midnightspasms

[midnightspasms]

— SHE'S THE SERPENTINE

— TOJI FUSHIGURO x fem model reader

in which... you're a renown model, famous for runways and fashion shows with the greatest designers. But above all, infamous for the scandals with men and women, one night stands or long term relationships. Toji Fushiguro isn't too involved in all of that, he's known, sure, but he stays out of celebrity gossip by all means necessary. Though, it was hardly impossible to not learn about all the scandals you've been involved in. He finds soon enough what makes you so enticing.

— SHE'S MY COLLAR

beware of; sleeping w/ multiple people mentioned, paparazzi, body worship, open sexuality (r), drug consumption (alcohol, coke, etc), misogynistic terms (Shui), unintentional intox, experienced reader, creampie, breast play, size kink, spitting, degrading, breeding kink, use of “little girl” and “slut”

The first time Toji Fushiguro had heard of you was against his will. Your face was plastered everywhere on social media. Scandal accounts on instagram, gossip pages on twitter, you name it and you were there. Every week was something new. You saw two people at the same time and they found out or you hooked up drunk and wasted with an A list celebrity. Each time an interviewer confronted you about it, your bottom lip trapped itself between your teeth, an unapologetic yet guilty expression on your features. "Whoops?"

Toji hates to say it, but he was hypnotized. The shameless amount of sexuality you presented was different, it set you apart from celebrities or models who wished to keep their lives private.

It was finally February, and the most anticipated event of the year loomed ever closer: New York Fashion Week. Designers with international acclaim, iconic brands, and a plethora of celebrities would converge under the same glittering roof. Models would grace the runway with fall and winter collections that had intricate details and bold designs, and by the end of it all, after-parties were promised.

As his sleek, tinted car glided to a stop outside the venue, flashes erupted around him, capturing every moment of his entrance. The pulsating city lights bathed him in a jarring glow while fan girls strained against the red ribbons that barred them from reaching him. Men in sharp suits rushed to surround him, hiding his apperance from intrusive cameras.

He couldn't resist a small throaty chuckle leaving his lips, adjusting the tie around his suit. His outfits were common among the men, but the women he spotted were extravagant to another level. Inside the grand building was nothing short of sumptuous architecture and people who could guide him to a seat. Everyone was given a pamphlet with the model's names and the brand they would be representing. Toji's eyes darted around to find the seat assigned to him.

He removed his coat, draping it over the backrest of the chair. His brow was constantly cocked, giving the occasional smile to anyone he recognizes. A small grunt left his lips as he sat down, opening the piece of paper to skim over the model and designer names. The music went silent in his brain as his eyes focused on your name in bold, right under the title of Christian Siriano. Shut sat right down besides him, snapping Toji out of the trance with and elbow nudge. "Anyone specific you're watching?" He teases, and Toji laughs, giving a swift nod.

Meanwhile, your brain was hectic and lost. Everything overwhelms you during this time of the year, directors yelling names constantly, hair not sitting right, makeup smudging. Everyone enjoyed fashion week except the models under constant pressure. Backstage was bare and plain compared to the runway, ensuring a more calm space for staff but even that didn't help. Your section was about to go on stage and the only thing calming your chills was the promised parties right after.

Women around you were adjusting any quirks on your dress, retouching blush and lipstick, and any last-minute decisions just so a minute and a half could be perfect. The dress was red, frills towards the end and provactive above the waist. Your clevage was nearly completely on display, a statement to your usual fashion and life choices that the designer made sure to emphasize on.

You took a sharp breath, a hostess shouting our your name on the mic with a brief introduction. Heels bouncing off the floor, your steps were heavy on the black, wooden-clad platform. Coos echoed and pictures snapped all around. You made sure to keep your composure when reaching the end of the stage, focusing on a random person's face. As Toji's gaze met yours, he widened his own, receiving a small wink before you turned back around to strut towards the curtains you came out of.

Shui noticed the expression of shock, nodding his head at Toji. "Gonna go for the community whore?" He mocked, a shrug coming from Toji in response.

That night, you both ended up at the same after party. Your hair was disheveled, makeup dripping from constant laughter, and rubbing your nose from the lines of coke you had done. It was obvious that as the night grew older, the clock quickening to hit three at midnight, you were seeking out someone to take with you. And Toji wasn't one to pass up opportunities.

He fixed up his tie, slipping between people to get to you quicker. You nearly tumbled at his quick movements, holding onto his bicep to stabilize yourself. When your head shifted upwards, getting sight of the man, you let out a slurred chuckle. "You," Toji laughed at your one-worded comment, hands slithering to your waist, innocently playing it off as helping you.

"Me," He replied, eyes teasingly widening. You squeezed at his bicep, shamelessly eyeing him. "Toji, am'right?" Your words trembled over eachother. He nodded, pressing you flush against his body. He could play womanizer if it was required of him. "You're completely wasted, little lady." You pouted, half-lidded eyes fluttering at him. "Am not, just a bit woozy." He swayed his head, his scent was intoxicating. It was bourbon entangled with some fancy cologne.

His presentation was so snarky, just so confident he'd get you to himself. "Think I should take you home myself," He whispered into your ear, sending a warm shiver down your spine. "Ya' know, make sure you don't get yerself into any danger." You heaved at his words, a small needy whimper leaving your already parted lips. He knew this wouldn't be your reaction if you weren't gone on all sorts of drugs, you were far too calculated for that. Yet here you were like putty in his hands.

That night, he laid it down on you. He'd been craving this shit for so long, seeing everyone get a taste besides him. He knew he was going to take advantage of this moment, strip every article of clothing from your body slowly, not giving in too quickly. He didn't care how much you whined or complained, how much you tugged on his hair and wrapped your legs around his torso. He was taking it slow, kissing down your neck with utmost patience.

You were completely nude yet his body hadn't been exposed to you, underneath your flushed look, you were so damn frustrated. Every few moments, in between moans, you'd tug at his shirt or grind against his covered abs. Everyone always gave you what you wanted, the moment you demanded it. They didn't make you wait inbetween hot, wet kisses down your body along with the scent of only your arousal overwhelming you.

He took his time on your breasts, fondling them with his large palms. “You cold, doll?” He asked teasingly, fingertip toying with your hardened nipples. Your head was thrown back, just needing to be stuffed already. A groan left your lips, bucking your hips upwards. “Hurry.” The drugs were still affecting you, but they wore off by the moment. He sucked on the nipples, tongue warm and moist against your skin. You whimpered, tugging on his black hair.

He was at that for a moment, switching tits, spitting on them and smothering it all over. When he started unbuckling his pants, you had countless marks and bruises all over the sensitive skin. “You’re ridiculous.” You scoffed, just hypnotized by how his cock left an imprint on his boxers. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, gaping with need and slick.

Toji released his dick, springing to his lower abdomen. It was leaking with precum, the tip was red and irritated. You tried to reach over to stroke him but he swatted your hand away. “Are you on birth control?” He asked, voice raspy with hunger. You nodded your head yes, he was already pressing the fat tip inside your hole. You whined, gasping and trying to stabilize yourself with his shoulder. “Take– take this shit off,” You spat at him, gesturing towards the fabric covering his upper half. He rolled his eyes, retreating his hands from your hips and instead to his tie, removing it till there was nothing left.

You left your palms explore his torso, his abs, whining at the happy trail leading down to his cock. While you were distracted, his cock drilled into you, kissing your cervix when he bottomed out. You whined, a throaty moan being forced out of you from the sheer stretch. “Toji—“ He chuckled, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead and making the single strands stick to it. You’ve been with many men, girthy, lengthy, all of it, but Toji’s wasn’t anything you’ve dealt with.

Toji watched in awe as your fluttering hole tried to adjust to his cock. He wanted to just ram into you, but he had some consideration. Tears welled at your waterline, partly because of the pain, but mostly because you needed more. “Toji, move,” Your words were slurred, biting your lower lip as he pulls out and thrusts back into your cunt. The squelching noises were loud, bouncing off the walls. “Gonna take this shit, alright?” You nodded mindlessly, watching as his hips speed up and the flesh-to-flesh noises gain strength.

Toji had you babbling, tongue lolling out, hardly able to form a coherent sentence. The curve of his cock hit against your g-spot each time, abusing the gummy spot over and over again. He snaked an arm between your thighs, rubbing circles into your clit at a quicker pace. “To-Toji—“ He held onto your thighs, pressing them further against your chest. “Can’ttt,” He licked his lips, feeling you clamp down harder on his dick. The double stimulation of your nub and cunt was too much to take.

“You can.” He stated, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “Open this slutty mouth,” You did as told, stretching your tongue out. He spat onto it, pace not relenting. Although you whined in complain, you still swallowed it, thick spit running down your throat. “How many men have dumped their load into you? You need dick to live, huh?” He was shaming you, shaming how much sex you had, shaming your lifestyle, yet it just made the knot in your tummy grow increasingly. “Maybe you are just a pretty lil’ face and body meant to be used,” You whined, drool running down your chin.

He laughed at the pathetic sight, hips stuttering as he neared his orgasm. “There we go, c’mon,” You gushed onto his dick before he could, your cum soaking his lower abdomen and your own thighs. He didn’t stop, still chasing his orgasm desperately. Toji could feel your cunt spasming from the overstimulation. “I’m gonna cum in this pussy, gonna fuck a baby into you.” He heaved out, head burying into your neck as he blew thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

Toji pressed a hand down on your tummy as he pulled out, cum spilling out. “Fuck,” You were fucked out, whimpering. “So sweet, just existing to take cum,” He mocked, a small pout on your lips.

He decided to spend the night, but in the morning, as he gathered his shit, you slowly stirred awake. You were sobered up but the hangover was drastic. “Shiiit.” Toji laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed while fixing his watch. You scooted towards him, pressing your completely nude body against his clothed back. “Need money or somethin’?” You scoff, pushing him away yet still sleepily ending up against his back again. “I’m not a prostitute, I probably make more money than you.” He laughed once again, standing and watching you flop onto the bed.

He flicked your forehead with his middle finger and thumb, forcing a small wince and yelp. “Just fuckin’ with you.” He assured, throwing the covers over your goosebump lathered body. He was about to walk out, leaving something on the dresser. You were about to groan in annoyance, imagining it to be money or something of the sort. As your eyes focused in on it, a few digits were written out.

As he was walking out your apartment for the first time, he knew it was gonna be a hassle. Cameras were flashing at him, surrounded by paparazzi intrigued by this new relationship. “Sir, were you in there with famous model—“ Before the man could finish his sentence, Toji walked past the microphone with an increased speed “Fuck off,” They kept chasing after him but he slammed the car door in their faces.

After he started seeing you more, he realized why you could never keep a long term relationship. You were incredibly high maintenance. You were both at the mall, trying on a thousand pairs of lingerie sets, another dozen of shoes, you name it. He followed you around, holding your bags. Yet, he promised he was going to be the one to keep you.

Every time you offered your card at a store, he jerked your hand away (gently, of course) and gave his own. Who were you to deny a willing gentleman? A small giggle was a constant while walking around, “I’m gonna run your shit dry.” You made fun, poking his side. Toji grumbled playfully, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your laid hair. “Yeah? Think I don’t benefit from this too, little girl?” You huff, attempting to get his broad arms off of you but he only holds onto you tighter, intentionally bothering you.

He also started attending every one of your shows. He usually only went to big ones where he was encouraged to make an appearance, but now he’d be sat at every one with a pamphlet, awaiting your walk. Eventually, he started collecting the little pamphlets they gave to him, including the first one from Fashion Week.

He was so easily entranced by your walk, your body, everything. People would catch his indifference turn to focus when you went on stage. The only thing that bothered him was the invasive questions from people desperate for a gossip story. “Sir, this is the longest relationship she has had, mind telling us your secret?” Or “We’ve heard rumors about her seeing other people, is that true?” He rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. And if these people ask questions when you two are together, he nearly has to cover your mouth every time. You lacked a necessary amount of media training.

Regardless, Toji knew he had hit the jackpot. For once in his life.

[midnightspasms]

And no matter how desperate or dire, never pray to the gods that answer after dark.

-Schwaab,V.E (2020). The Invisible Life of Addie Laure. Newsouth Books.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x reader

Synopsis: Foolish and desperate, you made a deal with a god nobody bothers to pray to anymore. Your request? You wish to be free from the harsh indenture to your village's chief. The price? You now belong to Ryomen Sukuna, the god that comes out after dark.

Content Warnings: swearing, mentions of rape.

ACT 1: The Deal

"Whatever I need to give, I am willing to..." The moonlight dims the minute the words escape your lips, a phrase so obviously dangerous, so foolish of you to say.

Uttered carelessly and without thought as you kneel before the river, fingers buried into the wet, dirty grass as you cry into the night. If your mother had heard what you'd said, she'd have struck you, more than once, actually.

