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saintobio · 26 days

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blank canvas. (2)

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

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

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

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

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

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

— —

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

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

Did Sukuna feel the same?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s—”

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

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

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

“Mm…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fuck was all you could say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

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

“Okay…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haaa—!”

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

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

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

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he sound like he was giving up?

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

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

Then… then…

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

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

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

— —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be serious,” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you please just tell me?”

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

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

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

— —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His ex-girlfriend of three years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being ridiculous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”

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

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

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

“See you tomorrow?”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

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

He knew what she was about to do next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

— —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

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

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

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mxtantrights · 17 days

Text

Four times Red hood blushed because of you, and one time Jason Todd blushed.

The first time it happens you don’t notice. How could you when he wears that mask on his face all the time? It’s the two of you on a rooftop. You just raided a warehouse filled with scarecrows fear gas and made sure it didn’t land in the wrong hands.

You were coming off a high. That’s why you offered to get a bite to eat with Red. Red. That’s what you call him because you two are coworkers. You get the job done and have a few laughs, and part ways.

When he hands you a taco in silence you thank him in a stupidly wild accent that can't be real. And he chuckles. You hear it. You know you do, but you can't believe it. You made the Red Hood laugh!

It felt good. You wanted to make him laugh again.

What you didn't know was that he actually found it so cute. And was blushing underneath is mask.

2. The second time is an incredibly inappropriate time. The league had called on you to help them with an investigation. Which you were kind of feaking out about but trying to be cool.

You couldn't really be cool when Superman literally said your vigilante name out loud. You tried your hardest but you couldn't contain your excitement. You turned to Red hood and jumped up and down as soon as the meeting was over.

He laughed and told you yo calm down. But you started yapping about how Superman was the first hero you looked up to and how much of an honor it is that he knew who you were and acknowledged you.

Red Hood tells you that you remind him of the Robin that used to love Wonder Woman. Which makes you laugh and agree that that Robin knew what he was doing because he's right.

3. The third time is completely by accident. You're going down the zip line trying to get across from one building to another. And Red is waiting for you on the other side. It was your first time.

You scream the entire way as the speed picks up. Then before you know it, it's over. It's over and you're on top of another building but you can't quite find your footing. So you go crashing into the only thing there in front of you, which is Red.

He grabs you by the waist as the bath for you go down. You land with a groan. He cradles your fall entirely.

When you let out a breath and pick yourself up a bit, you're really close to his mask. The closest you've been to him since the two of you met.

He clears his throat and asks if you're okay. To which you nod, you're not about to go use your words when you know your tongue is heavy and you don't even know the alphabet. Red is tough and lean underneath you. You're aren't sure what you were expecting.

You pull yourself up quickly and offer him a hand to get up. He takes it and once again the two of you come face to face. Or, mask to mask. If he could see you now, fully he would see how hard you are flushing.

4. The forth time is rightfully earned. You just closed a case all on your own. No help from anyone. You did the investigation, you did the recon. And you got the perps into the hands of those who would deliver justice.

It was a pretty blood scene so you're a bit covered in it. Your suit is laden with blood stains and it got over some of your mask and face. You thought it would be better idea to shower in one of the safe houses rather than drag all the evidence back into your own home.

Red was there, cleaning his weapons like he usually does. And you walked in with all of that on you. It's like something in him just kickstarted. He looked at you, took you in, and all he could say was 'Hi'.

You gave him wave and told him you were going to shower the night off you.

As soon as you get into the bathroom, Jason smacks himself in the forehead.

5. It was a normal day. It was laundry day. You had a lot of shit to wash because honestly both your jobs keep you busy and you weren't about to send your things off to the cleaners.

You're in the local laundromat in great sweats and a blue hoodie. Your headphones are over your ears as you read through some threads online about Red. Not the ones trying to dissect his identity. The ones that are giving him credit for cleaning up the city.

So you're distracted when someone taps on your shoulder. You don't scare easily, and you know that if you're in trouble you can handle things. You turn around to see who it is and what they want.

A tall guy with a tuft of white hair amidst his dark brown hair. And his arms are practically poking out of his muscle tee. You haven't had a decent date in a while. A while being like a year now.

You remove your headphones.

"Can I help you?" you ask.

He nods, "Yeah, I'm sorry but I think you might have taken a piece of clothing into your dryer?"

He points over to the dryer. And there in the tumbling wad of clothes you try to decipher which piece of clothing is not yours. You can see a jacket you don't own. And a shirt that doesn't have any graphics on it, which means it's not yours.

Your eyes widen, "Wait seriously? I'm so sorry."

"Don't sweat it, I just wanted to know if I could pay you back sometime?" he asks.

