#that man was HOOKED !!!!! he could not get enough !!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frondere · 2 days ago

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*shakes can* more pins and needles please? the first part you shared is so adorable! Loved this part "They raced through thickets, weaving stories of pirates and explorers, the world theirs for the taking."

ty for enjoying!!!! I shall be oh so nice....and give you something slightly beefy....please enjoy!! u know the drill..u see something...u dont say something....!!!!

You, lovely viewer, can see the first part here

So, yeah, he ended up pinning the damn thing. It didn’t look great—looked pretty lousy, actually—but who cared?

He wasn't Ford.

The moth was better pinned than it was left to get lost in the grime of Ford’s lab, that’s all it was.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

The problem, though, was that there was this gap now in Ford’s display, an uneven number of empty spaces that bugged him (no pun intended). A busted piano key on an otherwise perfect set.

Just... bare.

And every time he glanced at it, something about that empty space stared back at him, like it was daring him to finish the job, to make it look… symmetrical. Logical, if he were Ford. He could practically hear Ford muttering that, in that teacher’s-pet tone of his.

And so, slowly, it became a habit. He started slipping out of the lab every now and then, taking “breaks” that weren’t really breaks—wandering along the back trails near the shack, through the damp woods and brambles, scanning the ground almost unconsciously. It wasn’t like he was actively searching for dead bugs. But if he happened to stumble across something, well, then maybe it was worth a second look.

Not that he needed much of an excuse for breaks. He was drowning in technical junk that felt like it was written in some kind of intergalactic code. Quantum mechanics, portal theory, electromagnetic propulsion—he’d thought it might be as simple as building the Stan-o-War with Ford, but it was like trying to solve a mystery without a single clue. A nightmare to sift through without a high school diploma to his name, let alone Ford’s mountain of degrees. So, yeah, a break here and there, where he’d “just happen” to find the odd bug, wasn’t so much slacking as it was survival.

Besides, he was figuring out some best practices, too—pin the forewings in this direction, press the hindwings that way, cedar chips to keep pests out, control for moisture, all that. Ford had left some anti-pest sachets stashed in the basement, and he found himself sprinkling them around, like he actually knew what he was doing. It was practical, really. Some people paid a hell of a lot of money for this stuff, so in a way, he was saving money by doing it himself.

Somewhere in all that, the bugs even gave him an idea: The Murder Hut. People in Gravity Falls would pay through the nose to see weird, creepy things, and Ford’s collection of odds and ends was a treasure trove of just that. It wasn’t hard to work up a spiel, either—Ford’s dusty stash had enough bones, feathers, and mysterious “artifacts” that he didn’t even have to make much up. The town ate it up, hook, line, and sinker. One day he’d display a “Jackalope Antler” or the “Invisible Man’s Gloves”; the next, some cursed thing he’d dug out of a forgotten box. As long as he slapped a “Do Not Touch or You’ll Be Cursed” label on it, it sold. And he’d use every dollar they dropped in his greasy hands to pay off Ford’s debt-ridden shack, which somehow—Jesus, Sixer—was almost two years behind on mortgage. Like Stan needed more debt, especially debt that wasn’t even his.

Gravity Falls thought he was a brilliant recluse—some strange scientist who only stepped out of his lab to mutter secrets at the townsfolk. Worked fine by him. Daytime, he was the big mystery man selling freak shows, and by night, he was back in the basement, grinding his way through Ford’s books, pretending he knew enough science to wrangle a portal machine back to life.

But every so often, after the hustle, the whole act would wear on him. He’d find himself sinking into the kind of black-hole thoughts he usually kept a lid on. He’d sit alone at Ford’s reclining chair, nursing a drink and watching some shitty soap opera that the old rabbit-eared TV could pick up, lost in the static and drama. He’d feel that sharp sting of guilt, this old, rotting feeling that it should’ve been him pulled into the void, not Ford.

And yeah, sometimes he’d be back at the bug cases, zoning out over Ford’s meticulous collection, picking at thoughts that felt better left buried.

The bugs, at least, were easy to understand. They were all shapes and colors, some ugly, some downright beautiful, without a single number or formula to complicate things. He didn’t need to memorize larvae stages or migration details or any of that garbage. He just had to make them look good. The Gravity Falls library had a few field guides on moths and beetles, and he’d pocketed them without a second thought, no intention of ever bringing them back.

