#smears left on my face

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

hear me out, i havent stopped thinking about heartbroken ed's crew's new uniform vibes

izzy 'I'm not smearing that stuff on my face' hands vs ed 'it's not optional' teach: fight

outcome: izzy carefully applying precise eyeliner each morning using little more than the dim light of sunrise and one of the fancy trays stede left behind

[natterghast]

& HEADCANONS ; voices and accents ☄. *. ⋆

● nahinu ; has the thick accent of someone born in east harlem due to her innate mimicking, but nevertheless speaks in soft, airy tones and with the halting nervousness of her social anxieties. her voice is a high register. ● devisee ; most often lacks an inflection, picks his words with perfect enunciation, and overall carries conversation with the awkward pauses of someone well read, but unused to speaking with others. curses in an aberration's tongue when no one else is around to hear. his voice is a low register. ● xianne ; has an inviting, easy-going cadence to match her smile and overfamiliar, teasing jabs. calls it like she sees it, and keeps conversation rolling like her Rs. her voice is a slightly lower register. ● geid ; has an accent thick as tree sap, and speaks ponderously, with verbiage that one really has to chew on; often difficult to understand. his voice is a low register. ● solar ; has no discernable accent to whomever they're speaking to, because they speak with the aid of their psionics, and occasionally may only converse mentally if their vessel can't form speech. their voice varies with possessions. ● jeanot ; slips into falahni inflections when he's angered as a result of the memories lodged in his brain, but otherwise speaks with some amalgamation of northern american accents at a soft pace, unless info dumping. he has a slightly higher registered voice that sometimes cracks. ● benjamin ; speaks with a thick new acadian (louisianan) accent of honeyed words, and a genial lilt to go with a mouthful of lies behind that great big smile of his. his voice is a slightly lower register. ● zelman ; through practice speaks the languages he's fluent in without a hint of his polish roots — except, perhaps, when he's half awake, and typically comes with the devil-may-care attitude of curt phrasing. his voice is a slightly lower register. ● lazare ; doesn't talk, but has a laugh from the chest that's coarse and higher pitched than his register, like he swallowed gravel and breathed in a helium balloon. his voice is a low register.

[organic-sprolden]

people with oily skin do be looking like a lightbulb

at the end of the day. it's me i'm people with oily skin.

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 I CAN MAKE THAT P☆SSY RAIN OFTEN!

☆ sum. they're starving, but they aren't craving actual 'food'. they're craving what's right between your shaky pretty legs. toji, higuruma, choso, gojo, geto, sukuna.

warnings. fem! reader, cúnnilingus, face-riding / siting, eating out through panties, pússy so good he cries (choso), fīngering, unprotected, dirty talk, praise, very pússy drunk men, squīrting, hair pulling, pússy spanks, spīt, dumbification.

☆ HIGURUMA HIROMI.

you tell higuruma that’s he’s got such a rideable face, but he’s never really knew what you meant.

not until he’s buried between your thighs, having a pretty view of you caging him in with your jittery legs. “hey,” he purrs, his voice pouring with such rasp underneath it. a swollen thumb drags down near your sopping cunt and his droopy eyes meet yours. higuruma’s holding you upright whilst his free hand grabs onto your left thigh tightly. “ ‘s okay, lovey. i know you wanna ride my nose,” and his balmy breath grazes up against your slit that was just continuously weeping with saturated slick. you’re whimpering, hovering over his rosy-twitched lips before he kisses near your cracked entrance. “easy, i gotcha. jus’ sit on it, ‘s okay, you can do whatever you want to me, promise.”

and once you finally succumb to his warm filthy words—you plop yourself onto his mouth, instantly moaning at the bumpy bridge of his nose tickling against your clit. “fuck,” and you hear a throaty chuckle leave from his crooked lips. higuruma’s nose, once your pussy rubs up against the hook, you couldn’t help but start to jerk faster and faster. “hiromi, ‘m not suffocating you am i?”

“no, my love,” he whispers, flicking his flat tongue through your sensitive drooling folds. you tasted so sweet and it only left him craving for more, more of you. dark drowsy eyes stares into your eyes before his sloppy licks turn into risqué slurps. “but, i wouldn’t mind it actually. use my face darling, ‘m all yours tonight.”

higuruma’s got a cunning grin that stretches against his lips as your weight relaxes on him. you kiss your teeth, gradually rutting your trembling hips up against his salivating mouth and he groans. your clit rubs itself against his nose and his mouth, the rough rocky texture of the bridge nearly sends you over the edge.

“f- fuck, ‘romi,” you gasp, and your fragile limbs cause you to squat now. the air surrounding you suddenly feels thick and there’s a dry taste filling the inside of your mouth. as candied wanton mewls continue to pry away from your lips, you tug on his ruffled checkered tie that’s tucked underneath his button-down. his tongue that’s lapping against your honeyed flaps with the mixture of his nose sliding up and down your entrance. but you’re now stuck in nothing but a mere stupor. higuruma’s eyes never break contact and you hear the loud sloshes from his lips smack against your pussy from each succulent slurp. “ ‘m gonna cum, not gonna last hiromi.”

“aw, yeah?” he whispers, your own slick smearing against his pursed lips. your eyes roll back once the tip of his tongue thwacks and flicks against that spot, your tender g-spot. it feels gummy and spongy and he feels your quaking thighs come together, clenching a tight squeeze. “ooh, guess she is,” and a hand of his creeps toward the right curvature of your ass. you moan from his touch, weak limbs shivering from his contact. everything was building up at once—like a wave, the calm before the storm. it starts near the very pit of your stomach and it’s fluttering all around you as if butterflies resided in your insides. “there, there. don’t stop, ride my nose lovey. use me, ‘s okay.”

your face twists as he’s still got his tongue attached to your sopping cunt—you’re shaking, and you continue to grind your hips into his face.

higuruma holds you with two strong open palms, trying his best to ignore the growing tent in his business slacks. his hair, thanks to how you were mercilessly dragging his head back and forth against your slobbering pussy, it’s all unkempt and messy. strands of black hair twist and entangle between your fingers as you’re preparing for another teeth shattering orgasm. your ass teeters and twirls in crazed gyrations as the his hooked nose continue to abrade against your swollen folds. “hiromi—fuck, fuck,” you whimper, and the coil buried within you finally snaps. within seconds, you’re cumming hard—all on his tongue and the following noise that flutters past your lips was so pretty. higuruma’s hooded eyes gaze at you as he’s lapping you clean and he’s so in love. your finishing sounds sounding like a mere symphony to him. lewdly melodic.

“that’s it, lovey. oh that’s such a good messy girl, my messy baby,” he sighs, and you feel your tummy cave in at that exact moment. your drenched folds never felt more slick. he’s slurping you clean, proudly with the most tender grin stretching across his face. but that concise moment briefly gets cut short once higuruma groans—feeling the strain in his pants again, fighting the urge to stroke himself. but he can’t, this is about you. you still feel the knobby part of his nose scrape and drag against your pussy and he huskily chuckles. “ah, you’re just obsessed with my nose now, huh?”