You look at him then. Tall. Hot. Does his own laundry. Gotham is a cesspool but this guy is probably one of the good ones. Why not?

"Yeah?" you ask.

He looks away from you then for a second. His hand coming behind him to scratch as it his neck. And you see it. A very faint but still present blush dusts across his cheeks and down his neck.

a/n: based on this comment I got on a post! I hope he's bbg enough for you!!

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc blurbs #dc #Jason todd #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb

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satoruhour · 8 months

Note

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

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girlgenius1111 · 3 months

Text

with a high comes a crash.

barcelona femeni x reader

Alexia heard the sirens. Rationally, she tried to convince herself that it wasn't you. You had only left a few minutes ago, and the sirens were still pretty far. It couldn't be you.

Then the sirens got closer. And closer. And Alexia thought she was going to throw up. She couldn't decide whether to call you or not, afraid to distract you while you were riding if you were fine. She told herself that she was just driving to the dealership after you to give you a ride home. That was all.

She probably shouldn't have been driving, hands shaking as she turned the car on and pulled out of her driveway. The sirens were still loud, and she followed them; not because she was trying to, but because that was the direction she knew you'd been going.

When she turned the corner, and saw the accident scene a block down, she pulled the car over, and got out. She ran the distance towards the wreckage, slowing to a stop when she got close enough to see what was going on. Alexia surveyed the scene. First she saw a car that didn't look very damaged. There was debris on the road, though, and she followed it to find a bike on the ground. Your bike.

It looked mangled, crushed, and Alexia had to take some deep breaths, feeling like she might pass out. Once her vision cleared of black spots, she look back up, and she found you.

Well, what she assumed to be you. An obscured form on the ground, halfway across the intersection from the bike, surrounded by paramedics. The blonde was frozen for a minute, and then she wasn't, running forward at full speed, shoving past anyone who got in her way, until she was a few feet away from you. A paramedic rose from next to you, approaching her.

"Miss? You shouldn't be over here," he said somewhat firmly.

Alexia could only make a choked sound come out of her throat, eyes trained on your face. Your eyes were shut, blood covering the left side of your forehead. You looked so small, so fragile. Alexia clenched her fists, needing to keep it together.

"Miss, are you okay?" The paramedic asked, moving closer to rest a hand on Alexia's arm. She was swaying slightly, and completely pale.

"Is she okay? Is she alive?" Alexia croaked out. The paramedic looked closer at her, before his eyes widened. He did a double take, seeming to recognize you now that he knew who was standing in front of him.

"She's pretty banged up, but she's breathing." It wasn't very reassuring, but Alexia let the words wash over her, nodding her head. She forced herself to calm down, to act rationally. They were securing you to a backboard, strapping you into the neck brace. They were preparing to move you to the ambulance, and Alexia moved to follow them.

"I will go in the ambulance." She declared, and no one really bothered to argue with her, instead directing her to wait for them to get you settled, before gesturing for her to climb in with you. There was only one paramedic back there with you now, getting you attached to all sorts of machines. Alexia got her first good look at you as she sat down shakily on the bench. Her hands hovered over you, wanting to take your hand in hers, but unsure if she could without hurting you.

"You can hold her right hand," the paramedic said. She didn't really look at Alexia, but her voice was kind. Alexia wrapped your hand up in her larger one, as gently as if the the whole limb was broken, ready to crumble into a million pieces. Or maybe, that's just how Alexia felt.

A beeping sound jerked Alexia out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see your heartbeat on the monitor. She tried to figure out what it meant, what the little zigzags meant, but she was a footballer for christ sakes, and she didn't know if the little spikes were good or bad. She decided that they were good, that they meant that you were breathing, regardless of if anything else was going on.

Alexia was silent, gripping the seat under her as the ambulance weaved in and out of traffic. The paramedic seemed to be done attaching you to things, and she placed a piece of gauze on your forehead, holding it there before she looked up at your captain, and addressed her.

"She was moving around a little when we got there, so we're confident her spine is intact. Looks like both of her legs are okay. Pretty bad road rash on the left side, but nothing internal. Her ribs are a different story, the impact with the car has left a few broken. Her left arm is broken, too, probably in multiple places, from the impact with the ground. She was smart, and she had a helmet on, so while her pupils indicate a concussion, it could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse." As she spoke she pointed at different parts of you, explaining to Alexia what the bruises and cuts on you meant. Your left leg did look awful, scraped and bleeding. They'd cut your shirt off, and your abdomen was already turning a nasty shade of blue. The bleeding on your head was stopping, and you looked somewhat more comfortable. Alexia asked the question you knew you'd want her to ask.

"Her legs are okay? Really?" It seemed impossible to her, that the rest of your body could be so beaten up, but your legs were just scraped up.

