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shdous · 3 months

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CINNAMON BUN — SHIDOU RYUSEI

whenever shidou gets attention from girls, he doesn’t turn it down. but why would he? that’s what you’re for.

contains: female reader, penetration, semi public (car sex), a creampie, pet names including cinnamon bun, jealous reader, shidou being himself (gross), he’s in his twenties. 3.3k words.

note: shidou nation where r u .. shidou nation come home

ryusei has a bad habit.

a bad habit of letting other girls flirt with him. he doesn’t return the energy of course, but he won’t exactly deny it either. he’s not going to flirt back—nor give off the impression that he likes what’s being said to him, but the words stop or i have a girlfriend probably won’t leave his mouth either.

why? well, you have your theories.

you’re sure he get a little ego boost out of it—out of knowing that there’s someone other than you who wants to get in his pants. because let’s be honest—no one that flirts with your boyfriend has the intentions of starting a fairytale romance with him. he draws attention simply because he looks like he’d be fun for one night and one night only.

but really, he doesn’t entertain that.

in fact, sometimes he won’t even open his mouth in that situation. instead, he’ll stand there with a shit eating grin on his face until the moment you inevitably arrive back at his side.

because ryusei only lets other girls flirt with him when you’re around.

⋆

“shidou, right? i wouldn’t mind leaving with you.”

you’re standing nearby, within both earshot and plain view of your boyfriend when you hear these words.

clubs, bars—neither are your usual idea of a fun evening, but ryusei likes going to them for a few reasons. one, he gets to bring his hot girlfriend along with him. two, he gets to be the guy at the bar with a hot girlfriend. three, he gets to see his hot girlfriend in a hot outfit—if he’s lucky.

and tonight he is, because here you are—skirt sitting pretty on your waist, lips glossed pink, listening in as another girl hits on your boyfriend.

how fun.

getting onto the tips of your toes, you furrow your brows and peer over the shoulder of a man who’s inconveniently placed himself in your line of sight. while at your peak—you absorb as much as your eyes can handle.

first—ryusei’s sitting at the bar counter about a chair and a half away from you. he’s leaning back, glass in his hand, and if you had to guess—you’d say he’s chewing on the straw sticking out of it. he has his usual black elastic headband holding back his hair, but if you had to guess—you’d say a few of his little baby hairs have escaped it’s grasp by now. second—his company is lingering over his left shoulder, with a hand resting on the back of his chair. she’s standing up, so she’s looking down on him slightly, and she’s smiling too.

ideally, the third piece of information you take in would be the words leaving her mouth—but you think hearing her initial line must’ve been a fluke anyways, especially with how busy it is. instead, what you catch is her hand moving—in what you swear is slow motion—to the back of his neck.

you trust your boyfriend, one thousand percent.

he’s made it blatantly obvious that his obsession with you runs deep—it would probably classify as being unhealthy, even. but if that’s the case, why isn’t he moving?

doesn’t matter.

you can move, and you are—swiftly abandoning your task of getting your hands on a drink menu as you begin closing the gap. you take a detour around the tall gentleman—brush past a couple of people, and come to a halt behind them.

you feel your stomach do a backflip or twelve as you stand there, waiting to be noticed.

ryusei must have a sixth sense when it comes to you, because it’s only mere seconds before he’s peering over his shoulder and locking eyes with you—straw indeed tugged between his teeth as a grin blossoms behind it.

but he doesn’t do much else.

on the other hand, you don’t receive a whole lot from the girl to your left either—an unimpressed stare at best. it’s clear that neither has anything to say to you, and so you speak up.

“that’s my boyfriend,” you announce, and you don’t mean for it to happen, but the words come out like the tip of a blade—incredibly sharp.

they pierce through her, and judging by the way she’s retreating—you’re certain your message is received. the tiny little hearts in ryusei’s eyes are merely nails in her coffin.

she vanishes into the crowd, and soon it’s just you, your boyfriend, and the arm he’s snaking around your waist.

he sets his glass on the counter of the bar, turns himself in your direction, and spreads his legs a little bit—silently requesting for you to stand in between them, closer to him.

you don’t do much—other than stare.

“what’s up, buttercup?” he hums, tilting his head at you when you don’t accept his invitation.