He found himself taking little “expeditions” outside, field guides in hand, picking out names, identifying colors, sometimes seeing the same bugs his kid brother used to pin up with that bright-eyed obsession. And the names started sticking, like he was getting the hang of a foreign language. There was a strange satisfaction in it, almost addictive. He’d even gone so far as to order a few “extras” from the dusty catalogs Ford had lying around, rare ones from across the world, some already pressed, just needing a good place in the display. Maybe he could throw together a different display in the Shack, and sell moth-man-themed junk to the rubes.

But Ford’s originals, the ones from years ago? No way. Those were off-limits. The thought of handing those over, cheapening them with tourist's eyes… no. He’d sooner walk out of the shack than let those get messed up. If he wanted a case full of unique specimens, he’d find duplicates. Let Ford’s stay exactly as they were, safe and untouched. It just felt right, like something sacred, or as close to sacred as he’d ever admit to.

Sometimes he found himself looking into the cases, the glass casting back his own reflection—Ford’s reflection. His face, right there in that mirrored surface, surrounded by wings and antennae, his brother’s meticulous handwriting labeling each specimen with a date and place. He could almost feel Ford beside him, that kid with the saltwater-and-ink smell, who’d grin up at him with that rare, shy smile of his, patting Stan on the back for “getting it.” And as he looked, his chest tightened, the memories clawing their way back up, and he wondered if it had always just been about getting Ford’s praise. Or if maybe there’d been something else he wanted, something he couldn’t put a name to.

But that was a ridiculous thought, wasn’t it? Just a stupid, pointless thought.

Thirty years, and the old “Murder Hut” had morphed into the Mystery Shack. Apparently, “murder” didn’t scream family-friendly or touristy enough. Not that Stan ever thought he’d find his calling in a dumpy roadside show, but this kind of thing turned out to be in his blood—scam artistry with a flair of mystery, the whole town eating up every word like it was gospel. Maybe if things had gone a little differently, this could’ve been his life right from the start. But hell, no point in dwelling. He already had too much weight on his shoulders, too many regrets boxed up and shoved away in some far corner of his mind where he could pretend they didn’t exist.

Tracking down Ford’s second and third journals had been another mess. He’d gotten damn good at self-taught nuclear chemistry, computer science—practically any subject Ford’s machine might require him to know. Like he had any choice. And it wasn’t easy, but when had his life ever been easy? Each day that passed felt like he was inching closer to the edge of a cliff. There were weeks, then months, then years of grinding away, fixing parts, recalculating, rewiring. Progress came slower than a snail crossing the Sahara, and every step forward left him feeling emptier, a little more brittle, like he was killing himself to bring Ford back.

Maybe he was.

But it’d be worth it.

It had to be.

This summer, he agreed to let Shermie’s grandkids come up for a visit. At least he wouldn’t be stewing alone in that dusty shack. Mabel’s loud, and Dipper’s a curious little brainiac, but they’re good kids. They’re not like him and Ford—they’ve got a shot at something, a chance to actually be happy. Sure, they’d nearly bailed the first night, their decision hinging on some magic eight ball, for crying out loud. But he’d baked them cookies, something to soften the blow of being stuck here.

Two months in, Mabel came hollering down the stairs about a package. Dipper threw in something about the mailman tally—he swore the guy was a werewolf because of some flea he thought he saw jump. Stan sauntered in, smirking. “Any guy can get fleas, kid. Doesn’t mean he’s a werewolf.”

Mabel snorted mid-sip of juice. “Maybe the flea jumped on Dipper,” she teased, which Stan jumped on right away. “Might be time for a flea collar then, huh?”

Dipper glared, cheeks puffing indignantly. “Then the whole house would need collars. Fleas just jump from person to person.”

“At least I shower every day, so I’d be safe.” Mabel’s grin was as bright as it was smug.

Stan tossed Dipper the scissors and gestured at the box. “Cut it open, would ya? I’m gonna make breakfast.” He turned back to the stove, letting the kids go at it.

A groan escapes Dipper as he pulls out a display, a mix of distaste and fascination on his face. “It’s…another one of your bugs,” he says, holding it up like it’s diseased.

Stan perks up from where he’s flipping pancakes. “Oh yeah? Which ones this time?” he asks, sounding casual, but there’s an edge of interest he doesn’t hide too well.