“no i—”

“oh, don’t be embarrassed,” higuruma softly teases, his voice a bit gruff and raspy. his lips had a pretty sheeny coat of your own juices and you were still trembling once he gets up. higuruma helps you off of him and closes the gap between you both, leaning in for a kiss. it’s sweet, he moans into your mouth whilst he feels your eager hands tug on his tie. higuruma’s tongue matches your sync perfectly. both dancing muscles tangle together before he aligns himself between your legs, wrapping them around his slim waist.

“my, aren’t you a doll,” he speaks between sultry tender kisses, and his rich cologne scent almost snatches your breath away. from a mile away, you could smell it. higuruma licks the bottom of your chin—keeping his eyes firmly on you until he starts to unbuckle his belt with one hand. “but since you love my nose so much, i think you’ll like somethin’ bigger a lot better,” and you let off a gasp once you’re suddenly now flipped the mattress, and he gives your ass a playful spank. “now, be a good girl ‘n bend over for me.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

gojo loves more than anything to just come home from dreadful hours of work, of battles—to you.

not only just to you, but the pretty thing that’s between your legs. he’s not one to waste time, and he always gets straight to the point—but in this case, straight to the pussy.

“let’s see how many fingers this time,” he coos, and you’re laid flat against your back, eyeing him. unapologetically, he’s been eating you out for hours like a starved man, drinking out each of your candied orgasms like it was nothing. gojo had a thing for your pleasure—it was far more better than his own. “one,” he whispers, slowly inserting a single long digit inside. you whimper at the immediate stretch. such thick lengthy fingers, they expanded wide throughout your walls and you shudder from his breath whistling against your folds. “twoooo,” he jibes, playfully dragging out his words. your legs were quickly melting like mush, nearly collapsing as he’s toying around the insides of your cunt. “god, she’s got so much ‘ta say today, huh?”

gojo grows quiet at the crying sloshes you make just from his twin digits jackhammering inside of you. in feral awe, he watches as you swallow up both of his long fingers with your greedy cunt, covering them from top to bottom with your slick.

every few seconds, there’s a wet sloppy ‘pop’ and ‘pshh’ that squeals out from your own entrance. “s-satoru,” you whimper and you let off an exaggerated gasp once he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit. you’re soaked, and his chin was already raining with your juices—his favorite. as he’s got two fingers still buried inside of your gummy walls, he twists them around before he reaches there. your breath gets caught in your throat and you gasp again, letting off a sweet squealing mewl before yanking on his hair snowy white strands. “ngh, ‘toru!”

“ah,” he purrs, bringing a sloppy three second kiss toward your drooling cunt. it’s so pretty up close, he can see how you’re profusely pulsating from the stimulation and it makes a sly smile tweak against his lips. gojo’s digits resume to crimp around inside of your doughy walls before his plump fingertips tickle against your g-spot. oh, you feel static surge and pump right through your veins. the texture was spongey and squashy and he’s got a playful pout. “this is where you’re weak, right angel? mhh, such a sloppy ‘lil thing.”

you’re trembling from his staticky touch and his fingers plummeting in and out of your cunt. the sounds, it’s so messy . . it’s yourself, and you’re just a stammering mess, fumbling over your own pathetic broken sentences. “fuck, please ‘toru,” you whimper out in a sheepish tone. he goes back to running his tongue everywhere against your sopping wet cunt. to him, your folds tasted so sugary, and he’s always been known to have a little sweet tooth. gojo feels himself getting hard the more he plays with you and he lowly groans right against your pussy. the vibrations of his frustrated snarl makes you whine out in ecstasy before your eyes widen. “hnnnm, sato— fuck!”

pretty pristine lashes of his flutter shut before he gradually pries out his fingers. gojo’s so into it, he’s having an entire make out sesh with your pussy, pressing his plump vermillion-colored lips together and lapping up his own sauced saliva.

“atta girl. give it t’ me,” he grunts, and you watch with heavy eyelids just hanging low as his head starts to drag back and forth. he’s devouring your cunt, even going far as to getting nose deep just to steal a smell all for himself. the sweetest, his favorite place in the world would always have to be right between your thighs. gojo even reached down in his pants, past his cerulean blue boxers to touch himself. fuck, he was hard. and it was all because of you. he groans, giving his dick a few solid pumps whilst a callused thumb brushes against a running vein that pulses down his shaft. as his lengthy tongue trails even further, he starts to suck on your clit. he feels the pulse twitch in his mouth and he looks right up at you with the most smug pussy drunken grin. “heh, you’ve got a—”

and abruptly, you end up gushing right out just as he’s speaking. mid sentence too—you sprayed a nice amount of your release just below his chiseled chin and you let off a sweet harmonic screaming orgasm. ripples of pleasure coarse through your veins as you’re riding out your orgasm on his tongue, your body growing limp. every inch of your body though, you felt hot. your legs furiously shook and he’s still got his tongue attached to your cunt. “. . yooou little slut,” he quips with a eyebrow quirking up. gojo’s a bit taken aback but his pretty icy eyes find yours again and you spot his dimples poking near each side of his cheeks as he slyly simpers. “you just squirted on me huh. someone felt sloppy today, yeah?”

“i- i’m sorry,” you moan, still feeling the jarring after effects of your body. your thighs were glued together and you’re still panting—although gojo’s panting just as much as you if not more. despite how you were still aroused, you’ve never felt more embarrassed. thanks to your pussy, you’ve got his face drenched from the mouth down. you’re a mess, and he’s covered all in it. “i didn’t—”

“shhh,” he whispers, and you’re interrupted by a soft spank on your cunt. you whimper at the brief twinge, the unforgettable friction glissading down against your bare exposed entrance driving you more and more crazy. the air felt hot but your body felt even hotter. gojo gives your clit one final sloppy kiss before whispering against your slit. “ah, ah. don’t be sorry,” and with droopy hooded eyes, you watch as he prepares to insert not one, not two, but three fingers inside of your wet puffy cunt. “do it again.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

toji never really believed in the saying, ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it too.’

of course, he knows the meaning of the actual common quote but in his filthy rotted brain, it means something else entirely whenever he’s buried between your thighs. toji fushiguro’s a greedy man, especially whenever it came to pussy. he won’t just eat you out, he’ll devour you, including your pretty perky ass.

two callused open palms spread the doughy globes of your ass wide open quickly. you’re whimpering, feeling his tepidly hot breath waft down your bare pulsating cunt before he spits right down the valley of your sopping wet folds.