How foolish can you be to utter such to the gods?

You blink back your tears rapidly, looking up as your surroundings go dark. You are certain the beast that stands before you isn't human. The monster is no less than seven feet tall, with four bulky arms stretching out of his torso, shiny, marbled skin covered in inked lines. It has to be a beast, could a god look so menacing?

It furrows its brows as it looks down at you with two pairs of glowing red eyes; one side resembling a human face, and the other a carven wooden mask.

"You are willing to give anything?" The monsters says, crouching low so it is more levelled with your tear-stricken face. "What suffering have you endured that persuaded you to offer such terms?" It's voice is hoarse and deep, like a man's, but the eeriness it exudes isn't in any way human.

Ryomen Sukuna regards you in amusement. You look like a rodent before him; small and dirty and unworthy. Your fingers are covered in dirt, and so is your skin. He eyes the way your garments spill over your body. Maybe you would have been beautiful if you weren't subject to whatever suffering you must have been enduring.

"I-" your voice comes out shaky and meek when you try to speak, his presence sucking up all the confidence with which you'd prayed to him. "I am a servant to the chief. I can't do it anymore. He- he beats me, and overworks me and he rapes me-"

"Ah... the greatest misdeed against a woman." Sukuna hums as he listens to you, his lower left arm coming down, palm planted on the grass next to your knee as he steadies himself. "And what do you desire? Freedom?"

You stare into his vermillion eyes at the words. You're so close to freedom you could feel it, your heart races and sings. Sukuna sees hope in your eyes and for a moment, he almost laughs as he sees every other human he's ever made a deal with.

But then your eyes darken, and Sukuna can't help the shiver of excitement that runs through him when he realizes what it is.

Maybe, if you hadn't been so tortured, you would have made a more lenient deal. But there is a darkness in your eyes, a hate that Sukuna loves the sight of.

"Revenge," your say to him. "I want him and him to feel what I have endured. I want-"

Sukuna cuts you off. "Suffering. He will suffer as you have, and so will his lineage." The glee in his words has you almost rethinking. Almost. "For seven generations, the family will enjoy nothing."

There's a sick part of you that likes that, and it sings to the sadism in Sukuna's heart. He leans closer to you, mouth stretched in a smirk. "Now, let us discuss payment."

Your stomach lurches at his tone. "W-what would you take?" You ask him meekly.

He doesn't reply immediately. Sukuna leans forward, his upper right hand coming up, cupping your cheekbone as his thumb presses into your forehead. There's a sharp pain there when his thumb makes contact and you wince. Sukuna laughs at that.

"You," is what he says when he pulls his hand away.

"M-my soul?"

He laughs again, "Your soul. Your body. Your mind. The entirety of your being now is mine. Nobody will touch you without my permission. You belong to Ryomen Sukuna, god of curses."

The Chief's house was burned down that very night. And while you stood just outside, watching it be engulfed in flames that seemed to have started out of thin air, you catch sight the chief's youngest daughter just barely make it out the front.

"She starts generation 1." You flinch at the sound of an eerie voice behind you. Goosebumps line your skin as you look back, but there's nobody there.

And yet you can still feel him, lurking in the shadows somewhere, a phantom grip over your neck that scares and excites you all the same.

[midnightspasms]

"Don't overthink it, babe." Toji hums from between your legs, thumb deftly rolling your little bud as he breathes in your smell. "It's just head. Doesn't even count as cheating."

You bite back the moan at the base of your throat, but you can't stop your hips from quivering and bucking. "It's still cheating." You're trying to be stern, but that's not really working out.

Not when you've got your father's coworker between your legs inside the office bathroom. Your father and your boyfriend are waiting by the car, outside the building, completely oblivious. Your fingers go into Toji's dark hair. One of his large palms is groping your ass cheek to keep you stable, the other playing with your clit.

Toji just chuckles, bringing his tongue out to lick a slow stripe along your folds. The contact has you whimpering, head falling back against the tiled wall. "Shit, girl. Tastes so fucking good." He growls low, pushing his face up into your pussy and lapping at it.

"T-Toji-" You whine and whimper, both hands now in his hair, holding his head right against your pussy. "They're gonna come looking for us. I know they will."

Toji doesn't answer at first, too busy making out with your sloppy cunt, the hand on your clit going down to his trousers. He swiftly unbuckle his belt, before unzipping his slacks and pulling his hardening cock out to stroke it.

"I'm gonna have you cumming in five minutes, girl."

[midnightspasms]

"Whats your type?"

Whatever this is

[midnightspasms]

Sukuna, Satoru and Toji are giving you some love on Patreon 🫶🏻

[midnightspasms]

"Stalking me now, pretty girl?" Came Sukuna's familiar husky tone from behind you in the kitchen island, his breath fanning the back of your neck.

Matching costumes with Sukuna tonight had not been an accident, hadn't been some kind of coincidence. Nah, you didn't leave things up to fate like that. The last time you did, you ended up as the unofficial girlfriend of the friend to the guy you actually want.

But is some measly semblance of respect or 'bro-code' going to deter you? Hell no! Sukuna was who you wanted, and if having to endure being the sidepiece to his obnoxious friend is what you needed to do to get close to him, then so be it.

You'd been snooping around Satoru's messages the week before in order to figure out what Sukuna would be wearing and match your outfit to that. Luckily, he'd gone for what you consider the most basic fuck boy attire; Ghostface.

It did allow you some slutty creative freedom, hanging your own bedazzled ghost face mask on your neck, with a scandalously short, shimmery mesh dress that clung to your curves and showed off the matching black lingerie set underneath.

Skimpy, sure. But it's a costume party, key word - party, right after first semester finals. And by the way Sukuna seemed to be eating it up, it wasn't a bad decision at all.

You smile victoriously to yourself behind the rim of your glass, not bothering to turn back to look at him. "Stalking? That's a bit extreme, isn't it?"

His laugh is breathy, and hot, and sends a sizzle of electricity down your legs. "Maybe. But it would be befitting of your costume."

It's late, and the party's starting to wind down, and nobody's even in the kitchen anymore. Why would they? Now's the time everyone's fucking, not getting more drinks. To the best of your knowledge, Satoru's passed out in a room somewhere, and maybe you should be a good 'almost-girlfriend' and go check up on him. But Sukuna's body near pressed against yours and his hand is sliding up your legs from behind as he flirts lazily.

Satoru's affection was merely a means to an end, one you no longer need when the end itself is currently sticking his fingers up under your dress.

"Do you always show off yourself like this? It's all in view." Sukuna breathes into your ear, softly rubbing the hem of your dress between his fingers.

You subtly lean back against his bare chest, because as the slut that he is, he's dressed in just black cargoes and army boots. There's a hood around his shoulders sure, and his ghost face mask is hung around his neck, but the cape's open in front and his chest is glistening with sweat and the lights and you just want to run your tongue over it.

"With a body like mine?" You tease with a little laugh, dropping your cup down on the counter and turning to look at him through your peripheral.

Sukuna laughs. "True. Satoru's got a good eye." A bit ironic that he brought up your fling - situationship? - just when his palm meets the flesh of your ass, fingers ghosting over the lace edge of your panties. He's grinning to himself, satisfaction and pride bubbling in his stomach at the thought of you just being unable to resist him despite being in a relationship.

Yeah, like this hadn't been your goal since the start of the semester.

He thinks you're being coy when you deflect the conversation, ignoring his comment about Satoru. Sukuna thinks you're trying to sate your guilty conscience. Then he's leading you to a free room locking it behind him and then pawing all over your body and trailing kisses along your jaw.

When he has you pressed down into the sheets, fat cock burrowing into your wet heat over and over and over again, he thinks he's won. He's got one over Satoru, finally, by managing to seduce his sexy girlfriend who's lowkey out of his league.

He doesn't see the satisfied smile on your face as he thoroughly fucks you into the bed, as he's slapping your ass so hard you're sure there's marks. You moan like a whore for him, and he can't get over the sound your pussy's making and the way you're dripping unto the sheets.

"You like this?" Sukuna's breath is hot in your ear, fingers teasing and tweaking your nipples and he comes down to press his chest against your back. "You're fucking creaming around my cock, do you realise that?"

You just groan in response, drooling at how much better it is than in your fantasies. "More, more," you whine like a baby, legs trembling and knees almost giving out.

"Take it," he groans into your neck, hips pistoning into you, heavy balls smacking against your clit with every forward thrust. The room is filled the sounds of skin slapping, and heavy breathing and nasty moans. "Fuck- take this fucking dick, c'mon."

You're crying and whining and groaning as he fucks you through the night, and you can't help the pride and satisfaction that bubbles in your chest.

You win.

[midnightspasms]

"Stalking me now, pretty girl?" Came Sukuna's familiar husky tone from behind you in the kitchen island, his breath fanning the back of your neck.

Matching costumes with Sukuna tonight had not been an accident, hadn't been some kind of coincidence. Nah, you didn't leave things up to fate like that. The last time you did, you ended up as the unofficial girlfriend of the friend to the guy you actually want.

But is some measly semblance of respect or 'bro-code' going to deter you? Hell no! Sukuna was who you wanted, and if having to endure being the sidepiece to his obnoxious friend is what you needed to do to get close to him, then so be it.

You'd been snooping around Satoru's messages the week before in order to figure out what Sukuna would be wearing and match your outfit to that. Luckily, he'd gone for what you consider the most basic fuck boy attire; Ghostface.

It did allow you some slutty creative freedom, hanging your own bedazzled ghost face mask on your neck, with a scandalously short, shimmery mesh dress that clung to your curves and showed off the matching black lingerie set underneath.

Skimpy, sure. But it's a costume party, key word - party, right after first semester finals. And by the way Sukuna seemed to be eating it up, it wasn't a bad decision at all.

You smile victoriously to yourself behind the rim of your glass, not bothering to turn back to look at him. "Stalking? That's a bit extreme, isn't it?"

His laugh is breathy, and hot, and sends a sizzle of electricity down your legs. "Maybe. But it would be befitting of your costume."

It's late, and the party's starting to wind down, and nobody's even in the kitchen anymore. Why would they? Now's the time everyone's fucking, not getting more drinks. To the best of your knowledge, Satoru's passed out in a room somewhere, and maybe you should be a good 'almost-girlfriend' and go check up on him. But Sukuna's body near pressed against yours and his hand is sliding up your legs from behind as he flirts lazily.

Satoru's affection was merely a means to an end, one you no longer need when the end itself is currently sticking his fingers up under your dress.

"Do you always show off yourself like this? It's all in view." Sukuna breathes into your ear, softly rubbing the hem of your dress between his fingers.

You subtly lean back against his bare chest, because as the slut that he is, he's dressed in just black cargoes and army boots. There's a hood around his shoulders sure, and his ghost face mask is hung around his neck, but the cape's open in front and his chest is glistening with sweat and the lights and you just want to run your tongue over it.

"With a body like mine?" You tease with a little laugh, dropping your cup down on the counter and turning to look at him through your peripheral.

Sukuna laughs. "True. Satoru's got a good eye." A bit ironic that he brought up your fling - situationship? - just when his palm meets the flesh of your ass, fingers ghosting over the lace edge of your panties. He's grinning to himself, satisfaction and pride bubbling in his stomach at the thought of you just being unable to resist him despite being in a relationship.

Yeah, like this hadn't been your goal since the start of the semester.

He thinks you're being coy when you deflect the conversation, ignoring his comment about Satoru. Sukuna thinks you're trying to sate your guilty conscience. Then he's leading you to a free room locking it behind him and then pawing all over your body and trailing kisses along your jaw.

When he has you pressed down into the sheets, fat cock burrowing into your wet heat over and over and over again, he thinks he's won. He's got one over Satoru, finally, by managing to seduce his sexy girlfriend who's lowkey out of his league.

He doesn't see the satisfied smile on your face as he thoroughly fucks you into the bed, as he's slapping your ass so hard you're sure there's marks. You moan like a whore for him, and he can't get over the sound your pussy's making and the way you're dripping unto the sheets.

"You like this?" Sukuna's breath is hot in your ear, fingers teasing and tweaking your nipples and he comes down to press his chest against your back. "You're fucking creaming around my cock, do you realise that?"

You just groan in response, drooling at how much better it is than in your fantasies. "More, more," you whine like a baby, legs trembling and knees almost giving out.

"Take it," he groans into your neck, hips pistoning into you, heavy balls smacking against your clit with every forward thrust. The room is filled the sounds of skin slapping, and heavy breathing and nasty moans. "Fuck- take this fucking dick, c'mon."

You're crying and whining and groaning as he fucks you through the night, and you can't help the pride and satisfaction that bubbles in your chest.

You win.

