#i want to literally rub my hand on his chest

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- mentally/emotionally abusive Naoya, Sukuna is possessive, violence, mafia ties, a lil bit of smut in here- whipped ass Kuna- he whimpers hehe- angst smut AND fluff - WC-6.2k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts- I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (esp on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part Three Playlist Masterlist Part Five>>> (coming Soon)

Part Four

“I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?” Your heart hammers in your chest, as Touma is tilting his head curiously, you bolt up to sit straight, feeling sick to your stomach as his cat-like tone works its way into your mind.

“What!?” You demand quietly, standing as you head towards the door, you’ve rarely ever had him come here, he’s been so uninvolved aside from his never ending calls or texts, which were just taunts truly.

“You heard me, honey, I’d love to come see you. Wonder what you’re wearing hmm?”

You hang up the phone, disgust making bile rise in your throat, turning to Touma then and bending low on your knees, brushing back his hair gently. “Hey baby, let Mama talk to him, hmm?”

“But will daddy upset Mama?” He asks, breaking you slowly into pieces, you take a shaky breath, plastering on a smile.

“No way, I’ll be good! Promise. But I want you to stay inside, will you do that for me?”

“Of course! I'm a big boy.”

“You are!” You snatch up a cardigan, you’re literally in a crop top and shorts, the last thing you need is him to tear apart you showing the stretch marks he loves to shit on you for, for being comfortable with your body, that gives him more power over you.

You open the door and see him, sleazy smile on his face, those narrowed brown eyes raking down your figure as you shut the door behind you, looking directly at him with a scowl. He chuckles, grinning with sharp canines as the sun that should be warming your skin makes you so hot you feel faint, blood pressure rising and rising to where you can’t breathe.

“Naoya. Need something?” You whisper, he leans a hand on the door, right by your head, the other brushing back your hair, you itch to smack him but you’re terrified, knowing more and more of what he does.

“Not a nice greeting sweetheart, where’s my kiss?”

“You’re not getting one ever again.” He laughs harshly, dragging you to him then by your waist, and you shove at his chest. “Back off.”

“No way to talk to me, maybe I should occupy your stupid fucking mouth, huh?” You glare and smack him right in the face then, earning him pinning your wrist brutally to the door. “Gonna put your hands on me?”

“You’re not gonna kiss me, ever agin. Stop it, you’re making a scene!”

“Then let me in, huh?”

“No. I’m not letting you scare Touma.” Naoya rubs his red cheek, letting your wrist go now, eyes trailing down your body once more, tugging at your cardigan, seeing the marks Sukuna left, glaring.

“And just what are these?” He touches your neck, making you shiver, pushing his hand off once more.

“None of your business, Naoya.”

“Gonna get marked up like some whore?”

“Says the man who had women bent over tables in front of me?” You counter, raising a brow, as Naoya tilts your chin up, touch so vile compared to Sukuna’s that you wonder how you ever really did it with him.

“If you would’ve tried harder, maybe I wouldn’t have had to. Served your man a little more, appreciated all I did.”

You scoff now, eyes narrowing. “All you did was down me, make me feel like shit, and blame me for your infidelity instead of just taking responsibility. And I served you plenty, you sure didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Get me off.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes and adjusting his suit jacket. “Oh really? You’re playing that?”

“It’s not a game, I know you didn’t.”

“And you’re gonna stand here looking so satisfied, for what?”

“Because I’m happy for once, you can’t stand it, can you?” You whisper, only for him to press your back against the door, hovering over you, for all his faults he’s never hit you, but your eyes go wide, tummy flipping so much you feel sick, you’re dying to just be in Sukuna’s arms suddenly. 

It’s an insane thought, too much too soon, but fuck you want him to hold you, to tell you it’ll all be okay, to feel him cup your face with one of his big hands, that make you feel so safe. You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to gather yourself, as Naoya continues to spit his nasty words, mixed with falsehoods.

“You wanna live in this piece of shit apartment with the kid?”

“He’s happy here, and it’s what I can afford.”

“So come back, and live like you should, have you in furs and diamonds, hmm?” He’s caressing your cheek as he speaks, altering his tone, and shit that used to work but now!?

“No.”

“No!?”

“No, I’m good with working hard, and doing what I can. I haven’t asked you for a dime, Naoya.”

“Making such good money shaking your ass?” You tense then, jaw setting, glaring back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Heard the rumors, someone saw you coming out of that club downtown, the real fancy one. Are you actually bartending, or are you just slutting it out?”

“I swear to god, go the fuck away.”

“Want me to tell the lawyer what you do? Mommy who strips, who knows what else she does for money. How much are you charging them?” He cooes again, brushing back your hair as your hands are numb from the blood pressure rising higher and higher, until you almost feel faint.

“What are you getting at, stop talking in circles.”

He laughs then, throwing his head back a bit. “That you either come back where you belong, with me, or I make sure he’s not gonna be yours.”

“You will not, and since when do you even want him in your life?” Your voice is under your breath, you can’t have Touma hearing, Naoya’s brows lower, as he finally backs up a bit, but his hands are slipping across the sides of your breasts, to your waist and your hips.

“Miss you, don’t you know?” He tries to run it, that game he used to, but it doesn’t work, not now that you’ve had Sukuna, a real man. “I need you in my bed, not some john at a club.”

“I don’t get paid to fuck.” You speak through your teeth, he snorts then.

“You were good with your mouth, you know.”

“Wouldn’t know if you were, thank god.”

“What now?” You smile then.

“Nothing. If you want to see Touma, set it up with our lawyer, you don’t need to come here, or do you want more legal involvement in your hair?”

“You threatening me, stupid little bitch?”

“Just giving what I’m getting, bet you don’t want the feds on you.” He laughs cruelly, pinching your cheek so hard you gasp.

“Think I don’t have feds in my back pocket? Stop acting like you fucking know shit, huh? Think about it, coming back, being safe with me, or acting like some dumb bitch at a club. What’s better?”

“Call me a bitch one more time, I swear.” He leans close, lips against your ear, hands slipping down your body, gripping at your hips.

“You’re real pretty when you’re scared.” Is all he says, kissing your ear and laughing again, before pulling back, finally allowing you a breath. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

You try to compose yourself, finally walking inside and seeing Touma nomming happily on his little cheese puff snacks, giggling as he’s watching his cartoon. You exhale in relief that he hadn’t heard it, but then a sense of dread starts to fill you, as you have no clue truly just what your ex is capable of.

******

Candy looks at you with a frown when you walk in, as do the other girls, not saying a word as you start to get undressed, they never really talk to you, seeing as you’re Mr. Sukuna’s favorite, and you can’t blame them. Sukuna was heavily lusted after by the girls here, and you’re sure from overhearing conversations that he used to partake in the women here as well.

But it definitely seems like he no longer is, as body spray is spritzed and lockers are shut, leaving you alone as you’re dusting glitter on your skin, struggling to pull yourself together just a bit. Sukuna isn’t here yet, and when he is you’re certain the flood gates are going to open, and tears will fall.

You need to tell him what happened.

You struggle to save face, stepping up the stairs to one of the stages, clear platform heels clicking, the straps have calloused your ankles all week, but you seem to be getting used to this again. Your body after just a couple weeks is a little stronger, a little more used to the movements, though you’re not sure you’ll be able to get up all the way like before Touma.

You spin and glide, earning grins and looks, as you slip to the floor, hair falling loosely, you’re not wearing a wig tonight, hair just flowing lightly, led lights glittering like diamonds on your skin. You try to fake a smile, try to put on a bright exterior, as men ogle you with their eyes, as they slip cash into your garter, when you see Sukuna walk in, along with Toji, Suguru and Satoru.

As soon as his eyes hit you, he knows something is wrong, and he panics, was it him, yesterday? Was it the fuckfest you two had!? Was he too much or…

What you do to him.

He walks up now, casually standing at the stage and pulling out hundreds, becoming you over, blunt in his mouth as he hands you a lighter. “Light it f’me, pretty hmm?”

“Of course, Mr. Sukuna.” You step closer, taking it and cupping around the flame, he exhales, slipping a hundred in your garter, then another few in your waistband, thumbs brushing on your skin, feeling so good then. “Don’t give me-”

“Shh. Tipping my girls here.” He says, inhaling the blunt as more men are gathering around, trying to garner your attention, and Sukuna’s putting another few hundred in your other garter, as your body responds to his every touch. “God just look at you.”

“Mnh…” Is all you manage to whisper, he smirks then, inhaling the blunt and exhaling against your skin as you spread your thighs, pulling your panties up to where your lips are just barely visible, making his head spin.

“Teasing me, huh brat?”

“Maybe.” You turn now, rolling your hips, before pulling him by his tie, as he stands so close, feeling your heat against him, making him almost moan as he lets you pull his face to your titties.

“You better not do this with anyone again.” He says as you jiggle your breasts, managing the first soft laugh since your run in with your ex.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Sir.”

“Fuck.” You pull back a bit, and he sighs as his name is called, looking over his shoulder, then back at you. “Come see me in a bit.”

You nod, finding it hard to pay any attention to any of the other men, outright shuffling off dances to the other girls, until your set is done and Sukuna eyes you heading to his office. Soon he’s in there, shutting the door and pulling you close, intending on kissing you when he sees the tense set of your face, the way your eyebrows are drawn together.

He softly says your name, and you know you’re losing it, your hold on everything. “Anyone bothering you?”

“Not any of the guys here, no.”

 “What’s wrong?” Sukuna cups your face, and as soon as he does, you drop your shields, your barriers, all your defenses, lip trembling so much you have to bite at it to make it stop. You’re blinking back tears, when his crimson eyes narrow with concern, his jaw tensing. “What’s wrong, brat, out with it.”

“I don’t wanna worry you.” You whisper, then Sukuna knows.

“He fuckin threaten you?”

“Just with custody, not… physical. But he was grabbing at me, saying nasty things to me… I… Kuna, I…”

“Shh, shit just c’mere.” He pulls you in his embrace, a big hand on your head, pressing you against  his chest, letting you inhale that familiar scent, feeling so right and perfect, this cardamom mixed with something so heady, so him. You inhale it as your tears decorate his black dress shirt, and he’s just holding you.

You can’t stop crying, it opens up like a damn flood gate, all while he’s holding you against his chest. “S-someone saw m-me here… that night he w-was here, I think he was looking for me.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens, holding you so close you can barely breathe. “He won’t fucking touch you, not a hair on your head.” Sukuna feels his chest aching, how much and how intense he’s feeling for you, with every breath you take, the thoughts fill his head over and over.

Kill him, he wants to kill Naoya.

It would start a fucking gang war though, but he can’t even think of anything, seeing red as he looks at the door to his office, as he holds you while you cry, over a man who doesn’t deserve shit, especially your damn tears. Didn’t deserve to touch you, and now has made you cry? No.

“He won’t bother you anymore.”

“You don’t understand who he is-”

“You don’t understand who I am.” You look up at him, as he swipes his thumbs across your cheeks. He can’t stop himself then, he wants to finally tell you, just how he feels, how much he feels. “Listen, I-”

Suddenly there’s a commotion, and Sukuna hears the sounds of a fight breaking out, you both quickly dart out of the room, and see it then, Naoya being held by his collar with Toji. The dancers and bartenders scatter, the men there gathering around, including several Zenin, with guns on the ready, you feel sick when Naoya sees you, wearing literally just pasties and panties.

Brown eyes lock as Sukuna spins a gold ring on one of his tattooed fingers, putting the insignia on it under his fist, stepping in front of you, as Toji hooks him under his shoulders, and Satoru and Suguru walk in, starting to punch the other men around you all, taking their guns right from their hands. The entire room is chaotic as you stand behind Sukuna, hand gripping his shirt like some lifeline.

“Out of the fuckin’ way, Ryomen. That’s my property right behind you.” Naoya says, and Sukuna’s body flexes with his fury, as he steps forward, laughing while he watches Naoya wriggle in Toji’s hold.

“She isn’t your damn property, Zenin.”

“She was my wife-”

“Was, being the keyword. You’re in our territory, fuck face.” Toji says then, and Naoya laughs, trying to heatbutt Toji and failing.

“Not the traitor son talking shit about territory, you all just are little bitches for the Gojo clan now, huh?”

Gojo quietly knocks another member out, until several are on the floor, as Suguru makes sure every last patron and dancer are out of the door, shutting and locking it with a click. “Speaking of my family, you are on my land, so why don’t you do us all a favor and leave her alone?” Gojo says then, as Sukuna steps closer, and Toji drags Naoya to a seat, holding his arms behind the back of it.