“what the hell do you mean what’s up?” there’s a sour taste flooding your mouth courtesy of your boyfriend’s casualness, and you’re sure it’s visible on your face—likely in the form of some furrowed brows and a little frown. “did you forget that you have a girlfriend?”

ryusei’s eyes widen, and for a brief second you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his tongue darts out of his mouth—licking over his lips before they morph into a cheshire cat grin.

big or small, any change in your attitude is always going to have his ears perking up and his tail wagging—because as much as he loves when his girlfriend is a perfect angel for him, it turns him on when you start acting like anything less.

“how could i forget this pretty face?” he coos—putting on a faux pout as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

his gaze floods with lust as he looks at you, and even more so when he glides his thumb across your bottom lip—slightly smearing your gloss in the process.

“apparently it’s pretty easy,” you mutter, pushing his hand away and avoiding his gaze by casting yours off to the side.

“hey,” his voice is a bit firmer, and he uses that same hand to grab your chin—forcing your eyes to meet his. “don’t be like that, cinnamon bun.”

ugh.

you unintentionally earned yourself that atrocious nickname after your first ever real argument with him. it didn’t last long—a few hours tops (he can’t live without your attention) but still, he said he’d accept a punishment for his behaviour. his mind was, without a doubt, in the gutter when he made that little deal—and so naturally, you told him he wasn’t allowed to finish inside you for a week.

the world might as well have been ending.

but, your boyfriend is spoiled beyond belief. you ended up letting him fuck you anyways simply to avoid having to deal with his shitty attitude and complaining. the one condition was that he had to cum on you instead of in you, and well, it didn’t take long for cinnamon bun to catch on.

you used to hate the name, but you’re more or less immune to all the weird shit that leaves his mouth by now. still, he has a knack for using this one exclusively when you’re mad—or when you seem like you’re about to be.

“ryusei,” you sigh in annoyance, but still draw a bit closer to him—placing yourself between his thighs with a pout. you need to know. “why can’t you open your damn mouth and say you have a girlfriend? you have no problem opening it any other time. do you like it when other girls hit on you?”

of course he doesn’t.

what he does like however, is when his girlfriend sees, and she comes over to intervene. it’s hot as fuck. the words he’s my boyfriend leave your mouth and his dick starts throbbing in his pants. yes, he’s all yours—and he wants to hear you tell every single living being in the world. twice.

but if you knew this, would you still do it?

“you’re thinking too much babydoll,” he hums—leaning in to press his lips to your cheek, where he peppers a dozen little kisses. “y’know i don’t give a shit about anybody else.”

the way he dodges not just one, but both of your questions pisses you off—even though you know he’s being genuine. everyone who knows ryusei knows that he has little to no regard for anyone who isn’t you. that thought alone is able to bring you a bit of comfort. not enough, though.

“i wanna leave,” you mumble.

the bubble that had been surrounding you and ryusei for the past few minutes pops, and all of your senses come flooding back. the static sound of people, the scent of someone’s cheap perfume—the lights, the music, the ache in your feet that stretches from heel to toe—toes that were on their tips for a few seconds too long, all because your boyfriend couldn’t shut down another girl’s advances fast enough. or at all, for that matter.

you definitely, absolutely want to leave.

“yeah? where’re we goin’ cinnamon bun?” ryusei asks—squeezing your hand to get your attention back onto him.

and god, he’s so cute—blinking up at you with his long blond eyelashes and his innocent little smile. there’s a heaviness weighing on your chest, and you’re starting to feel like…you don’t want anyone else to even look at your boyfriend tonight.

“anywhere but here,” you say.

⋆

hand in hand, you and ryusei venture outside.

as you walk towards your car, all you can hear is the little angel on your shoulder. she’s telling you not to fault your boyfriend for any of this. it’s not like he did anything. however, there’s something rather unpleasant sitting on your other shoulder, and it’s telling you the opposite. because it’s not like he did anything, right?

“ryusei, keys.”

the keys to your car—they’re in his pocket. your phone is there too, along with some gum and a little scented hand sanitizer. you didn’t really feel like carrying a purse around tonight.

which, in hindsight, might’ve been a mistake.