[midnightspasms]

Just had to revisit this masterpiece

notion | k. bakugo

Summary: What do you do when your best friend needs your help with something they have no experience with? You help them, obviously, even if things are complicated.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo/reader

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors do not interact, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, fwb, virgin!Bakugo (he's in his 20s tho)

Word count: 7k

All characters are 20+

Now that the everlasting glow of midnight sparks at the middle of the sky as time keeps slipping away in that too-loud-to-be-good clock of yours, you find your throat tight, smeared with agony in your breathing, the thudding in your heart too repulsive to ignore. You're trapped with your legs spread, too far gone from the mere act of simply flashing the fuchsia of the panties that you're wearing to your friend, eyes shut in embarrassment because a singular look into his eyes, a mere glance of his face between your legs can send you over the edge.

Yet, at this point, no amount of shutting your eyes will do, the problem isn't just going to go away by simply avoiding it this time, because it's present right here, right now and if you take a peak with your left eye the problem has his platinum hair brushing your knees, so you hide your face behind your fists and your stomach takes another turn.

It would be diligent, wise, elegant -thoughtful even- to consider -to revision- how you even ended up in this situation in the first place seeing as you're about to throw up in your mouth from all that non stop pounding of your heart.

Well -you guess- it starts with immaturity. It boils over you being a people pleaser, it foams with you giving yourself to others because you think that if you don't, you will be left with no one. But that and just solely that, cannot be the reason you find yourself splayed like this on your couch in front of Bakugo, even whereas, it could perhaps explain the reason you agreed to what he asked from you.

To go over the basics, you've not known a single day of peace ever since Kirishima introduced you to him oh so many years ago in high school, demanding that, even if you weren't in the same class as they were, you'd spend your breaks with their group to which you agreed -as always, how could you not- for Kirishima's shake. Naturally, this quickly turned into you being attached to the hip with all of Kirishima's friends -and to your surprise and much much effort- even Bakugo eventually became one of your closest friends.

So close that, even now, in college, the two of you, despite not being on the level of friendship he is on with Kirishima or Midoriya, you're close enough to find yourself stuck at home on a Wednesday night, watching Spiderman alone with him.

Which is…. A regrettable choice really.

Or else it would have been, had you known where this night was heading to.

Bakugo behaves like a gentleman around you -save for the occasional potty mouth, shocking hand gestures and his temper- so much that you almost blame your crush on him on simply that. The way he respects your space and helps you clean up after the group visits, how he's the first to come and the last to leave. How he always helps you -begrudgingly- at everything you ask him to. You've even become the comedic duo of your group, you, being the person who decides to cut their hair at 3am and Bakugo being the one who agrees to be the one to cut your bangs for you.

You spend nights out evenings with the group by his side when everyone else is getting hammered and nasty and you talk about anything and everything. Your heart is filled with so much joy when he tells you he loves the songs you recommend to him and your stomach is always tied into tight knots when he tells you that you look good or when he calls you by his own nickname for you.

You convince yourself, he's shy about making a move too, because, why else would he be spending one on one time with you, watching movies on the same couch as you, feet barely grazing yours, but never retreating back onto his chest. You think, your head will explode from all this over analyzing. Rightfully so, since you somehow manage to convince yourself you've nothing to over think about.

You muffle the noise in your head until the ending titles roll down. It's almost too vain, too little as you feel your head seep into a thousand thoughts per second. You're in disdain about the distress of becoming self aware again

"Do you even remember when we watched this movie in the theater in middle school?"

"With that shitty kid that wouldn't stop asking what was coming out of Gwen's nose? Yeah."

You muffle a giggle at the memory when he grunts in annoyance "Feels so different to watch it now"

Bakugo looks at you and hums, flashing a sideways, and frankly awkward, lip to you, it's kind enough to reassure you he's fond of the remembrance of the shenanigan -you even think you can never bring yourself to laugh as hard as you've laughed back then- but there's something else imprinted in that look that you cannot simply overlook.

Since you like to consider yourself a good -a great- friend, you often decide to put your own feelings to the side when it comes to people you do care about and that drop on Katsuki's face when he finally turns his head in its original position isn't just somewhat concerning anymore. It's him, urging you to coax the matter out of him.

You take in a moment before you speak, before you let out your question, to examine him, how his body's ticking like a bomb unlike the very likely and very usual explosiveness that comes with him. You don't, not even for a moment, think it's overbearing, not when he's worried and wide eyed like this, not when your knees are already pointing towards him.

You hit him with the same awkward yet overly worried look he threw at you earlier "Baku“ you place your hand on his shoulder and he turns to look at you "Is something wrong?"

You'd be damned to not admit that you get flustered at the way his skin is glowing, knowing full well there's something lovely about the way his cheeks turn bright pink by the time he snaps his head in your direction "'s nothin'" Is his only response.

Kirishima and Jirou swear on their lives he's into you, because who's ever seen Bakugo so attached to a person before? And they fill you with hope, because perhaps, one of these days you could finally gather up the courage to confess to him, perhaps you think you'll finally feel how beautiful it is to have your feelings reciprocated. And judging by the flustered look on his face you come to believe that this is the moment you've been waiting for

And you have to play it cool. Cool cool cool. Cooler than the first autumn breeze that hits you on a late August night while on vacation, to remind you that summer will be over soon -that your days in the sun will be swapped with nights in heavy rain.

"Spidey rubbing you off in the wrong way?" Perhaps you regret coming up with this seemingly teasing response, but it's ultimately what comes out of your mouth, so by the time your face drops, there's no helping it either way.

"Ah no, no, I even got tickets for the new one"

Your face lights up when he turns his head away from you and you find your leg bouncing up and down, your palms getting stiff. You find comfort in bracing yourself mentally for what you're about to hear, your mind taking turns on its engines to flood your head with a thousand day dreams per second; you squeeshing your face into Bakugo's when he asks you out and smiling into the lustful kiss you're going to trap his lips in, the two of you having a blast at the movies, cheering on every second of the film while feeding each other snacks, cooing into his arms when he wraps my around you.

And you give in to your day dreams, so sweet, like marshmallows on hot chocolate on a cold December night exactly like this one, you fail to notice when your lips pucker up ever so slightly as you lean and you lean and you lean into the blond's face.

And just when you think you've gotten it right, you're reminded that fate has always been scheming against you. Or else, there's no really any other explanation for what comes so very angrily out of Bakugo's mouth

"Oh you're fucking mocking me too?"

"What?" You pull back, face subtly hiding in the long neck of your sweater "why would I be mocking you?"

"You think I'm an idiot? Hah? Does everyone in our group think I'm so fucking incapable of going out on a normal date-"

He says the words and your heart flutters, you clench your jaw, here it comes

"-Ochako"

"Oh my God Katsuki of course we c- Who?"

"'Chako" He grunts, turning his head to the complete opposite side of the room.

It's definite by now; your heart has sunk so low into your stomach that you think the burger that you ate a while ago won't last another minute in your system. And finally, you're trembling, all of the pent up anxiety running through your body like bitter poison, granting your heart control of your body. "You have to be kidding me" You utter and Bakugo's gaze falls upon you like a dagger

"Why?" He snaps, voice raised hundreds of octaves higher than it should be this late at night "is it so fucking unbelievable that I like someone too?"

"Uhm...no, uh, i- I didn't mean it like that and you know it" You say and quickly silence yourself before you say another word.

"Yeah like I fucking do, are you implying that she wouldn't like me back? You think I'm a-"

"No Bakugo it's fine, I would never laugh at you, I'm just shocked you like Uraraka, that's all" You swallow hard, your tone slowly dying down as you turn your own gaze away from him.

It's up to him to spark things up again right now and as usually he doesn't fail to do so, gathering all the grumpiness in his voice as you hear that fearsome growl of his bottle and boil from the depths of his throat

"Hah? Why wouldn't I like her?"

"I literally just said I'm shocked it's her, get over it she doesn't strike me as your type"

"Why?" He growls, voice pitch raising once again "Who else was it going to be, Mi-?"

"I'm not looking down on you. I'm not. I promise" You shout, just to ease him up and apparently it works, he seems to catch his words from exiting his mouth momentarily and you almost wipe the sweat and anxiety off of your forehead in relief at that.

But you don't. Because you have the decency not to do it, despite wanting to or feeling like it.

"Please don't yell at me Katsuki, I'd never look down on you"

"Tch, I know" He grunts and scoops to your side, bumping his hip against your own "I'm a big asshole"

To reply with the fact that you know would be atrocious, you've just now figured, because you're afraid that the trembling in your core will show and you don't exactly have a way to explain it to him.

You shoot him a tired smile and quickly look at the clock "it's uh.. late"

It's the only remark you can make yet you don't understand if you say it to yourself -feeling tired and hollow by processing the unspoken rejection from the person you have feelings for- or if you say it so he can leave you alone, to sulk on your own while watching pride and prejudice for yet another time, as a way to cope with your own feelings.

You only hope he gets the hint, by looking at him with soft eyes, forcing yourself to look even more tired than you are. For a second he looks you in the eye as you're yawning and you get filled with the hope that his absence will leave you to mourn your feelings on your own. And you watch him open and close his mouth and shuffle with the edge of his hoodie -that's it, he's finally going to leave, he's going to say just what you want to hear.

"Dammit," he growls "I need your help with something" Silence "but if you make fun of me I'm blowing you to next week"

Of course luck isn't on your side tonight, like always. And frankly you'd rather be alone, you can't get past another minute of being in his presence, sighing and heaving and struggling for air, you feel like your lungs will collapse any second now and Katsuki Bakugo shall be the only reason for your downfall.

"And what would that something be?" You eye him "it's so late can it not wait until tomorrow?"

"No it can't" He says firmly and turns his whole body towards you, back straight and lips puckered to an angered perfection

"Alright, shoot it"

You try to make yourself look convincing on the fact that you're interested in what he has to say, that you're more than okay with getting the hot details about what he wants to tell you about Ochako while making a mental note to kill Kirishima for not telling you about it the next time you see him.

"I need to-" He pauses and suddenly his head is buried between his palms -you wonder if he's flushed because he sounds like it, especially when he lets out a muffled 'fuck' under his breath.

You're suddenly worried, completely mentally disheveled over the fact that he sounds like he's in pain and your own worries are out of the window in a millimeter of a second. You place your hand on his back and rub a soothing circle over that very spot and when he seems to accept your affections, fortunately, you sigh in relief.

"You good?"

"Yeah" He hisses, peeling his head from his palms

"You can tell me anything" You smile hazily at him, you hope it's at least a bit comforting

It seems to work because he exhales loudly and squints his brows together as if contemplating on what he wants to say. Still you reassure him that it's fine with another rub of your hand on his back, completely ignoring the burning feeling in your gut and that voice in the back of your head that keeps repeating that his hoodie is soft and he's warm like a heater.

"Thanks"

"So?"

You come to realise that this little push to let go of the thought that sits in the back of his throat ready to spill into words is one of your biggest mistakes

"Obviously I heard Shindou eating you out at Jirou's party-"

"You what?" You look at him, utterly shocked, your jaw barely dropping at what he's admitting to "why do you even know that?"

"Because obviously even your love life is greater than mine"

"It really isn't" You admit, furrowing your brows

"Yeah well, I haven't had sex with anyone. Ever." He stops and examines your face, timid as he searches for any sign of you potentially mocking him, when he's assured he doesn't find any he proceeds "was hoping you can help me with… Some things''

He blurts the words like he's bearing gifts on Christmas Eve, loud and clear, free of any raspiness in his voice, eyes slant, sharp and casual like always. You gulp, knowing full well you're not going to be able to neither stomach the fact that he's a virgin nor the fact that he's asking you out of all people for tips.

"I'll give you tips yeah" You say mechanically and you watch Katsukis face contort into an infuriated pained expression once again.

"You told Shindou and I quote 'let me teach you how to eat pussy like a pro'-"

"Bakugo!" You snap, wide eyes and flustered

"-and if you can teach that asshole you can teach me too. 'f you wanna, you don't have to"

If your heart fell to your stomach just a few minutes ago then right now you're sure your guts have turned into a hot, bulky and not so smooth-at-all smoothie, you feel like your brain has turned into goo, like your eyes are simply holes in the middle of your head.

You even think you forget how to breathe. Why did he ever think it was okay to ask such a thing from you? Your mind is wandering off to so many places, that night he's referring to always as a mark in space and time where you were trying to finally, finally gather some courage to try and get over your crush on him only to end up having sex with Shindou and getting ghosted by him in the next 24 hours. It's even wandering to how you're offended over the fact that you look easy enough to be an erotic class subject to your friend. It's stress that overwhelms you; does your whole group think of you like that?