“The fuck do you care, you all tagging her?” Sukuna punches Naoya then, with a sickening crack, only making him lick the blood that drips from his lips, grinning when you find you have a jacket on you, tugging at it a bit and seeing Suguru smile just a bit, touching your back gently.

“You shouldn’t see this, love.” He murmurs, as Naoya coughs up once Sukuna has punched him in the stomach.

“Don’t talk about her, don’t even say her fucking name.” Sukuna mutters now, gripping Naoya’s collar and lowering his face.

“Do you know what my family can do?” Naoya asks, earning Sukuna’s grin.

“Do you know what I can do? What I feel like doing right now?” Satoru now has an arm around your shoulder, turning you to face his chest when you hear another scream from Naoya now, along with Sukuna chuckling.

“Shouldn’t see all that.” Satoru mumbles, as you’re shivering against him, and he has a hand on your head.

“I can look at it, I swear-”

“You really care about her, then you won’t piss me off, she’d fetch a pretty penny on the market, stretch marks and all- ah.” You hear another hit then, another sickening crunch of bone, making you just bury your face further against Satoru’s chest, feeling how stiff his own body has gotten, hands tight on you.

“Gojo, get her out of here while I finish this.” You hear gruffly, to just be ushered away from where your ex was further digging his grave. You’re gasping for a breath when Satoru has you in Sukuna’s office, struggling with your tears as you pull the coat closer against you.

“You have the worst taste, pookie.” Satoru says, and you laugh through your tears, as he leans over to grab tissues, dabbing them on your cheeks.

“How are you a mobster? You’re too sweet.”

“I am sweet, hmm?” He wiggles his brows, making you giggle again.

“How do you do that, be so sweet still?”

“Lots of sugary drinks. Sit.” You sit down now on the desk, hearing more screaming, trembling more as this giant coat swamps you, and Satoru sits next to you sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate this shit actually.”

“The head of the Gojo family hates it?”

“Sure do. Boring, bloody, just annoying. Sukuna, he really runs things for me, honestly, he can handle it all. I can but…” He frowns, looking at the backs of his knuckles, his long fingers spread out. “I don’t prefer to.”

“Do you think he’ll really do it, try to s-sell me?” Your trembling whisper makes Satoru frown now.

“He’s capable of it, and if Sukuna kills him now, there’ll be a war. He runs the Zenin at this point. But… no one will let it happen.”

“But my kid, I-”

“No one will let it happen. Okay?” You nod just a bit and he sighs, pulling you against him again. “Look like you need a hug.”

“Ugh, I do. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Satoru, we’re friends now hmm?” You nod with a little smile when Sukuna walks in, covered in blood all over his hand and forearms, eyeing you two.

But instead of irritation, he feels appreciative of idiot ass Gojo, even if just for the moment, as he comforts you. “I’ve got it now.”

Gojo smiles at you. “Don’t worry mmkay?”

You nod, wishing you could feel as unbothered as he’s trying, as he walks past Sukuna, and he murmurs something in his ear, before Sukuna shuts the door behind him, walking up to you now. Slowly, step by step, those dress shoes of his click quietly on polished hardwood floors, until he’s right in front of you, his shoulders finally relaxing their posture.

“Kuna…” You whisper, looking at his bloodied hands, as he cups your face with them, exhaling and leaning low, the crimson liquid decorating your cheeks as his thumbs brush over them.

“You need to come stay with me.” He says, husky voice so deep and broken, you take a shaky breath, your hands slipping up his shirt, dark line of sweat down his broad chest making it damp.

“I can’t do that, I can’t impose like that!”

“He’s more dangerous to you and your kid right now than anyone. You both need to stay with me for now so I can have you safe. No arguing, got me?” He says softly, and you nod, blinking tears back as he kisses you, deeply, hungrily now. “Good girl, actually listening.”

“Good girl, don’t do that.” You feel it then, his adrenaline just pouring from his veins, and he moans now, shoving off the jacket, baring you to him, every where he touches leaving little trails of blood, your ex husband’s blood at that, now coating your pretty breasts when he grabs them. You’re desperately unzipping him, feeling the need to be ever closer.

“God, what do you do to me.” He murmurs more to himself than anything, kissing the corner of your lips, down your jaw, pulling your pretty body so close, dying to take you, have you his and only his.

“Please.” You whine out softly, stroking his cock now, thumb trailing just over his piercing when he spreads your thighs, kissing down your neck, and you’re rubbing his tip between your folds, whining.

“I can’t touch her like this.” He huffs, and you whine out, making his cock throb in response.

“Don’t even need to touch me, please. In me- Ah!” As he presses his cock at your entrance, you’re soaking him, all while he’s cupping your chin, kisses hungrier now, your teeth clicking as he’s stretching out your little pussy.

“You’re too tight, brat, shit.” He huffs now, pulling your hair as he lays you back on his desk, yanking your thigh so he can sink even further, and you almost cum then and there, the sound drowned out by his mouth, muffling your cries.

“Need you.” You whisper again, and you needing him, hearing you say that, right along with your perfect pussy ruins him completely, he’s fucking into your slick walls now, harder and harder, pulling back to look at your face. Covered in mascara streaks, tears from this piece of shit who should have never had you, still so beautiful.

“You’re all mine now, aren’t you brat?” He huffs, you nod weakly, when his piercing drags on your spot, and you’re screaming out, he covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes dilated, lidded while he fucks into you. “Shh, baby.”

Baby.

Sukuna called you baby.

As you’re cumming and he’s whispering ‘that’s it, baby lemme fuckin’ feel you’ it’s partially from his cock, partially from his possessiveness, the way he owns you. He pulls out of you then, much to your whining dismay, chuckling a bit when he’s bent you over his desk instead, legs dangling at just how high it is, even with your heels they barely touch the floor.

“Mine, say it.” He huffs, fucking back into you, tip drooling as it kisses your cervix, your head falls back as you whine out. “Mine, just mine, never his again.”

“Never, Kuna, never.” Your cries are again muffled by a rough palm, as Sukuna feels a protectiveness so intense he can’t bear it, the need to claim you, to keep you, to make you his and all his. He’s closer and closer as he ravages your tight little cunt, which is pouring down his veiny length to accommodate.

“Gonna k-keep you s-safe, keep you cumming, f-fuck… got me?” You nod eagerly, screaming out into his palm when his ring drags on a new spot, and you’re cumming all over him, making him throb and moan himself, right in your ear, so sexy it sends shivers down your spine. “Gonna protect you baby.”

Protect you. 

Fuck you believe him, you trust him, more than someone you knew for years. The way he grabs you. Holds you. Kisses you. Fucks you. There's nothing like it, that strength as he rails your pretty pussy, yet the gentleness of his little kisses, then the feral way he claims you.

“Mnh!” Is all you squeak out against his rough hand, as your eyes roll back in your skull, and you’re convulsing around his thickness.

“Fuck…” Sukuna whimpers, the sound that always ends you even further, as he tries to keep going buried deep in you, he has to rest his other hand on the desk, clutching it, while he turns your face to him, breath on your lips burning. He almost says it, insane words, you make him think when you look at him with those eyes.

I love you.

Fucking brat, coming in and making him obsessed, making him soft, reckless and stupid, and now in love. He barely knows you, he’s surely pussydrunk, but that’s just not it, Sukuna has been whipped like a little bitch since day one, and it’s truly all your fault, as your pussy milks him, as your lips part and you look at him like that, like something he can’t explain.

Well shit.

He can’t just say that, so he stutters, his mouth open, shoving his cock so deep you scream out loud, and he couldn’t care less if someone heard then and there, not when he’s burying his face in your neck, murmuring your name. He also murmurs it, silently, those three little words, as he grabs you so tight, thick muscled arms around your body, so small compared to him.

“Kuna, cum in me, please. Wanna f-feel you.” You whisper, and who is he to deny anything you ask? He cums immediately, like your whispered plea was some command, his moans echoing in the room they’re so loud. “Mnh oh my god yes.”

You’re shuddering now, as his cock fills you so good, white cum shooting so deep inside you, and your head falls back as you rock your hips, arching your ass out for him to cum even deeper. Sukuna kisses you over and over, one hand gripping your hip, the other your face, trying to catch his own breath as he pushes in just a bit, feeling his cum and yours drooling down his length.

“Holy fuck…” You mumble, and he chuckles just a bit. “What?”

“You’re cute.”

“Cute, hmm?” He eases off you, pressing kisses down your spine, exhaling as he watches goosebumps rise everywhere he does.

“Cute. Even pouring cum like this.” You jerk as he pulls his cock out, and the emptiness and soreness hits. “Mmm, come with me tonight.”

“With my kid and everything? Let’s just… tomorrow? I mean I have to bring some things.” You try to adjust as you clean yourself up a bit with the tissues, hands shaking as you do.

“I mean… he’s not gonna do shit tonight, I guess, but I’ll have someone sit in front of your place, just to be sure.” You cup Sukuna’s face now, tiptoeing.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Let your kid sleep tonight, then we’ll figure something out.”

“Kuna I think I’m… like in love?” He snorts, but you’re dead serious, earning a blush on his high cheeks.

“It’s the moment brat, calm down.”

“Is it the moment?” Your eyes lock on his, he sighs now.

“You’re ‘like- in love’ what a shitty confession.” You glare now, earning his chuckle, the moment just a little lighter.

“Excuse me for not having the best confession, I have my exes blood on me and my boyfriend fucked my brain away.”

“Boyfriend?” He raises a brow, you bite your lower lip nervously then.

“Aren’t you?” He sighs, he wants to be that and more, brushing your messy hair back just so.

“You’re asking me out and confessing love? Damn, pathetic.”

“I swear if you-”

“I’m joking, brat.” He’s grinning now, for a moment this huge, tall and intimidating man with bruised knuckles is just a little sweetheart, genuine joy in his tone when he speaks. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah!?”

“Yeah.” You grin and kiss him again and again, until he’s damn near ready to fuck you all over, when the door knocks, and he clears his throat, grabbing his own coat and shoving it over your shoulders. “Come in.”

“Smells like sex in here.” Toji jokes with a grin, and Satoru sighs.

“Good sex.” He says with a pout.

“Can you two actually fuck off?” Sukuna demands, and you stand up, handing Suguru his jacket with a little smile.

“Thank you.” He smiles just a bit, nodding.

“How about we have a drink, I could sure use one.” Toji mutters, and Sukuna chuckles.

“Is that code for, I really fucked shit up and we need to talk about our plans?”

“Something like that. Wanna have a drink, doll?” Toji asks you then, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“I should get home, I need to be with my son.”

“I’ll have someone go there now.” Sukuna says, texting on his phone for a moment. “Want my driver to take you?”

“I can drive, Sukuna.”

“Aren’t you shaken up a bit?” Sukuna murmurs, before grinning. “Or should I say fucked out?”

“Oh stop!” You head off to get cleaned up and dressed, and when you’re out there aside from knocked over chairs and broken glass shattered, it seems relatively normal. Toji, Sukuna and Gojo are sitting there with Suguru at the bar, pouring them each a drink when Sukuna sees you, in your hoodie and jeans, sighing.

“You gonna be okay alone? I can come with you.” Sukuna asks, and Suguru hands you a shot, which you down with a little shiver, coughing a bit.

“If you have someone keeping an eye on the place I’ll be okay.”

“Just in case…” Sukuna walks behind the bar now, grabbing a gun and handing it to you, you blink a bit in confusion, frowning at it. “I’ll be showing you how to shoot a mother fucker.”

“Right now!?” You hear the chuckling of the men around you.

“Just point and shoot em, pookie.” Gojo says.

“I’m not gonna have a gun around! I don’t have a lock box and-”

“There’s the safety, and you can put it right under your pillow, just for tonight. Tomorrow I can protect you.” Sukuna says softly, putting the cool metal in your hands, dainty and shimmering. “It’s not a big gun, it’s tiny, just a little ‘22, enough that it’ll fuck em up, but barely any kick back. And easy to keep on you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, doll, ya need to start carrying, with that ex of yours? Trust us.” Toji says, you sigh then, nodding and taking the gun carefully, hand trembling just a bit.

“Safety is here, trigger here, it’s loaded so don’t play with it. Okay?” You nod now, and pops a little holster around your hips, securing it and covering it with your hoodie.

“I don’t have a permit-”

“Baby we run coke and are in the mob, you think that matters?” You look down and they all chuckle again at you. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I should go home though, I need to clean up and… be with my kid.”

“I’ll walk you out.” You wave to the other men now, as you feel the weight of his gun, though light, the mental weight of it is heavy on you, as you look up at him and a car pulls up.

“Only go straight home, already got someone parked, red mercedes, any other car lurking you call me, okay?” You nod then, leaning up and kissing him softly, sighing against his lips.