The paramedic nodded, a bit of a bewildered look on her face. "Somehow, yes. There are no indications of any broken bones, and she was moving them around until she passed out. I don't... I don't know how. I've never seen an accident of this magnitude be so mild."

Alexia felt a shudder run through her at the statement; if this was mild, if this should have been worse... She shook her head. It wasn't worse. You were okay. You were okay. The paramedics studied Alexia for a few seconds before speaking again.

"I'm not supposed to say this, but you can relax a little. All indications are that she'll be alright. Banged up, yes. A few painful months in her future. But it's a miracle that she's alive, and an even bigger one that she isn't more injured."

Alexia let out a shaky breath, feeling like she could have leaned over and kissed the paramedic at her words. She appreciated the kindness she was showing her, the information she gave Alexia, that she wasn't really supposed to. The ambulance was slowing to a stop, and Alexia could hear raised voices approaching the doors.

"It's going to get pretty crazy in a second, and they won't let you in with her, but she'll be in good hands, I promise." Alexia nodded again, clearing her throat.

"Thank you. So much." She said, knowing that her words weren't enough to express her gratitude, but not really sure what else to do.

The doors opened then, and someone was helping her out of the ambulance. What felt like a million doctors and nurses were bringing you in the doors, one of them shouting for Alexia to follow them in, and find a seat in the waiting room.

Numbly, she did, sinking into the first available chair she saw. There were a lot of people she needed to call, yes. People at Barcelona. The other captains. Your teammates. Your national teammates. Her hands were trembling violently, though, and she suddenly felt dizzy again. She was in shock, she realized. How ridiculous. She was fine. Seeing you like that... it was the worst thing she'd ever laid her eyes on.

Alexia didn't make any of the calls she was supposed to. She decided that just for now, she didn't need to be a responsible captain. She could be someone that cared about you, who was terrified, and needed someone to get here and tell her that everything would be okay before she really freaked out.

She called the only person she knew wouldn't be mad at how emotionless her voice was about to sound. The only other person that she trusted to get here as fast as humanely possible, and know exactly what Alexia needed. Someone who could be in charge, just for a little bit.

-----

Mapi and Ingrid had to drive past the scene of the accident on their way to the hospital. Ingrid was driving, deciding that Mapi could call the people she needed to on the way to the hospital. The Spaniard was on the phone with Lucy when they drove by, and she got a glimpse of your bike, crumpled on the ground.

"Joder" She murmured, reaching a hand over to grab onto Ingrid's leg, anywhere she could steady herself on her girlfriend.

"What?" Ingrid asked, glancing over in concern at her girlfriend, who looked like she was about to be sick.

"What?" Lucy echoed from over the phone, sounding frantic.

"Nothing, nothing. Just worried." Mapi said, swallowing the bile rising in her throat. Neither of the other girls believed her, but they let it go.

"Okay, Mapi. I'm heading to the hospital now, Ona's with me, gonna grab Keira on the way. Call Irene. She'll decide who else needs to know."

"Okay." Mapi agreed. Lucy had never experienced such a reserved Mapi Leon before, one who followed her instructions without any jokes or comments. It scared her.

Mapi made the other phone call. Ingrid had grabbed her hand at some point, and Mapi wasn't really sure who was squeezing harder. She got through the call with Irene, who she made promise not to drive herself to the hospital, to have her wife take her.

"You're driving." Irene huffed angrily, not wanting to wait any longer to get to you, and to Alexia. Her wife wouldn't be back for 20 minutes. She needed to be at the hospital now.

"No, Ingrid is driving. Ingrid is calm in a crisis, and Ingrid is driving because my hands are shaking, so don't you dare drive. Don't you dare." Mapi's voice was thick, the horror of another accident happening washing over her. It was a ridiculous thought, but Mapi couldn't help the fear that was choking her right now. Irene agreed, a combination of Mapi's pleading voice, and the reason behind her words, convincing her.

"Okay. Just get there. Fast."

Ingrid accelerated.

-----

They practically stormed into the waiting room. It was mostly empty, an oddity for an afternoon in the city, but both girls were grateful nonetheless. They took one look at Alexia and came to the conclusion that she wouldn't really want anyone seeing her like this, let alone strangers.

"Ale?" Mapi said gently, moving forward. Alexia was sat in a chair, head in her hands. Her whole body was shaking, blonde hair falling into her face and blocking Mapi from seeing the tears that were surely falling. Alexia's head snapped up when she was addressed, and she stood, taking a frantic step towards her friend, practically collapsing into Mapi's arms.