“gotta get her nice ‘n wet, ain’t that right, baby?” he whispers, watching as his own saliva trickles down your twitching folds. you’re already moist, profusely so and he can see your pretty poor clit throbbing - aching for more. “oh, my,” he tsks, bringing his scarred lips right up to your slobbering entrance. “she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“hngh, toj—”

“baby, quiet. ‘m not talkin’ to you,” he shushes you, and you let off a whine once he gives your pussy a long thorough suck. you hear the echoing ‘pop’ smack from his lips once he pulls back, flicking the cold tip of his tongue against your pearly nub. fuck, once he started it was no prying him off. toji groans, feeling his rickety hips starting to drag themselves against the edge of the bed. his bulge continues to grow in his grey cottony sweats as his lips latch onto your sweet sweet pussy.

he blows against your folds, a thumb still guiding up and down your slit before he goes toward your neglected hole—you whimper once you feel a stringy glob of saliva dribble down until it reaches near your cunt. “fuck, fuuuck,” you hiss, your toes curling up almost right away. he was just so nasty, you could tell toji’s smelling your pussy right from behind you too. he was nose deep and the tip of his nose thrashes up against your clit constantly, making you feel even more sensitive. “ngh, don’t stop, ‘toj. pleasepleasefuck.”

“god, how many times do i have ‘ta tell ya?” the dark haired man gruffs, and you feel a surging wave of tingles ripple through your thighs once he gently swats a hand against your pussy.

it’s a loud ‘smack’ that bounces off the thin walls as you bite down on your bottom lip. your slickness even spurts against his palm and it’s so cute. as he’s steadily munching against your throbbing heat, he slurps you clean again and again. “our conversation’s over,” and his voice gets deeper the faster he sucks. “she’s talkin’ ‘ta me now, not you. don’t be rude,” and toji’s hooded verdant eyes rove towards your drooling cunt as he speaks. it was over the second he’s softly inserting a fat finger inside, feeling your clingy walls accept it right away. “mhm, she’s always got so much to say. pussy’s talkative just like you, princess.”

you moan, feeling his tongue drag up and down against your clit. your mouth can’t help but drop in awe at how thick his finger was. too thick, it’s so good. it’s practically just as big as his cock, and just a single lengthy digit of his was splitting you wide open. you’re squelching and toji purposely grows quiet just to hear it - to hear the ‘words’ of your pussy, which was just the wet sloshing sounds you continue to make as he played with you.

“yeah, i fuckin’ agree,” he hums, a low cackle leaving from his lips as he’s starting to piston his finger in and out, slurping all of your sappy juices. you’re whimpering, and he’s talking over you. your limbs felt weak and you could feel your arch starting to weaken. “she’s such a baby, my baby though,” and once he tongue rummages deeper inside of you, it taps near your clit. it’s a mean tap, scratching such a forbidden itch in your brain and you almost grow stupid. toji feels you about to collapse forward due to your weak frail legs and he chuckles against your pussy. “heh, drama queen.”

you whimper as he stretches your ass more with one hand—he’s leaving all kinds of cobwebs of saliva that glues against both temples of your ass, racing down your thighs. “mmph,” he feels you claw the back of head, shoving him closer towards your pussy. a sly grin spreads against his lips and he slides his finger out, breaking away to taste it. “y’er gettin’ fuckin’ handsy, baby. careful now,” and his tongue slithers back towards your puckering hole. his same thumb pokes against it before he’s just slurping you—loud slippery sounds departing from his lips, devouring your cunt as if he was a starved, starved man.

“toj—fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you blurt out, your grip against his hair loosening. your cheek presses against the pillow as he lies his tongue flat, making sure his tongue wanders everywhere. he lolls it around to where he’s creating all kinds of letters and shapes just from his silvery tongue.

your toes continue to curl as your mouth’s just dangling open, feeling his scar repeatedly scrape up against your twitching clit. unapologetically. he spits on your entrance just to lap it right up, feeling the tint in his pants rise. he’s so hard, so fucking hard and your cute pulsing only made it worse. “shit, shit toji please,” your sweet babbles ring against his ears as he feels the shimmy of your hips. you could never stay still, and that was one of the many things he loved about you.

“yeah, cum on my face. make a fuckin’ mess, make me proud baby,” a low voice grumbles from behind, and his tongue’s still delving in and out of your sappy folds. you’re so soaked, his lips were so loud with how they suction against your slick pussy and you were just dumb. dumbfounded, his tongue had you utterly stupid and you only wanted more. but a hard hand swats against your sensitive cunt, snapping you back to reality. “c’mon, ‘m thirsty. give me my meal.”

gasping for air, you let off a tiny shriek once you finally let go, feeling such intense pressure lift up from the center of your abdomen. you’re frazzled, dewy eyes staring into the satiny cushioned pillow that’s shoved against your face as you burst. “fuck—fuck,” you whine, and it feels like a geyser just erupted. except, the geyser was right between your legs. you’re squirting, and it shoots out so fast, trickling down toji’s chin and even paints his dark stubble a sheeny glistening color. as he’s slowly gliding his tongue against your folds one more time, he blinks thrice whilst a smug grin stretches against his lip.

“well how about that,” toji snickers, and he gives your cunt one more suck, smearing your slick all over his chin. he didn’t care how much of a mess you made - it was his mess too. you can almost feel his lewd gaze bore into your ass before he peels a thumb against your clit. “looks like she’s still got it,” and you moan, feeling him give your pussy a ‘praising’ good job pat. he hums, feeling you throb on his palm. as he’s catching his breath just like you, toji hums, flipping you over. “my girl can’t help but be a fuckin’ super soaker, cute. .”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

choso was always exhausted whenever he came home, constant battles on a daily would wear anyone out. but it was all worth it because in the end, he came home to you. his pretty girl—but today, today was different.

“i need you,” he murmurs out of breath, and you’re taken by surprise as you lazily flop back against the couch with your legs slightly spread open. the last thing you’d expect was to see choso on his knees for you. he suppresses a whimper that’s so close to flying from his lips before he nips a few wet kisses near your thighs. “ ‘m so starved, baby. been too long since i—” and he cuts off. pretty mahogany eyes of his suddenly widen once you pull down your shorts with one hand, revealing your panties. purple, the lacy fabric decorates the valley cracks of your thighs and shields your most sensitive bits. choso can’t help but pout once you softly grab onto the crown of his head, rummaging your fingers through his loose ravened tresses and tickling his scalp. with a needy pout, he looks at you whilst he’s leaning into your touch. “may i?”

“yeah, but keep the panties on though ‘cho,” you reply in a cheeky tone, watching the frustrated pout on his face grow. but he doesn’t complain, and instead, he inches his face closer and closer and closer, all until he’s eating you out through your panties. “f- fuck.” you’d swallow as a sharp gasp wrenches out of your full heaving lungs.

once he started—there was no stopping.

choso’s whines were muffled as his knees were dug, buried into the furry carpet ground. his pretty lashes flap as his tongue delicately laps around your sopping cunt—oh, you’re such a tease. despite how your underwear was in the way of the part he really wanted to eat, he still tasted how soaked you were. not only that, but he could smell it too. “god, ‘s unfair,” he grunts, swirling his tongue around every part he could get to. your breath hitches and your fingers were still intertwined between his thin strands. “mmph,” and he can’t help but smell your panties. he’s missed you so much. as choso’s soft kitten licks turn into slurps within a soak of just a few seconds few seconds—he glances up at you with a cute frown. panting, he murmurs. “can i- can i touch myself?”

