediately, Erik clamped down your thighs, digging his fingers into your flesh. He lifted his head up, chasing after your dripping cunt.

“Get the fuck back on me,” he growled, eyes dripping with want, pupils blown out the point where there were only blue slivers around it.

You wanted to laugh at his eagerness, but it was cut off by a moan. You relaxed your thighs again, wholly presenting yourself to him. He focused on your clit, licks getting slobbier. He sucked loudly, smacking his lips as he devoured you.

It felt so good you had started to tear up. The feeling of his tongue on the bundle of nerves consumed all of your thoughts. As your moans got more high-pitched, you shifted, leaning forward so he had better access to your clit. You knotted your fingers into his hair, bringing him impossibly closer to your cunt.

“F-fuck, it's so fucking good baby. So close. ‘M close, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, I'm gonna cum—!”

You threw your head back, tears leaking as you screwed your eyes shut. Beneath you, Erik kept a firm hold on your thighs, refusing to let you off. Your body shook as you came hard, mind going black for a few seconds until you've reached the end of the high.

Clumsily, you rolled off him when he finally loosened his grip. You collapsed next to him, chest moving rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. Beside you, Erik took a few gulps of air before sitting up as if he wasn't inches away from passing out just a few seconds ago.

“What's with the stupid look on your face?” You tried to sass him, though it came out pathetically in between breaths.

He scoffed, smile only growing wider. He made a show of licking his lips. Your cheeks heated up when the moonlight hit his face, revealing the aftermath. Slick coated his mouth, dribbling across his cheeks and down neck. The tip of his nose glistened, equally covered in your juices.

He draped himself over you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, tongue slipping sensually into your mouth. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on him.

“You still alive or are you tapping out, final girl?” He asked when he pulled away. His words were playful, but you could hear the worry in his gentle voice.

“Drew Barrymore was the first ever kill in the franchise, you poser.”

He snorted at your monotoned delivery. You quirked your lip, offering a small smile. Your eyes landed on his crotch, a prominent tent poking into your thighs.

“I remember talk of sticking something inside me?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Oh princess, that was a promise.”

As if flipping a switch, Erik's eyes darkened. He hitched up the thin robe, unbuckling his belt and slipping it out of his belt loops. He wrapped it in between both hands, tugging harshly to make it snap. You rubbed your thighs expectantly, doe-eyed as he took both of your wrists and brought them above your head, tying them together.

He sighed in relief when he finally freed himself. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, pre-cum dripping from the red tip. It curved towards his stomach, a vein wrapping around his thick shaft. The metal ball of his prince albert glinted invitingly.

Erik fisted himself slowly, looking down at you like a present he can't wait to tear into. His gaze started at your mascara-streaked face. It crawled down to your tits, chest heaving in anticipation. Finally, it settled on your pussy, the oasis in between your legs. He's gotten you so wet that a damp patch had started to form in the covers.

“Why don't you take a picture, it will last longer,” you huffed impatiently. His eyes snapped back to yours, a dangerous glint in them. You swallowed thickly.

He looked pissed. Pissed in a way that got your thighs rubbing and your throat dry.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, then looked around, as if trying to find something. You caught the way his eyes lit up when he finally saw it. He repositioned his hand so he was holding your jaw. Squeezing down, he forced your mouth open, quickly stuffing your ruined panties in.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” he mimicked you. He grasped the base of his dick, slapping it twice on your clit. “I'm not taking your shit anymore, princess.”

“That fucking mouth,” he punctuated each word with a light slap to your cheek. “—is a punishment waiting to happen.”

Suddenly, in one move, he buried himself into you. A muffled scream tore its way out your throat, the sudden intrusion becoming a mix of pleasure and pain. You blinked back tears, wriggling your hips away.

“Yeah? That hurt, princess? Little slut gonna cry?” He goaded, bringing his hips back only to thrust into you again. You mewled, seeing stars as the tip of his piercing brushed your cervix. “Not so fucking smart now, huh?”

He continued to fuck you like that, slow and deep. Each time he snapped his hips, he hit the delicious spot that made your brain short-circuit. You gasped out, shuddering breaths barely making it through the balled up cloth.

Everything felt too much, yet too little. He had hooked his arms under your shoulders, hands pressed flat against the top of your head. Erik used you to push himself deeper, pulling you towards him whenever he sheathed himself in you. You were leaking from both ends, tears streaming from pleasure as your pussy gushed and clenched around his thick cock.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Look at this greedy hole, so fucking eager to get filled with cock,” he flicked your clit, which was still sensitive from the earlier round. You cried out, arching out of the mattress. “All bark, no bite. What's wrong, huh? Out of words?”

“Fuck you,” you wanted to scream out. It came out disjointed, more like an “uck ou” intermixing with a prolonged “aah!” when he hit your g-spot again. He widened his eyes in mock sympathy.