"She was- it was so bad Mapi. The paramedic said she would probably be okay, but it was so bad. The bike was... and she was so far away from it..." Alexia's words were slightly strangled, and Ingrid regretfully pulled her captain away from her girlfriend, directing her back to her chair. Mapi sat next to her, and Ingrid instructed them both to stay put. She went to find water. Alexia was clearly in shock, and Ingrid knew that she would feel that she had to pull herself together before anyone else arrived.

'Calm in a crisis' Ingrid gave herself a minute to rest her head against the vending machine. Ale had said that the paramedic had said you'd be okay. That was all that mattered.

She returned, finding Alexia slightly better off than she'd left her. Mapi had pulled off her own sweatshirt, and yanked it down over Alexia's head. The blonde had only had on a t-shirt, and it was slightly cold in the waiting room. That probably wasn't the cause for the tremors running through Alexia's body, but regardless. Ingrid crouched in front of Alexia, uncapping the water and handing it to her, instructing her to take small sips. Alexia complied, and the couple exchanged a look. They'd never seen Alexia like this. Ever.

Alexia took several sips of water, before sitting back, and running her hands over her face. She relayed everything the paramedic had told her to the others, and they, in turn, told her the situation with the others due to be arriving soon.

After that, they sat mostly in silence, Ingrid taking a seat in the chair next to her girlfriend, knowing that the Spaniard needed her close. She needed Mapi close, too, honestly.

Lucy, Keira, and Ona arrived in a flurry of chaos. Keira was weirdly calm, Ona just looked freaked out, but Lucy was... a mess. She looked disheveled, like she'd been through a wind tunnel on the way to the hospital. She'd barely stepped in through the door before she was asking question after question, pacing back and forth, then sitting down, and then pacing again. Keira sat silently across from the other girls, while Ona hovered anxiously wherever Lucy went, not quite sure what to do.

Alexia's face had transformed completely when the others had arrived. She looked calm, expression deadly serious as she answered Lucy's questions. She was Captain Alexia again, putting her own feelings aside for the sake of the others.

She made Ona eat a granola bar when she decided that the girl looked too shaky. She made Keira come sit next to her, wrapping an arm around the Englishwoman. She finally told Lucy to stop pacing and sit down, after Lucy stood for the 18th time to go ask the receptionist for an update. Lucy listened instantly, sinking back into her chair without an argument.

Irene arrived a bit later, informing Alexia that she'd called Barca, and let the team know what was going on, but instructed them to not come to the hospital, because they didn't want to crowd the place. Only seconds after the words left her mouth, the doors were sliding open again. In came Pina, Patri, Cata, Jana, and Bruna. Irene looked at them, and sighed deeply. Her face could only be described as one of a person "considering early retirement."

To their credit, they were rather reserved, each accepting the tight hug that Alexia pulled them into, before finding chairs and quietly talking amongst themselves.

It was quite a sight to see when the doctor came out look for your family, and instead finding 11 members of the Barcelona women's squad, in various states of distress. They provided a brief update to everyone, before seemingly picking up on the energy Alexia was putting out, that if they didn't take her to see you, she would probably start throwing chairs, and allowing her and one other person to go back to see you.

Alexia followed right after the doctor, practically breathing down his neck. Mapi looked around, at Irene, and at Lucy, who both gave her a nod. You needed Alexia. And Alexia needed Mapi. Ingrid gave her a little push, and the defender walked down the hall, somewhat terrified for what was awaiting her there.

----

Getting hit by a car really fucking hurt, it turned out. Every bone in your body ached, and you were sure that if you opened your eyes, you'd find that you were just one large bruise. You were in and out for a while, not quite awake enough to open your eyes. You could hear people talking each time, though.

First, it was Alexia's voice, strong and confident, talking to the doctor. Then it was Alexia's voice, small and weak, telling you that you better wake up soon before she freaked out. If you were able to talk at that point, you would have pointed out that it seemed she was already freaking out.

Mapi's voice was there, then, telling you that, thanks, now Ingrid was NEVER going to let her get a motorcycle. Alexia laughed at that, but the laugh seemed to turn into a sob, and you could hear Mapi telling her to stop being so dramatic, because you were fine. She was using her soft voice, though, the one she used for the people she loved. (You, Ingrid, Alexia, and the cat. That was the list.)

When you finally did manage to wake up, it was dark out, and the room was slightly more occupied than it had seemed before. Mapi and Ingrid were both asleep in chairs against the wall, hands tangled together. You caught a glimpse of Lucy and Keira in the hall, on the phone with someone. Probably Sarina, you decided. Alexia was in a chair by your bed, as close as she could pull it. Her eyes were on you, absolutely staring into your soul, and you jumped a little when you realized.

"Jesus," you hissed, waves of pain washing through you.