“no, choso,” you tease him some more,” and you spread your legs just a bit wider. with the wide eyed stare he’s giving you and the way his mouth was cutely just dangling open, you’d have thought he was about to drool all over you. so pretty, he almost loses composure once you finally pull a string of your panties toward the side of your thigh. “not yet.”

“so mean,” he cutely grumps, his plump lips curling into another pout again as he’s positioned right between your plush thighs. choso leans into your tender touch though, and he goes back to licking your pussy. he moans, trying to savor your taste as much as he could. choso’s tense arms remain idle—although he’s just itching to touch himself and it doesn’t take long before his chin starts to glisten with slick - your slick. choso couldn’t help himself though, so he starts to find another way to feel.

his rickety hips start to jerk up against the edge of the couch and he’s ruthlessly grinding into the furniture. he’s feral like a animal and heat—all for you - just for you. “mmph, fuck,” he whines, feeling such hot friction bristle against your body and it ricochets onto his. choso already had a boner by just looking at you—but now, he was definitely pent up. the tent in his sweats only grows as he continues to rummage his warm tongue through the corners and crevices of your cunt. gasping, you start to slowly drag his head further against you. “baby, ‘m so hard. so hard jus for you.”

choso was such a messy eater though—he was inexperienced in some areas, sure. but when it came to eating you out, he never failed to please you. he couldn’t get enough of you, especially when you tasted like that. his head can’t help but move around and crazily shift everywhere. he’s devouring your cunt whilst his hips continue to thrust against the edge of the couch over and over and over again.

the snapping creaks get more rowdier before you dig your fingers through his scalp once more. you always tried your best to shower him with praises whenever he was stuffed between your thighs—eating out your precious pussy as if it was the last meal to exist on earth. “ ‘s okay, cho, right there baby. right there, fuck.”

your sweet praises made his ears perk up and twitch and it’s so cute to see. choso’s so into it that he whines right against your cunt, hot breath colliding against your slick flaps. you whine, continuing to guide his face by dragging his head around and against your sloppy entrance. “mmph,” his voice is still muffled as his tongue occasionally rubs against your clit. choso sucks against it hard just to hear you whimper out. his eyes were closed the entire time—but after a while, you hear a bit of a subtle sniffle. you peer down, and it’s choso. he’s sniffling, quite literally getting lost in your pussy. both chubby temples of his face flush as his tongue’s wanders in every neglected corner of your gripping walls. you pause, about to pry his head away and ask what’s wrong before he clings onto your hips, shaking his head firmly. “n- no, don’t move away please. ‘m not done.”

and choso was sniffling solely because of your cunt. it was that good. . he couldn’t comprehend how something from a mere human such as yourself could taste this divine. he’s melting into putty in real time the more he’s slurping your honeyed juices—spitting it all over your clit before cleaning it right back up like a good boy. “fuck,” he whimpers, still thrusting his keen hips into the corner of the couch. he’s so loud, even louder than you and it’s adorable. “baby, i- i love you, i love you s’much,” he starts to babble, and his slurps become more wet and noisy. the lewd squelches from your own pussy bounces and reverbs off the walls and off your ears. your carnal moans only make him more hard as he’s feeling his boner drag itself further against the silky fabric of his grey sweats. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, n- not again, ugh.”

he freezes like a deer in headlights the moment the center of his boxers fills itself with damp grey splotches—he felt it, and he moans whilst he’s still got a mouth full of your pussy. “aw man,” he pouts, his chest heaving as he pries his lips away from your throbbing cunt. teary eyed and a cute determined pout on his lips, choso kisses your clit one more time before sighing. “baby, can we retry? i- i’ll do better this time, promise.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

sukuna’s a filthy pussy eater. . he’s fucking nasty.

he’s a demon and he has no shame. eating you out was a mere pastime for him. whenever he was bored, all he’d really have to do was summon you to his royal chambers to ‘entertain him’ in his own words.

of course, whenever this happens, it always escalates to you laid flat on his king sized bed with your legs widely sprawled—having the sukuna ryomen nose deep inside of your cunt. one of sukuna’s favorite things to do was to eat you out directly after he came inside you.

“brat, stay still,” he murmurs to you, but due to the carnally low pitch in his voice, it sounded like a playful warning. your bottom lip gets caught in between your teeth as you gnaw on it, feeling your stomach churn with such excited apprehension. sukuna’s tall frame towers over you and you gulp at the demon right before your very eyes. you take a moment to glance down at his cock, spotting his pink swollen tip that’s profusely all runny and flaccid. you milked him so much earlier, and he groans at the feeling of still being sensitive. back to his own eyes, they gloss over near your stretched out legs and peek right between your thighs. such goopy ribbons of cum ooze out of your pussy and you spot him licking his lips, a single fang cutely poking out near the corner of his mouth. “hn,” he grouses, and with two hands, he scoots your waist up closer to his hungry sheeny lips.

“suku— fuck,” you squeal, and it was so quick. one second he was telling you to stay still and the next, he’s eating his own cum out of you. filthy, the perfect word to describe sukuna. for once, he’s only ever quiet and shuts up when it comes to your sweet pussy - funny. rolling out his tongue flat against your shimmery entrance, his pink thin brows then compress together in obscene concentration. your back rests flat against one of his many cushioned pillows and your jaw dangles open. “fuck, fuck,” you repeat in broken sweet whimpers, now staring to feel his forked tongue roam all throughout your sensitive walls.

sukuna’s ear twitches once he hears a sudden slosh. as if a sudden instinct triggered him, his cold red eyes flicker toward your left thigh. a creamy droplet of cum starts to drip down the side of your leg. “what a sloppy girl you are,” he huffs, and his tongue licks it right up. he’s not even fazed by the bittersweet taste of himself that’s coating all on his tongue. your stomach caves in and out as he continues to feast—every few seconds, the keen sharp edges of his fangs would nip against your clit. your body would arch forward and you’d give him that cute twisting facial expression every time. “just look at this mess,” he speaks through clenched teeth and an even more clenched jaw.

the curse’s stern crimson eyes rove gawk toward your soppy clit as he pries his lips away—his lips were a pearly pink, lathered with your slick and excess amounts of his own forbidden taste. “ah, don’t even think about closin’ these beauties yet,” and you shiver once he presses a kiss near the neglected crevice of your thigh. your head tosses back as you’re just panting heavily, your chest tightening up with each drawn breath. “hm, ‘s still pouring out of you. how uncouth,” and you whimper once he spits right on your cunt, lapping it right up before kissing your weeping folds once more. “taught you all these manners ‘n you’re still just my sloppy girl. ‘s that right, princess?”

“sukuna, fuuuck,” you babble out, and you gasp once he slowly inserts a thick finger inside, hooking the fat digit all throughout your saturated walls.