Dipper pulls out the first case, examining it. “Looks like... a mantis?” He hands it to Mabel, who oohs, mesmerized by the soft pink color, her nose practically pressed to the glass.

“Pretty in pink!” she beams, turning it for Stan to see.

Stan nods, amused. “Yep, that’s the one. Figured it’d play into the whole alien theme for the tourists. Folks around here go nuts for anything that looks otherworldly. ‘The Tiny Mantis God’ or somethin’.”

Dipper shrugs, not fully buying it. “Could just make a crop circle out back.”

Stan snorts. “Kid, that’s the first decent idea you’ve had since you got here. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Dipper shrugs. “Never asked.”

Next, Dipper reaches into the box and pulls out a little beetle propped on a miniature toilet. Stan laughs, “Now, that one? Couldn’t resist. That’s pure art, right there.”

Mabel dives her hand in next, tongue between her teeth as she pulls out another case, squinting at the name. “Uh... Auto… Automeris io?”

“Peacock moth,” Dipper supplies, glancing at the label under the display.

Stan turns to look, his face falling a bit as he recognizes the error. Damn it. He plates up pancakes for the kids, pouring sprinkles and strawberries on Mabel’s, bananas and chocolate chips on Dipper’s. As they gaze at their breakfasts with grateful eyes, he huffs as he pulls the case to him. “Damn thieves,” he mutters. “They gave me Antheraea polyphemus, not Automeris io.”

Dipper pauses mid-bite, brow furrowed. “How would you even know that?”

Stan gives him a sidelong look, resisting the urge to grin. “Look at the eyespots, genius. Automeris would have these deep black rings with white centers. Polyphemus? It’s got these large, purplish ones, layered like it’s lookin’ at you. Plus look at the tinge of pink.” He taps the case, showing Dipper the subtle difference, and the kid’s watching with rapt attention, actually listening. That kind of mistake shouldn’t happen, especially to a guy who’d been collecting for years.

Mabel raised her brows, grinning. “You actually sound… smart. Like, nerd smart.”

Stan clears his throat, waving it off, his face a touch red. “Hey, I’m a paying customer, I gotta know what I’m ordering,” he grumbles. Dipper nods slowly, agreeing, but there’s a little smirk on his face that says he’s filed that piece of information away. Stan grumbles, snorting. “Just ‘cause I play dumb doesn’t mean I am, kid,” he says, reaching over to mess up Dipper’s hair.

As he glances back at the rest of the box’s contents, his eyes narrow. Most were imports, pinned and framed for his real collection.

Mabel noticed him lingering over a few, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Gonna put those out on the table?” she asked, and Stan shook his head.

“Nah,” Stan says, “Gonna have Soos mount these three, something’s been knocking them down lately.” Dipper interjects, “Told you, it’s the gnomes,” but Stan waves him off. “The rest’ll go…. somewhere else.”

Stan pulls out the final item in the package, a little baggy with something for Mabel. He holds it out. “Kinda weird and in that abnormally shaped earring style you’re always going for.”

Mabel gasps, peering into the bag, where two delicate, resin-encased Lunar Moth wing earrings catch the light. She beams up at him. Stan rolls his shoulders, popping a few joints. “All right, punks. I got a tour to run, so don’t cause any trouble.” His stern face melted into a grin as the kids laughed, chorusing, “No promises!”

Later that night, when everything was finally quiet, he slipped down to his basement, pulling out the moths for his private collection, fingers grazing each delicate display. Rare, beautiful things, some from as far as Asia and Europe, wings folded in perfect repose. It wasn’t like he splurged often—money for lab equipment and military-grade chemicals didn’t come cheap. But for once, he’d let himself have this small indulgence. He was close to getting the portal to work; he could feel it. Every gut feeling he had said he’d finish it, that something was about to give. This summer would be different. It had to be.

But right now, this was what he had. He handled each carefully, pinning them with the precision he’d learned over the years, his own quiet tribute. Ford had always fussed over the wings, the placement of every last part, and somehow, Stan found himself doing the same. He worked on autopilot, arranging each one with a kind of grim satisfaction, a small part of him hoping Ford would see this someday.

He paused, staring down at the display case. The years had made Ford’s face hazy, his image lost somewhere between the edges of memory and imagination. He knew Ford was alive, could feel it deep in his gut. But what did he look like now? Time had changed them both, carved them in different ways. Stan saw it every time he looked in the mirror: the lines around his eyes, the rough drag of his face, the slight paunch that had settled in around his gut. He’d lost count of the hard nights, the empty days, the scars he’d dragged along with him all these years.