“Oh, you poor thing. Is it too much for your pretty head? Fucking you dumb aren't I?”

He pulled out and—in contrast to his harsh words—gently rolled you onto your stomach. Caging you with an arm on either side, he re-entered easily from all the slick you've made. His scent, alcohol and menthol, his moans, his leather, his hair trickling into your own as he bowed his head—everything about him took over you.

No other thoughts, your eyes glazed over, arms dangling off the footboard, wrists marked by the belt—Erik shifted gears and pistoned in and out of you like his life depended on it. You could already feel another orgasm building up in your lower belly. Your walls clenched around him, toes curling as he abused that fucking spot that made you see stars.

“Look,” he rasped, breath stuttering. Using a hand, he pulled your hair back, tilting your head up. You whined, locking eyes with your wrecked reflection. The girl in the mirror barely resembled you anymore, eyes unfocused, neck in shades of red, face coated in spit and sweat and tears—so much tears from how good it all felt. It spurred you more, moans growing high-pitched.

“I know, I know,” Erik cooed. “Gonna cum? Cream all over my cock, princess, go ahead.”

He sped up, the room filling with loud sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your orgasm washed over you like a rolling tide. Your legs shook, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you bit down hard on your panties. Meanwhile, Erik thrusted shallowly a few more times before burying himself to the hilt. His chin laid against your shoulder, hot breath heavy on you when he let out a long groan.

Ropes of his cum spurted against your walls, filling you with warmth. Sweat dripped from his fringe, dropping to intermix with the light sheen on your shoulder blade. His weight pinned you to the bed, an almost comforting feeling as you both stilled—spent.

Sluggish, he reached into your lips, pulling your panties out and chucking them into the oblivion that was his room. You sighed in relief, opening your jaw a few times to get the ache out. Next, he fumbled with his belt, eventually getting it loose. It fell to the floor with a small, metallic thud.

You panted into the sheets, dizzy as you came down from the high. You were too out of it to recognize him sitting back up, nor the quiet ruffling of sheets. Erik grabbed the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling your head back. You barely registered seeing yourself in his phone camera—eyes glossy, lips and chin slicked with spit. Erik loomed behind you, equally a mess but doubly cocky. He fixed the mask back over his head before feeling around for his phone. When he found it, he bit the tip of the glove on his free hand, dragging it off. He stretched his arm past you, angling the device so you were both on screen.

“Smile for me, gorgeous,” he echoed, snapping a picture.

────୨ৎ────

It was reaching 3 a.m. when you finished. You vaguely remembered the feeling of a damp cloth wiping in between your legs, followed by a fluffy towel. You were still incoherent when Erik had carried you over to Bobby's room, now fitted with his oversized shirt and boxers.

“Not your room,” you had mumbled into his shoulder. Your voice was rough, the result of screaming your lungs out and a dry mouth.

“I know, baby, but I'm not letting you sleep on sticky sheets.” He disappeared downstairs to a mellowing party, and came back with a glass of water. He was still wearing his sweat-soaked costume.

After making you drink water, he quickly changed into new clothes and laid down next to you. You shuffled around, letting him place an arm under your head as you faced him to cuddle.

“I think I passed out,” you whispered. You could feel his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“I might have, too.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, attempting to untangle the knots. “You okay?”

“Won't be walking well for a week, but so worth it,” you grinned lazily. “You ruined my costume though.”

“I'll buy you a new one. Or we can go as someone else next time?”

You hummed in consideration. “Pearl and the projectionist?”

“You know the way to my heart.”

[ysaefinn]

Pairing: Dilf!Satoru Gojo x gn!reader x Dilf!Suguru geto

In a marriage you pick up each other's slack.

It's a partnership first and foremost, spouses don't have to necessarily operate as a merged unit but it should always be them against the problem.

Suguru is an extraordinary cook, nothing short of an artist with his tools and ingredients. An alchemist with spices and sauces, and a surgeon with knives. Two big calloused hands coming down on the freshly put-together batch of dough, effortlessly kneading away at the mass, shaping it so ~so~ easily into whatever shapes he desires. It's a little odd to think this but there's something...~sensual~ about it, maybe it's the casualness, maybe it's because it almost feels like a subtle reminder of what he can do, that you are yet to see his physical abilities meet their limit. Regardless, the display coupled with the golden rays of the sun, shining on his unwavering gentle smile, reflecting on the silver strands of his contrasting inky locks, giving the illusion of crystals meticulously woven in each strand. Suguru puts angels to shame.