“little girl, that’s not the answer to my question,” he tsks, and you release another moan at the feeling of his long finger scissoring its way inside of you, swirling all around deeply. sukuna adds even more pressure by sucking down on your achy clit, dampening his own sculptured chin with your slit soaking against the lower part of his jaw.

you are indeed a mess, stammering out the same loop of pathetic cries as he slurps up his own mess out of you. sukuna snickers, bringing a palm toward your pussy just to watch you wince in pleasure. the sting, your legs were on the verge of snapping shut and he knew that. “tell me,” he utters hoarsely, gradually pulling out his finger and licks it slowly from top to bottom. staring you dead in the eyes, he kisses your folds once more. “who’s pussy is this?”

“yours,” you hiss through gritted teeth at the spank. your sobbing pussy’s met with another rude spank and you gasp, feeling your perky nipples poke further against the fabric of your tank top. “s- sukuna.”

with another spank, spurts of your own dewy juices coat the wide palm of his hand and his crimson-velvet eyes narrow at you. “that’s right, pet. all mine,” and for one last time, he brings a sloppy four second kiss towards your runny cunt. sukuna’s lewd slurps echo through his chambers indefinitely. “you know it ‘n she knows it too.”

☆ GETO SUGURU.

suguru geto eats you out like it’s his favorite hobby, call him a professional swimmer because he loves drowning in your sweet sweet cunt. well, minus the swimming part though.

“sit,” he murmurs, and you swallow thickly as you’re hovering right over his face - his pretty emotionless face. geto’s eyes bore into you and he gives your ass a playful pinch. with ravened dark strands still running down both of his eyes, he licks against your thigh. “sit on my face, pretty girl. ‘m fuckin’ hungry,” and you moan once his teeth tug against the hem of your panties. “there we go,” he coaxes—watching as you leisurely start to lower yourself down onto his face. as he speaks, his voice lowers a single octave and it makes you pulse right between your legs - how embarrassing. your weight slowly but surely makes its way toward his mouth that’s seeping with eager drool from the sides before you’re now sitting on his face. then, you’re met with the most smug expression from geto whilst he opens his mouth, parting his thin slick-spit lips. “lay it on me, yeah. good girl. good fuckin’ girl.”

“fuh— fuuuck,” a whine spews from your lips once his tongue naturally lies itself flat against your entrance. his tongue was frigidly cold and you feel it, the brief knobby texture of his tongue makes your toes curl up. geto’s lashes flap close as he’s slurping up all of you, taking long dramatic gulps whilst a hand cups the fat plush skin of your ass. your hips stutter at first — you’re shy a bit at how you’re just sitting on his face, but he then grabs you by the hips, slamming you further down against his tongue. “suguru,” you whine, chewing the inside of your cheek. his eyes were closed and he’s just merrily munching against your cunt as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. spoiler alert, he didn’t. geto’s head though was maddened. it jerks from left to right, and he’s already growing feral within seconds.

“heyy girl,” he whispers in a raspy voice, feeling your nervous hips swerve in cute crazed arcs. for the life of you—you just couldn’t stay still and he found that so adorable. your eyes were looking anywhere but him and his long fat tongue slowly licks around your tender clitoral hood. geto slides two thick fingers down your pussy, feeling you tense up and he hums. “look at me, eyes on me, sweetheart,” he reminds you, and you watch as his lips twist up. even between your legs—he’s so pretty, and stringy glimmering strands of his own saliva starts to dribble down his sharp chin. he was a mess right underneath you and your clammy hands find their way in his hair, tangling through his matted dark locks. “want you to look at me while i make love to my other favorite girl,” he whispers in a rough voice, and you moan once his tongue hastily flicks against your pulsating nub more.

as you’re shaking all from his tongue and his sly wry words, your eyes lock onto geto’s. “fuck, suguru,” you moan, your fingers getting lost in his shaggy jet-black strands. he’s so pretty, he’s got the most unbothered deadpan plastered on his face while he’s eating you out, dragging his long tongue through your treacly sensitive regions. oh, he just couldn’t get enough of you. geto loves to spit all on your pussy just to have it fall back into his mouth, smearing his crooked pink lips all over your puffy soddened folds as if it was his own personal lip gloss. “y- you’re so nasty, sugu.”

“yeah? praise me more sweetheart,” he utters in a husky voice, and you knew he was joking but you throbbed either way. your hips were so unsteady the more you sat on his face. fuck, he’s staring dead at you too, raising a dark brow before laughing against your cunt. cool breath tickles near your pulsating entrance before he blows against your folds. “aw, quiet now huh. ‘s my tongue really too much? maybe i should stop.”

“n- no, please,” you whine, and your hands rigorously pull onto his strands. the dark haired man looks at you with a sleazy grin, such viscous gooey strands of your own slick dripping down his chin. geto was already pussy drunk, you could tell. he loved hearing those sweet whimpers of yours squawk out the back of your throat despite how you’re trying oh so hard to shut yourself up.

geto loved whenever you got loud for him—he didn’t care who heard. but on the other hand though, his tongue was just plain evil, he made sure to spell out all types of letters and shapes on your pussy. he even spelled his name. your pussy was so loud too, the sloshes were so sopping wet that you couldn’t even believe that was coming right out of you. with a quivering bottom lip, you grab him by the hair, pulling his head up a bit so he could look you straight in the eye again. “don’t stop, suguru. ngh, please. need you to—”

“need? oh, girl,” he sassily snickered, and you moan once his palm firmly swats against your swollen cunt. you were wet, shamelessly dripping down and with his hand now smacking against your folds, you were even more soaked. geto’s low voice and the way it pitches makes your thighs nearly give up, on the verge of collapsing. “dumb girl, stop thinkin’ with your cunt when you speak to me. you don’t need shit,” and he playfully nibbles on your clit. “right, pretty girl?”

geto calling you a dumb girl and a pretty girl in the same sentence made your brain ache—

your breath grows significantly shallow as you stare at him and he’s got nothing but a feral hungry glint in his eyes. “i- i want you make me cum, sugu,” you correct yourself, and your cunt’s just desperately throbbing. every nerve stored inside of your sopping clit, you felt it all. just yearning for you to let go—you were right there, you were so close to your release that you could almost taste it. so bittersweet, the pointed tips of your ears grew hot as you started to grind your sloppy hips against his face again. “please, please. make me cum, suguru. want your tongue, pretty please.”

“that’s my girl,” he coos, a thumb gliding down your runny slit. his cold breath wafts against your pussy and you shiver before his nibbles against your sweet cute nub turn into greedy elongated sucks. geto’s head quickly sashays side to side again in a frantic manner before he grunts. “mhm, c’mon then. give it to me, princess. make a mess so i can clean it right up, atta girl.”

a whirling pool of heat continues to stir up inside of you and you that’s when you feel it. the immense intensity of raunchy pressure that’s shocking every part of your body. your knees buckle and you’re already weak but his tongue makes you ten times weaker. you’re defeated, an easy ko—knock-out, all from a simple tongue with the addition of filthy dirty words. the moment you cum, your mind shoots blanks.