Ford… Ford would be different too, sure. But Stan liked to think he’d aged well, that he’d still have that fire in his eyes, a sharpness Stan always admired, even envied.

Stan leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face, catching himself lingering on a thought he didn’t want to entertain. Maybe, just maybe, when he brought Ford back, things could be different. Maybe they could be brothers again, in a way that wasn’t cold, guarded, and broken. Or maybe it could be… anything, anything that felt like a real connection. But that little voice whispered louder, tugging at something in him he didn’t dare name. He’d buried it down deep, but here, in the quiet, he could almost hear it.

But that was insane, ridiculous. No place for that here, no point.

With a harsh breath, Stan slid back his chair, closing the display case with a soft click. Just a couple more parts, a few more months.

#pins and needles #moth's snippets #moth's asks #stancest

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curtis-corner · 24 hours ago

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STAND BY ME (Darry Curtis) PART 11

Fic Materlist Here

This part is definitely the longest one so far! It was really fun to picture the entire scene going down and I hope it comes across in writing how I pictured it. I really enjoy this little world and am so happy you are all enjoying as well. Thank you for every like and comment <3

Taglist : @lovelylegolas2123 @amnestyliketaz @spuffyfan394, @sleeplessskeleton

PART 11

Your interactions with Tim Shepard have, up until today, been limited to him buying things at the store. He is older than you, so you never shared classes and truth be told, he sort of terrifies you.

You are pretty sure Darry isn’t afraid of anything except losing his brothers, so he doesn’t seem shaken at all when he walks out the front door, shutting it tight behind him.

You notice Pony moving into the living room and you peek your head around the corner.

“Can you hear him?” Pony mumbles and Soda nods. Pony carefully walks over to where Soda is standing next to the open window and they both quietly sit on the floor.

You realize they plan on eavesdropping on their brother, and you walk over ready to blow their cover and have them move, when you hear Tim Shepard say:

“Her old man owes over three thousand dollars to Ray Desmond. That ain’t a guy you want to owe.”

You feel like your knees are about to give out. You’re frozen to the spot and unable to stop listening to the conversation. You feel Pony and Soda’s eyes on you, knowing they figured it out as well, but you can’t stop staring at the door.

“She’s got no part in that. I don’t want his goons coming after her.” Darry sounds tough, and angrier than you’ve ever heard him before.

“I already spread it around that she’s Darry Curtis’ girl and she doesn’t have a damn clue where her daddy is. But that doesn’t mean Ray’s boys won’t come asking.”

“If she had the money, she’d pay it just to bail out her dad and keep herself safe. But she doesn’t.” You can’t see Darry but you know he’s likely running his hand through his hair and looking up to the sky in frustration. “Hell, we could rob everyone’s wallets from here to the county line and we won’t get three thousand dollars.”

“I don’t run with Ray’s boys but I know he keeps a tight leash on them and he has enough standards for a bookie that he won’t hurt her if she really doesn’t know anything. But if her daddy comes back to town, he’s sealing his own coffin.”

Darry lets out a swear and it’s quiet for a minute until he clears his throat.

“Guess I owe you pretty big then.”

“It’s set for next Saturday. Clinton Park at 7.”

“I’ll be there.”

Soda and Pony move quickly, both clamoring to stand up and away from the window, but they aren’t quick enough. Darry walks in, sees the three of you in the living room and sighs.

“Are you kidding me.”

“The window was open,” Pony tries.

“What’s set for next Saturday?” Soda narrows his eyes at his older brother.

“Did you tell Tim Shepard to find out who my dad owes money to?” You ask, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from Darry himself.

Darry looks between the three of you and shakes his head, walking towards the kitchen to the forgotten supper.

“Can we talk about this later?” Darry’s irritated, but he’s not off the hook with any of you. All three of you follow him.

“Is it the rumble with the Carter boys? Are you fighting with the Shepard gang?”

“How do you know about that?” Darry asks Soda, who shrugs and raises his eyebrows, waiting for confirmation. It clicks for you exactly why Darry would be fighting in a rumble, and you see red.

“Did you make a deal with Tim that you’d be in a rumble for him?” You know your voice is getting louder, and somewhere in the back of your mind it registers that this is your and Darry’s first major argument.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Darry starts scooping mashed potatoes from the pot and slamming them on to a plate. “Y’all start eating.”