"Whatever, you don't have to, I shouldn't have asked"

You feel a little pulse of disappointment, suddenly, as he says that, but you want to slap yourself for even feeling this way. You shouldn't want to be in this position, and you definitely shouldn't be thinking that you can get Katsuki so pussy drunk on you that he won't have eyes for anyone else.

It's him who's pulling the strings here, since he's not even embarrassed in the slightest to ask this from you, just to be able to perform it to someone else, and it's you who's being objectified, it's you who's thought of being turned into an adaptation of ero just because you want to be a good friend.

So you shouldn't want to actually do this. You shouldn't even be considering it.

Thus by the time he opens his mouth to speak again your defenses are up "just watch some porn, buy a flesh light, hell, I'll even buy you a flesh light if I have to" You say and you steal the words -and breath- out of his mouth.

"But I can't even know if I'm doing things right"

"Aren't you the guy who never goes wrong? The man of many talents? I'm sure you'll eat Ochako out like she deserves"

If you could, you'd smile to yourself for building up the courage to not only say no but to overcome the great fear of abandonment that's bringing you down on your knees right now.

(Take that, you loathing, self -destructive mechanism, your punch is rougher than Kirishima's quirk.)

But now, now that you're proud of yourself for the tiny mental progress that you make, your gut churns as you see Katsuki's face drop. You're a bad friend now aren't you? Acting like this over him asking something as simple as you teaching him how to eat someone out.

It's Katsuki right? You've been friends since forever, it's not like something as simple as this will split the two of you apart, even if you don't manage to somehow get him so pussy drunk that he'll think about you every time he's with someone else he'll think about the things you taught him. Right?

"Porn's not the fucking same.. "

Well, you could try, just to help him out. Definitely not because you want him to.

You sigh "if I, if I let you do that" Great, you haven't even uttered two words and you're trembling again "we'll have some rules, kay?"

No, no, you really shouldn't be letting any of these words leave your mouth. Your leg is bouncing again, religiously bobbing up and down and it's what really catches Bakugo's eye. He places a hand on your thigh and tells you to calm down, that he agrees with what you just said so long as you're comfortable with what he wants from you. If only you could tell him that your skin under his palm burns with excitement.

"I'm going to wash up for a second." You announce and get up from your spot on the couch, Katsuki's eyes following you everywhere "But before I go. Rules. Think them over while I'm gone. One. We don't act weird afterwards and two, you stop when I tell you, I don't want you to make me come. It's weird"

"But Shindou-"

"Katsuki, I was flirting with him. Shindou and I really did hook up that night"

"Oh" He raises his eyebrow "flirting with him?"

You sigh once again "I'm not a porn teacher, I'm only agreeing to this to help you"

When you retreat to the bathroom you almost manage to convince yourself that you can back up from this, send him home and cry yourself to sleep. Maybe that'll be less embarrassing than spreading your legs for him. You keep repeating the thought in your head as you quickly wash from the waist down, relieved that you already took a shower after your classes today. Had you more time to yourself, you'd really back up and not meddle with something like this, you'd let your rational thought take over.

But quickly after getting out of the bathroom, you find yourself in a t shirt and the only remaining pair of clean parties that you have -yes the fuchsia hipsters that you only wear when there's nothing else to wear that you only ever own because Mina had thought it was a good idea to buy you a pair of panties like her own (terrible idea really)- that are not even comfortable. Well, it's not like they'll stay on for long. You even muffle a nervous laugh at the thought.

"Hey" You're greeted by the blond the second you enter the living room, he's eager much you notice, he's gulping on his own spit, clenching jaw. That makes two of you, you think.

"Hey" You greet back, patting your legs dry completely.

He chokes on thin air when you sit by him on the couch for a second before pivoting your body to the side, lifting your legs off of the floor and finally coming to sit cross legged at the end of the couch. Then, he chokes on his spit.

It's eerily cute, how he can't focus on anything else but the apex between your thighs that's barely covered by the oversized T-shirt you have on.

"Eyes up here Bakugo" You even almost burst out laughing when he looks at you like you've caught him with literal blood in his hands. "You ready?"

He breathes in and mutters a small response "yes" and your heart is spiraling again. For how can he be so casual with his demeanor when you're laying down on the couch, you, slowly opening your legs and him lowering himself with you, his head resting so obnoxiously over your stomach.

Your mean, traitorous core seems to be really responsive at the sight of his blond hair finding a spot to rest on your thighs.

Great. So there's problem number one for you. You can't make -not that this is your ultimate plan- Katsuki pussydrunk on you because you're the one drooling all over for him. You can strongly recall all the other times you've tried to have sex with other people, how you can't get yourself wet this fast, if not even at all, but all this excitement and tension inside of you that's ticking, ticking, ticking like a clock bomb is finally starting to come apart at the seams.

And Katsuki, with his sleek, sharp eyes is so forgiving and worried over the pulse in your stomach, you can see it in his look, when he rests his chin on his conjoined palms just over your abdomen.

"You're nervous? Why are you nervous? I can't even rub one out of you. Don't even know how" He grunts and you notice he has a glow in his eyes that you've never seen before, and it's driving you insane more than you could ever imagine.

"Don't say things like that. Please don't"

"'M not even gonna make you feel good, doubt that I can do it on the first try"

You wish you could open your mouth and stop him from saying another word, or decide to let go of the ones you've been fermenting in your heart for far too long now but that would only ever spoil things, you're sure of it, and you'll end up ruining even the smallest moment you'll ever spend with Katsuki in a situation like this.

As egotistical as this sounds you're not ready to give this up.

Thus for tonight you're literally drenched in the fact that you're a people pleaser. You remain like this when you open your legs, always repeating to yourself that you've committed the highest of treason against your own self.

"I'm not the most experienced, but I'll tell you what feels nice"

He nods and your eyes are drunk on that dark burgundy of his irises, so much that you don't even get to have a second thought about bunching up your shirt and pooling it over your stomach, shaking him off in the process. He comes to rest on your thighs, nose dangerously close to where your legs meet.

He looks so beautiful when he tries to hook his fingers under the sides of your underwear, only to stop himself from proceeding any further. Your core is burning, whether it's from just his gaze or the lustful factor of embarrassment that continuously washes through you.

"Dont-dont stare at me. It's so embarrassing" You plea, religiously, his name falling from your mouth like a mantra. Yet you remind yourself, this isn't about you feeling good, it's about teaching him how to make you -or rather someone else, how to feel good.

"Is this alright?" He says as he tags on your underwear and his eyes snap open and he looks like a deer in the headlights over you shaking your head in denial.

How, oh how on earth could you ever give a response that doesn't sound too needy or dismissive, how do you produce words that aren't forbidden? When you're too tangled in between feeling disdain for being drenched so much that your words are stuck in the back of your throat, no intention of blurting them out ever washing the crevices of your brain.

"You have to tease me first" You say and wonder what's that going to feel like when your core feels like it'll explode if you're not to satisfy it yet.

Katsuki simply looks at you, though your brain is way too foggy for you to try and read between the lines.

"You can't just put your tongue on me- uhh.. her like that, you have to make me- make her want it"

And then swallows hard, only stopping the flutter of his eyes to give you a little nod

"Suck on my thighs" You prompt and buck your hips further up, just enough to feel the supple skin on your legs brush against his soft hoodie.

"I know what teasing is" He informs you and for a second the cockiness of Bakugo is back and you must be insane, but it stirs you up in all the right ways, nonetheless, the mood pushes you to let your wild side free

"Then tease me, show me what you got"

"Tch, idiot"

There's a grunted response as the knuckle of his pointer finger shimmies over your clothes slit, starting from that drop of wetness at the end and then slowly working its way up to your clit- you try to stop yourself from letting out of the nastiest moans that could ever escape you.

There are admittedly some interesting kisses that are sprawled all over your inner thighs, though nothing compares to that one bent finger that's been ghosting over your slit finally slipping underneath your underwear and taking a hook of your panties. Katsuki's skillful enough to even scrunch your panties in his hand and pull firmly until some of your clothed skin is finally met with the hotness of his breath.

"Fuck, that's good" You yelp and you glance over to red eyes staring at you, unsure of where to go with that stunt he's pulled "you can, you can kiss- fuck- you can kiss on the skin, I promise it feels good"

He complies, lips heavy as he's placing open mouth kisses on the outer skin of your womanhood, always gripping the underwear impossibly tight over your slit- you have to hold yourself before you cum in your panties from how good it comes to feel.

"Fuck, take them off" You breathe out and in response your stupid fuschia hipsters are beginning to be yanked off of your body, vigorously "no, not like that, you gotta be sensual-"

"'M doing the best I can"

"Katsuki, I could accept you yanking my leg off like this only if I were robbing a bank and you were trying to stop me. But this isn't hero work. Now relax and be more sensual" He grunts, shoving his hand away from the panties that are now resting on your thighs

"What the fuck does being sensual even mean" His gaze, anything but soft, mellows yours, enough to make you snap your legs closed to avert his attention from your cunt to your face as you sit up, your right hand reaching for his face. He leans onto the palm of your hand like a cat- you've got to hold back once again from literally showering him with kisses

"Katsu"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna know how to be sensual?" You purr and he nods with a pout "unfurrow your eyebrows. Yeah, just like that, close your lids halfway too. Perfect. Mouth slightly open, or bite the inside of your lip"

When he struggles, he almost explodes "ahhh what's the point of this if-" but you demonstrate the look you're describing to him while grabbing the string of his hoodie, using it as leverage to try and lay back down on the couch, your legs spreading as little as possible. You shush him, you show him how to place kisses all over your legs to get you going.

He gives a kiss to your ankle, then along the inside of your knee, melting on the spot as he decides to alternate between your two knees, - you're too ticklish you say and he get rougher with his kisses, rougher until he hears you let out a small whimper to let him know he's doing well. Then he travels right between where your thigh and sugary sweet skin and kisses tenderly at that spot as well.

You're so drunk in his gaze momentarily that you almost forget that he's no idea what to do once again; you give him a pressed lip smile, coaxing your legs open a little bit wider, carefully so you don't have your leg fall off the couch. Katsuki backs his chin up, tucking it between your thighs and your hips snap at the sudden, tingling sensation that emits from his stubble rubbing over the hood of your clit.

He sticks his tongue out and you notice that it's dense and awkward -how he tries to run it over your folds and you guess he can't help it, there's not a single media he could consume that shows how he should maneuver his tongue.

Good thing you're here to help him.

Your back is lifted from the arm of the couch once again, hands softly touching around Katsuki's head, your thumb stroking his cheek, then traveling down to his lower lip and brushing a spot tenderly to finally trapping his chin between your fingers. You scratch his stubble with the nail on your thumb and be coos, eyes sheepish and mouth dry.

"Spit on it" You say and you don't know how your heart still hasn't combust out of your chest, you've never been this vocal during sex

He breathes in response, face almost just as red as his eyes. He doesn't say a word other than nodding his head vigorously, his eyes tormented on balancing between looking at your folds and your eyes. His breathing is heavy as he's opening his mouth and letting saliva pool to the flesh inside his lips. Once he's gathered enough, he forces it out of his mouth and onto you.

Your fingers tap on your folds before you proceed to spread yourself for him and if it wasn't for the burning sensation of his spit on your clit you're sure that even that would be enough to get you moaning like a pronstar.

"See that nub right there?" You ask and he confirms he does "that's my clit-"

"I know this much dammit"

"Oh shut up" You say and tighten your grip on his chin "you're going to lay your tongue flat and whatever you do keep it soft" You emphasize and Bakugo nods again. "Wrap your lips around it, be soft"

Your head is over the moon when he does as you say, lips hugging over your hooded clit, his hot tongue darting out to test the waters, this time softer than before. You moan loudly -how can you not- when he repeats the action acting out on his own this time by pressing his mouth further onto you.

"Yeah, just like that" You finally say and roll back onto the couch, clenched fists and eyes painfully shut.

Bakugo keeps his ministrations, giving kitten licks here and there, drawing eights with his tongue on you, nudging his nose at the top of your slit. You think- you know- you won't take it for too long.

He starts sucking, it's subtle and sullen at first, drowned in the wet sounds he's making while getting his face wet in your mess but you feel the pressure of it and squirm, hips bucking towards his face once again. And he lets you buck them again, desperately, throaty moans in sync with each bump and your core and your best are scorching so bad.

Until he bucks away.

You whine so loudly that you almost pity yourself, 'no's falling out of your lips like a short lived prayer and you don't even bother to think if you're crossing the line in what's going on. All that you know I'd that your foot wiggles it's way easily further down Katsuki's stomach and finally meets with his angry, throbbing cock and your mouth falls agape when you feel wetness coating his sweatpants.