"You're awake! She's awake. Guys, she's awake," Alexia said gleefully, turning to Ingrid and Mapi who woke up rather slowly. Alexia stood, leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your gauze-wrapped forehead. When she sat back down, there were unmistakably tears in her eyes.

"Don't you ever, ever, do that to me again." She said seriously.

"I'll make sure to tell the car not to hit me next time." You agreed, matching her serious tone. Mapi snickered, and Alexia grimaced.

"Next time. You're never going on a motorcycle again. Or driving. I'm going to drive you everywhere, and you're going to sit in the backseat. And wear a helmet." Her tone was lighter, but you really weren't convinced that at least a part of her didn't want to do that.

You laughed, and then winced as the movement made your entire abdomen spasm with pain. Alexia's face scrunched with worry, and Ingrid and Mapi leaned forward. You didn't want the focus the be on your pain, though, so you asked a question you were dreading the answer to.

"What's wrong with me?" You asked, preparing yourself for the worst.

"Concussion, mild though. Broken ribs. Broken arm. The skin on your legs will be back one day, but no broken bones there." Alexia listed. You smiled again, delighted that your legs were okay, and a little moved at how hard Alexia was trying to make you smile, when it clearly looked like she'd had the most stressful day of her life. Which she probably had.

"When can I play again?" You asked. Alexia frowned.

"When you're all better." She said, refusing to give you a time that she knew you would latch onto, and meet, regardless of how hard it was.

"When Alexia is comfortable with you being more than 2 feet away from her." Mapi interjected, ignoring the look sent her way by both her best friend and her girlfriend.

The doors opened then, and Keira and Lucy walked in. They both lit up at the sight of you, awake and alert.

"You have to be the dumbest person on earth. Could no one have gone to buy your motorcycle from your house? You had to drive it again?" Lucy scolds.

"I like to keep things interesting." You say, smiling at both of them. They roll their eyes in response, each pressing a kiss to your cheek, before sitting in chairs on the other side of the room.

"Sarina?" You asked. They nodded. "How angry is she?"

"Her exact words were 'what the hell was she doing on a motorcycle,' and then 'I'll let Williamson deal with her. Whatever she comes up with will be far worse than anything I could manage.'" Keira tells you.

Leah would be killing you, you were sure. You turn to Alexia, who had been too quiet, and definitely not scolded you enough.

"You're making me move back in with you aren't you?" You ask, eyeing your captain warily.

"Yes." She said, daring you to argue.

You sigh. "Where am I going to park my new bike at your place?"

Alexia's face gets all red as the room falls into laughter and you smile at her triumphantly. "I will lock you in your room." She says through clenched teeth.

"I'll sneak out the window like last time," you dismiss. "Mapi showed me how."

Alexia turns to Mapi, trying to manage some anger, but she's really too grateful for everything her friend had done for her today. her expression softens when she meets Mapi's eyes, and Mapi goes from looking like she's in trouble, to softening as well.

You watch the strange interaction, and realize that today must have really been hell for Alexia. Hell for everyone, but Alexia was a worrier, and as established, she cared a lot about you.

She'll have plenty of time to fuss over you, though. The next months were sure to be painful and awful, and you were secretly glad that Alexia was moving you back in. You weren't good with pain, or sitting out, or taking care of yourself like you should. Everything felt okay, now, because you were alive, and not paralyzed. Tomorrow would be harder. As you have this thought, you reach for Alexia's hand with your one uninjured arm. She turns to you, grabbing it tightly, and sending you a reassuring smile.

Her face told you that she knew what you were thinking, and the determination there told you that she would get you through this, whatever it took. The whole team would. You relaxed slightly. You could deal with tomorrow tomorrow. Today, you focused on the joy of being alive, and joking with your teammates.

-----

hope this was worth the wait :)

not opposed to an angsty recovery part 3 but let me know your thoughts.

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader

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fourmoony · 6 months

Text

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

smut. p in v. creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. sex with a friend. language. 18+ content minors DNI.

3.2k - masterlist

summary - reader can't sleep. remus helps out. not with warm milk, though.

i'm supposed to be working on an assignment for college. but remus lupin is taking up space in my brain. so, enjoy :)

The air feels stuffy, too hot against your slick skin.

You blow a breath out in frustration, a piece of hair stuck to your forehead refusing to budge and you groan. The house is silent apart from the droning on of the electronic device between your legs that does little to abate the feeling clawing at your insides and it only makes you more frustrated. The lights in your bedroom are turned off, the world outside asleep. Everyone apart from you. You’ve spent two hours tossing and turning, and a further half hour trying to cure the ache between your legs.