“I think I really love you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, pulling you against him now, hands warm even over the layer of your fleece hoodie. “Do I gotta baby proof my house for the kid, or can he keep his hands off my coke?”

“Oh god, Sukuna!” He’s chuckling more now, earning your narrowed eyes. “Yes I need it somewhat put up, certain things, but he’s three, not an infant, so he’s good with most things. Are you really sure this won’t be a big imposition?”

“I’m sure it’ll annoy the fuck out of me, but it’s worth it if you’re safe.” You melt now, the breeze softly blowing his pastel hair around as you look up at him in the night.

“You’re gonna meet the kid, hmm? So soon?” You tease, he smirks.

“Already clearly met the ex.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully, for a moment you can let go, this horrible night, a night where your ex said and did terrible things, and threatened worse, because with Sukuna you just feel safe.

“The kid, he looks like you…”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Sukuna’s mind flits, to wild things he shouldn’t think about yet, like if he puts a baby in you, but he tries to shove it back, down with the pesky I love you, that doesn’t need to come out yet.

In just a couple of weeks you’re turning his entire life upside down, but he’s not sure he’s upset about it, really.

“He’ll love you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” He is.

“Well, good night Kuna.”

“Dumb nickname.” He grumbles, kissing you again, soft and sweet, and your eyes meet, seeing so much behind them, the worry and fear and… more. “Call me when you get home, lock up good. Keep the gun close, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.” You giggle when he moans at that, hands on your hips, pressing you close against his hard body.

“Keep talking shit. I have that room soundproof you know.”

“Freaky ass.” He snorts, and you both kiss once more, as he leans over the car door, opening his mouth as if to say something, then sighing.

“Don’t forget to call me.”

“I won’t.” His heart aches when you drive off, he quickly walks back in however, his entire demeanor shifting when he sees the other men are serious now too, now that they don’t have to try to keep it a little more positive for you.

“He fucked up big time coming here.” Toji slicks back his inky locks, downing another shot of tequila, as Satoru’s hands clutch the bar so hard his thin veins are popping from his hands and wrists.

“He’s gonna come back with more people, we need to amp up, call in some of the guys to be on watch. God this shit is boring.” Gojo sighs now, leaning his snowy head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Tired of the Zenin.”

“They’re becoming more and more of a problem, no respect.” Sukuna takes a bottle of whiskey, pouring it into his glass now, jaw clenching. “And that Naoya, the things he fucking said.”

“Love is the biggest weakness, Sukuna.” Satoru murmurs, Sukuna glares at him, but he’s right.

You’re now his weakness, a target, long standing shit mixing with Naoya’s clear need to get you back, it spells disaster. “Did I say I’m in love, Gojo?”

“Written all over your face.” Suguru smirks a bit, earning Sukuna’s glare.

“And her kid, you’re like gonna be a stepdad. God, imagine Ryomen Sukuna as your step dad?” Satoru’s cackling, and Sukuna stands now, stepping up to him as he holds his hands out. “I don’t blame you!? I’d do it too, look at her-”

“I think I need more blood on my knuckles tonight.” Sukuna yanks Satoru by the collar, his arms flailing.

“Shit, sorry step dad-”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Separate you two, god.” Suguru shoves them apart, shaking his head. “Satoru, you really just enjoy being threatened I think.”

“You do love her.” Satoru gets released, brushing himself off as Sukuna grumbles.

“I’ll never let him touch her again, whatever I gotta do.”

When you’re snug in your bed after a shower, you yawn, calling Sukuna, who is riding back home. “Hey, Kuna.”

“Brat, are you all good?” He tries to hide the worry in his voice, but it comes out through the phone, as you turn on your back, blinking a bit, hand clutching tightly.

“I’m okay, I promise. Scared for Touma. I don’t know, would he hurt him?”

“He’d hurt you, and that leaves him with no mom. So it doesn't matter if he’d hurt him or not.” You bite your lip then, feeling exhaustion starting to seep in.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Tch.”

“Answer me, you brat.”

“Me a brat!?” He laughs now, and you giggle. “You’re asking for it.”

“Am I? Gonna punish me?” Your words are just a whisper, but hearing his sigh even through the phone makes your tummy clench.

“Hah- you’d like it too much, won’t you, me beating that bouncy ass?”

“Shush. I’m sore, you know.”

“Gotta work on the stamina, pathetic.”

“Hmm.” You’re dozing now, lashes are lowering, and he soon hears a light little snore, glaring at the phone.

“You’re sleeping?” He hears more snoring now, chuckling and leaning back in the seat, shutting his eyes for a moment, picturing you.

You’re making him so sappy, god it’s annoying.

“Night then, brat.” He murmurs, hearing you stir then.

“Night Kuna.” He hates the stupid smile on his face, hates the heat spreading from his cheeks to even the tips of his ears, hanging up the phone with a sigh, mind swirling.

Images of you, images of Naoya with his broken fucking nose, then more and more thoughts swirling, especially one-

How is he going to baby proof his damn penthouse?

A/N- there's a LOT of plot here vs just smut, but I really wanna get into just how awful the Zenin are in this mafia world, esp Naoya. NEXT CHAP we get Kuna meeting Touma OMG. Also I included a lot of Satoru bc he's getting his spin off hehe. Hope you enjoyed, tysm for the love so far on this lil fic!

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

[stxrkiss]

𓈒⠀݁⠀﹙ 𝓢﹚𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 ☆ ₊⠀ ៸៸៸

君を愛しすぎて、 恐ろしいくらいだ。

# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒦ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ☆ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹

# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳... 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵, 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱, 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳/𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐 ⚠

# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦.

The first time he met her, he had smiled—all warm and friendly, kneeling slightly to meet her gaze.

"Hey there, kiddo," he had greeted, holding out a hand for a handshake. "I’m Clark. It’s nice to meet you."

She had looked at his hand. Then at him.

Then she slapped it away.

"Don’t touch me, you giant farm freak," she had huffed, crossing her arms with the most dramatic pout he had ever seen.

Bruce had sighed in the background, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sweetheart," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Clark, ever the optimist, had laughed it off. "That’s okay, I get it. You’re shy."

"I’m not shy, I just don’t like you."

Oh.

Well. That was… blunt.

Bruce had sighed again, clearly exhausted.

"She’s a little difficult," he admitted, shooting Clark a look and said, Don’t take it personally. She’s like this with everyone.

But Clark did take it personally.

Because why didn’t she like him?

Every time he visited, she made it her mission to make his life miserable.

She refused to be in the same room as him.

She glared at him when he tried to talk to her.

She scoffed whenever he spoke—literally scoffed, as if the very sound of his voice was offensive to her.

But the worst part?

She hit him.

Not in a playful way, either. No, she slapped him.

Like the time he tried to ruffle her hair and she smacked his hand away so hard he actually had to take a step back.

Or the time he tried to pick her up and fly her around Gotham for fun, thinking maybe she’d like to see the city from above—only for her to kick him in the chest with all the force her tiny body could muster.

It didn’t hurt, obviously.

But emotionally?

It hurt a lot.

"Bruce," Clark sighed one evening, after yet another failed attempt at bonding. "Why does she hate me?"

Bruce, sitting at the Batcomputer, barely looked up. "She hates everyone."

Clark frowned. "No, she doesn’t. She loves Alfred. She loves Dick. Hell, she even tolerates Jason."

Bruce exhaled through his nose. "She’s… selective."

"Selective?" Clark echoed. "Bruce, she tried to bite me yesterday."

A pause.

Bruce rubbed his temple. "She has… behavioral issues."

"No kidding," Clark muttered.

And yet, despite everything, despite all the slaps, the glares, the insults—

Clark still tried.

Because deep down, Clark just wanted to be the cool uncle she could count on.

Even if, right now, she wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.

She was nineteen now.

Not a bratty little girl anymore—at least, not in the way she used to be. She had grown into her attitude, into her wicked little smirks and sharp, teasing words.

And Clark?

Clark had never stood a chance.

"Come on, Clark," she hummed, tugging on his tie as he stood behind her in the luxury boutique. "Be a good boy and carry my bags."

There was nothing sweet about the way she said it. No hint of genuine affection. Just amusement, like he was some plaything she enjoyed toying with.

Clark exhaled slowly through his nose, the fabric of his tie clutched between her fingers. She smelled expensive—velvet and jasmine, something rich and indulgent.

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But he still took the bags from her hands without a word. Because she expected him to.

Because she always expected him to.

And God help him—he never had the strength to say no.

It had started gradually.

One day, she called him to help carry her shopping bags. The next, she was dragging him into dressing rooms to critique her outfits.

She’d smirk at him through the mirror, knowing damn well what she was doing when she turned too slow, when her fingers brushed his as she adjusted a strap.

And he?

He tried—God, he tried—to be good. To be the man he was supposed to be.

But she made it so difficult.

Because she was Bruce’s daughter.

Because she was forbidden.

Because she wasn’t a child anymore—and she wanted him to notice.

And he had noticed.

Every time she crossed her legs just a little too slowly.

Every time she leaned in, speaking so close to his ear.

Every time her lips curled in that smug little smirk, like she knew exactly what kind of thoughts were crawling through his mind.

Clark felt sick.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

He was supposed to be better.

But she… she made it impossible.

And she knew it.

"You’re staring, Clark."

Her voice was smooth, honeyed with amusement. She leaned against the railing of balcony, sipping from a champagne flute like she owned the world.

Clark tore his gaze away, clenching his jaw.

"I wasn’t."

She laughed—soft, teasing, utterly cruel.

"You’re a terrible liar."

And then she turned to him, slow and deliberate, like a cat playing with a mouse.

"I like it, you know."

His breath hitched.

She tilted her head, her smirk widening as she caught the way his hands flexed at his sides.

"Knowing that even you aren’t so perfect."

Clark should have left.

He should have flown away, should have ended this madness before it spiraled even further.

But instead, he stood there. Still. Silent. Waiting.

Because she was right.

He wasn’t perfect.

Not when it came to her.

Never when it came to her.

Clark tried.

God, he tried.

His hands were on his wife, his mouth on her skin, his body moving inside her—fast, hard, like he could pound her out of his head.

Like he could fuck her out of his head.

It didn’t work.

No matter how tight his grip, no matter how deep he buried himself in the warmth of the woman he swore to love, it wasn’t enough.

Because she was there.

Not in the room. Not in his bed.

But in his mind.

"I like it, you know."

Her voice curled around his brain like silk, soft and sweet.

Clark clenched his jaw, his rhythm faltering.

He couldn’t think about her. Not now.

Not with his wife’s nails dragging down his back.

Not with her soft, breathless moans filling the room.

Not with her beneath him, giving him everything, and yet—

Yet it still wasn’t enough.

His fingers dug into the sheets as he thrust harder, desperate, as if he could fuck his way back to sanity. As if he could drown out that voice, that goddamn voice whispering in his skull—

"Knowing that even you aren’t so perfect."

Clark growled, pressing his face against his wife’s shoulder, biting down as he spilled inside her.

He didn’t moan her name.

He barely moaned at all.

Because deep down, in the filthiest, most twisted part of himself—

He knew who he had been fucking in his mind.

Later, when his wife lay naked on his chest, fingers lazily caressing his skin, Clark stared at the ceiling.

What was wrong with him?

She was here. The woman he loved, the woman he married, the woman who had given him her body, her vows, her whole damn heart.

And yet, all he could hear was her voice.

All he could see was her smirk.

All he could feel was the way she had pulled his tie, the way she had toyed with him, knowing damn well she had him by the throat.

Clark squeezed his eyes shut, his breath tight in his chest.

It was wrong.

It was so fucking wrong.

And yet—

When he finally drifted off to sleep, it wasn’t his wife’s warmth he dreamed of.

It was hers.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain filled the quiet space of their dining room.

Clark should have been present—should have been engaged, smiling at his wife, asking his son about his day.

Instead, his thoughts were somewhere else.

Or rather, on someone else.

Her lips.

Soft. Smirking. Painted in that deep, wicked red she loved to wear.

For God’s sake, she could be his daughter.

Clark swallowed, forcing himself to focus on his plate, on the sound of his son talking about his day, on the warmth of Lois sitting across from him.

Then—

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang.

Lois stood, her brows already furrowed as she moved to open it. Clark exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. Maybe it was Bruce. Maybe it was anyone else.

But when he heard Lois’ voice—tight, cold—he already knew.

"What are you doing here?"

And then—that voice.

"My father wants Clark to take me shopping. He’s the only man he trusts, after all."

Clark’s stomach dropped.

Slowly, he turned in his chair.