You don't even know how you're going to keep yourself from not pushing him back and swallowing him whole and the thought of him trying to find relief while timidly rubbing one off on your couch isn't doing you any good. You have to stop thinking about it, you have to focus on-

On his mouth against you once again, tongue rougher than before, yet still not showing any sign of awkwardness or reluctance. Katsuki's even bold enough to trail a finger to your hole, circling it around tenderly. He pulls his mouth back once again, thumb coming to replace his tongue for as long as a few seconds count.

"Hey, look at me" He pleas and it takes all your courage to bat your eyes into his right now, but you do, breath hitched in your throat, words tied under your tongue and his middle finger is once again at the border of seeping into your velvety entrance "can I put one in? Will it feel good?"

Does he even know what he's doing to you? This has to be on purpose.

"Are you kidding me?" You breathe out "yes, yes… please yes"

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he thrusts his finger in, his mouth quickly joins his thumb to their assault on your over-stimulated clit and where his tongue soothes his finger flicks and you just can't help but pop your head up to look at him. Your stomach churns as you watch the sight that lays before you, pushing that knot that's tied low in your abdomen to finally seek the sweet feeling of freedom.

Your body is going limp. Your thighs are clamped around him, pressing his ears but Bakugo is restless, determined to bring out the worst -or best- noises that he can, his mind set on trying to coax an orgasm out of you and his tongue is what's going to help him get what he wants. He takes pride in the fact that you're this undone when he has to guess half of the things he's doing to you.

He retreats to himself, to wipe what's dripping down his chin and neck, to be able to drown himself even more in you. And there goes the back of his hand wiping at his mouth and he looks absolutely feral, as if he's about to devour you and you can't help but yelp, pussy throbbing as you try and get some friction from the still, thick finger that's filling you up.

Katsuki puts his mouth on your thigh again, this time biting down hungrily, sucking the plushy skin into his mouth and he attacks another spot the moment you try to beg for him to stop, to focus on you again, but if anything porn has taught him is that he needs to take his time -frankly because it's never shown in it; porn is a rub and go, it's supposed to serve for these short moments that you need to take care of yourself and Katsuki's smart enough to know this isn't most definitely what doesn't happen in real life.

When he forces your legs open once again, spitting on you more forcefully than before and hears as you cry out, as you squirm into his touch he's sure he got this right. You're at a loss of words and when he doesn't know what to do he knows he can't expect an instruction anymore. It makes him smug and it feeds his ego to see you spent like that. And so, when trying to get another delicious reaction out of you and puts a second finger into you, he hisses and feels your cunt clench around him, throbbing. He stirs his fingers inside your syrupy walls until his digits are nice and snug inside of you.

Your hand reaches down, fingers running through blond locks to keep him close to you and he hopes you don't see the way he's grinning against you

"Hit-ah- thrust your fingers in and hit on that spot to where your pads are touching -fuck" You mewl and the blush on his face his back, his cock throbbing as he suddenly feels your foot rub against him, wiggling into the band of his sweats.

He moans against you, but drowns it with his tongue attacking you again. You pull on his hair tighter and he loves it, he just loves the pain of it so much that he starts nibbling on you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you just like you said and this time there's no smiling, no grinning, just him, his tongue and his fingers ruining you, while you're crying out and bucking against his face. It's raw, primal, and he moans uncontrollably at your taste and the pride inside his chest for what he's making you feel.

"Katsuki, that's- that's goo-good" You choke as if to say that it's enough but you don't try to push him back, it's written in your eyes as you're looking at him that you want him to make you cum. "Fuck I'm gonna- 'm gonna-"

He moans against you, slowly sucking your folds into his mouth before bullying his fingers deeper into you until he feels your legs go slack, your hands grabbing onto his hair like crazy, painfully, until your knuckles turn white. It's then that you come undone in streaks of clear as you cry out curses, you feel like you're gushing, your stomach going numb as you feel yourself free of all that pent up pressure.

For a few seconds all you can see is white. Everything is sensitive and numb and you can't even begin to acknowledge Katsuki between your legs. You're in euphoria, calm and serene when you hear him chuckle, it's only then that your eyes open, lazily looking into his before you almost choke on your own spit.

His whole face is covered in wetness, his hoodie is strained on the front; even his hands on your thighs - still keeping them pried open- are covered in sleek and you don't have enough time to realise if all that is from you overflowing or squirting before he cockily runs his mouth against you.

"Fuck, has anybody ever made you squirt like this before?" He asks, eyes glaring at your clit when his right hand sets your leg free and comes to join your foot inside his sweats. He gives a pump to his cock.

"No, no I've never even squirted before" You say and you try to keep your composure.

"Fuck" He licks another strip up your slit and you jolt

"I'm so sorry, so sorry-"

"What are you apologizing for idiot, that's so fucking hot, so hot" He repeats and finally he pushes up, seating himself onto his ass.

Where did all his shyness go? Was it lost in the process of driving you insane with his tongue game? Not that it would be surprising, you know, yet you decide be deserves the praise either way"I knew you'd do well though, you do everything so well, even if it's your first time"

The whining in your voice is ruining him so much and his cock throbs in his hand again. He's so sweet when joins his fingers with your own and trails your hand on him, over his other hand. He even hisses when the pads of your digits touch his tip.

That doe eye look of his is back again and your core starts blazing up immediately. He brings his face inches away from yours, lips slowly wrapping against the lobe of your ear.

"I was wondering if you could teach me how to rub one off the right way?"

"Yeah," You choke "sure I can do that"

Your shaky fingers are reluctantly going to grip on the edges of his hoodie to try and pull it off, you can't have him get too hot, right? You're going to have to take real care of him since you can't say no to him either way.

The only thing you can do is try to compose the text you're going to send Kirishima and Jirou right after tonight is done.

[midnightspasms]

Oh wow

Pierced

CONTENT: wc…3.7k ✦ vampire reader x vampire hunter vi, vi being a good girl for reader teehee, biting, tit-sucking, a lot of sexual tension, vi calls reader a monster, reader calls vi a good girl (multiple times), vi was drinking a bit but she's still completely sober and aware, bloodsucking (not proofread at all, SORRY) SUMMARY: Vi has spent years hunting you, a vampire as beautiful as you are dangerous. She swore to put an end to your existence, yet every encounter ended the same—you taunting her, slipping through her grasp like smoke. But tonight is different?

She had been hunting you for years.

Vi didn’t know when it became an obsession—when the chase stopped being just about duty and started sinking its claws into something deeper, something darker. At first, it was simple: a vampire terrorizing the city, leaving behind bodies drained and discarded. A job for a hunter like her. But then she saw you.

Demonizingly beautiful. Unholy in the way that no creature should be. A face carved by something cruel, something that wanted to see men—and hunters—fall to their knees. Vi wasn’t weak. She told herself that every time she tracked your movements, every time she found herself too late, standing in the aftermath of your existence. She should’ve hated you. And she did.

But hate didn’t explain the way your voice haunted her long after you disappeared into the night. The way your taunts replayed in her head like a song she couldn’t shake.

“Poor Vi,” you had once cooed, perched on a rooftop above her, lips stained red. “You chase me like you don’t already belong to me.”

She almost got you that night. Almost. But you were always just out of reach.

Until now.

She was alone in her apartment, the silence pressing in as she nursed a drink and thought of ways to trap you, to finally end this sick game. But the air shifted. A prickle ran down her spine.

And then she saw it—your figure standing on her balcony, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

You had come to her.

Vi didn’t hesitate. The moment she saw you, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight, she reached for the dagger at her belt. Silver. Blessed. The only thing she trusted against something like you.

She rose from her chair, movements fluid, controlled—only the sharp inhale of breath gave her away. She stepped outside, the night air cool against her skin, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her weapon.

And there you were.

Beautiful as ever. Too beautiful. Your crimson eyes locked onto hers, piercing, knowing, as if you could see straight through her—through the anger, the obsession, the flickering, unspoken thing that lingered beneath it all.

And you smiled. Gentle. Soft. So out of place on something as monstrous as you.

Vi’s grip tightened, but her feet felt heavier than they should.

"You’ve been thinking about me," you said, voice like a whisper, like a lullaby meant to ensnare. "I could feel it."

Vi exhaled through her nose. "Shame. I was hoping you’d feel this instead." She lifted the dagger just enough for you to see, the silver catching the moonlight.

But you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move at all.

"You won’t use it."

Her jaw clenched. "You wanna test that theory?"

You tilted your head, amusement flickering across your face. "If it helps you sleep at night."

Vi hated the way your voice slithered under her skin, the way the space between you felt unbearably small despite the distance. She had spent years trying to kill you. So why did it feel like you were the one in control?

Vi’s voice was steady, sharp as a blade. “You’re a monster.”

You didn’t react. Not at first.

“You kill,” she continued, taking a slow step forward, dagger still poised. “You prey on people—innocent people. You feed on them like they’re nothing.” Her voice turned to steel. “And you expect me to believe that smile?”

A gasp left your lips, soft and exaggerated. You pressed a hand to your chest, fingers splayed over where your heart should be beating. The movement made Vi’s eyes flick down, just for a second—just long enough to notice the dried blood beneath your nails.

“Oh, Vi,” you sighed, tilting your head. “You wound me.” Your lips curled into something almost pouty, but the amusement in your eyes was undeniable.

Vi clenched her jaw. “You don’t get to act innocent when you still have someone’s blood on your hands.”

You glanced down at your fingers, examining them as if you’d forgotten. Then, you dragged one nail against your palm, smearing the blood slightly, before meeting her gaze again.

“I was hungry,” you admitted with a shrug. “Can you really blame me?”

Vi’s breath came a little too fast, her body too tense, her grip on the dagger too tight.

God, she hated you.

Or maybe—maybe she hated whatever it was you were doing to her.

You took a step forward, slow and deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Vi’s fingers twitched around the hilt of her dagger, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t run. Didn’t strike.

Didn’t do a damn thing as you closed the distance between you like a shadow creeping under a door.

“I bet you taste so good,” you murmured, voice low, dripping with something too dangerous to be called teasing. Your eyes flickered down, tracing the curve of her throat, the rapid pulse beneath her skin.

Vi swallowed, her grip tightening. "Try it, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do."

You only smiled, stepping even closer. She could smell you now—something faintly sweet, something intoxicating, something that made her head feel too light.

"You say that," you mused, tilting your head. "But your heart is racing, Vi. Just a little."

Her jaw clenched. "You don’t scare me."

"No?" You reached out, fingers ghosting over the collar of her shirt, and Vi flinched. Not because it hurt. Because it didn’t. Because your touch was light, deliberate, like you were savoring the moment. "Then why haven’t you stopped me?"

She should’ve shoved you away. Should’ve driven the dagger straight into your ribs.

Instead, she stood there, breathing too hard, letting you lean in until your lips were just barely brushing the air between you.

And then you whispered, “I wonder if you’d let me.”

You moved even closer, so close that Vi could feel the faintest shift in the air between you. Your lashes fluttered as you took a slow, deliberate inhale, letting her scent fill your lungs.

And she just stood there.

Frozen. Like she hadn’t spent years chasing you, swearing she’d kill you the second she got the chance. But here she was, dagger clutched tightly in her hand, and she wasn’t using it.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose. “You really don’t value your life, do you?”

You let out a low hum, tilting your head. “Oh, I do. I just know you won’t take it.”

Vi let out a short, humorless laugh. “You think I won’t kill you?”

You grinned, fangs just barely peeking past your lips. “I think you’d miss me too much.”

Vi scowled, but you saw the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. The tension crackled between you, thick and electric, coiling around her like a serpent waiting to strike.

And then, with the slow grace of something that had all the time in the world, you leaned in—your lips hovering just above her pulse.

Vi sucked in a breath, muscles locking, but she didn’t pull away.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t stop you.

Your tongue flicked out, warm and deliberate, tracing a slow, languid path along her neck.

Vi shuddered.

Her grip on the dagger faltered, just slightly.

And you—oh, you smiled against her skin.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes again. They were darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—something she probably didn’t want to name.

“Is that what you really think of me?” you asked, voice smooth, velvety. “A monster?”

Vi’s jaw tightened. “You kill people.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “So do you.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t, maybe. Her breath was uneven, her pulse still hammering beneath her skin—so loud, so alive.

You leaned in again, not bothering to hide your smirk as your tongue flicked out once more, dragging along the spot you’d just teased.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

Your voice was barely a whisper against her skin.

“Funny,” you murmured. “You taste like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her entire body tensed when you leaned down, her heart skipping a beat at the feel of your nose brushing against her neck. It was embarrassing—how her skin tingled at the simple action, how her breath hitched against her will. She forced herself to look at you, to keep her head straight, when every part of her wanted to tilt—wanted to give you more access.