Satoru rests on the other side of the coin. According to the silver-headed man, brute force is the only way around a car engine, you can't possibly get a vehicle to start moving without giving it some maintenance with your fist. Lifting heavy parts and maneuvering them requires a lot of strength and stamina, both are qualities that Satoru has managed to retain throughout the years. Rough fingers easily popping small pieces on and off, inserting rods and poles with a swift push of his hip. The black engine oil that seeps out is quickly nipped in the bud with a rough thumb shoved into the leaking hole. And once the problem is solved he runs his whole hand through his pure white hair and cracks his typical joke of turning into his husband before giggling to himself every time. It's very sloppy and messy the way he goes about things, but as long as it gets him where he needs to be, he won't be changing the way he operates.

It doesn't make Suguru the happiest man in the world watching his husband beat a non-living object somehow to death, he couldn't even entertain the thought of going about things the way his husband does. But that's what Satoru's here for! To take care of the things Suguru would rather not and vice versa, –since the white-haired man doesn't have the patience for marinating chicken or baking food for hours–.

Because in a marriage you pick up each other's slack!

–

"That's my baby.." you finally reach your peak with a drawn-out whine, coating Suguru's entire hand in the process, the man wastes no time licking his finger clean from your slick while running his other large hand up and down your tummy "you're doing so well, sweet thing" he moves his palm around your waist before squeezing at your flesh gently and you shudder in response "making us so proud like always, sweetheart". "Satoru, focus on keeping those pretty wrists together, we're working on being braver and not hiding our face, right?".

Right, this was a lesson.

By the time your vision clears from your orgasm, Satoru has finished wiping off the juices you left on his face from your earlier climax, and he takes the chance to kiss your drowsy self rough and messy catching you completely off guard. He's ripped away from you just as quickly by the hair.

Suguru's hands are more than capable of being cruel and unforgiving when it comes to you.

"Be gentle" Suguru scolds, an icy cold tone –almost unrecognizable– "they're still sensitive" and he's back to cooing sweetly again, Suguru is only ever this mean because he knows his husband can handle the heat.

The silver-haired man falls back with a grumble "Ugh, you never let me do anything" he whines childishly, earning a playful raised brow from his husband. "That's only because you don't know how to be gentle" Suguru counters "You brute.." A warm heavy hand rests on your head before petting you like a well-loved kitten, as if the smallest of sudden movements can hurt or distress you. "You have to be gentle with them. They can't handle how rough you get at times, Satoru".

Oh he doesn't have the slightest idea.

You can definitely without a single shadow of a doubt handle Satoru when he gets his hands on you. Unlike his husband, Satoru listens to your requests of a rougher pace loud and clear and gives you exactly what you wish for –something Suguru has never approved of. But on the other hand, he is much softer and more intimate with you when his head is between your thighs. Suguru however, would rather watch you squirm and whine and cry from that same angle. Now that is what you can't handle.

And it makes sense because in a marriage you pick up each other's slack!

"Can't handle how rough I get?" Satoru scoffs before looking back at you and lovingly rubbing your thighs "Seems Sugu doesn't know the first fuckin' thing about what you can and can't handle sweethe–A-ah!" Suguru interrupts his husband's sass by yanking him by the hair again and pulling him in for a kiss. All teeth all saliva.

Satoru pulls away to catch his breath, lips bitten and swollen crack into a smug grin. "Daaww you mad? Jealous that you know you hold yourself back? What kind of boyfriend are you Sugu~?"

It's really all in good fun –it would be at least, if this didn't question his dedication to caring for you to a degree– but his jaw still clenches and his eyes narrow as if challenging the man. He is undoubtedly bothered, yet still chooses the high road to ensure you continue to be in the spotlight. Classic.

The long-haired man releases his grip and moves over to scoop you up in his arms, he slides his hands from your waist down to your thighs before spreading your legs wide open for his husband. You jolt back and sink more into his plush chest, clearly still overstimulated from the previous peaks they forced you to reach. Suguru coos before kissing your cheeks sweetly and whispering something about not being shy or trying to hide from them.

"Use your mouth for something useful for once" he gestures to your aching core "come on, don't keep them waiting".

And Satoru gets into position without another word– for now–, moving forward and placing your legs over his shoulders, he pecks your left inner thigh before looking straight at you, –Azure flames shocking your senses, a strange cold sensation washes over you– sending shivers down your spine. It doesn't pass unnoticed, your men exchange fond looks.

It's like your little reactions are bonding moments for them.

But as long as Satoru's in the room, it wouldn't last.

"See? Very responsive. There's clearly a favorite~" Satoru purrs, and his husband rolls his eyes "Giving good head doesn't make you a better lover, Satoru" he scoffs, but still refuses to derail "But keeping our baby needy certainly makes you a terrible one, doesn't it sweetie?" Again, a noticeable softness in his tone when he turns to address you. "Now come on, get on with it"

"I want you to admit it first"

Suguru sighs "...you are good with your mouth".

"Just picking up your slack. That's marriage after all!"