It’s futile. You’ve tried everything. Every speed your overly expensive vibrator has to offer, every position, you even got out the glittery pink dildo Marlene got you for Secret Santa the previous year, leaving it out to the side after coming to the heart-breaking decision that it simply wasn’t big enough.

You feel like nothing will be big enough. Nothing feels right, nothing feels good enough, nothing is even close to tipping you over the edge. You shift, further to the left, and whine again, pressing the vibrator to a higher speed. It moves as you press the button, and the feeling of closeness is gone just like that. You growl, pushing the blankets off in a fit of rage and choose to stare at the ceiling in defeat. It’s not going to happen. You should just accept that. But you’re worked up, horny, and too fucking clammy.

The flat is quiet. Remus is asleep – the only reason you’re so nonchalant about the noise of your vibrator still buzzing against the mattress next to you, taunting you. You reach to turn it off, sitting up and putting your hair into a makeshift bun. You stare with narrowed eyes at the shadowed outline of the sparkly pink atrocity of a Secret Santa gift. It was given as a joke to make you blush. Your friends like to tease you for your innocence. It’s not something you ever would have bought for yourself. You’d blushed furiously and everyone laughed. It was addictive for the first few weeks, being able to explore your own pleasure. But now. Now, it doesn’t feel enough. Doesn’t feel as good. As big. As filling.

It’s a quick thought, a fleeting thought. A memory that makes your cheeks flush and your eyes close in embarrassment. Remus, fresh out of the shower, two seconds away from closing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t locked the door. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk in on him. You’d been half asleep, bursting for a pee, and he hadn’t locked the door. Even worse, you hadn’t meant to look. But he was wide eyed and frozen, and your fight or flight had you trying to assess every part of the situation. And his nakedness was a large part of the situation.

You’re not proud of it. But you’d looked. And you liked what you saw.

And now.

Well, now, you can’t stop thinking about it. About Remus. Kind Remus who makes you tea on cold mornings, puts your pyjamas in the dryer for you when you get out of the shower, who cooks you dinner and leaves it in the oven when you work the late shift at the café down the road. He’s kind and attentive and always there to lend a helping hand. You feel silly as you clamber off your bed, knowing there’s a high likelihood that Remus will tell you you’ve taken his kindness to its boundaries.

Your feet pad quietly down the hallway of your shared flat. The under counter lights in the open plan kitchen at the end of the hall illuminate the space enough to see. Remus’ door is closed, but you twist the handle and push, wincing when it lets out an annoying squeal. Remus rouses at the sound, squinting sleepily at you as he turns. He lets out a breath, sits up on his elbow and pulls back his blanket to offer you the space beside him.

It’s not the first time you’ve climbed into bed with Remus, but you still shift nervously on your feet, biting at your lip.

“You okay, love?” Remus asks, voice deep and croaky.

It makes you flustered in your reply. Voice quiet, unsure, “Can’t sleep.”

Remus nods, reiterates pulling back the blanket to make room for you. You cross one leg over the other in front of you, fiddling with the metal daisy chain ring on your middle finger. Remus got you it when you got into university last year. It’s your favourite piece of jewellery you own, overpriced tennis bracelet from your overcompensating parents be damned. He catches your nervous tic and his eyes narrow, his head tilts, messy hair flopping sideways with the movement. There’s a slight stubble on his chin from running late this morning and skipping his daily shave and he’s sans pyjama top, having clearly also felt the heat.

He sits up fully and the blanket pools around his waist. His skin glows in the low light of the moon through the window beside his bed. He’s beautiful. This you’ve always known. Now, it’s tenfold because you’ve seen all of him. And all of him is what you want, in this moment. Your face is flames as you edge closer until you’re hovering beside his bed.

“Have you tried warm milk?” Remus asks, his voice almost teasing.

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, trying to sus you out. He knows. He must know something. You’re hardly being subtle. Remus’ lips twitch in a smile when you squeeze your legs together in front of you, again, lip between your teeth, eyes watery.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice breathy.

He wants you to say it. But you can’t. You won’t.

“Rem, please,” You whine, “I’ve tried everything.”

His hand reaches for yours, pulls you until you’re straddling him. His lips are a centimetre from yours, hot breath fanning out over your mouth. You press down hard against him, lips pouted. He doesn’t let up, just raises his eyebrows. A question. What have you tried?

“I couldn’t get the angle right with my vibrator,” You whisper, cheeks bright red and warm to the touch, where Remus’ thumb is gently rubbing back and forth, fingers cupping your wobbling jaw, “Then the thingy Marlene got me wasn’t-“ You huff.