Your voice was a purr against her ear. “Do you think you could quench my thirst?” Your lips barely grazed her skin, your breath warm, teasing. “Darling, you just look so good…”

Vi shuddered. She hated this. Hated how her body responded, how she wasn’t pushing you away, wasn’t lifting her damn dagger to stop you.

“Stop.” Her voice came out strained, uneven. “Please… stop.”

Yet she did nothing.

And neither did you.

Your hand rested on her shoulder, your fingers curling slightly, grounding her in something that felt like both comfort and possession. And then—soft, barely there—you kissed her neck.

Vi let out a sharp exhale, her fists clenching at her sides.

God, she already tasted so good.

You hummed, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of her—warm, alive, something utterly intoxicating.

“Stop,” she whispered again, weaker this time.

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Do you mean it?”

Silence.

Then—so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it—

“…No.”

Vi exhaled shakily. “Don’t stop.”

Your grin was slow, fangs glinting in the dim light.

You were both vulnerable, at each other’s mercy. It was almost ironic. You could tear her apart, sink your fangs into her skin, and drain her in mere seconds—and she, she could ram her dagger into your heart without hesitation. But for some reason, neither of you moved.

Everything was so messed up, yet, in a twisted way, it made perfect sense.

Vi swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She looked up into your eyes, her own filled with something she refused to admit—something she couldn’t hide. The need. The desire.

It was all there.

"Will you let me… taste you?"

Your voice was a whisper, smooth and intoxicating, wrapping around her like a spell. Vi hesitated—just for a moment. She shouldn’t want this. She couldn’t want this.

And yet… she did.

“Yes,” she breathed.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips. “Good girl.”

You leaned in, your breath warm against her skin, savoring the moment before finally sinking your fangs into her neck.

The moment your fangs pierced her skin, warmth flooded your senses—rich, intoxicating, utterly consuming. Her blood was unlike anything you’d tasted before, sweet with a hint of something electric, something alive. It burned as it slid down your throat, like the finest of wines mixed with the very essence of her—strength, defiance, and something dangerously close to surrender.

Vi’s breath hitched, her body going rigid beneath you before melting, a sharp gasp slipping from her lips. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as if she could fight against the way her body reacted—the way heat coiled low in her stomach, the way her pulse fluttered under your lips.

You drank slowly, savoring every drop, your tongue brushing against the wound as if soothing the sting, as if pretending this was something gentle. But it wasn’t. It was possession. It was hunger.

And God, she tasted divine.

Her head fell back, her body going limp against you, and you caught her with ease—one arm wrapping around her back, the other cradling the back of her head. You held her like something precious, like something yours.

“God…” she moaned, voice breathless, the sharp sting of your bite mixing with a pleasure she didn’t dare name.

You pulled back after a few seconds, your tongue sweeping over the fresh wound, lapping up the remnants of her blood. Some of it still dripped from your lips, warm and rich, and you swallowed it down as you stared at her.

She was panting, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The look in her eyes was a tangled mess of disbelief and want, like she couldn’t comprehend how much she had needed your touch—how much she still craved it.

When you leaned in again, dragging your tongue slowly over the bite, she let out a soft, helpless whine. Her neck stung, her body ached, but none of it mattered.

You’re a monster.

The thought rang in her head, clear and sharp like the blade she still grasped in her trembling hand. She should drive it into your chest, pierce through flesh and bone, end this before she lost herself any further. It’s what you deserved. It’s what she had sworn to do.

And yet… she couldn’t.

Her grip on the dagger tightened, but her other hand—traitorous, desperate—clung to you instead. Her body burned where you had touched her, where your lips had lingered, where your fangs had torn into her. It should have made her sick. It should have filled her with rage.

But all she felt was need.

She needed more of you.

The beautiful, haunting creature before her—so utterly inhuman, yet so devastatingly real—had her wrapped in something she didn’t understand. You were terrifying in your power, in your hunger, in the way you smiled at her like you knew every thought racing through her mind.

And God, maybe you did.

Vi swallowed, her breath unsteady, her body betraying her as she leaned into your touch instead of pulling away. You were beautiful. Beautiful in a way that was wrong, that was twisted, that was broken.

And she wanted more.

Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was the heat still pulsing through her veins from where your lips had been. Maybe it was the way you looked at her—head tilted, eyes glowing, licking her blood from your lips like she was the finest thing you’d ever tasted.

Oh, God, forgive her. She wasn’t thinking straight.

Her dagger still sat heavy in her grasp, her fingers curled around the hilt like it was the last thread tethering her to reason. But reason felt distant now, slipping through her like sand, replaced by something darker. Something warmer.

“You did so well for me,” you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction, with something she couldn’t name. “Such a good girl.”

She shouldn’t have felt that shiver down her spine.

She shouldn’t have been staring at your lips, still stained with her blood.

She shouldn’t have wanted to hear more.

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric of your elegant, long dress, fingers trailing over the bare skin beneath your low-cut top, feeling the cold skin of your breasts.

You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden heat of her touch. The dagger she had held so tightly fell from her fingers, clattering to the ground, forgotten. In that moment, you knew—she was yours.

Her guard was completely shattered. She no longer cared about the blade, the danger, or the consequences. All that mattered was you.

Her hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, every touch telling you what words could not. She was lost, consumed by the need you had sparked in her. And you could feel it. Every tremor in her fingers, every breath she took, spoke of a desire she couldn’t fight anymore.

She was completely undone. And she didn’t want to be saved.

She pushed you gently, the sudden pressure forcing you backward. Your lower back collided with the cool railing of the balcony, the edge digging into your spine, but you hardly noticed.

Now both of her hands remained on your skin, trailing with deliberate slowness beneath the cloth of your dress, exploring, caressing. The sensation was electric, every touch setting your nerves on fire as she grew bolder, her fingers brushing over every inch of exposed flesh.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the desperation in the way she touched you, as if she couldn't get close enough. The world around you faded, leaving only the sound of her breath and the feeling of her hands, relentless and tender at the same time.

And still, she didn't stop.

You could hear her heavy, desperate gasps, each one shaky and uneven, but she didn’t break the kiss. Not even for a second. Her lips were pressed to yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation, no space for restraint.

Every breath she took mingled with yours, each one more desperate than the last, as if she was trying to inhale all of you, trying to drown in the very essence of you. Her hands continued their exploration, her touch frantic now, but still gentle—like she was afraid of breaking you, even as she pulled you closer.

But you could feel it—the hunger. The desire. It was raw and uncontained, and you couldn’t deny that you were just as lost in it as she was.

Her skilled fingers traced patterns on your bare skin, moving up to cup your breasts perfectly, causing a whisper of a moan to escape your lips. She broke the kiss only to trail her mouth along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before moving down to your neck.

Her lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, soft at first, then slowly growing bolder as she began to suck, the pressure sending waves of shivers through your body. You gasped, your spine arching slightly at the sensation, every nerve on fire as she worked her way down your neck.

Her hands, relentless and sure, continued their path, moving over your chest, massaging your breasts with a delicate yet insistent pressure. Her thumbs circled over your hardened peaks, each motion slow and calculated, driving you to the edge of madness. She was so careful, so deliberate, it was as if she was savoring every second.

You could feel your heart racing beneath her lips, pounding in your chest as her kisses grew hungrier, more urgent. She nuzzled against your collarbone, breathing you in, her scent mingling with yours in the air. Then she kissed her way down your collar, open-mouthed, leaving heated trails of pleasure behind.

Her fingers tightened possessively around your breasts, and it felt as though she was claiming you, marking you as hers.

For a moment, the roles seemed reversed. She was the hungry one, the one consuming, devouring every inch of you with an intensity that made you dizzy. And you couldn’t help but let her.

Vi's hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, holding your head still as she continued her kisses down your collar, leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. She buried her face against your chest, breathing in deeply.

Her mouth moved lower, capturing one hard peak between her lips and sucking deeply. You moaned, your fingers finding her hair and pulling slightly. She released the first breast only to capture the second one, her tongue flicking against the hardened nub before she sucked again, alternating between your breasts hungrily.

One hand remained on your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between her fingers as her mouth moved from one breast to the other, alternating between gentle sucking and tender biting. The sensation made you arch your back, pressing yourself further into her mouth as one hand found its way into her hair, pulling her closer.

You tossed your head back, your hair flying behind you as she continued to worship your breasts. Her free hand roamed your body, feeling your curves, your waist, before settling on your other breast, squeezing and kneading it as she sucked hard on the other, making you cry out in ecstasy.

You were panting now, your chest heaving as she continued her dual attention on your breasts. She looked up, seeing your face contorted with pleasure, your mouth open in a silent 'O' as she alternated between sucking and biting gently, her hands never stopping their kneading and squeezing.

The cool night breeze was a sharp contrast to the heat that simmered between you two. It swept across the balcony, tousling your hair, the wind grazing your skin like a tender, fleeting touch. The chill seemed to only intensify the warmth that pulsed between your bodies, an electric tension that refused to dissipate, no matter how soft the breeze was.

Suddenly, a rustling sound from just outside snapped you out of the moment. You instinctively pushed Vi back, and the look she gave you was almost childlike—a mix of confusion and disappointment, as if you had taken away her favorite toy.

"Do you hear that?" you asked, your voice low and tense.

She grunted, clearly frustrated at the interruption. "It’s probably just an animal," she muttered, but before you could respond, she quickly leaned in again, trying to close the distance between you.

You stopped her, lifting your top back up with a teasing smile, as if reminding her of the world outside the bubble you’d both created. Her eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and desire, but you could see the fight leave her as she stood there, waiting for the next move.

"God, you taste so good," Vi murmured, her voice desperate, and you smirked, enjoying the praise. "As did you," you replied smoothly, savoring the moment.

But just as you were about to lose yourself in the moment with her, a voice called from the hallway. "Vi! Are you with someone up there?"

Vi didn’t answer, her eyes still on you, but the voice repeated, "I’m coming up!" Footsteps could be heard approaching the stairs.

Her face twisted in frustration, but her desire for you was overwhelming. "It’s nothing. They’ll leave eventually." She tried to reach for you again, clearly not wanting to be interrupted.

You stood firm, cold and unyielding, watching the door as you said, "Go."

Vi hesitated, the want in her eyes clashing with her need to keep you close. But eventually, reluctantly, she left to answer the door. You could hear her barely muffled voice as she spoke to the person on the other side.

The loud knocking sounded again, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone stepping inside. And then the voice—sharply—spoke, "Is that a bite mark on your neck, Violet?"

You knew it was time to disappear.

Without another word, you slipped out of the balcony, vanishing into the night, your figure swallowed by the shadows. You didn’t look back. You never did.

Vi, however, would be left with nothing but her own confusion and desire, and you knew she would find her way back to you.

[midnightspasms]

oki

[midnightspasms]

Before Trueform!Sukuna realises he wants to be with you....

Sukuna wasn't exactly sure what to do with you at first. He'd pillaged your village, and you'd been the only survivor. Apparently, you were the healer's daughter and somehow managed to just not be there while he was killing everyone.

He was bored by the time you got back to your village, idly sitting atop some of the ruins as you walked through the desolate grounds, a basket of herbs and leaves in your arms.

Since then, he'd just let you tag along his journey. Sukuna's not exactly sure why you're fine with this, but he assumes you were mistreated while you'd lived in the village. There's scars over your body, and you get quiet whenever conversation leans towards family.

Sukuna doesn't exactly mind your presence. He's grown used to it, a bit stoic, really. You're like a companion he even forgets he has sometimes. You dress his wounds when he's injured, and you cook sometimes.

You're a good cook. He'll admit that. Even when it comes to human meat. You never eat it with him, but you cook it delectably.

Sometimes, when he's really frustrated, you let him have his way with you. There's no romance, no feelings, Sukuna's heart is like lead when he's between your legs, fucking into you on grassy planes and the open outdoors. But your body is just divine; you're tight and warm and soft, and your moans are nice to hear.

You like clothes. At least he assumes you do. Whenever he finishes slaughtering, you come out from the forest where you stay while he kills. You go into the houses, picking out clothes from dead girls' closets. He doesn't know yet why he bothers to wait for you, while he follows you around quietly while you go house to house.

He's fucked you in a lot of dead girls' jewelry. Sometimes, he thinks you like it in a sick, twisted way, letting him feast on the sweetness between your legs as you palm the jewels of merchant wives he's just murdered, blood still on the gems sometimes.

But Sukuna doesn't mind. He doesn't mind much about you.

You're a bit on the quiet side some days. Some days, you chat his ear off. He's grown used to your volatile personality. And well, he guesses he can live with that.

You're good company, and he can learn to live with you for a long while. He doesn't mind it. Maybe one day he'll finally settle down. Maybe with you.

Maybe Sukuna will have a little place deep in the mountains, away from civilisation, and you'll be there too, doing mundane life things with him, keeping him company the way you do now. It's a stupid thing to imagine, and he doesn't know why he does. He wants you in a house with him like you are now. He wants.... he wants you.