“You can’t be in a rumble by yourself, what if you get hurt!” Pony looks worried.

“Don’t worry Pony, I’m going with him.” Soda is confident and you swear his chest puffs out a little. “Steve and Two will too.”

“What about me?” Pony asks.

“No.” Darry shuts him down and he gets a piece of chicken fried steak. He turns to Soda. “And we’ll talk about you and the others. Make a plate.”

“Come on Darry!” Pony whines.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to talk to Tim?” You ignore Darry’s request to talk about it later.

“Damnit, can we just eat before I get an interrogation from every person here?” Darry’s voice is loud again, but it doesn’t scare you. It just adds the fuel to your fire.

“How could you agree to a rumble just for information on my father? What in the world would make you think I would be okay with this?”

Darry slams his plate on the table and takes a deep breath.

“Tim did something for me, I’ll do something for him. It was my choice and whoever choses to fight, it’s their choice too.”

“I choose-“ Pony starts.

“Not you.” Darry cuts him off.

“Well I’m so glad y’all have your choices.” You can see in Darry’s expression when he realizes your voice has gone from hot anger to ice cold. “Seems the only one without a choice is me.”

“That’s not true-“

“And when someone gets hurt? It’s my fault because this was all done for me. And I don’t want it!” Your voice is back to anger and you can feel tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

Across the table Darry seems to be cooling off. You’ve always been good at reading him, even when he was just an acquaintance coming into the store. The angry glint in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a warm look of concern.

But while he is calming down, you are heating up.

“Do you think I feel better because I know how much my dad owes? Who he owes?”

“Honey,” Darry steps around the table but you take two steps back.

“How am I going to get that money? Three thousand fucking dollars. Jesus!” You know you’re breaking down, and your mind is yelling at you to stop but you just can’t. Words keep coming out of you like a faucet you can’t turn off. “This is such a goddamn mess!”

“Sweetheart,” Darry is within reaching distance of you know but you furiously shake your head.

“I need some fresh air.” His face crumbles and even though you are angry, you take a breath. “Just the porch, Darry. I promise.”

Darry had once confided in you that ever since Pony ran out the night he slapped him, Darry had been terrified of people leaving and never coming back. That the days Pony was gone were some of his worst, even worse than the days after his parents died.

You were upset, but you still loved him more than anything. And you would never try to hurt him on purpose.

You walk out the door, shutting it firmly behind you and throw yourself into the old lawn chair. The sun is hanging low in the Oklahoma sky, casting a brilliant mix of colors across the neighborhood.

A pack of cigarettes and an old lighter lay on the overturned cooler-turned-table. You recognize the brand as the one Pony favors, and you reach into the box, taking one and lighting it up before you can really think it through.

Smoking isn’t something you do often – you’ve tried it a few times and never liked the aftertaste, but you can’t deny that it does take the edge off when you need it to.

The door opens and put your cigarette out in the ashtray. You are both surprised and somehow not surprised to see Soda and his kind smile.

“Mind if I have a seat?” You nod and he hands you a blanket. “Darry didn’t want you gettin’ cold.”

“Thanks.” You recognize the old plaid blanket as your favorite one in the house and your heart warms a little that Darry must have caught on that you always gravitate towards that one.

“You know, I love my brothers the same. And I’d do just about anything for them. But glory, they are stubborn.” You let out a laugh and his smile grows.

“Especially that older one.” You sigh. “Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens in a rumble? I mean, I know y’all fight but…how bad does it get?” The longer you sit out here, the more it bothers you and you can’t shake the feeling of dread.

“Aw, it ain’t so bad. Especially a skin rumble. Steve’s broken his nose twice, and Two Bit usually gets a black eye for running his mouth while punching. But Darry never gets hit too bad, he can knock a grown man out with one punch.”

“I don’t know how much better I feel about that,” You admit, but the pit in your stomach does get a little lighter. “Why won’t he let Pony fight?” Soda’s expression falls.

“Last time…well, last time Pony really shouldn’t have fought at all. He had just gotten back from bein’ on the run, and he was real tired and got pretty sick after. But Johnny and Dallas died that night too, so it was just…” He trails off.

“Just a lot going on?”

“Yeah. Darry was real scared about it though, so he doesn’t want Pony anywhere near a fight. Even a clean one.” You mull it over for a minute.