And there she was.

A tight black dress that hugged every curve. The hem too short, the neckline too low, her makeup subtle, like a trap waiting to be sprung.

She smirked at him, as if she knew exactly what kind of thoughts were twisting in his mind.

Clark could see the way Lois’ jaw clenched. She didn’t argue, but she didn’t have to. Her silence was enough.

"Give me two minutes," Clark muttered, pushing away from the table.

She only smiled as he brushed past her, heading to grab his coat.

The silence in the car was thick.

Clark kept his hands on the wheel, his knuckles white. He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t.

But she?

She watched him.

Legs crossed, lips curled, one manicured finger tracing patterns on her bare thigh.

He cleared his throat. "So… where are we going?"

A slow, lazy hum. "Oh, nowhere in particular."

He frowned. "I thought Bruce wanted—"

She laughed. Soft. Sweet. Cruel.

"He didn’t say anything, Clark," she admitted, voice syrupy with amusement. "I just thought we should have dinner. A little apology, you know, for my behavior the other day."

Clark finally glanced at her, suspicion in his gaze.

She smiled.

"I was rude. And my father always taught me to respect my elders."

The way she said it made his stomach twist.

Her eyes flickered over him, slow, appraising.

"So let me make it up to you."

Clark swallowed, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

This was a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

And yet—

He didn’t turn the car around.

The restaurant was lavish—gold-trimmed chandeliers, soft candlelight flickering over polished mahogany tables, the air thick with the scent of fine wine and indulgence.

Clark felt out of place.

Not because he wasn’t used to luxury—Lois had dragged him to a fair share of high-end places before—but because of who he was here with.

She sat across from him, poised and elegant, her black dress clinging to her like it had been poured onto her body. Her hair was sleek, her lips painted that same sinful red, her nails tapping against her wine glass as she gazed at him with something dangerous in her eyes.

Like a cat watching a mouse.

Or worse—like a predator watching prey that didn’t know it was already caught.

"Order whatever you want," she murmured, voice light, playful. Too easy.

Clark’s throat was dry. He glanced at the menu, barely able to focus on the words. "This place is expensive," he muttered.

Her smile widened, lazy and amused. "And?"

He sighed, setting the menu down. "I can pay for my own meal."

A small, soft laugh. "I know you can," she mused, tilting her head, studying him like he was a particularly interesting specimen under glass. "But I invited you. That means I pay."

"That’s not necessary," he muttered.

She hummed. "Just let me take care of you, Clark."

He tensed.

Because the way she said it, the way she let his name slip from her lips like silk, was wrong. Too intimate. Too indulgent.

Still, he said nothing as the waiter approached. He ordered something simple, quick, something to get this dinner over with. She, of course, ordered the most expensive wine on the menu, smiling sweetly as the waiter practically tripped over himself in the presence of her beauty.

Clark stared down at the table, willing himself to act normal.

She was Bruce’s daughter. She was half his age. She was off-limits.

And yet—

She made it so damn hard.

Conversation came easy. Too easy.

She asked him about work, about Smallville, about Krypton—things she had no reason to be interested in, and yet she listened, really listened, her chin resting on her palm as she sipped her wine and smiled.

Clark hated how good it felt.

Hated how, for just a moment, he almost forgot that this was dangerous.

And then—

Her fingers brushed against his.

Clark’s breath hitched.

It was soft. Barely there. A fleeting touch as she reached for her glass, her fingertips ghosting over the back of his hand, warm and delicate.

He tried to ignore it.

Tried to pretend it didn’t happen.

But then she did it again.

And this time, she let it linger.

Clark swallowed hard, staring down at the table, at the way her slender fingers curled around his own, as if testing, as if seeing how far she could push before he pulled away.

He should have. He should have yanked his hand back.

But he didn’t.

Because his body—traitorous, weak, craving something he shouldn’t—refused to move.

"You’re so tense," she murmured, voice smooth as silk, as warm as the candlelight flickering between them.

Clark’s jaw clenched. "This is inappropriate."

She laughed—soft, amused, unbothered.

"Inappropriate?" she echoed, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand, slow, deliberate. "Clark, I’m just holding your hand."

He inhaled sharply. "You know what you’re doing."

Her lips curled. "Do I?"

"Yes," he ground out.

She tilted her head, her nails lightly dragging against his skin. "Then tell me to stop."

Clark finally looked at her.

She was waiting.

She knew. She knew damn well.

That he wanted to.

That he should.

That he couldn’t.

And that—

That was what made her smile widen.

The drive was silent.

Not peaceful. Heavy. Suffocating.

Clark kept his hands tight on the wheel, his knuckles white as the city lights blurred past. She sat beside him, her posture relaxed, her scent curling into his lungs—velvet and jasmine, warmth and sin.

He needed to take her home. Now.

His body felt wired, skin too tight, thoughts too loud. He needed to get away from her. Away from the way she made him feel. Away from the things she made him think.

And yet—

“Take me here,” she murmured, tapping a name into his GPS.

Clark’s gaze flickered to the screen. A hotel.

His jaw clenched. “No.”

A soft laugh. “Just drop me off, then.”

Clark should have refused. Should have said no, should have driven straight to Wayne Manor and let Alfred deal with her.

Instead, he turned.

He didn’t know why.

Or maybe he did, and that was the worst part.

The hotel was opulent, grand, the kind of place meant for people who could afford indulgence.

Clark felt wrong being here with her. Felt sick.

And yet, he still walked her inside, following her through marble hallways, past velvet-draped corridors, his mind screaming at him to leave, leave, leave.

But he didn’t.

She stopped in front of her door, swiping the keycard, the soft click of the lock echoing too loud.

Clark took a step back. “Go inside.”

She turned to him, tilting her head. “Walk me in?”

“No.”

A smirk. “Why? Afraid?”

Clark exhaled sharply. “Go inside.”

She didn’t listen.

Instead, she stepped closer—so close he could feel the warmth of her breath against his throat.

And then—

A kiss.

Soft. Feather-light. A touch of silk, a whisper of warmth against his lips—like a butterfly’s wing, there and gone in an instant.

Clark froze.

Wide eyes peered up at him, watching. Waiting.

He could still feel it. The ghost of it. The soft press of her lips, something innocent yet tainted—something so terribly, horribly wrong.

She leaned in again.

And this time, he kissed her back.

God forgive him.

He let her.

For a moment—just a moment—he let himself fall.

And it was wrong. So, so wrong.

But she tasted like everything forbidden. Like something that would ruin him completely.

His hands should have pushed her away. Instead, they lingered at her waist.

Her fingers traced his jaw, trailing down his chest, toying with the hem of his shirt—and he let her.

Clark felt sick.

And yet—

He still didn’t stop her.

Because maybe—deep down—he didn’t want to.

And that?

That was the worst sin of all.

The first thing Clark felt was warmth.

Soft. Smooth. Wrong.

His eyes snapped open.

And there she was.

Curled against his chest, her breath slow and steady, her fingers still faintly gripping his skin. The sheets tangled between them, silk pooling around her bare shoulders like some cruel parody of innocence.

Oh, God.

He sucked in a sharp breath, nausea curling in his stomach.

What have I done?

Slowly, carefully, he untangled himself from her. Every movement felt like a sin. His limbs felt heavy, his body aching in ways he refused to acknowledge. He swung his legs off the bed, planting his feet against the cold floor, trying to breathe.

He needed to leave. Now.

But then—

A sleepy murmur. The rustle of silk.

"Clark...?"

His shoulders tensed. He didn’t turn around.

The bed shifted as she sat up, the sheets sliding against her skin. He could hear the way she clutched the fabric to her chest, could feel the weight of her gaze pressing into his back.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice was soft, uncertain. Almost pleading.

Clark clenched his jaw. His hands trembled as he reached for his shirt. He needed to get dressed. He needed to get out.

"This..." His voice came out raw. Ugly. "This should have never happened."

Silence.

Then—softly—"Clark—"

"No." He snapped, whirling to face her. Her eyes widened at the fury in his voice.

"This was a mistake," he hissed. "A disgusting, unforgivable mistake."

Something flickered in her expression—something fragile, something almost wounded.

Clark didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care.

He yanked his coat over his shoulders, moving toward the door.

But before he could reach it—

Arms wrapped around his waist.

Clark froze.

Her body pressed against his back, her grip tight—desperate.

And then—

A choked breath. A broken whisper.

"Please don’t go."

Clark’s entire body tensed.

Her voice—so different from its usual teasing cruelty—was shaking. Unsteady.

"Please... please don’t leave me alone."

And then—wetness.

Soaking into his shirt. Silent tears.

Clark stared at the door, his hands clenched into fists.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

She was lying. She had to be lying.

But her grip on him only tightened.

"I feel so lonely without you."

Clark’s breath hitched.

For a moment—just a moment—he thought about turning around.

Thought about holding her.

Thought about whispering things he shouldn’t.

But he didn’t.

He pried her hands from his waist.

And he walked out the door.

Leaving her behind.

Alone.

© stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.

[kaicha05]

Title:“Obviously”

Derek had faced hunters, kanimas, alpha packs, and more supernatural nightmares than he cared to count. None of it had made his palms sweat quite like this.

Sitting on the couch, rigid as a steel beam, he glanced at Stiles, who was fidgeting with his fingers, his knee bouncing at a mile a minute. They had rehearsed this conversation—twice.

“Okay,” Stiles exhaled, rubbing his hands together before clasping them tightly. “Eli, bud, we, uh—well, we wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eli, who had been sprawled on the armchair with his legs hanging over the side, lazily looked up from his phone. “Yeah?”

Derek cleared his throat. Why was this so hard? He felt ridiculous. Stiles was the one who’d insisted they talk to Eli before making any legal moves, and Derek had agreed. It was the right thing to do. But it was also nerve-wracking as hell. “Well, uh,” Stiles started, then promptly turned to Derek. “You do it.”

Derek scowled but turned back to Eli. “Stiles and I have been talking about getting married.”

Eli blinked. “Okay?”

Derek hesitated. That was… underwhelming. Stiles jumped back in. “And, y’know, if we do that, we were thinking of making things official with you too.” He licked his lips, eyes darting to Derek for reassurance before continuing, “Like, legally official. Like, I could adopt you.”

Eli blinked again. Then he snorted. “Yeah, obviously.”

Stiles stared. “Wait, what?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Dude, you practically live here already. You take me to school when Dad’s busy, you’re at every game, you nag me about my grades—”

“I do not nag,” Stiles huffed.

Eli ignored him. “You make Dad less grumpy, and you keep the house from looking like a brooding cave. And let’s be real, I already call you for advice before I call him.” Derek frowned. “You what?”

Eli shrugged. “No offense, Dad, but you kinda suck at emotional pep talks.”

Stiles grinned. “He really does.”

Derek shot him a look before turning back to Eli. “So… you’d be okay with it?”

Eli made an exaggerated expression of deep thought. “Let’s see. Do I want Stiles to be legally obligated to put up with my nonsense? Yes. Do I want the ability to guilt-trip him by calling him my official dad? Also yes. Does this change literally anything in my life? No.” Stiles huffed a laugh, shoulders finally relaxing. “Okay, wow. You really took the tension out of this moment, kid.”

“Did you want me to freak out?” Eli raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I can if it’ll make you feel better.” He gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, you’re getting married? Stiles is going to be my stepdad? This is so shocking! My world is changing forever!” Derek groaned, but Stiles cracked up. “Alright, alright, you made your point.”

Eli grinned and stretched. “Cool. Can I go now?”

Stiles feigned offense. “You don’t even want to help us pick out wedding colors?”

“Nope.”

Derek sighed, rubbing his temples, but Stiles just grinned. “Fine, fine, you’re dismissed.”

Eli hopped up, but before heading to his room, he paused. His teasing smirk softened, and he looked between them. “For real, though… I’m happy for you guys.”

Derek felt something warm settle in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was relief or something deeper. Stiles beamed, nodding at Eli.

“Thanks, kid.”

Eli just shrugged before disappearing down the hall.

Stiles turned to Derek, a smug grin on his face. “Told you he’d be cool with it.”

Derek huffed. “You were just as nervous as I was.”

“Shh,” Stiles said, kissing Derek’s cheek. “Let me have this.”

__________________

Authors Note:

I have never watched the Teen Wolf movie, and as of right now, I don't intend to. I do not like the fact that Derek dies or that Stiles isn't in it. Even though I know that wasn't the actors' choice and there's nothing wrong with it, I just don't feel like I could handle it, since Stiles and Derek are two of my favorite characters in the whole show.