“oh, you mean these?” he grins.

dangling in front of your face is, your keys. one of the charms you have clasped onto the ring sways from side to side, almost like it’s mocking you. you swipe at them—claws out—but his reflexes are much, much faster than your own.

“ryusei, i swear to f—”

“relaaax, you can have ‘em,” he chuckles—taking a few steps ahead of you before turning around and winking. “but it’ll cost ya,” he adds.

you’re not sure what makes him think he’s in any position to be making demands, but out of pure curiosity—you’ll indulge him, just this once.

“what do you want?” you sigh as you follow after him. he’s already waiting by your car.

“hmm, what do i want cinnamon bun?” he leans himself against the driver’s side door—spinning your keys around his index finger as he lets his predatory gaze roam over your body like it’s his next meal.

and you can put two and two together.

“what makes you think you get to fuck me after that?” you bark at him—a little harsher than you probably should have.

“oh baby, of course i get to fuck you,” he coos—grabbing your jaw a little harsher than he probably should have. “how else are we gonna get rid of this attitude? y’know i can’t bring you home like this, pouty face.”

“well, i’m the one with the license, so actually you aren’t bringing me anywhere,” you mutter.

ryusei laughs—but it’s more of a giggle, and not necessarily the cute kind. he sounds a bit like a maniac, to put it bluntly. and you have to remind yourself that you’re playing with fire right now. if anyone else were to give him this much trouble—well, they probably know better than to try.

“i’m bringing you to the backseat, aren’t i?” he grins—briefly sticking his tongue out, because it can never seem to stay in his mouth for too long. he then leans in and plants a wet, messy kiss to your lips. “c’mon, lemme see my favourite pussy make a mess on my cock.”

shit. whenever ryusei starts talking like this—it’s impossible to not want to do exactly as he says.

you’re definitely biased, but praise from him is second to none—a little filthier than what most would deem normal, but still first place in your eyes. he knows how to get you going—how to make you feel hot and desired, feelings you’ve become obsessed with—unhealthily, even.

“you’re spoiled,” you mumble—hand now resting on the handle leading to the infamous backseat. “and a brat.”

as you climb into your car, you feel a little warm—like you’ve been standing beneath the heat of the blazing sun for a little too long. except, it’s about ten o’clock, and you have goosebumps littering your arms from the bitter night air.

ryusei appears in the spot next to you a couple of seconds later, the middle seat to be precise. he settles in—leans back, spreads his legs a little bit.

he barely has the chance to finish doing so before you’re lifting your hips and wiggling out of your panties—leaving the lacy fabric behind on your seat as you climb onto your boyfriend’s lap—all without being asked.

“mmm, you suckin’ up to me now sweetheart?” his hands tunnel beneath your skirt, where he grabs onto the fat of your hips.

before you can answer with a snide remark about how he’s the one who should be sucking up, his lips capture yours in another kiss—because he’d be stupid not to. after all, you’re finally where he wants you.

his hands start to knead and squeeze at your hips, and those somewhat tame movements lose all their innocence when he starts grinding you down onto the growing bulge in his pants like you’re his personal toy.

and it almost feels a little too good.

the warmth of his palms against your skin, the way your clit is rubbing against the fabric of his pants—a couple minutes of this and you’re struggling to even kiss him back.

so you allow yourself a brief pause—prying your lips away from his and turning your head to gaze out the window. he’s content with focusing some of his attention on your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin while your heavy breaths threaten to turn into whines.

and now that you’re looking, you note how many cars are in this parking lot. you’re parked fairly far from the entrance, but it’s probably only a matter of time before other cars start to fill in the spots around you. what if someone were to—

fuck.

ryusei plunges two of his fingers, middle and ring, into your cunt—disrupting your train of thought while simultaneously forcing a little mewl out of you.

“yeah, nice ‘n’ sticky for me, hm cinnamon bun?” he hums, sliding his fingers out and holding them up—separating them so you can see that they’re visibly sticky.

“shut up,” you huff, pushing his hand away and turning your head to the side again as a little heat finds its way to your cheeks.