“Soda, if any of you get hurt…I don’t see how I can forgive myself.”

“You’re not makin’ us do anythin’. Darry agreed for Tim, and we got his back. Just how it goes.” He says it easily, and you guess he had a point.

“I’m sorry I yelled at Darry in front of you and Pony. And that I dropped the f word.” Soda gives you that movie-star smile and shakes his head.

“We have heard that word before, you know.” You both share a laugh. “Darry’s just always trying to fix everything. We called him superman even before our parents died.”

“I do love that about him. Even when…” You trail off.

“Even when he drives you crazy?” Soda offers and you nod. “That’s alright. My dad used to drive my mom crazy all the time. But they always worked it out. That’s what love is.”

Darry is attacking the laundry when you softly open the door. You see four piles – Darry, Soda, Ponyboy…and you.

“Hi,” He looks up at your quiet greeting. His eyes are guarded, but kind.

“Hey.” Darry answers. He puts down the faded high school shirt into the Ponyboy pile and jams his hands into his jean pockets. You know that’s a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous.

“Can we talk?” He nods. “I apologized to Soda and I’ll talk to Pony tomorrow, but I never should have yelled at you in front of them. Or swore. I’m sorry.”

“What? No baby, you don’t have to be sorry.” Darry takes a tentative step closer to you and you realize you need to feel his arms around you more than anything. So, you close the gap between the two of you and sink into his embrace. He lets out a soft relieved sigh when you do. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. And I should have told you I went to Tim.”

“Why did you go to him?” You ask and Darry pulls back a little, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Because I was scared to death. When you showed up in the middle of the night, and I hear Steve screamin’ and you’re covered in cuts and can barely breathe?” His eyes are darker and even though you were there, hearing the events of the night from him sends a shiver down your spine. “That night when I dropped you home and the house was dark…I didn’t have a good feelin’. And then everything happened…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You reach up to touch his face and his eyes close for a minute as he leans into your touch. “This is all my dad.”

“And I went to Tim to confirm that the men were after your dad, not you.” Darry’s expression is pleading, needing you to understand. You feel tears start to form again. “I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and if that means knocking a few guys from Louisville Heights, that’s not a problem. You’re worth it, you hear me?” You swear his captivating eyes are staring right into your soul. “You’re always worth it.”

You nod and he pulls you closer, lifting you slightly from the floor as he moves towards the bed. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you on to his lap. You take a few deep breaths as he runs his hands up and down your back.

“My dad’s not coming back, is he?”

“It’s…probably better if he doesn’t.” Darry is putting it delicately and you appreciate it. You know you can never go back to your house, that you would never be able to sleep and always be terrified about another break in, or worse. As if he’s reading your mind, Darry pulls you a little closer. “You can stay here.”

“For how long?”

“Forever?” Darry asks and you can feel your eyes go wide and mouth drop slightly open.

“Darry Curtis, you can’t just ask me to move in! We just had our first big fight!”

“And now we’re makin’ up.” Darry buries his head in the crook of your neck and you can feel him grinning against you.

“It’s one thing to stay a few days while things get sorted, but move in permanently?”

“People do it all the time.” Darry starts kissing up and down your collarbone.

“Married people.”

“Well-“

“Darry, do not finish that sentence.” You hear his low chuckle and you feel like this whole evening has given you emotional whiplash. He leans his head back again and smiles up at you, one of those lazy smiles that you so rarely get to see.

“I’m not asking right now, but honey, you know I already planned on doing it one day.” You certainly did not know that. “And if you’re more comfortable moving in with a ring on your finger, we’ll just speed up the timeline a bit.”

“It’s not about--oh my--I mean--Darry.” He’s back to kissing your neck as you are having a near-crisis. “If we get married, I then become another guardian for Pony and Soda. You need to talk to them about it, make sure they are okay with it, before we even think about…you know…timelines.” You finish lamely and it doesn’t help that you can feel him smiling against your jaw. He leans back and rests his forehead against yours.

“So you’ll stay?”

And you hear it in his voice: how much he wants this. How the need to protect you may have been the catalyst for you moving in, but staying for the long haul is something he desperately wants.

You understand the feeling because you want it just as bad. You want the good days and the hard days and the regular old days in between. You want to come home to Darry and you want Darry to come home to you. It seems simple when you really think about it.

“I’ll stay. Always.”