That said, I do love what l've seen of Eli as a character online, and my shipper brain can't help but love the idea of Derek and Stiles being his parents-or just being parents in general. I mean, come on, Eli is basically the embodiment of Stiles' personality.

So, no matter what canon says, I'll always think of them as a family.

[bloodykora]

Yall i ain't gonna lie im very sleepy tonight. Its not even 12:30 and I wanna go mimimimi so I'll leave you with this:

What if Buggy took care of us, what if he tucked us into bed for once knowing how tired we were. For the first time ever he cracks down the wall of just receiving that delicate and new kind of love and decides to give it back.

Helping you change into sleep clothes, admiring how your skin looks in the moon's glow, listening to your mumblings of sleep nothing and nodding along, tucking your feet into the bed and lifting the covers. And he expects to leave you, walk away back to his captain duties.

But you grab his hand, your eyes barely open but still somehow staring up at him so deeply that he feels guilty about leaving. There are no words, just a small defeated sigh from you and he knows you've won.

"Just stay, to protect me." You let out, barely audible. "You're right, I wouldn't want anyone to sneak up on you during the night." He takes off his boots before slipping in beside you, it doesn't take long til you're cuddled up with him. And then soon after you're both dozing off into rest.

[kashverse]

gojo calls you every name but your actual name—sweetheart, baby, pookie bear, sometimes even "oi, babe"—but never your actual name. so when he finally did, when he looked at you dead in the eyes and said it, your whole body stiffened. "are you okay?" you asked immediately, squinting at him like he was on his deathbed. "blink twice if you need help." you even reached out to check his forehead for a fever, because surely, this was a medical emergency. gojo just blinked at you, utterly confused, before doubling over in laughter. "you seriously think i'm unwell just 'cause i said your name? that's so messed up—i love it."

nanami calls you every name but your actual name—dear, love, sometimes just a heavy sigh paired with a side glance. so when he actually did, when his voice dropped and he spoke your name with the weight of a thousand bricks, you felt your stomach sink. "is this a breakup?" you blurted out before he could even continue. nanami blinked at you, his brow twitching. "what?" you crossed your arms. "you're using my actual name," you pointed out. "is this a professional resignation from this relationship?" nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "no. i was just asking if you wanted coffee." but the damage was done. you spent the rest of the day side-eyeing him, just in case.

geto calls you every name but your actual name—angel, sunshine, princess, even "chipmunk" when you get on his nerves. so when he finally did, when he said your name with a certain weight, you panicked. "oh my god," you gasped. "you found out, didn't you?"

"found out what?" his eyes narrowed. "the shampoo," you admitted, guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "i've been using your fancy shampoo. that’s why you keep running out so fast." geto just stared at you, eyes unreadable. then, very slowly, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. "that explains a lot."

"are you mad?"

"no. just disappointed." ouch.

toji calls you every name but your actual name—doll, sweetheart, brat, depending on his mood. so when he actually did, when he gritted out your name over the phone in the middle of the night, your stomach dropped. "oh my god," you whispered. "are you dying?"

"what?"

"you're out on a job, aren't you? is this a last words kind of call? should i be preparing for the worst?" toji groaned, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "jesus. i just needed you to grab my extra ammo from the closet."

"oh."

"...but now that you mention it, maybe bring a first aid kit too."

choso calls you every name but your actual name—babe, honey, sometimes just a hum of acknowledgment. so when he actually did, when he uttered your name so carefully, you felt your chest tighten. "you're friendzoning me," you whispered, horror-stricken. "this is the end." choso blinked, his face scrunching up in genuine confusion. "what? no. i was just—"

"it's okay," you sniffed. "you wanted to let me down easy, huh? didn't want to go for the direct breakup."

"babe, i was literally just asking if you wanted extra sauce on your food." but it was too late. you had already started mourning your relationship.

sukuna calls you every name but your actual name—dove, brat, little one, sometimes even "human" when he's particularly irritated. so when he finally did, when his voice wrapped around your name with sharp precision, your survival instincts kicked in immediately. "listen, listen, i didn't do anything," you pleaded, hands raised. "whatever it is, it wasn't me. i swear. please don't kill me." sukuna just stared at you, unimpressed. "i was literally just calling you."

"yeah, exactly," you said, eyes darting for possible escape routes. "why would you use my actual name unless i'm in serious danger? is this a death sentence? am i about to be vaporized?" sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "you're so dramatic."

"says the one who tears people apart for fun!"

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room ��� far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can���t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[producedbysohyun]

Cuddling

Squid game x reader hcs

Summary: How the people in squid games would cuddle you (separate)

Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Se-mi, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Jun-ho, Hyun-ju, Mi-na (non!squid game au)

Warnings: might be slightly suggestive at some points.

masterlist

a/n: I love writing these so much! I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!!

Thanos

Get ready to be crushed

Lays on-top of you

And does not let you get up for anything

“Let me get up for a second I-“

“No.”

While laying on-top of you he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck or chest

If you do end up getting up he whines until you lay back down

Type of Bf to use your butt or thighs as a pillow 😔✊

Randomly bites you

Has cute aggression 100%

Very deep sleeper

Moves so much in his sleep so if you guys fall asleep cuddling at least one of you is gonna be upside down when you wake up

Will give you pda anytime anywhere he does not care

I’m literally Dr. Seuss

In-ho

Not very big on cuddling

He tolerates it for you tho 😚

Even tho cuddling isn’t really his thing he LOVES when you sit on his lap

Especially when you’re facing him

Also likes when you lay on his chest

Literally just lets you cling to him and do whatever

Acts like he doesn’t care for it but we all know the truth

When he’s tired he just completely lets his guard down

That will probably be the only time he initiates cuddling

Other wise you’re kinda on your own 

Se-mi

Loves laying on your chest !!

Gives you neck kisses when she’s the big spoon 😏

Also a biter

Likes to have you on her lap

Touches your tummy while cuddling

you cannot stop her 😡

Clingiest Gf you can have !!

Takes every opportunity to hug you from behind and just stays like that for as long as possible

When you lay on her chest she likes to play with your hair

Another deep sleeper

Girl will not wake up for anything

If you are in bed with her you better be ready to never leave the bed again once she gets her hands on you

“Babe I need to get up”

“Five more minutessss”

Dae-ho

Most cuddly person ever

Big spoon !!

not so secretly likes being small spoon sometimes

Either rests his head on-top of yours or in your neck

If you guys fall asleep like that expect not to be getting up at all

Literally has a death grip on you

Lays his head on your thighs or chest pt.2

Will fall asleep immediately if you start playing with his hair 🙁

HATES sleeping without you

The lightest sleeper ever

If you softly shake him awake he will either have a dramatic mom reaction or he’ll just be confused asf

My babbyyyyyy

Myung-gi

Struggles to sleep if you aren’t next to him

Religiously the big spoon

He likes to put his hands up your shirt while cuddling and his excuse is

“My hands were cold 🙁”

“Damn right they are 😡”

Yaaaa we all know his real intentions ✊

Neck kisses pt.2 !!

Another one that uses your thighs as a pillow

Moves a lot in his sleep as well but stays holding you the whole time somehow

Loves you being on his lap pt.2

The type to rub your thighs while watching a movie or some sht😭😔🙁😭😡😔😔😡

I want him so bad

Gives you so much kisses !!

I need someone like him omg 😔

Jun-ho

Loves cuddling face to face if that makes sense 😭

Likes to hear about your day while just holding you

Listens intently and plays with your hair as you speak

He also enjoys when you lay on his chest

The weight of your body calms him down and he feels better knowing you’re safe in his arms

If he’s feeling extra vulnerable that day he’ll lay his head on your chest

Probably gets super exhausted after work sometimes so he just falls asleep the second he gets home

and when you join him in bed he immediately wraps his arms around you

Overall I don’t think he’d be to big on cuddling but he also wouldn’t mind

Hyun-ju

She’s just a big teddy bear

Especially when you’re alone with her

She isn’t too big on pda so in public she probably just sticks to holding your hand

But in private you’re getting cuddles, kisses, you name it

There will be a lot of giggling going around

Loves if you braid or play with her hair while cuddling

Lets you try out new hairstyles on her to see which one looks the prettiest 🤭

Loves when you lay on-top of her

When the both of you go to bed she HAS to be touching you

No matter if it’s holding hands or being straight up on top of eachother

Poor girl just needs you 😔

Mi-na

I feel like she wouldn’t really care for being touchy with anyone but if it’s her s/o

Sign her up !!

Definitely small spoon

She wants to be treated like a princess 😋

Puts her legs over your lap and just pouts at you till you rub them

If she’s feeling a little frisky she’ll get you to put your head on her chest and then just cling onto you

Loves giving you kisses !!

ugh I want her

Cannot fall asleep if you aren’t in bed with her

a/n: hii! I hope you guys enjoyed thissss! (If you’ve made requests it might take awhile for me to get to them I’ve been busy lately I hope you understand!) (reqs are currently closed)

[milkmily]

Make you feel good?ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──────────────────────────

Mr. Crawling X Fem reader

Smut cuz I want this man. Oral(reader receiving), fingering, praising, messy sex bro it's just super goofy, Mr. Crawling has a cold body so everything about him is cold, unprotected sex, PiV, I like to think he's super loud in bed, he has a long black tounge here, And I believe that's all for now :)

I played the game and omg I'm literally so obsessed over him like omg omg I love him sm

You were stressed. Tensed up.

And Mr Crawling saw this. But you'd always give him a smile whenever he asked if you were okay, if you had any pains. You were in bed, the curtains pulled as Mr. Crawling was on the floor behind them.

You had told him you just wanted some privacy for a bit. He was confused but he smiled at you. You smiled back at him and pulled the curtains. At first it was quiet. Maybe you just needed to rest a bit in private. He would have left if you asked him but that's okay. He heard some small shuffling and weird sounds. You were making sounds. You usually make these sounds when you have these ‘ scary dreams’, as you call them.

“Just wake me up when you hear me screaming or making sounds.” You told him once. You weren't exactly screaming but you were making weird sounds. He goes up to the bed as he peaks through the curtains and he sees you. You weren't wearing any clothes. Aren't you cold? You usually say you get cold when you don't have clothes on. The sheet wasn't even on you.

You were making weird sounds, your hand down between your legs as the other hand was cupping your breast. He keeps watching you. He's curious as to what you are doing. You were Whimpering, biting your lip, eyes, clothes as your head was thrown back. Your hand was rubbing small circles, your feet were curled, you were sweating as well. “Ah- Oh my-” You were so lost in your own pleasure you didn't even feel the bed Move a bit. You thought it was just you. You were so close. So so close. And then you hear Mr Crawling. you open your eyes and scream as you grab the sheets. “W-What are you doing here?! I-” he grabs on to the sheets and pulls them. He giggles as he looks down at your body. His hands go to your stomach, making you jump.

He's so cold!

Goosebumps all over your body. You look at him and let him continue. His hands move slowly up to your chest and you moan. His cold hands feel so nice on your warm body. “You Feel…good?” He asks and you nod. “Yes.” You say. He giggles and brushes his thumb over your nipple. You moaned and felt his other hand rub up and down on your thigh. You open your legs a bit more and try to move your hips to his hand. You wanted him to touch where you wanted him to. You whine as you grab his hand and move the tip of his fingers to your clit. You moved them in small circles. Fuck, he's so cold but it feels good.

He watches you as you move his hand to your wet slicks. He smiles and looks at your face. You looked like you were feeling good. No pain. Good. Pleasure. He starts to move his fingers by himself and you move your hand to cup your breast. “Good?” He asks again and you simply reply With a moan. He will simply take that as a yes. And as he watched your body move under him, he felt weird too. A good weird. He grins and moved hus fingers down to where was even more wet. You gasp at his cold touch and look at him. “Mr. Crawling- wait- um.” He stopped and tilts His head to the side. “Me make you feel good?” He asks and you nod. “Just, one.” You say as you hold a finger up. You grab his hand and show him. “One.” You say.

“One.” He repeats with you, just in his own language. He looks down and allows your hand to show him. You moved his long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp. Jesus, his fingers are so long. And honestly, his cold touch makes it feel even better. “Out.” You say as you move his hand out. “In.” And push it back in. You keep repeating as you whimper.

He moved his hand by himself, understanding now. He looks at you and sees your face. You had this expression on you that was just pure bliss. An expression he has never seen from you. He wants to see it more. He looks down at your wet cunt, covering His finger with your own cream. He starts to move faster, making you moan louder. “Ah- Yes, so good, good!” You moan as you hold on to his shoulder. He tilts his head and grins. He wonders… how would you taste? Sweet? sour? disgusting? No, you would never taste like that. You'd probably taste amazing. Just the thought of that made him lick his lips. He goes between your legs and lifts them up, putting them on his shoulder. “Wait! What are you doing?” You ask surprised and see his face closer to your dripping cunt. What would you smell like? He obviously knows you smell nice, but he needs to smell you better, closer. He needs you close to him. He needs to be inside you.