“oh, sugu—fuck,” you then squeak once it all pours out of you. it’s as if you’ve been waiting for eons, and you suddenly feel weightless. you’re twitching and even after your orgasm, you still feel the sloppy laps of his tongue—strings of cobwebby spit glossing his lips before he finally departs. “ngh, suguru.” you’d babble as you’re still weakly riding geto’s tongue. the overstim scratches such a carnal itch in your brain and it makes your eyes roll all the way back.

geto’s catching his breath, running his tongue over his dampened lips before he watches you slump back against the cushioned mattress all pretty and breathless. so cute, the way your chest heaves in and out and your thighs still shook with intense elation. “aw, tired already?” and he crawls up beside you, sneaking a kiss near your neck. “but oh, we’re just gettin’ started, princess. that was just a test run, silly.”

[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

[inkypawprint]

This idea was actually courtesy of my Dad XD we have the dumbest conversations

okay, hear me out,

Leo, in the toaster but he exploded(which already happened) but the door was closed, so his face puddle splats on the inside of the toaster door and we can all just see the smeary expression of Leo’s flat toaster face

Flat, like a pancake.

well if you insist anon

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #1 ; cockwarming w toji fushiguro .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

a couple days ago, mister toji taught me how to 'cockwarm.' it's where i simply sit on his . . . cock, and warm him up -- he says. i was so nervous ! he is so big , and i thought it was going to hurt tons ! it burned a little , but felt so much better after settling a little. mister toji was touching me so softly all over, calling me sweet things, and even played with my tail! i'm so embarrassed -- i must've been blushing so much! i think i may ask him to do it again today , i hope he doesn't get angry . . . i love mister toji so so sooooooo much ! ♡

“c—can we do it when you’re done?”

“what?”

he can tell by the way you’re fidgeting and your ears are twitching— you need something. you pinch at the skin of your thigh, nervous with little courage as you ask.

“the— the thing you taught me. last week. the warming one?” you quip, tugging on toji’s shirt as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the sink.

“oh.. y’want my fat dick in y’r lil bunny pussy is what ‘m hearing, is that right ?” he emphasizes on dick. he’s so blunt, and it makes you want to crawl and hide. he turns to you with a checkered apron hanging onto his neck, hand leaning against the sink. his smug smile spreads across his face, seeming to enjoy the way you grow flustered.

you whine at his choice of words, thighs rubbing against eachother with need. he acts as if he doesn’t see you writhing besides him, your arm purposefully pressed against your chest to suppress your sore tits.

he can practically smell the sweet slick spilling from your pussy bunny, smearing over the crotch of your panties.

toji briefly tugs at the string that holds the back of his apron together, swiftly pulling it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric onto the dining table. he steps forward, figure pressed against yours and you unconsciously stumble back. he makes you so weak.

“uh huh—“ you’re about to beg again, but he’s quick to scoop you up by your legs, hoisting you up into his arms. you yelp, but make no effort to get away — instead, nuzzling your face closer into the crevice his neck, dizzy at the detected mixed scent of his woody colonge and tart sweat.

he chuckles when you huff at the intial drop of your body onto the matress of your shared room, your plush body sinking into the pillowy sheets. your legs part naturally, taking up your invitation and having him slot himself right where you need him most. his broad shoulders press up against your plush thighs, spreading them further than before.

“bad bunny. y’know you can’t just have cock in ya twenty-four seven, right?” his left pointer finger tugs your flimsy shorts aside, and right thumb presses against the soaked patch of your cunt. you mewl under his touch, soft pads of your feet coming up to press him away. you gently shove at his bicep, but he barely moves. he knows you don’t want him to move anyway. “‘m n—not a bad bunny!”

“you are.”

“n—not, ‘m not mister!”

“hmm, i dunno about that.” he hums, pressing against your clothed clit. “are ya ever not in heat?"

"sir, please, n’more questions!" you whine in fustration, yelping when his pointer and thumb meanly pinches at your swollen bud. your eyes bulb with tears, meeting his that suddenly glare so meanly in comparison to his often soft, emerald ones.

"do you know who you're talking to?" toji growls, squishing the chub of your folds together, the slight simulation to your clit making you flinch.

"y—yes, sir. but please . . . mister, need you here, need your cock here!" you whine, ears sullied and pointed low. your hand moves his to take ahold of his finger, pressing it against your aching slit.

"there there . . ." he coos, thumb sliding over your clothed slit but paying it no attention. he presses a warm kiss on the soddened fabric, low lidded eyes and a smug grin that meet yours when he does. you're adorable like this — absolutely worked up and so terribly desperate; it's his favorite version of you.

"m—mister," you stammer,

"c'mere doll." he sits up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you yelp when you feel the chub of his cock pressing against your folds, grinding down senselessly. toji laughs, getting a hold of your bicep to halt your hips movements. "don't be so greedy, bun."

"hnn—" you whine, tail thumping against his thigh. you slowly tug down his sweats, ears perking up when you realize the missing piece of fabric below — he's not wearing boxers!

he notices the way your eyes light up, cheeks begin to flush, and your expression grows brighter than before — you're one step closer to where you need to be. he almost hates the adorable expression sprawled across your face, chuckling when you look up to him with big-doed eyes searching for a green light.

you salivate when you tug the sweats just low enough, his cock slaps against his stomach. he scoffs, watching his cock leak against his soft skin. he’s getting old.

“inside now— mister—“ you pant, drool spilling at the corners of your mouth. you whine again, hands weakly tugging aside your shorts along with your panties, and aligning his cock head with your fat slit. “mister . . .” you whine, hinting for help.

“y’can do it.” toji grunts, placing a hand onto your plush hip. “ mmh, you got it.”

maybe you don’t ‘got it,’ because it burns so terribly when your folds swallow his cock!

“m—mister, mister !” you whine, quickly pulling yourself off his bulbous tip at the initial burn. he watches your slick stretch from your wet slit to his cock head, making him groan.

“calm down . . y’r rushin,’” he readjusts you, pulling your quivering hips close before you’re hovering over his cock again with small tears. “my bunny can’t do it herself, can’t she? whatta dumb lil’ thing.” toji chuckles, “there there.” he whispers with a sultry voice, making your cunt quiver around nothing.

you whine when you feel him tug down at your hips, whining when his hot tip presses against your slit once again — your slits kissing.

“big sir, s—so big,” you whine, a stutter in your voice from the stretch down low.

“slow down, hurts ‘cause you’re rushin.’ see?” he coos, lifting and lowering your hips over and over, fucking you on his tip. no — you don’t see because you’re awfully lightheaded, hands weakly stabilizing yourself above him but little do you know it’s solely his support keeping you up.

your cunt squelches with each and every single movement, a low ‘pop’ that elicits from your pussy whenever he moves you. “good girl. you can take it, am i ever wrong?”