NEXT: Settling into the Curtis house/life, thinking about Darry's talk of timelines and the outcome of the rumble with the Shepard boys.

#darry curtis x reader #stand by me: darry curtis #darry curtis fanfiction #the outsiders fanfiction

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rosykims · 4 months ago

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finished rogue trader. so mad about it i had to take a nap and then start a whole new playthru again to cope <3

#tay plays rogue trader #I DIDNT GET THE HEINRIX-LEAVES-THE-INQ ENDING..... AFTER EVERYTHING...... GRILLS MYSELF............#actually sooooooooo miserable like what do you mean ''the two lovers rarely crossed paths going forward..... '' shut up literally fake news #that man was HOOKED !!!!! he could not get enough !!!!!!#sigh. anyways. *clicks new game* heres how leda von valancius can still win #aka playing diviner is so funny bc i can just metagame thru every mistake i have ever made irt her playthru <3 just a dream bby its fine dw #anyway i loved the game sooooooo much. way more than i thought i would #definitely a top 5 rpg for me i think #my only main critique (outside of the 7 million bugs lol) was smth SO many games do and it pisses me off to no end #how the game will just. literally END. it will CEASE. the second u do the final boss #da2 did it ! fallout did it ! pillars of eternity did it ! bg3 did it before they added the epilogue months later #its so common and it makes me mad bc its so lazy... like throughout the entire game the story allows u to opt in #to moments of catharsis w ur companions.... to get their viewpoints and reflect on whats happened. but the ending just Ends lol #and ik Ending the story is a catharsis in and of itself but damb maybe i just want to celebrate killing whatever the fuck a c'tan shard is #with bae yknow. but fuck me i guess !!!#KJFDGJKFDG #BUT IM JUST BEING A HATER. LOVED THE GAME RECOMMEND TO ALL THE MOOTS !#im so excited to replay and make all the same choices i did the first time but Sexy this time. and also to build the party correctly #so its not just me and heinrix carrying everybody on our backs this time 😔✊ tho that was pretty funny tbh

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science-lings · 8 months ago

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Sometimes I like to entertain the concept of some ships specifically because they're a little silly but not take them seriously at all. Like Phoenix and Godot, it fits Phoenix's type of people who are mean to him and I specifically think that it's funny for Godot to tell Phoenix that he reminds him of his dead girlfriend like... that's a little fruity but ok.

I'm here to have fun and sometimes it's fun to consider things that do not make any sense but are ultimately, just a little funny.

#i also think that phoenix x blackquill could be real funny based specifically on the bird/ emo and sunshine vibes #honestly phoenix could be so silly with a lot of characters #either he's aroace who is afraid of relationships or this man gets around I cant decide which to go with #you cannot tell me this guy hasn't been the delites third once or twice #local trash man accidentally hooks up with his adopted daughters bio mom without anyone realize who each other is #also the bio mom is a famous musician and the trash man has no idea how he rizzed her up #i think he flirts with shadi before getting framed for his murder #franzi totally has a crush on him in the stage plays and its a little funny #again i can't decide whether i like the idea of people being super into him all the time or if I want him to be just a guy with insecurites #i think he thinks hes like below average but half of the people he comes across want to raw him immediately #theres just a massive disconnect on how he sees himself and how everyone else sees him #he wins the lawyer dilf twitter poll but has anxiety over his hair being spikey enough at all times #phoenix wright #ace attorney #this man is either bisexual and on the loose or aroace and just so desirable that it drives people to insanity (literally)

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unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year ago

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billions could only have a gay man, who was married, and died by the end of that season; only deal with taylor's upending of presumed cishettery by having everyone who's not terrible be automatically down without putting some crisis about it on them, as the better approach to trying to have people talk about it (true, certainly in this case); extent of its room for rian's latent nonbinariness being "never wearing skirts/dresses, always wearing makeup though"....all that is to say, even with neither of them allowed to be "truly" cishet, b/c that's the rewarded realm for superior people, billions could never do winstuk. but they could be kissing right now