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

“Are you smelling me?” You ask, a bit creeped out. He looks at you and nods. “Good.” He says as he continues to smell. Oh, you smell amazing. You smell so good. You see him open his mouth and feel something cold and wet go between your folds that caused you to jump. He stopped as stood there. He grins and He grabs your hips. He hurriedly brings them closer To his face. You yelped and moaned as you felt his tongue lick your clit. “Y-Yeah, t-there. You're doing go- ah oh, you're doing good.” You moan as you move your hips. Mr. Crawling whimpers as he keeps licking your. Your praises had him feeling weird, weak, not a bad way. A good way. A good type of feeling that he wants to hear and feel more. His long tongue swirls around your small bud. He looks down at your aching hole and pushes his tongue, causing you to yelp once Again.

He seriously likes surprising you a lot.

You run your hands through his hair. Hearing him whimper just meant he liked your hands on his hair, so you kept going through his long black hair. You move your hips up and down, trying to reach your High, you need to. Fuck, all these random jump scares and random events. It just made you so stressed up. How long has it been since you've ever even felt this good?

Your ex couldn't even go down on you and Mr. Crawling is here, eating you up as if you were his first meal in years. You felt so loved and wanted with him. Because with him, he made you feel wanted. He Makes you feel good. He makes you feel so loved. You hold his hand and lock fingers with him as you throw your head back. You're close, so fucking close. You moan and gently tug at his hair, your thighs Starting to close. But he keeps them apart with only one of his arms. “I'm close! I'm so close!” You whine as you rub yourself into his nose, coming on his tounge. He's panting like a dog, droll and your juices dripping down from his chin onto the bed sheets. He pulled away and looked at you, who was panting.

“You, use me.” He says. You looked at him puzzled as he got on the bed and moved his head down. You looked down and saw a very obvious huge tent under his black gown. Oh god. “Please.” He says as he lifts up the gown to reveal his long cock, it twitches as precum drips out from The angry mushroom tip.

ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙──

Honestly you don't even know who is loud right now. You or him. He's moaning and Whimpering so loud, it just turns you on way more. You were on top of him, your legs open as you squat down on his cock, your hand on his chest to support yourself. He was moaning as his hands moved to your hips to try and help you more. His own hips moving up from time to time to feel you and be deeper inside of you.

you look down to see how your pussy would sink into his cock. God, he felt so good, he was making you feel good. You have to let him know, you already know how much he adores to be praised by you. “Good- ah! So good! You- good!” You moan as you feel his wet cock go in and out of you. And suddenly you feel something cold and goopy. You looked at him and said, “you came?”

But all he does is hold your hips and move his own on to yours. His moans became louder. It was messy. So goopy. You could hear the squish sounds that came every time you sank in, your skins slapping with the wet sounds. Honestly, it turned you on way more. You moved one of his hands to your breast that wanted attention just as much as your hips wanted them. He holds them and plays with your nipples, his long tongue swirling around them as he whimpers and moans. Your nipples got even harder as you felt his cold tongue.

You couldn't think anymore, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock hit your g-spot. Your legs give up in even trying. But he didn't give up, he grabbed your ass as he held and moved his hips upwards, faster and much harder. You scream as your eyes roll back even more. The bottom of his cock was covered with your cream. “T-There! Like that!” You yelled and he continued, not changing his pace. You hold tightly to his shirt as he holds the flesh Of your ass tightly, Whimpering and groaning as his cock keeps going in and out of your pussy.

Without even saying anything, you cum On his cock, soon feeling his cold cum shooting inside of you again. You whimper and whine at every touch, panting as you try to catch your breath.

Mr. Crawling lets you lay down on the bed and looks at you. “You, you feel good.” He says. “I want more.” He says as he spreads your legs open to reveal his own cum and your juices spilling out of you.

“More.” He says.

You smiled And nodded. “More.”

Mr. Gap heard and saw it all lol.

Hey @caotictimmy , I expect those feet in 3 to 5 business days.

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #2 ; size kink w shidou ryuusei .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

ugh! ryuusei is so crude ! :( i want to act like a hate it, but he always catches on when i get nervous or shy at his antics and it’s soooo embarrassing! he knows me in and out (literally) especially when we’re havin’ sex. he’s running his mouth, always making fun of how wet aroused i get and how my ‘cunt clenches around nothing like a slut?!’ he doesn’t have to say it out loud… i can’t help but get so shy around him — my own boyfriend! is that so bad!? i think his physique also makes me nervous… >< ryuusei is so tall and so beefy ♡ he always catches me staring! i think he could launch me across the room if he wanted to! i better be careful…

“look at how small this pussy is compared to my dick. are ya gonna cry when i fuck this pretty pussy?” shidou hums, pressing his tip up against your chubby folds, and then comparing his cock against your tummy. a low whistle leaves his lips, accompanied by a cocky chuckle, watching the bulbous heap of his tip nudge against your belly button.

“s—shut up ryuu! y’r n-not that big..” you bite, words faltering when you realize the awfully dumb and bold statement that had unconsciously fallen from your lips. he quirks his head with a grin — it’s hilarious to hear you say that from below him, his body hovering over the entirety of yours and his hand damn near the size of your womb.

“that’s funny.” he gloats, sharp canines making an appearance when he flashes a smile. "you really think so?" his cock slips against your folds, folded upwards as he leans down besides you, hot breath felt in between the soft concave of your collar and jaw. you twitch when he gives your neck a soft nip, hot breath tickling the peachy thin hairs on the shell of your ear.

“y’r g’na see just how big i am when i fuck this pussy till it tears.”

he whispers into the shell of your ear, giving your neck another soft nip accompanied by a nibble from his sharp canines.

“go away! y’b—big fat brute.” you hiss weakly, ignoring the way your cunt clenches around nothing at his crude words. you look away, purposefully ignoring the heavy gaze set on your face to avoid his confrontation — putting up your strongest facade to avoid his humiliation. “look at me.” he growls, fingers pressed into your jaw to turn you to him.

you whine, small, shaky hands pushing weakly at his heavy chest, his skin soft and glowy to the touch after hours of being drenched in sweat. “what, y’scared?” he quips, laying his body down onto yours, enveloping you into his warmth.

he reaches his hand below to take yours into his, pressing a thumb into the apple of your palm before giving it a damp kiss. “give ryu a kiss.” shidou presses his lips onto yours at the same time his fat tip nudges in between your folds, prodding against the very hole he needs to be in -- you need him to be in. you feel his warm pre leaking into your slit, dirtying your slit.

he’s amused at the way you whine into his mouth, trying so hard to wriggle away under his heavy weight and push him away again — but he knows how much you love this. how much you love the power he holds over you, and how easily he can have you under him with a sleazy kiss and a few rubs to your little pussy. “don’t be scared, doll.” he mumbles against your lips.

you hate the way he chuckles when you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his bicep when he attempts to shove his way in. “ryuusei,” you cry, throwing your head bad when you feel the bridge of his cock head fully enter your swollen pussy — your warm folds enveloping him so perfectly, yet wanting to resist him at the same time -- it makes him dizzy. “big, t—too big, help—“

“but y’r takin’ me so perfect. it can't be too big, sweet thing.” shidou thrusts gently, and oh -- you feel every single fucking inch of him. the way his slit drags against your velvety walls, and the scattered veins decorated on the first mere inches of his shaft. every single hump of his prettily decorated cock -- you feel everything.

“don’t,” you cry, feeling the tip of his cock fucking against your walls ever-so slowly. “i’ll cum!”

“on my fuckin’ tip?” he lets out a boasty laugh, pace quickening despite the shaft of his cock you’ve yet to take. “you’re not good at this, doll.”

“no,” you mewl, breaths heavy as you pant. his hand reaches under your tank top, pulling at your pert nipple — sucking it though your thin shirt. his saliva coats the fabric, seeping through to your areola as you twitch incessantly. "wan' cum, cum--"

"stupid, stupid girl. y'braindead on my fuckin' tip? d'ya even have anythin' going on inside that little head of yours?"

"ryuu, ryuu--"

"yeah," he drags out, mumbling against your tit before giving it a mean nip. he urges his hips further against yours, pushing in more cock than you had been anticipating and it makes you scream--

"ryuu--! f-full, s'full, please,"

he knows how hard this is on his sweet girl -- way to much for her and her pliant little body to bare. that's what makes this so fun, so damn great.

"hey . . this little body was made f’me, ‘s i’m gonna need you to act like it ‘nd take it, c'mon. endure it, my doll." he growls, huge arms wrapping under and around yours, pinning you tight against the soft mattress. he envelops your body with a swift grasp, completely hidden under his grasp as if he were protecting you from everything else that has ever existed ever -- like a maternal bear would her cub. you yelp, throwing your head back under his hold as he presses further into your pussy mercilessly, tuning out your cries and whines for him to slow. "fuckin' mine. mine, all mine."

"n'more!" you cry out in stutters, feeling his plump, damp balls press against your ass, cunt stretched beyond belief with little thought left in your head. your folds are spread impossibly wide, struggling to endure all of the man as you warm him. "fuck, shit. w'na stay with my girls forever. just like this." he hisses, pressing a fervor kiss to your lips. he cracks an eye open, met with your low-lidded ones, pupils heavily dilated.

your drowning in each other's sweat, your entire bodies clad against one another. it's so damn hot you might fucking explode -- your remnants would consist of a million beating hearts dedicated to your boyfriend--

"'m the only one that'll ever make you feel like this. don't forget that, dumb fuckin' girl."

[stargirlrchive]

simon’s work wife

one — two — three — four

cw: simon riley x fem reader, smut no plot like just literal sex

you would come to learn that simon was a very dedicated lover. he was—to put it simply—starved, and it appeared that you were the meal.

your mind had turned into a cloudy mess of desire as his thick, calloused finger ripped the flimsy elastic of your underwear. his hands moving to grip the soft part of your thighs to spread you open for him.

you had no time to be embarrassed at being so exposed because he was parting your lips and then nosing at your clit.

your back arched almost instantly, his tongue laying flat against your puffy clit and flicking over and over again. lips attaching to the soft nub to suck.

your hands didn’t know what to do, he was sucking the air right out of you. soft cries of pleasure tumbling out of your mouth as he worked you open.

“taste ev’n better than i imagined, sweetheart.”

your fingers moved to palm at you breast, your nipples pebbled and aching at all the pleasure he was giving you.

your body tensed beneath him as one of his thick, meaty fingers circled your entrance, gently dipping in the tip before pulling out, “relax f’r me, baby. gotta get ya’ ready f’r my cock.”

you nodded absentmindedly, only being able to focus on his mouth still tonguing at your clit and his finger dipping inside of you.

it was all too much yet not enough.

your face burned at the ease in which his finger entered you, a soft slick sound as he pumped into you steadily. he hummed softly, pulling away from your clit to watch as his finger disappeared inside of you, “ya’ always get this wet, doll?”

he didn’t give you time to respond, because soon after he was sinking a second finger into you. your breath getting caught in your throat at the stretch. his fingers pumping and curling, in and out—while he used his thumb to press against your clit.

his body slowly began to move upwards, pressing kisses as he went. from your thighs, to your stomach, up your breast—to which he gave special attention to. sucking your nipple into his mouth, fingers pumping into you rhythmically. then up your neck, finally to your mouth.

it was messy, one of his hands tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, neck straining as his mouth crashed into yours.

he was trying to devour you, tongue pushing into your mouth, teeth scraping against your lip and swallowing down every little noise of pleasure that left your mouth.

your pussy pulsed around his fingers, heating coiling low in your belly as his kiss pushed you over. he swallowed down your warbled moan of his name as he pumped into you over and over again.

your body grew pliant beneath his, limbs loosened and mind foggy as he nipped at your throat. “doin’ okay?”

you nodded lazily, fingers moving down to trail over his bare chest. your hand dipped down to the elastic of his sweat pants and he grunted, catching your wrist and cradling it to his chest. “use your words, doll.”

you whined softly, and a soft noise of amusement left simon’s mouth, “i’m more than okay. feel great.”

he huffed a laugh and brought your hand up so he could kiss your wrist, “ya’ don’t know how bad i’ve been wanting you like this.”

your hips tilted up, his cock pressing against your belly as your lips quirked up softly, “i have a guess.”

simon grunted lowly, pressing his hips down against you, nose trailing up your throat as he mumbled, “this what you wanted, hm?”

he hips rocked forward, rubbing right against your sensitive clit as you parted your legs further for him, “j’st needed someone to wife ya’ up, huh?”

your pussy pulsed at his words, fingers clawing into his back, desperately trying to get him closer to you. “such a sweet little thing, m’surprised ya’ weren’t already snatched up ‘nd filled.”

a noise of protest left your mouth as his hips lifted from yours, it was only for a second, just enough time for simon to pull his sweats down for his cock to slip out.

a heavy hand pulled one of your legs up, pressing your knee to your chest and your eyes nearly rolled back as simon spit onto your cunt. his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he pushed between your folds.

he used your slick and his spit to coat his cock, thrusting the tip against your clit before dragging his length back down to your entrance.

you couldn’t breathe, not as you felt the weight of his cock on you. even less as the head dipped into your warm pussy for the first time, “but don’t ya’ worry, sweetheart. g’nna fill ya’ up s’good.”

he grunted out a low ‘fuck’ as his cock finally pushed into you. your pussy was warm and snug, swallowing him down eagerly as you mewled beneath him.

it burned, he was big—you really shouldn’t have been so surprised that it felt like he was splitting you open. “relax, baby. doin’ so good.”

two of his fingers dipped between the both of you so he could tease at your puffy clit as he delivered short thrust into you. every inch that slid into you went in easier.

an almost feral smile gracing simon’s lips when he sunk into you completely. his pelvis pressed into yours, balls snuggly resting against your ass.