“i—i can, can take it . . .” you slur, head fluffy and hands weak against his pelvis. “good girl. now sit.”

he grunts, pulling your hips down suddenly all the way, your cunt kissing on his dewy balls. “fuck, damn it.” toji groans — you cry at the stretch, cunt sore and raw when he grinds you down further than possible. “m—mister !”

he chuckles again, breath labored as he pushes the loose strands of his hair back. “worst part’s over, doll.” toji presses down at your arch to lay you against him. he can still feel your body twitching from hiccups of your previous fit — poor bunny. “i—it is . . “ you hiccup. he pets at your soft ear that trails down to your waist, giving your plush skin a soft pinch with a hum. “mister . . feels good . .” you purr, tail twitching incessantly again.

“course it does.”

[ravio-the-cabinet-man]

the curse of traditional art (touched something and left grey smudges behind)

[tswkento]

“i have love and dreams too! but you know, one day everyone will grow up and leave me behind, right?” satoru chuckles as he waves his hand at yuuji nonchalantly, unaware of the weight that his words carry as you look up at him with watery eyes.

you rub your temples with one hand as to hide the incoming tears as you wait for their conversation to be over so you can speak to gojo. as soon as yuuji leaves, you enter the room; quick to approach the white-haired man and wrap your arms around him, burying your face between his shoulder blades.

“oh? missed me that much?” he tilts his head to the side, eyeing you as he gives you a small smirk. it disappears when he feels a wet spot clinging to his back and satoru manoeuvres his body around to face you, hands instantly cupping your cheeks as he looks down in concern, “hey now, that’s not very cute of you. i hate it when you cry.”

you push your face into his chest, a broken sob escaping your throat as you wail into his shirt, “you’re the one who makes me cry! saying stuff like that.”

satoru’s eyes squint in confusion before he ahh!’s in recognition, a cheeky smile appearing on his lips, “you and i both know that it’s not about you. i married you so we could be outgrown by the kids together.”

you slap his chest that rumbles with chuckles and press your ear against his left pectoral, spending a few quiet seconds searching for his heartbeat.

“i can still feel sad.” you murmur under your breath, tightening your grip on him as he rests his hand on top of your head, fingers weaving through your hair.

“feel sad for me?”

“mhm.”

satoru hums, stroking the back of your head, and smears a small kiss on your temple, muttering against it, “c’mon, baby, there’s no need for that.”

you sniffle into the sturdy surface of his chest, fingers digging deeper into his back, “i-i missed you so much. and now— now you’re going away again! it’s not fair.”

satoru’s movements on your hair come to a halt as he pulls away slightly to take a look at your face. his big palms cup the sides of it, concerned gaze scanning over your features as he exhales, breath coming out unsteadily. his eyes harden for a brief moment before ab apologetic expression settles on his face, the corners of his lips trembling as he speaks.

“i’ll do my best to make it quick, alright?”

you stare up at him, brows creasing upwards in confusion since that clearly wasn’t what was on satoru’s mind, but don’t push — too tired to attempt anything again as you bask in his warmth for as long as you can before he goes to fight sukuna.

something didn’t feel right.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[natterghast]

& HEADCANONS ;  on weather  .⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

● zelman ;  thinks weather is weather, he doesn’t pay it much mind; that’s what central air was invented for anyway. though, he likes a nice clear night where he can see the stars and the moon ● jeanot ;  gets cold easily and likes to look at snow more than be in it, but doesn’t mind most weather ● devisee ;  definitely has a preference for mild and cold weather; and doesn’t mind rain or snow. it’s why he lives where he does ● nahinu ;  does fine in both hot and cold weather, and likes spring the most, but doesn’t do well in dry climates. her skin needs the moisture from humidity ● benjamin ;  is a warm weather kind of guy. he’s most happy with eighty to ninety degree weather, especially if he can be beachside ● xianne ;  appreciates most weather. she likes drier climates less, particularly if they never get snow, but she likes every season and the weather that comes with ● summer ;  hates rain, is okay with snow; doesn’t feel temperature in the same way ● geid ;  is in tune with nature and smiles about most weather, but thunderstorms can put them on edge ● solar ;  loves all weather. this is solar, they've hurdled themselves into a tornado before for  fun

[arminsumi]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝

A/N: in a gojo state of mind 😵‍💫

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x f.reader

Summary: hubby Satoru the type to do you so good the night before that you limp into the kitchen the next morning

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, SMUT, pns (good girl, baby), dirty talk, 🐱 eating, light size kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation, breeding kink, multiple rounds, sex-crazed Gojo, implied bj

“Fuck baby, cream on me. Yeah, make a mess on this dick – spell your name on it. ‘S so fuckin’ hot – uhhh fuck – good girl’s stretchin’ s’much for daddy’s cock. Feel that? Feel me hittin’ those spots you can’t reach with your fingers?”

A ring of white cream froths up with each plunge of his cock back into your sloppy, sore pussy.

Your pretty husband suddenly slips out with a pop and impatiently lowers his face to level with your hips, burying himself into your pussy, licking a stripe up your thigh to start. He savors the sticky sweet taste that’s leaking out from his pretty wife. He loves it more than he should. When he eats you out, it feels as if he’s the one deriving pleasure from it.

“So fucking hot. You this wet n’ eager for me, baby? You needed this dick bad, huh? Uh-huh. Fucking cum on my tongue, I wannah fweel ih.” His words muffle as he sinks his tongue into your hole, swirling and wiggling it around, rubbing his tip into the roof, curling it up into your sweet spot.

He’s got a long tongue and he knows how to use it right. It feels like he’s French-kissing you down there.

His lips end up pressed flush against your lower lips, but even when his tongue reached as far as it can inside your hole, he’s still not satisfied – he keeps trying to get impossibly deeper.

And Gojo’s not a wasteful boy; he laps and slurps up your juices and gulps them down without letting even a drop spill. He eats it ‘till he’s out of breath, giving you orgasm after orgasm ‘till you go dumb and weak.

“God, you taste so fucking good. Hey baby? Still with me? C’mon, keep those eyes open. ‘Want you to watch me eat this pretty pussy.”

He can keep going and going, his stamina is seemingly infinite. When you squirm away from the overstimulation, he brings you closer to him again, hooking his arms around your thighs to lock you in place. He tugs you down and holds your hips tight, like he’s trying to show off his superior strength.

That pretty upturned nose swipes between your plush lips, nudging and bumping into your clit as he tongue-fucks you eagerly – as if he’s never gotten a taste of something so delicious before.

When he pulls away, his face is a mess; there’s a streak of your juices across his cheek that rubbed off from your inner thigh, and more running down his chin showing off how much you gushed for him. Happy with how fucked-out he’s rendered you with his tongue, he shoves himself back inside you like a feverish animal. Gojo fucks like a damn beast.

“God, baby, ‘gonna cum again. Take it. Take my cum n’ have my baby. Wanna see you holding my child.”

After he creams all inside you, he slips it out and slaps his heavy cock on your clit, smearing some cum over your plush lips. He loves stroking back and forth between them – the feeling alone of your pussy hugging his fat cock makes him get hard again in no time. It’s like he didn’t soften at all. Sometimes a little more cum spurts out and paints your clit, so he chuckles.