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

He’s on you in a second. Lips and tongue and teeth, so hot and heavy it knocks the breath from you. His hands fist the thin material of your shorts, at your waist and you bend into him, hands running up his sides, over his shoulders, into the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s hard beneath the flannel of his pyjama bottoms. You can feel it against the crease of your thigh. It makes you whine into his mouth, shifting until you’re perfectly aligned over him. His grip focusses on your arse cheeks when you grind down, a bruising grip that you relish in.

His hands push you forward, you pull yourself back. His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down your neck. Your head tilts back, panting for breath, lost in the pleasure. Your stomach tightens the harder his grip gets, the harder you press down, the faster you move. You feel like a seedy teenager, dry humping yourself against him. Remus’ teeth nip at your collarbone, only to soothe over it with his tongue. You whine again, making your impatience known, but Remus doesn’t speed up.

He looks up, lips mouthing at the underside of your chin until you tilt your head back up to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes hooded, lips curved into a sinful smirk.

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

You push down harder in response. Remus grabs your hips, stills you. You pout, doe eyes watery. Remus tuts, shakes his head, “You want my help, we do it my way.”

He shifts until you’re lying beneath him, legs hiked up around his waist. He doesn’t waste time in stripping you. Your shirt, then your shorts, your panties following. He throws them across the room, and they fall into the shadows of his darkened room. You’re glad they’re gone. Your body feels like it’s burning up under his touch, featherlight as he traces the goosebumps across your skin. He presses kisses in the wake of his fingertips, to your collarbones, your chest, the tops of your breasts, your stomach, navel.

His lips are warm, wet, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. You’re high strung, keening, and needy. He comes back to face level, and you grumble, deep in your throat. So close. He was so close to where you need him. He’s smug. You’re about to protest when he slides a finger into you. Your mouth opens, head pushing back into the pillow. His fingers are long, but slender, and it’s not long before he adds another. Your back arches, eyes closing. The minute you close your eyes, Remus stops. You look up, furious, to find him smirking something evil down at you.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He whispers, nose bumping yours.

You comply. Remus resumes, fingers pumping steadily in and out. When he’s knuckle deep, he curls them and your body jerks in response. It’s too much and not enough, a dizzying euphoria of Remus’ casual confidence and his skilful fingers. His thumb brushes your clit gently, the bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. You moan his name, thighs squeezing against his hips where they’re splayed open. It urges him on, he whispers quiet encouragements – good girl, that’s it sweetheart, you’re so wet for me – and you continue to writhe beneath him.

“Rem,” You gasp, hand encircling the wrist that’s pumping in and out of you, “Need you.”

“Soon,” He promises softly, lips pressing to the swell of your breast, teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, “Want you to come on my fingers first.”

His thumb moves in tighter circles, his fingers curl deeper, move faster. He adds a third, the stretch burns but in the best way. Your jaw opens on its own accord, a string of moans emitting from your throat, and you arch into Remus. His eyes meet yours, blazing with lust.

“C’mon, baby,” He urges, voice sinfully deep, demanding. “Come for me.”

You clench around his fingers, and he groans as you gush around his hand, voice high pitched, your grip on his shoulders vice like. He’s surprised you don’t snap in two with how high your back arches. His fingers pump you through the rush in your veins, his quiet reassurances blacked out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Your head spins and you see white as the orgasm you’ve been chasing for what must be hours by now crashes over you. You babble nonsense, buck against Remus’ fingers, mouth open, eyes wide, back arched and head pushed violently into the pillow beneath you.

Remus hovers over you when your breathing evens, eye’s a little less clouded, and his usual concerned look on his face. You smile dopily up at him, eyes bright.

“Good?” He asks.

It’s a double ended question – you good? Was that good?

You nod.

“More.” You whine, attempting to pull him closer with your legs around his waist.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs lightly, head bending down to peck your smiling lips gently.

You nod in agreement, head tilted as you look up at him, “I’m blaming you.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

He shimmies his pyjamas off, kicks them off the end of the bed, and comes back to crowd your space, again. Hard, he’s much bigger than you saw from Shower-Gate. Your mouth waters as his hand wraps around his dick, pumping a few times before looking back to you. His face softens when he notices your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

“That’s,” You sigh, embarrassed, “That’s not going to fit, Rem.”

Remus laughs, the apples of his cheeks rounding out, his teeth appearing from behind his lips. His head hangs over your shoulder and you hide in his hair, mortified. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight runs softly up and down your thigh. You groan to show your mortification, heels digging into Remus’ tail bone to try kill his laughter.

“Rem,” You protest, letting a chuckle of your own slip.

Remus looks up, eyes soft, lips pressed together to stop his laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I’m not laughing at you. No one’s ever said that before, you just caught me by surprise.”

You giggle, squeezing his waist with your thighs, “They’ve definitely thought it.”