“fuck, takin’ it so well, sweet girl.”

you were a mess before he even began plowing into you. thick cock spearing you open again and again. his hands greedily cupping your breast, your hips—sometimes even pressing into your belly to make you feel even fuller.

desperate little noises left your mouth as he fucked into you deep and desperate. barely pulling his cock out before he’s sinking into you again—as if he can’t stand not being inside you.

grunts left simon’s mouth, rough little noises that had your pussy pulsing around his length. “ya’ g’nna let me cum inside ya’, baby? g’nna take it like a good girl?”

your nails dug into his back as he finally lowered your leg down, spreading your thighs apart to thrust deeper, his tip desperately knocking against the soft spot inside you that made you go dizzy. “yes—please!”

a thick hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes snapped open to look up at him and the look in simon’s eyes had your cunt tightening around him, “yeah, baby? should i turn my missus into a momma?”

a desperate noise left your mouth at his words, the coil that had tightened in your belly snapped as your body shook with your orgasm.

simon delivered a few shallow thrust into you before he was groaning roughly, warmth spread throughout your body as his cum filled your messy cunt.

simon pressed into you, his body weighing yours down but you felt too good to care. his nose trailing down your throat as his rough fingers massaged your aching muscles. soft praises and gentle touches were the last thing you had expected from your lieutenant, but he was as devoted to you as he was to the field.

“such a good little wife.”

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.

tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.

“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.

satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”

you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.

“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.

the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.

when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.

“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.

satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.

it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.

“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”

your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.

you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.

“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.

you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.

“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.

somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”

nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.

[lqveharrington]

Gentleman | R.L.

summary: remus lupin is the perfect gentleman.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, you and sirius are practically siblings, rem defending his girlfriend, someone gets pushed off a boat

a/n: all my inspo literally comes from the music i listen to 😭

James had invited the entire group down to the lake for the summer because it was the last summer before the last year of Hogwarts. He thought it should be memorable, and everyone loved the idea. His parents allowed him to borrow the lake house and boat, but only if everyone's parents were okay with it. Of course, your parents trusted you with your friends. The only rule was to stay in separate rooms from your boyfriend. Oopsies.

As the Potters’ boat slowed to a calm stop, the summer wind continued to blow through the air, the clouds nonexistent in the blue sky. The sun shimmered across the lake water and the radio played the top hits of the month, the sound drowning from the talking of the boat’s riders.

When Sirius had enough of all the chitchat, he quickly shed himself of his top and jumped into the lake water, splashing Marlene who was trying to tan on the boats end. She cursed him out and threatened to pull the ladder away when he splashed her again.

Witnessing the entire interaction, you hid a laugh behind a smile and left the girls to sit beside Remus who was sitting underneath the shade of the boat. You tucked your legs underneath your lap and leaned your chin on his shoulder. On instinct, his calloused hand found the space underneath your calf and gently squeezed even when talking to James. You admired his face glowing in the sun for a beat, eyes following the scars that were left behind from bad nights before he finally turned and met your loving eyes.

“Hey.” You murmur and grin when you felt him press a soft kiss to your lips. “Sirius just went into the water." He hummed and kissed you again, making you hum and separate once more. "You don't want to join him?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? What type of man do you think I am?” He thumbed your leg and felt for the rushing blood, ensuring there was a pule and that you were in fact real. It was a habit he was quick to have learned because of a full moon incident a year ago.

You shrug and rest your cheek on his shoulder instead, watching the gulls fly by and circle the food James was grilling. As he tried fighting them off with tongs, Lily and Dorcas began to draw sunscreen images on Marlene's back, not bothering to cover up their giggles.

“You don’t want to join the girls?” Remus tilted his head and scanned your side profile, following the contour of your face. He memorized every single bump and crease, gingerly tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear when you looked back over at him.

You raise a brow at his guilty smile and analyze his mannerism, rubbing the one bit of sunscreen into his cheek. "What?"

“You just wanna stay in the shade with me, don't you, dovey?" He brought his hand up and gently cupped your cheek, pulling you close enough so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, wherever you are, I follow.” You grin as a blush creeps up your neck, not realizing Sirius had gotten out of the water and rolled his eyes at how affectionate the both of you were being.

“You two are so gross." He covered his eyes before shaking his head like the dog he was — ridding himself of all the water he brought up with him.

You groaned when you got hit with the water, glaring at the long-haired boy. He stuck his tongue out at you which you retaliated with your middle finger. You swore that Sirius had a secret hatred for you since you began dating Remus over a year ago.

Sirius gasped at your gesture and put a hand on his chest, returning the finger. Remus rolled his eyes at the both of you and gave you a pointed look, making you cover it with your hand.

"Prongs, do something! The lady won't go down without a fight!" SIrius complained and popped a soda can out of the cooler, leaning against the railing of the boat.

“Mate, I don’t know what you want me to do.” James threw him a confused look and reached inside the cooler to hand Lily her own can. "Besides, I can't do much here."

“You could toss her over board." Sirius muttered loud enough for you to whip your head toward him and glare.

"You were being mean first!" You move to stand only to be pulled back down into your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus pursing his lips in thought, making you sigh. "Rem—"

“Sit.” He practically commanded, rolling his eyes once more when you crossed your arms and legs in annoyance. But when you noticed his quick wink, you realize what he was going to do.

You smiled slyly toward Sirius when he met your eyes again. The poor unsuspecting bloke. Sirius gave you an annoyed look and went to say something — probably insulting all women — when Remus pulled him aside.

Assuming Remus was going to hangout with him instead of you, Sirius stuck his tongue out before yelping in surprise as Remus pushed him off the boat. Your eyes widened with a smile, stretching your neck to see where Sirius was flailing. The three girls burst out into laughter at the predicament and quickly moved away from all the splashing water, grabbing a polaroid to take a picture before he could get out. James just shook his head in disbelief, clasping his arm around Sirius’ and helping him up.

Remus tossed a towel in Sirius' direction before sitting beside you again, kissing the side of your head like nothing happened. You gave him cheeky smile and laced your hand with his.

“What a gentleman.” You chide before letting out a noise of surprise at the feeling of his lips on yours, dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest.

“Some gentleman you are.” Sirius muttered as he dried himself off. When he realized Remus was staring back at him with an unimpressed look, he took a huge step back behind James and quickly apologized. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

You send him another death glare before staring up at Remus with soft eyes as he thumbed your palm, a small smile taking over your face. "You know we're probably going to get pranked anytime soon, right?"

"As long as I spend quality time with you, I think I'll be fine. Besides, he won't try anything too bad." Remus tilted your head up with his index finger. "I'm a gentleman anyway."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[nebulaeternal]

「 ✦ Play by Play - Pt.1 ✦ 」

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: f!xm, porn w/little plot, guided masturbation, edging, teasing, size kink, overstimulation, dirty talk, pussy play, vulgar Caleb, absolute brainrot.

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: Caleb had returned from Skyhaven, eager to see your face as always. Trying to sneak up on you, he finds a more pleasant surprise waiting to welcome him home.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 1.9K

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: Here's some more of my brainrot writing, this might be a little more accurate now that I have a better idea of his character. This is a multi-part fic, I'm not sure how many parts but its likely it'll be 2. Hope you all like it, let me know what you think! Enjoy! (Did wanna add once more that if you wanna join my taglist, to make sure your settings allow me to tag you and that your username is correct.)

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @noone-png, @kicupo, @rafayelsplush, @imissnanami

Your legs were clenched tightly, the man before you held a gaze so hot it burned holes through your body. What were you doing before? You had been in your room, trying desperately to get off for the last hour, frustration etched in your movements and moans as you rubbed your clit, a groan of irritation leaving your lips as yet, another orgasm slipped through your fingers, literally. 

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb had come back from Skyhaven to visit you like always. He walked through the door quietly, hoping to catch you by surprise. Gently, he shut the door behind him and carefully set down his things, looking eagerly for you till he heard the sighs and moans that came from behind your door. He knew he shouldn’t be listening in but he couldn’t help it, you sounded heavenly. “Caleb~“

His heart thumped hard in his chest, did you know he was there? “Right there-“ the sighs spilled from your lips as he listened to you. Caleb crept closer, realizing now that your door was cracked just barely, giving him a good enough view of you.

The sight he saw before him made his body burn, his skin prick with sweat, and his pants unbearably tight. There you were, draped in one of his many shirts, not an uncommon occurrence for you, but seeing your legs spread and your hand on your cunt, it made something inside him stir. 

He stayed there for a while, debating whether to stay or walk away. Unable to let himself indulge in such a guilty pleasure he began to slink away, that is until he heard your frustrated groan followed by a whine.

Sneaking back to the door, he watched you throw your head back in defeat. A pout of frustration wore on your lips, the same pout he loved so much and couldn’t resist. Without even thinking he pushed your door open.

Startled, you gasped and scrambled under your sheets. Your face burned hot as you tried to compose yourself. “Caleb-“

“Ah ah.” He said, catching you somewhat off guard. He was so serious…Taking the chair from the middle of your room, he pulled it up beside your bed and took a seat.

Your eyes flicker down at his crotch to see the strain in his pants, before quickly looking back at his face, hoping he didn’t notice the shift in gaze. “What are you-“

“I know now. You can’t hide it anymore, there’s no need to.” When he said those words your heart dropped to your ass, beating fast as you stared at him almost in horror “Caleb I’m so fucking sor-“

“Open.” He commanded. You couldn’t quite read him and you stared at him bewildered. “Your legs, open your legs.” He said more gently now. “Wha-“ His fingers graze your legs through the blanket.

“You want me right? Want my help?” Gnawing your lip, you nod slowly but surely. “Good, then spread those legs, princess.” Your face burned hot as his words reached your ears.

Doing as he asked, you peeled the blanket away and exposed your bare lower half to him. He inhaled sharply through his nose and scooted closer, the vein in his neck straining.

He leaned in, his scent infiltrating your nostrils, almost instantly short-circuiting your brain. “Sit back for me and show me how you do it, yeah?” Shyly you nodded, positioning yourself to be right in front of him.

You wanted to desperately start up again, feeling your core begin to leak once more but you were almost scared stiff. “Relax, close your eyes, and listen to my voice.” You nodded, to which he was pleased. “Good girl…now play with your clit.”

Trying your best to calm down, your fingers crept lower, eyelids fluttering shut. A strangled moan left your lips when you reached your clit. You heard a shaky breath from Caleb, which only managed to spur you on further.

His eyes were trained on your face, flicking between the bliss you exuded and the way you worked yourself. His voice was husky and breathless, “Keep going just like that..” Caleb watched intently, savoring the whines that slipped past your lips. 

Seeing how slick your entrance had become, he wanted more. “Slide your fingers inside.” He rasped out, breath growing heavy. He watched your two middle fingers slip into your cunt, stretching the flesh around it. It took absolute restraint for him to stay seated, seeing the way your chest heaved, the moans that spilled from your lips, and the shallow thrusting of your fingers. All while draped in his shirt that was way too big for you.

As you continued, a creamy white ring started to form around your fingers, the noises lewd made your ears burn. “Caleb~ Please.” you whined out, not quite sure what it was you were begging for, but he knew.