There’s such a mess. A sloppy, delicious mix of cum and cream, spit and sweat, precum and pussyjuice.

“We’re not done, baby. ‘Gotta fuck my cum into you ‘till I’ve got nothing left. Daddy’s knocking up that sweet pussy, t’night, m’kay? Good girl, hold those legs back f’me. Let me have you.”

A moment later, you’re back to screaming, creaming, clawing at his meaty biceps for support and comfort as he pounds into you like some sex-crazed fiend. Panting like crazy, skin slapping together, voices shaking – not even your moans sound coherent anymore, let alone your words. The most coherent thing coming out of your mouth is a chant of his favorite nickname; daddy daddy daddy.

He totally breaks you at night.

Then come the morning, he’s calmly eating cereal in the kitchen, thumbing through his socials and chirping a nonchalant “Mornin’, baby, how’d you sleep?” at you when you come limping out the bedroom with wild bed hair.

“Don’t you “Mornin’ baby” me!” you mutter groggily.

He grins devilishly at you. “Sorry, was I too hard on you last night?”

“Mmm…” you hum contemplatively, floating over to him so he can do what he always does the morning after good sex – and that is take you into his lap.

You rest your head on his muscular shoulder and tease into his ear, “Not hard enough, daddy ~ ” just to get him hard through his sweatpants.

It’s his turn to tease. But he does it better; he makes your stomach drop to the floor.

“You need me so bad even this early in the morning, huh? M'kay, get on your knees, 'gonna give you some breakfast.”

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[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, established relationship, whiny nanami, cowgirl, mdni.

nanami loses his mind whenever his dick slips out of you.

thin blond strands of hair stick to his forehead as he stares at you. “sweetheart,” he almost pouts, hearing nothing but white noise in his ears as you’re jerking your body up and down against him. you felt so good, the warmth you always provided for him made him fall more and more in love. your saturated grip was merely addicting. he was quite literally drowning in your cunt. he found himself licking his lips, tossing his head back in bliss with a beefy arm clinging onto the rickety headboard. nanami uses his free hand to hold onto your waist, padded calloused thumbs brushing up and down your waist. “ugh, you do it s- so well, ride me so good,” and his words were like a broken record, a broken whisper. despite its raspiness, you could still hear the neediness lingering underneath. he looked so pretty, glossed up with tears of damp sweat. nanami’s mahongy blown irises rolling back before a low grunt pours from his lips.

“kento, ‘m close,” and as those sweet three words left your quivering spit-glossed lips, you let off a pitchy loud moan. your knees dig themselves deep into his thighs. as you vigorously rock further against his lap, it happens. he’s got a hand attaches to your waist only for his cock to abruptly slip itself out of your slippery cunt mid thrust and you could hear a tiny gasp leave his lips.

“o- oh fuck,” he groans, blinking twice. his entire palm creeps up against your ass as he pants. even the way he swore sounded angelic. the squelching pop sound that created from the sloppy action of your hips makes his ears ring. nanami buries his face into the forbidden crook of your neck in sheer embarrassment, wrapping a few thick fingers over his veiny length. “let me put it back in, s- sweetheart. stay still . . please.”

there was so much entreating beg in his voice, he felt the furrowing curl of his eyebrows compress together before he sprawls your thighs apart further with a single hand.

“okay,” you hum, feeling a breeze of wind rip straight out of your lungs. you’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been, riding him until he was a dumb pussy drunken mess. nanami felt his cock twitch at any and every word escaped from your lips. he could listen to your voice all day and never grow tired. your voice was his own favorite song to listen to on loop. “put it back in, ‘ken.”

“anything for you, my love,” he huffs, broad arms wrapping around your torso. he held you close, never wanting to let go.

the parching hot temperature of your own body radiates against him - your chest, it presses up onto his own and he practically feels himself melting from your balmy heat.

“s- so soaked for me.” he points out with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, preparing to re-align himself. nanami finds himself gawking at just how wet you were, creating a sheeny trail of your heat all on his lap. it made his mouth water at the thought of him licking it right up. he never minded to be messy — especially for you.

anytime you let him go inside, he makes it his entire life goal to make sure you feel good.

you let off a whimper, skimming a few trembly fingers down his faded undercut as he’s going back inside. you can hear his irregular pants as he’s smearing his damp cockhead against your entrance. nanami stares down, practically about to cum just from going back in.

with ease, you suck him in slowly and that moment was gonna always be embedded into his brain. you always swallowed him in so good. his girth, it stretches you open right away and your pussy greets him yet again with another greeting welcome. “k- kento, fuuuck.”

“i know, i know,” he pants, maneuvering soothing circles around your back with a clammy palm. you still had your knees dug into his thighs, making a cute attempt to start moving again. both bodies so close, perspiring with sweat that you start to stick and glue against him. with his sculpted jaw tightening, nanami can’t help but give the left cheek of your ass a nice squeeze. “oh, sweetheart. ‘m not gonna last if you keep— keep clamping down on me like t- this, fuck.”

as he’s fully inside again and his eyes salaciously roll way back, the powerful jerk of your hips starts to accelerate again and he’s already dumb.

dumb from your sweet, sweet cunt - his true enemy, you had him whipped.

there’s already a milky white ring coating around his thickset base. each time you jolt up from his lap only to slam back down, you hear the squelches of your own slippery cunt.

it’s messy, he’s messy. only for you though.

nanami feels the warm palm of your hands playfully shove him back against the fluffed pillows that’s directly behind him. “ah,” he lands back with a sheepish expression, gentle umber colored eyes flickering at your grinding body. “w- what’s this?”

“lie back, ken,” you murmur to him, feeling the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kiss up against your most sweetest spots. it took everything in you for your thighs - for your legs to not collapse right then and there. you see more teary beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead as he clings onto your unstable waist. “there . . good,” you purr to him, sliding a hand up his abs, a finger ghosting down his chiseled v-line and further back down toward his visible blond happy trail. “good boy.”

he swallows — a soft noise leaving out of him. nanami felt his cock twitch again, and this time, you felt it too. “s- say it again,” he pleads, his voice gruff yet still needy. you steady your hips, creating more haste before pressing a kiss into his neck. “c- call me that again, sweetheart.”

“good boy, kento,” you repeat in a whisper, realizing that he actually got off to your praises. he melts again, this time at your words. the bed creaks and grates in rapture, sweaty bodies mirroring springy movements in sync before he abruptly sinks his face into your chest.

“praise me more,” he utters hoarsely, and you let off a soft moan as he shifts himself underneath you.

you’re still bouncing on him, hearing the groaning springs of the bed sing out a lewd tune of its own and your back arches. as you felt brief bittersweet pangs near the undersides of your thighs spread like wildfire, he whines.

“mhh,” and within seconds, you feel the wet tip of nanami’s tongue lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest. pretty lashes of his flutter shut before he holds your hips in firm place. as you stare down, his twitching thickset cock still concealed deep within your walls, he pouts one more time, squished face tuck right between your chest.

“please. praise me again, my love. pretty please.”

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.