But he thinks that's what he wants. As he watches you roast a skewer of meat over a flame he set, he thinks that he wants more of this with you. A touch of domesticity, maybe a little more affection when fucking.

Yeah. Sukuna wants a quiet life with you.

[midnightspasms]

The first time Sukuna touches you, you'd tried to kill him.

He remembers the cold look in your empty eyes, such a contrast to how they'd been wide with unease when he was palming at your thighs earlier that day. You were in the kitchen, and your mother and his father - he never refers to them as your parents. He doesn't consider you family. - had left for the evening. He stood behind you as you washed up, large palms groping and caressing your flesh, lips spewing filth into your ear.

That night, he heard a noise in his room while he slept. As he began to wake up, cracking his eyes open, he saw you. He swears it was you. You looked manic, and you stood over his bed with a cutting board. He remembers how empty and hollow your eyes had looked when you'd raised the wooden board over your head and whacked it on his.

His father and your mother just think he'd slipped and hit his head on his headboard. He had to get stitches. He swears you tried to kill him. He knows it. But he doesn't mention it to anyone. He doesn't know why. Sukuna watches you closely, eyeing how you appear so meek and shy around everyone else.

Lies.

He knows who you are. He doesn't touch you again for a while. But he does make comments about how he knows you're faking it; the meekness, the calmness. He sneers as you pass by him in the halls, eyes growing hard and cold as you begin to dress a bit skimpier. You give him looks sometimes, too, brush his arm and his groin.

He thinks you may be trying to pull him in, to give him signals to touch you, even though you're stepsiblings. But he doesn't dare. There's a scar on his temple. He thinks you'll succeed the next time.

It's when your mom and his dad are out on a trip for the weekend. You slip into his room in nothing but lingerie, a sly smile on your face as you shut his door behind you. He doesn't look away from you, pausing his game and taking off his headset. He swallows as you approach, eyes raking over your body in the skimpy lace.

He's scared you might kill him this time, but he can't find the willpower to pull away when you come to straddle his thighs. His palms find your ass quickly, slowly groping and squeezing the flesh as his lips mould themselves against yours. You're a loud fuck, and he's almost scared the neighbours might hear.

Every thrust of Sukuna's hips has loud mewls falling from your lips, and your nails drag red lines into his back without mercy. It's so good. You're so tight, and you're so wet, and there's a mess on his sheets, and he doesn't care. He litters kisses all over your neck, your chest, he loves touching you.

Sukuna sleeps that night with his door locked and the lights on. He hears the knob turn, but he doesn't open it. He thinks you'll succeed this time. He keeps his door locked every night after he fucks you.

He thinks you'll succeed this time.

[midnightspasms]

Before Trueform!Sukuna realises he wants to be with you....

Sukuna wasn't exactly sure what to do with you at first. He'd pillaged your village, and you'd been the only survivor. Apparently, you were the healer's daughter and somehow managed to just not be there while he was killing everyone.

He was bored by the time you got back to your village, idly sitting atop some of the ruins as you walked through the desolate grounds, a basket of herbs and leaves in your arms.

Since then, he'd just let you tag along his journey. Sukuna's not exactly sure why you're fine with this, but he assumes you were mistreated while you'd lived in the village. There's scars over your body, and you get quiet whenever conversation leans towards family.

Sukuna doesn't exactly mind your presence. He's grown used to it, a bit stoic, really. You're like a companion he even forgets he has sometimes. You dress his wounds when he's injured, and you cook sometimes.

You're a good cook. He'll admit that. Even when it comes to human meat. You never eat it with him, but you cook it delectably.

Sometimes, when he's really frustrated, you let him have his way with you. There's no romance, no feelings, Sukuna's heart is like lead when he's between your legs, fucking into you on grassy planes and the open outdoors. But your body is just divine; you're tight and warm and soft, and your moans are nice to hear.

You like clothes. At least he assumes you do. Whenever he finishes slaughtering, you come out from the forest where you stay while he kills. You go into the houses, picking out clothes from dead girls' closets. He doesn't know yet why he bothers to wait for you, while he follows you around quietly while you go house to house.

He's fucked you in a lot of dead girls' jewelry. Sometimes, he thinks you like it in a sick, twisted way, letting him feast on the sweetness between your legs as you palm the jewels of merchant wives he's just murdered, blood still on the gems sometimes.

But Sukuna doesn't mind. He doesn't mind much about you.

You're a bit on the quiet side some days. Some days, you chat his ear off. He's grown used to your volatile personality. And well, he guesses he can live with that.

You're good company, and he can learn to live with you for a long while. He doesn't mind it. Maybe one day he'll finally settle down. Maybe with you.

Maybe Sukuna will have a little place deep in the mountains, away from civilisation, and you'll be there too, doing mundane life things with him, keeping him company the way you do now. It's a stupid thing to imagine, and he doesn't know why he does. He wants you in a house with him like you are now. He wants.... he wants you.

But he thinks that's what he wants. As he watches you roast a skewer of meat over a flame he set, he thinks that he wants more of this with you. A touch of domesticity, maybe a little more affection when fucking.

Yeah. Sukuna wants a quiet life with you.

[midnightspasms]

The first time Sukuna touches you, you'd tried to kill him.

He remembers the cold look in your empty eyes, such a contrast to how they'd been wide with unease when he was palming at your thighs earlier that day. You were in the kitchen, and your mother and his father - he never refers to them as your parents. He doesn't consider you family. - had left for the evening. He stood behind you as you washed up, large palms groping and caressing your flesh, lips spewing filth into your ear.

That night, he heard a noise in his room while he slept. As he began to wake up, cracking his eyes open, he saw you. He swears it was you. You looked manic, and you stood over his bed with a cutting board. He remembers how empty and hollow your eyes had looked when you'd raised the wooden board over your head and whacked it on his.

His father and your mother just think he'd slipped and hit his head on his headboard. He had to get stitches. He swears you tried to kill him. He knows it. But he doesn't mention it to anyone. He doesn't know why. Sukuna watches you closely, eyeing how you appear so meek and shy around everyone else.

Lies.

He knows who you are. He doesn't touch you again for a while. But he does make comments about how he knows you're faking it; the meekness, the calmness. He sneers as you pass by him in the halls, eyes growing hard and cold as you begin to dress a bit skimpier. You give him looks sometimes, too, brush his arm and his groin.

He thinks you may be trying to pull him in, to give him signals to touch you, even though you're stepsiblings. But he doesn't dare. There's a scar on his temple. He thinks you'll succeed the next time.

It's when your mom and his dad are out on a trip for the weekend. You slip into his room in nothing but lingerie, a sly smile on your face as you shut his door behind you. He doesn't look away from you, pausing his game and taking off his headset. He swallows as you approach, eyes raking over your body in the skimpy lace.

He's scared you might kill him this time, but he can't find the willpower to pull away when you come to straddle his thighs. His palms find your ass quickly, slowly groping and squeezing the flesh as his lips mould themselves against yours. You're a loud fuck, and he's almost scared the neighbours might hear.

Every thrust of Sukuna's hips has loud mewls falling from your lips, and your nails drag red lines into his back without mercy. It's so good. You're so tight, and you're so wet, and there's a mess on his sheets, and he doesn't care. He litters kisses all over your neck, your chest, he loves touching you.

Sukuna sleeps that night with his door locked and the lights on. He hears the knob turn, but he doesn't open it. He thinks you'll succeed this time. He keeps his door locked every night after he fucks you.

He thinks you'll succeed this time.

[midnightspasms]

Pairing: Professor!Geto x reader

Synopsis: Geto likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him. So when you apply to become his teaching assistant, he can't let the opportunity go.

Content warnings: Swearing, male masturbation, lewd/perverse behaviour, age gap, teacher x student relationship, spit sharing if you squint, Geto is a creep and a pervert!

Suguru wouldn't exactly consider himself a moral person. Sure, he didn't steal or kill, but that was the bare minimum. He wouldn't ever fail a student purely because he didn't like their face, but maybe he'd put much of the topics they struggled in in the test. So sure he wasn't exactly Jack the Ripper, but he wasn't that much of a good person.

The first day you walked into his class, he could tell that there was something in his chest for you. It wasn't serious, wasn't plentiful. Truly, if you dropped the class, he'd probably end up forgetting you entirely.

But you didn't, and the more he saw you, well...

He likes the kind of girl you are; the pretty, wealthy heiress with gold on her wrists and diamonds on her ears. You're the girl with a meticulously crafted reputation. The model student with big brains and a nice ass but doesn't show off the latter. The one that's gonna graduate Summa Cum Laude and pretend like that's what landed her summer internship and not daddy's connections.

Oh, he likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him.

When you apply to be his TA, he's pleased. He picks you without hesitation, throwing the rest of the applications in the bin.

When you step into his office with your not-too-tight top and not-too-short skirt that does nothing to hide that ass, he grins at you lazily, pleasantly, as you sit before his desk and he begins giving you the rundown of your work as his TA.

"You can begin with grading those papers," he says afterwards, voice smooth like velvet, deep like a 15-foot well as he gestures to the pile of test scripts on his desk.

You look over to the pile of test scripts at the edge of his desk. "Sure," you hum as you stand and pick up the stack.

You look up at him, Professor Geto, "Is there a marking guide I could use?" You ask him slowly as you stand before his desk.

Out of all your professors, Geto was probably the one that intimidated you the most. And not in a scary way, it was the way he was; the languid yet confident way he carried himself that made him seem untouchable, made him seem so far away from the other academic staff.

You became his TA because of his connections in the world of academia. Otherwise, he unsettled you.

Geto cocks his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest, as he regards you with a languorous blink. He's amused, though for what reason, you don't know.

He lets out a small huff, a sort of exhale through his nose as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a slender booklet. It's a copy of the marking guide; crisp and new. He hands it to you, eyes never once leaving your face.

"You're a smart girl," he says lowly, voice honeyed and smooth.

You take it from him with your free hand, "Thank you."

You turn around and wake over to the smaller desk next to his, putting the pile of scripts down on the wood. "Do I have a time constraint, sir?"

Geto sits back in his own chair, the leather making a quiet creaking noise as he folds one leg over the other, ankle over knee. He leans his elbow against the chair handle, his jaw propped on his knuckles.

"No, not exactly," he replies with a shrug. "Do it in your own pace."

You hum as you take a seat, your lips pursed. "Alright." You say as you pick up the first script.

You sit with your ankles crossed, the marking guide to your right as you begin grading the scripts. It's the scripts of freshman students, and it's obvious in the way the answers are structured.

You furrow my brows as you lean closer, trying to grade it the way your professor does, strict but not harsh, and with comments on how to improve.

All the while, Geto watches you. There's something almost voyeuristic in the way he does so - as if he were a photographer taking a candid picture of a woman without her knowledge. His eyes slowly drift over your form, the way the sunlight shines on your hair, the way you push a stray strand away from your face, the way your skirt tightens over your thighs...

It's strange. He doesn't even really like you, but there's something about you that pulls him towards you like a moth to a flame.

And you can't deny that the atmosphere is calming. The silence in the air and the air conditioning has your focused, and you finish the scripts in a little over an hour, silent as you put the last paper on top of the pile. "I'm done, sir." You call out to him as you finish, turning to look at him.

When you turn to look at him, he lifts an eyebrow, and his mouth slowly quirks up. "All thirty test scripts in an hour?" he says disbelievingly, but the impressed tone in his voice betrays his words. "I knew you were smart, but God damn."

You purse your lips as he speaks. "Would you like to go over them?" You ask slowly, eyeing the scripts. Now that he's expressed such surprise in the time you'd used, you can't help but doubt your work.

He lets out a low chuckle as he uncrosses his legs and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders back as the muscles in his back flex. He's a tall man with a wide chest, a lean swimmer's physique, all lean muscle and languid grace.

He walks over to your desk, and looks down at the pile of testscripts before he picks one of them up, thumbing through it.

You sit forward on your chair, a leg crossed over the other as you eye him tensely. Your elbows on the desk, fingers holding your pen to your mouth as you slowly, absently chew on the cap at the end of it.

Geto's gaze is how it always is, meticulous and calculated, as he scans through. The way he flips through papers, the way he stands, the subtle yet immense precision and grace in his posture as he examines your work only makes you more on edge.

While you sit there, tense and with a pen in your mouth, Geto stands tall and relaxed beside you. He reads through some of the answers for a minute, before he hums and nods to himself.

Then, slowly, he sets the paper down and looks down at you, and his gaze drifts down to your mouth, where your pen is in between your teeth.

He reaches out, and without saying a word, he gently pulls the pen from your mouth with his fingers.