Your moans only got louder, your fear and worry long forgotten as you sank into the pleasure. Slumping back onto your elbows, you instinctively spread your legs wider, seeking more. As you neared your peak, your movements became urgent, your moans more desperate–until his next command cut through your haze “Now stop.” What? Your body betrayed you, obeying him almost instantly. Though you didn’t stop entirely, your pace did slow down, a whine of frustration escaping your lips as your pleading eyes met his.

As much as he wanted to bend at your whim, and give you what you wanted, he didn’t. He had other plans for you. Leaning back into his chair, legs spread wide, he silently shook his head. “But why?” You whimpered, fingers still moving at a torturously slow pace.

“I told you to stop, princess. Why are you still moving them, hm?” you flashed him another pleading look to which he exhaled deeply. “Alright—go on.” With his permission now granted, you eagerly resumed your previous activities, slumping back into your elbows as the world around you faded into nothing but the intense sensations he had so carefully put together.

Lost in the indulgence, you barely noticed the faint rustling and shifting sounds nearby. Every ounce of focus was consumed by your approaching climax, your sole objective now was to reach it.

Then there it was, a moan that didn’t belong to you, a very strangled, guttural moan. You paused your movements, sitting up to look at him, only to find him palming himself through his pants. His gaze was lidded, staring at you through the fringe of his hair.

You stared at him almost in awe, forgetting your pleasure for a moment. Then he got up, his body moving almost completely beyond his control. Quickly he closed the distance, pushing you flat against the bed. Leaning down he whispers in your ear, “Don’t stop now, you’ve been doing so good.” 

Before your mind could process his words, you felt his fingers rest atop yours, aiding to push them deeper into your pussy, causing you to shut your eyes and moan loudly. Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him chuckle softly.

He continued to guide your fingers, his larger hand almost completely covering yours as you stared deep into his irises, purple and sparkling with mischief. You felt his finger start to intrude your entrance, sliding in right next to yours, causing you to gasp out.

“Caleb—oh fuck.” You tossed your head back into the sheets, absolutely blissed out. He studied your face closely, watching every change in your expression as he fingered you. Suddenly he stopped. Your head whipped up as you pouted but before you could protest, he hoisted you up and sat you in his lap, your back resting against his chest.

One of his arms hooked under your knee, bending your leg, while the other snaked over your waist and rested on your hip, forcing your thighs apart. You hadn’t realized the scene before you, till you saw the glint of his necklace chain in the mirror in front of you.

That’s right, the mirror that you look into every single day, making sure you were stylish before heading out, was now reflecting something far more obscene. Your cunt was on full display for him to see and his hand was only snaking closer to your clit.

Unable to deal with the embarrassment it brought upon you, you whipped your head away, trying to hide your face in his arm as best as possible. “Eyes up, baby girl.” 

“I-I can’t-“ you whined, almost pleading to let you off. Attempting to bury your face further, your body shifts slightly. He pinches your clit lightly, causing you to gasp out and arch your back.

“Yes, you can. Now eyes up.” He instructed soft and low into your ear. You managed to look up, finding his face nestled in the crook of your neck, peeking out over your shoulder as he slipped his fingers inside you.

“Oh my god—“ you sighed out, body tensing in his hold as he worked you slowly. Caleb watched you through the reflection of the mirror, loving how you squirmed and whined for him. The grip on his forearm was rough, nails digging crescents into his skin. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You practically sobbed out after being denied an orgasm for so long.

Your other arm managed to find its way to his hair, gripping him tightly and pulling him even closer to your neck, moaning shamelessly as his teeth sank into the flesh of your neck.

He chuckled darkly, quite amused with your desperation as your hips bucked up to meet his fingers. Your pussy was a leaking mess, fluids and juices flowing down onto the bulge of his pants—that sat right below your cunt.

He continued to tease you, bringing you too close to your high and refusing to let you fall. A tortuous tug of war ensued with your body. Tears of frustration streamed down your face as you babbled and begged him. and as much as he loved the sound of your pleading whines, he couldn't help but give in to your pleas, he wanted to have fun too after all. 

Slowly, he slipped his fingers out of you, squelching in the process. Gently pushing you onto your feet, he spun you both and dragged you onto the mattress. He slowly removed his shirt, exposing the expanse of muscle that lay beneath the fabric.

Your face grew hot with each inch of skin exposed, eyes trailing down to the ‘V’  that dips right under his beltline. You were staring so hard you didn’t even realize his shirt was fully taken off till his hands reached for his belt buckle, slowly unclasping it.

“Like what you see?” He teased, watching the way your eyes followed his movements, how you subconsciously gnawed on your lip, absolutely mesmerized. You’re not quite sure how, but you were suddenly possessed with the courage to walk up and touch him, but you did and something inside him snapped.

Caleb laid you down eagerly, sprawling you out on the mattress, admiring the view below him—you wearing his shirt, looking up at him flushed and desperate.

“Such a perfect mess for me.” He murmured, running a hand along your thigh, and pulling your hips flush against his crotch— loving the way you gasped and jolted at merely his touch. “You’re so sensitive, Princess~” he teased, emphasizing the nickname that had your knees weak.

Unconsciously you clench your legs, which elicited a reaction from him. He leaned down, dog tags clinking before resting on your neck as he whispered into your ear. “You love being called princess, don’t you? Princess.”

「 ✦ Pt.2 ✦ 」

[flwrkid14]

Everyone Knows They’re Dating… Except Tim and Danny

To literally everyone, Tim and Danny are a couple. They’re so obvious about it, it’s almost annoying. Tim goes out of his way to prioritize Danny over anyone else—he’ll cancel plans, rearrange his schedule, and bend over backward to make sure Danny’s happy. Need coffee at 3 a.m.? Tim’s already out the door. A custom gadget? It’s in Danny’s hands before he even asks.

And Danny? Danny dotes on Tim in a way that’s almost overprotective. He ensures Tim eats, sleeps, and doesn’t completely drown himself in work. He’s always there, watching out for him, ready to step in if Tim ever needs help. And god help anyone who says a single bad word about Tim because Danny will defend him with a ferocity that borders on terrifying.

They live together. They cuddle to sleep. They share a bed. They have dinners together like it’s some weekly tradition. They wear each other’s clothes so often no one can tell whose hoodie is whose anymore. Sometimes they even plan matching outfits when they go out. Their “hangouts” are way too romantic and way too specific to not count as dates.

It’s obvious to everyone that Tim and Danny are dating. Everyone… except Tim and Danny.

The breaking point happens when Danny starts spending time with a new friend. Tim doesn’t even notice at first, but slowly, irritation starts bubbling under the surface. Why does Danny even need new friends? Doesn’t he already have Tim? And then the irritation morphs into a tight knot in his chest every time Danny talks about hanging out with this friend.

At first, Tim tells himself he’s just being logical—Danny is busy enough as it is, why stretch himself thinner? But when Danny cancels one of their movie nights to go out with this new friend, Tim spirals. He’s glued to his laptop but hasn’t typed anything in over an hour, too consumed with thoughts like: Is Danny replacing me? Am I not enough for him? Does he want someone else to be his best friend now?

He’s never been good at handling emotions, so naturally, he decides the best course of action is to bottle it all up and ignore it. That is until Steph shows up and immediately clocks that something’s wrong.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, slumping onto his couch.

“I’m not grumpy,” Tim lies, glaring at his laptop like it’s offended him personally.

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Right. So why are you moping like someone kicked your dog?”

“I’m not moping,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

Steph stares at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she pieces it together. She knows Danny’s out with some new friend, and now she’s looking at Tim, who’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal, glaring at his phone every few seconds. Her expression shifts—realization dawning, then sharp focus. “Oh my god, Tim. You’re jealous.”

Tim freezes. “What? No, I’m not. That’s ridiculous.”

Steph crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Tim as if he’s the most complicated puzzle she’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, let’s break this down,” she starts, her tone deliberate. “You’re upset that Danny’s out with someone else. You’re overthinking it, spiraling about whether or not you’re enough, and now you’re convinced you’ve somehow ruined everything… Does that sound like just ‘friend’ feelings to you?”

Tim freezes mid-pace, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “I—what?”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Tim. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—” Tim begins, but then stops, the denial catching in his throat. His brain scrambles to process her words, but the sinking feeling in his chest refuses to let him dismiss it. The pieces fall into place, one by one, each memory sharper than the last: the way his heart always lifts when Danny smiles, the quiet warmth of falling asleep next to him, the ache in his chest at the thought of Danny choosing someone else.

“Oh no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Oh my god. I’m jealous because—because I’m—”

Steph sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re jealous because you’re in love with Danny.”

Tim’s knees almost give out as the realization settles in. “I’m the worst friend in the world,” he blurts, his voice breaking. Tears spring to his eyes as he starts pacing again, his hands flying up in a panicked gesture. “I have no right to feel this way! He’s my best friend—he deserves someone better, someone who won’t ruin his life with… with whatever this is!”

Steph groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Tim, for the love of—you're already dating.”

He stops dead in his tracks, blinking at her like she’s just spoken another language. “What?”

“Seriously? You’re basically married,” Steph says, throwing her hands up. “He practically lives here, you do everything together, and you’re constantly rearranging your life for him. What part of that screams just friends to you?”

Tim’s mouth opens, then closes, his mind spinning as he replays every moment with Danny through a new lens. The quiet mornings when they share coffee in companionable silence. The way Danny always notices when he’s stressed and pulls him into a hug without a word. How being with Danny feels like breathing—natural, essential, like coming home.

And it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with Danny.

The realization is overwhelming, a mix of panic and joy and sheer terror. But beneath all that, there’s something else—a quiet certainty. He doesn’t just love Danny; he’s in love with him, and he doesn’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.

Tim decides, then and there, that he has to confess. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that Danny feels the same, he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers. And if he doesn’t… well, there’s always Antarctica.

When Tim finally confesses, he pours his heart out in a way that’s so painfully earnest it makes Danny laugh.

“Tim,” Danny says, tears of laughter in his eyes, “I thought we were already dating.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

Danny grins. “Yeah, I kind of assumed we were. I mean, we live together. We share a bed. We cuddle. We’ve been wearing matching outfits for months, dude.”

“Oh.” Tim feels his face heat up.

Danny laughs again, pulling Tim into a hug. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Tim buries his face in Danny’s shoulder, equal parts mortified and relieved. But hey, at least now they’re officially dating—or, well, aware of it.

Steph hears the whole story later and immediately texts them both: “Congrats on being the last ones to figure it out. True geniuses at work.”

[fxstpace]

“wonwoo,” you whisper, nudging his ankle with a sock-clad foot. “wonwoo, wake up.”

he grunts and mumbles something unintelligible, before his lips part and he lets out a soft snore. his hair is a mess—probably because he never seems to stay still when he’s asleep. you reach out and gently trail a finger down the bridge of his nose.

“wonwoo,” you try again. he shivers involuntarily. “baby, darling, light of my life. sugarplum. rubber duck. love boat.”

“i’m going to break up with you if you call me that again,” your boyfriend finally says, opening his eyes and squinting at you. you grin. he sighs, though it’s not a weary sound. more fond than anything else. loving, in the way only jeon wonwoo is. “what do you want?”

you lean over him, elbow brushing over his chest, and try to switch on the lamp placed on the bedside table. fumbling for the switch, you flick it on and blink when the room floods with soft amber light. you kick the duvet off of wonwoo’s legs, ignoring his startled huff.

moving back, you place both arms on either side of wonwoo’s head and hook a leg over his waist. his hands come up to grip your sides. despite his sleepiness, he smiles up at you—a slow, lazy one, the kind he gives you when he’s happy and content. it brings a smile to your own face.

“i want ramen,” you say in response to his question. “i’m really hungry.”

“really?” 

“really.” you nod.

his thumb rubs circles on the part of your hip where your shirt is ridden up. “and you couldn’t make it yourself?”

“you make ramen better than i do.”

“it’s literally three steps,” wonwoo says, amused. “it’s packaged food. it tastes the same regardless of who makes it.”

“it tastes different,” you insist. “please?” 

he laughs, chest rising with the movement. “okay, okay. if you say so.”

“thank you.” you bend down and kiss the corner of his mouth. “you’re the best. i’m the luckiest person alive, i swear.”

“flattery gets you nowhere,” wonwoo says, but when you clamber off the bed, he follows you to the kitchen after grabbing his glasses.

and there’s something so tender about this, so fragile, a delicate sort of thing that you will cherish and protect with your life—something special about cooking and eating ramen at midnight, specifically with him. 

it tastes different.

author’s note — wrote this because i was craving instant noodles last night at 2 am. unfortunately i did not have a jeon wonwoo to cook them for me & i didn’t have any ramen left at home 😔