“awww, y’know i love my dessert, baby,” he coos—popping his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“you’re gross,” you mumble.

but you’re still the one who’s reaching for the zipper on his pants. you’re the one maneuvering them down his thighs. you’re the one biting down on your lower lip in anticipation, because you might be the one who wants this more.

you wrap a hand around his shaft, pumping him a couple times before swirling a thumb over his oh so sensitive tip—spreading his pre cum. and you swear you can feel him pulsing, like his heartbeat is in his dick.

either love boners are real, or he’s already on the verge of an orgasm.

“c’mon, fuck me baby,” he whines as he bucks into your hand—patience growing thin with each second not spent inside you.

and it’s so hard to resist him when he looks this good—veins running up his forearms and tapering off, skin glowing beneath the artificial light seeping in through the windows, cock quite literally drooling in your hand.

your gaze flicks to the thin chain dangling from his neck. it has your initial on it. beneath that, there’s a familiar graphic on his shirt. you bought him that. lower down, you catch sight of his wrist. there’s a pink beaded bracelet there that spells out your name, followed by ‘s slut. you gave that to him as a joke, not expecting it to ever be worn.

wait, why are you mad again?

as you hover yourself over him, you can’t seem to remember. so you sink down—holding your skirt out of the way to let him see his cock disappear.

a breathy laugh leaves ryusei’s mouth, and then he groans, “shit, so fuckin’ tight babydoll. tryna make me cum already?”

you lean in to kiss him—hands roaming his chest as his own find their way back to your hips. he pulls upwards, and you obey the silent command—lifting yourself up and then back down, quickly finding a rhythm.

ryusei tilts his head back, leaning it against the headrest as he watches you with a hungry gaze.

but he’s not making you do all the work. he’s still using his strength to aid your movements—helping you bounce yourself along his shaft. and he’s angled perfectly—curved perfectly—giving you all pleasure and no pain, while making sure to rub against that little textured spot inside you.

“ryu, more,” you whine—back arched, nails carving crescent moons into his shoulders.

“yeah, that’s it baby,” he praises, letting his own nails dig into your waist. “pretty pussy’s feelin’ good, ain’t she?”

you respond with a moan—shifting a hand to his bicep for support and nearly cumming right then and there over how deliciously flexed they are, simply from the tight grip he has on you.

and it wouldn’t surprise him. all you’ve done is rile each other up all evening, so neither of you is expecting this to last much longer.

“gonna let me nut in you cinnamon bun?” he breathes out, gaze shifting from your hand to your eyes. “hm? gonna let me fill your sweet cunt to the brim?”

and what’s going to get you to say yes? maybe…

he runs his hands up your sides—slipping his fingers beneath your top and pushing it up. once he has your tits in his face, he sticks his tongue out—kitten licking at one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth and humming in content.

“f-fuck, yes,” you gasp, arching into him further.

and he grins—he doesn’t stop his little makeout session with your tits, but he grins, and then changes his movement. from up and down to back and forth, he begins grinding you along the length of his cock—pushing you closer and closer to release.

you think your lips might be torn to shreds soon with all the biting you’re doing. you don’t want to risk a passerby hearing this—so you’re trying, really hard not to be loud, but it’s really hard not to be loud.

“ryusei!” you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel that first pulse from your walls.

and that’s as much warning as he gets, because one pulse turns to five—and soon your cunt is fluttering around him, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth as you crumble against him.

he groans, looping an arm around your waist to keep you in place. “shit, my turn babydoll.”

with his face nuzzled in your chest, and his dick twitching with excitement, he cums—throbbing a thick load into your cunt. and it’s a lot. a few lazy thrusts from your boyfriend causes a wet squelch to ring out, and a different you might find that sound embarrassing, but tonight—it’s music to your ears, because it’s only for your ears.

and god, you feel so much better. your bad mood has evaporated into thin air, and you no longer care about tonight’s events. well, the events that happened prior to entering your car.

but you also feel like you owe him something.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, pulling back to look at him. and you don’t mean for it to happen—but your pout reappears for an encore. “do you still love me?”

he chuckles as he reaches a hand up—using it to squish your cheeks. “you’ve got my cum leaking out of your cunt, course i fuckin’ love you,” he coos.

you smile and snuggle back into him.

“yeah, you’re sexy as shit when you’re mad baby,” he hums. “we gotta do this again.”

and maybe you will.

maybe you can let other girls flirt with ryusei, so long as this is the romantic fairytale ending you get every time.

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