Your lips partly just slightly as he pulls the pen from them, and you say nothing about it.

Geto holds the pen in his hand, idly spins it through his fingers with a practiced dexterity. His gaze drifts to your mouth, now open slightly, before it slowly lifts to your eyes.

Then, he lets out a huffed laugh, and looks away.

"Your grading is good," he says slowly, a hint of amused surprise in his voice as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You picked all the correct answers, and you gave just enough critique. Good girl."

The praise feels inappropriate, but then again, everything about Geto does.

"Thank you, sir." You murmur as your gaze drifts down to the pen in his hand. Embarrassingly, you can see the shine of your saliva on it, and a weird feeling spurs in your belly at the thought of your professor holding that pen. "I tried to emulate your grading."

As you mention emulating his grading, he hums, a languid sound in the back of his throat as he glances back at you. He doesn't smile, not really, but the amused look in his eyes only deepens.

"You did a good job of it," he says lowly. "You've a knack for this."

You can't help but smile. It's a slow, little one, but there's a tiny hint of pride in your eyes. "Thank you. Honestly... I didn't think I'd do this cause of scheduling difficulties." You murmur. You already have a lot on your plate. Truly, you only applied to be his TA so you could get recommended for Master's programs.

His eyes remain on you, taking in the small, slow smile that curves your lips. He's never really seen you smile in class, and the way your small mouth curves up on the edges makes you look so different.

Your phone buzzes then. You look down at it and Geto looks down at you.

"I have a meeting now, sir." You say as you stand, relieved to finally be done after grading those scripts.

"Sure," he says, voice deceptively light as he lets the word roll off his tongue. "Have fun, darling."

You offer a noncommittal hum as you grab your bag, hanging it over your shoulder as you turn to leave.

"Good night, sir." You tell him slowly as you bow once before making your way out of the room.

Geto's eyes remain on you as you walk out the door, watching the way your hips sway.

Once the door closes after you, he stands in place for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then, he sits back down in his chair with a huff, picking up your pen again, tracing his thumb over the cap.

Even as he sits alone in his classroom, Geto thinks about you.

That small, barely-there pout you had on your face as you left, the way you walked away from him with your hips and ass swaying, the way you sat before him and focused on your grading for an hour.

He brings the pen to his mouth, and before he can even fully register what he's doing, he sticks the tip of the pen into his mouth, tasting the drying remnants of your saliva on the cap.

He's not quite sure what he's doing, but once he tastes the residue of you on the tip of the pen, a single thought runs through his head.

What would you taste like?

He pulls the pen out of his mouth with a quiet pop as his thoughts wander, a sly, serpentine smile on his lips.

He looks down at the pen, tracing the writing on the body idly with his eyes, before he lets out a soft hum.

Oh, he's going to have fun with this...

He slowly pushes back from his desk, the chair letting out a creaking noise. He stands up from his chair and walks over to the door, quietly opening it, peeking his head out and looking at the quiet, empty hallway.

He can't see anyone. It's completely deserted, not a single person in sight.

Geto steps back into his office with a satisfied hum and locks the door with a click. The silence in the room is deafening. No one's there to interrupt him. He walks back to his desm with no apprehension.

Geto leans back against his chair, palms planted on the wood of his desk as he stares down at the pen he still holds in one hand. He holds it up in front of his face, and he slowly runs his tongue over the plastic.

Your saliva tastes slightly sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Intoxicating. Just like you...

Geto lets out a quiet exhale as he imagines the taste of you in his mouth. He's never tasted you - of course he hasn't - but the thought of that saliva being on his tongue and not on some inanimate pen is enough to make him shiver.

He looks down at the pen again, at the saliva shine, the way it gleams in the light...

He pops the cap into his mouth and swirls it around with his tongue. A quiet grunt escapes his chest as he tastes you on the plastic, and he slowly brings a hand down to his trousers...

He knows he really shouldn't be doing this, not in his office, not after hours, not as your professor. But something about you turns him on, badly. Maybe it's the way you bite your lower lip when you're focused, maybe it's the cute way you chew on the pen caps, maybe it's the way you look him in the eyes with that tiny, little pout...

The thought of you looking up at him, down on your knees, mouth open in front of him...

He lets out a hiss, leaning back against the edge of the desk as he palms himself through his pants. He closes his eyes and lets out a low moan as he pictures it, one hand cupping his bulge through his trousers and the other keeping him steady on the desk as his mind conjures up images he's never had before.

You're not just a pretty girl, no, you're a smart, pretty girl. The kind that gets straight As and knows how to use your words.

You could probably talk him into almost anything, if you tried. That thought makes his knees almost buckle.He knows that you're too good, too pure to be as dirty as him, too innocent to be as perverted as he is right now, but still, he can't get the images out of his head.

Imagining you in front of him, on your knees, wearing that pretty green skirt of yours, looking up at him with that little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

"Darling." he murmurs your name, voice husky and rough as he unbuckles his belt one-handedly and spits out the cap of then pen unto his free palm before dropping it on his desk. The metal of the buckle clinking against itself. He unzips his trousers quickly, hands almost shaking in his eagerness.

He knows this is wrong, that it's wrong to think about you like this, but God, he can't stop. He lets out a quiet moan as his hand wraps around his already hard, the head already slightly sticky with pre-cum. He strokes himself once, twice.

He's used to imagining nameless, faceless girls, the kind they use in porn, the kind that don't make the right noises, but instead of that, instead of them... he's imagining you now.

You're not even here right now, but he can almost hear you. The way your voice gets all soft when you're focused, the cute little noises you make when you're concentrating on your work.

He can practically see it now. You, on your knees, looking up at him between his legs, watching him with that cute little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Darling," he says breathlessly, eyes still closed, "Open your mouth for me."

He tightens his grip around his cock, stroking just a tad faster as the scene changes, imagining you in nothing, looking up at him with your eyes wide and eager on your knees.

And, because he knows you're good, his brain even supplies him with the image of you begging him to do it. "Fuck-" He chokes out a groan, squeezing at the base of his cock.

It's all slimy and moist at this point, his purple head still bubbling out pre as he masturbates to the thought of you, hips bucking into his hand like a schoolboy virgin.

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Shit baby," he says breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut, free hand tightly gripping the arm of the chair till his knuckles are white. He's going to cum soon and he knows, the room filled with the nasty schlack schlack of his hand furiously stroking his dick. "Open your mouth for me, baby."

God, he can't get enough of the thought. You, with that cute little pout, opening your mouth, wanting to do as he says, wanting to be good and swallow all the cum he's goibg to release.

"Oh Godddd," his head falls back, neck against the headrest as his hips buck up into his palm and his body goes tight like a bowstring.

His dick spurts it out when Getou finally cums, ropes of sticky, white arousal landing on his stomach and his slacks.

He's breathing heavily when he finally comes down, limp dick still in his grip as his eyes catch the pen cap on his desk. Your pen cap.

"Fuck- I have to fuck her."

[midnightspasms]

Sukuna's walking a thin line when it comes to his relationship with you. There's the part of him that considers you his best friend, the one person he's comfortable enough to tell everything to.

Then there's the part of him that's undeniably attracted to you. And it's not just your looks.

Sukuna loves the idea of you; the pretty rich girl who shouldn't be hanging out with him, the one whose father scowls at him every minute, whose friends can't help but stare at him in fear and disdain.

You're everything he's been told he can never be. You are the perfection his chaos can never become, and he can't help but love it, can't help but chase after it again and again.

It blurs the line that keeps you two as friends.

It's what has his arm around you during lunch, has him breaking his wallet to buy you your stupid lattes and your stupid shoes and jewellery. It's what has him keeping you on his lap at parties, gatherings.

It's what has his palms sneaking under your skirt, fingers tracing the lace outline of your panties as you sit on his lap in the stupid little gathering he'd pulled you to.

"You horny?" Sukuna whispers into your ear as his middle finger reaches the damp crotch of your panties, pushing the fabric between your lips. "Cause you're so fucking wet, baby."

You suck in a breath. Your lower half is obscured by the table before before you, but you're certain if someone were to come round, if someone were to just crane their neck a bit to peak, they'd see his hands between your legs.

"Sukuna..." Your words come out breathy, and the stimulation has your eyes fluttering. You hang your head low as you try to hide the pleasure etching itself unto your face.

He pulls your underwear to the side, and practically sighs when the pad of his finger touches your bare pussy. He groans as he gets a feel for it, rubbing along your slit before going up to gently tug at your clit.

You bite your lip, holding your moans as his middle and ring finger begin to push into you inch by delicious inch, the thumb of his other hand still working your clit so well.

You're pulsing around the two fingers stuffing your pussy, liquid pooling out as he pumps them in and out of you.

He presses forward, bringing his mouth to your ear. "Let's leave, yeah?" He ghosts your entrance. "I wanna taste your pussy, baby."

You're too dazed to think when he fucks you in his car. Sukuna has you bouncing on his dick in the driver's seat, your legs around his waist as he guides you up and down his rock hard cock.

He has a hand on your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're so fucking sexy, baby," he whispers as he watches you, eyes going from your face to your tits bouncing so erotically for him.

The empty parking lot is quiet save for the unmistakable sounds of sex; squelching pussy on dick, skin slapping and low, breathy moans from you and Sukuna.

"Ride me. Fuck- fuck this cock like you own it." He groans, raising his hip to meet you every time you come down on his cock. He's so out of it, staring at you with half lidded eyes as you whine and moan from how good his dick is in you.

His thighs are glistening with pre-cum and the spit from when he'd eaten your pussy, and the way your greedy hole's squeezing him in and pulsing around his shaft has his head falling back as he fucks into you.

"Kuna," You moan, eyes tightly shut as you're fucked into his dashboard, your back rubbing uncomfortably against it. But you couldn't bring yourself to care, not with how good his dick feels moving in and out of your tight pussy.

One of Sukuna's hands come up to grab at your left tit, the one on your neck coming down to furiously rub at your clit.

"Cum for me, baby," he pleads as his thighs begin to quake and his orgasm nears, "Come on. Give it to me, girl. Cum on this cock- it's begging, baby."

The problem with stepping across the line that defines your relationship is that you two weren't ready for it. You understood each other, but that doesn't mean you fit all that well.

He wants you, badly.

You want him too.

But that's not always enough. He's mean and he's rude, and he doesn't know how to be the kind of man you want. And you're not ready to compromise for his shortcomings.

You last two weeks before you fight.

"We were just texting!" Sukuna screams out, following after you as you stalk away from his bedroom, quickly crossing the hallway to his living room.

"She's sending you nudes!"

"Nudes? She was dressed!"

"In lingerie!"

Sukuna doesn't know how to set boundaries. He's never had to. He doesn't date. You're the first girl he's ever been interested in like that, and his pride and narcissism have him believing that you had to accommodate for his shortcomings.

That you had to manage his problems because he likes you and you know that, and you know you're his first girlfriend, and isn't that what a relationship is all about? Working through things?

The fact that you're not willing to is what pisses him off.

"She shouldn't be doing that. You shouldn't be allowing her! It's cheating!" You yell at him harshly, shoving him back as he approaches you.

"I can't get pictures now? It's not like I'm fucking touching her! You know I wouldn't touch her."

"It doesn't matter. Cheating isn't just touching, Sukuna! I don't want you interacting with other girls like that!"

He's boiling now, pissed at how you're talking to him, like you're trying to dictate his life.

"That's how I am! That's how I've always been. You knew that, and you still agreed to date me!"

"What? No! You asking me to date you meant that you'd stop all of this!"

It turns into a screaming match, with you walking out of his life.

And he thinks he's good for a while. Sukuna spends his nights in clubs, faded as fuck with girls all over him like he's some shiny lady-magnet. He posts his nights on his private story so you can see it.

He regularly drives past places he knows you frequently go to in hopes of running into you. He passes by your friend's places in hopes of seeing you. Everything he does is done with the intention of catching your attention.

It rakes him 5 weeks to show up at your doorstep again, eyes bloodshot and posture slumped.

Sukuna's mouth is on yours the minute you open the door, lips gently moving over your own as he holds your body to his. "I won't talk to her again," he murmurs, gently pushing you into your house and shutting the door behind him. "I won't talk to any other girl again. I swear, baby. Just take me back, baby."

Some may call you stupid for going back, but they're not here to hear the desperation in his voice, nor can they see the clear need in his eyes as he looks at you.

"Promise?" You whisper against his mouth, your hands in his hair as your breaths mingle.

"Promise, baby." His mouth moves to your neck, attacking the skin with teeth and tongue, "Fuck all the rest. I don't want them."

[midnightspasms]

showing up after 5 weeks of girls being on his story?? oh he must be out of his damn mind😒 I would've slammed the door on his dumbass

😭😭😭I do not condone Reader's actionss

maybe