Remus shakes his head, “We don’t have to.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “I want to. I really want to.”

He smiles, leans in to kiss you. When he pulls away to pump himself again, you let out a low breath. He brushes the tip against your folds, wet and puffy, a couple times before he pushes in slowly. He groans, you moan. You’re tight, fitting around him like perfection. He goes slow until he’s buried to the hilt. You allow yourself to get used to the feeling, whimpering softly when his thumb comes to circle your clit again, working you up.

“That’s it, baby,” He speaks softly, so softly, and you moan.

He pulls back, pushes back in. Takes it slow. Allows you to adjust.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need the raw pent-up aggression you’ve seen Remus show pervs at bars when they touch you inappropriately. You need angry Remus, who threw a book at the mantle place when your parents missed another birthday. You need the Remus who tries so hard to hide the aggressive side of him but can never fully rid himself of his primal urges, of that white hot fury and determination.

“More,” You breathe, “Faster. Harder. I need more, Rem. Please.”

You’re babbling, begging. But Remus complies. He snaps his hips forward and you all but scream. He groans, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s attentive, hips attacking your pelvis. His wooden headboard slams against the wall, your hand reaching up to hold on and stop you from sliding further up the bed. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you up, closer to him. He feels deeper at the new angle, hips battering into yours. He’s relentless, hitting every spot you need.

You’re babbling nonsense, but so is Remus. Words of encouragement, words that tell you how good you’re taking all of him, how tight you are, how perfect you are. You’re meeting his every thrust, hips grinding against him, the stubble creating friction that tightens the coil in your stomach.

Remus attaches his lips to your shoulder, biting down as he pounds harder against you. You say his name like a mantra, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of him, all over, everywhere, filling, stretching, pounding.

“Rem,” You whine – so close. So, so close – “Come in me.”

Remus’ head snaps up, pupils blown, mouth hung open. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter, “What?”

“Pill. Just,” You gasp when he hits that spot, “Come in me. Please. Wanna feel it.”

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

He’s relentless, sweat dripping from his forehead, he releases your waist, hikes your thigh up over his shoulder, you scream. He urges you, tells you sweet things, details how he’s going to fill you up, bites the skin of your calf. His other hand reaches down, draws tight circles that have you seeing stars. You scream his name, loud enough for the entire street to hear, using the leverage on his shoulder to lift your lower back off the bed.

The feeling is dizzying, all consuming. It’s feverish, frantic, a wild chase to the end.

You clench, he hits the right spot, the sting of his teeth on your calf emulates up your leg, the stomach muscles holding you up clench, and he calls you baby, all at the right time. You see white. It feels like your entire body explodes, lights on fire, crashes and burns. You convulse, twitching and screaming, broken words and moans of his names, clenched vice-like around him.

You’re begging. Begging him to follow, to finish in you, even in your pleasure.

You’re still floating, but coherent enough, when Remus grows sloppy, uncoordinated, drops your leg from his shoulder, falls forward, hands at your sides to hold himself up. He jerks, groans, his head falls into your shoulder, and you whine, happily, dopily, when you feel the white-hot spurts of his come against your walls.

He’s breathing heavily, both your bodies slicked with sweat. He drops his weight onto you, and you welcome him happily. Your legs wrap around his lower back, you both wince with the movement. You can feel the slickness between you both, the way he’s dripping out of you. But you’re comfortable, lips pressed to his damp hair. You trace shapes on his back until he comes to, pushing up to press his lips to yours.

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

He gets up to leave and you whine, “Don’t go.”

Remus chuckles, “Just going to get a warm cloth. Be back.”

You allow him that, grateful he had the idea. You hear him running the tap in the bathroom and he returns with a warm cloth. He’s gentle when he wipes you clear. You wince and flinch, blushing when Remus presses gentle kisses to your thighs as he works. He whispers softly between kisses how pretty you are, how well you did.

He discards the cloth in the wash basket by his door and returns to the bed.

He groans as he settles, holding his arm out for you to fall into him. You do so, swinging a leg over his thighs. It’s then that you realise you’re both still very naked, and your shyness returns. Remus traces shapes on your arm, tucking his head over yours, lips to the crown of your head.

“I can hear your cute little brain running laps, you know.” Remus teases.

You roll your eyes, push your face further into his neck.

“I just came to you in the middle of the night for sex,” the post coital dread sets in tenfold, despite feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks, “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

You feel Remus shrug, “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“But-“

“Get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” He assures you, pulling the blanket further up your naked bodies.

You concede, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips, “Okay.”

He pulls you closer, settles in. You allow sleep to wash over you, let the relaxation in your bones pull you under. It’s a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep, wrapped in Remus’ arms.

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