#winston & tuk: cannot be cishet in a way that matters (billions means this as an insult. i mean it as a testimonial)#sure convincing that winston's own ideals are like ''wow im the straightest in the world'' after One alleged official dating experience #and Two crushes on nonbinary people. and being the One person who's a) supported tuk b) without telling him to Stop Being A Loser #the one way other characters can Elevate(tm) tuk more than winston: not Really support him; just tell him to Become worthier #while winston: does not do this #anyway nobody at all gets to be ''truly'' ''ideally'' cishet; just like other inventions re the Correctest body/mind's look & behavior #tbt yrs & yrs ago some random lady talking abt ''queering'' her marriage by having a cellphone or smthing like ma'am i agree nowadays fr #winston Cannot have a ''correct'' sexuality even if he's supposedly ''at least'' cishet with it #neither can tuk; next most loserest dumped no gf nerd! neither Unglasses'd; neither Thin; winston's autistic; tuk isn't white....#show goes ''well just look at & listen to him XD'' towards winston on occasion; usually doesn't ''overtly'' do this; doesn't re: tuk....#meanwhile the idea that well Non Hot(tm) people who have no place in ideals & fantasy of Correctness & what's most desired?#they can get with Each Other :) that doesn't threaten things haha don't know how wrong they are. or have accepted All They Deserve (less)#billions is so proximately capable of letting these two be Involved in this way lmao. but it also Isn't #can barely handle taylor & just avoids addressing as much outright as often; again: one gay man; neatly married; neatly deceased....#iconic total hc's: supplementary dynamics the ladies who are also friends they hooked up w/in 6x11 having a fourway abt it #no anxious negotiating of what must be done & must not be done to keep it all cishet ''enough'' lol. congrats to them all #winston billions #winstuk #was already thinking winston could be dating someone we don't know abt till billions tried to reassure us oh he hasn't Of Course lol right #same is true for tuk ofc but he gets the same treatment (ft. ben's utter mysteriousness re: Any mention of past dating history....)#riawin could've been great & was completely welcome; issue became how the abusiveness there would just also manifest re: sex / romance #totally won't find resonance / overlap b/w ableism & homophobia in how winston's sexuality is seen as mere sex drive that's also gross btw #tuk's really also framed the same way like Of Course You'd Be Rejected; and Any desires would become repulsively Too Much #b/c the superior parties have to want it for it to be correct! & they'd never want You! you're just completely wrong & outside of it all #winston talking at all? Too Much. he must be talked To; & that is so usually begrudging & nonideal #other ppl being horney like well of course. pretty epic really #like w/e winston's sucking & fucking & [Saluting] if he isn't dating at all. like good for him. he can make out w/tuk one way or another #''winston can go fuck himself'' (like one bg dialogue person straightup says) Okay. He Is. party for one? this too can be Sex

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pocketramblr · 2 years ago

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So which of your AFO's are willing to marry me? 😏

an unknown masked person of indeterminate power, wealth, or use? currently zero of them.

#idk man kraken afo might be swayed by a strong enough political match #reverse kraken afo only wants what he cant have so you wouldnt make the cut there #i guess if youre the child of his most annoying enemy the dark prophecy could hook you up with torafo #maybe there are a couple who'd be amiable to it if you get his kid convinced its a great idea #anon #pocket talks to people

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screampied · 17 days ago

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‘ DEATH BY SÉX! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs. toji, sukuna, nanami, gojo, choso, geto.

warnings. fem! reader, very pússydrunk men, unprotected, cunnīlingus, messy eaters, nīpple play, ab riding, sukuna kinda lactates, dry humping, sqúirting, overstim, spīt, dirty talk, praise, p spanking, fīngering, breedīng mentions, petnames.

an. when you realize everyone here's actually d-

☆ GOJO SATORU.

pronounced dead the minute he goes inside.

satoru grunts, glassy eyes widening as he’s watching his reddened swollen tip disappear between your slick entrance. panting out soft whispering ‘hooooly shit’ ‘s and ‘fuck’ ‘s, you could already tell he’s done for. he’s been inside of you more times than you could count—but it’s like every time is the first time. riding the satoru gojo was a fatality in itself. anytime you ride him he’s weak, and he’s even weaker once you’re staring him dead in the eyes—luxuriating in his lewd contorting facial expressions. it was just the way his crystalline-colored eyes would criss ‘n cross, rolling waaaay back into the dark voids of his head each time he cums inside. satoru always loses it whenever you fuck him, scraping your frantic hips against his and quite literally fucking the brat out of him. “yeah, fuck me. don’t stop baby, don’t—fuckin’—stopp, and he glues his palms against both sides of your waist. your knees rest against his bulky thighs as you’re jerking back ‘n forth, watching his jaw go slack whilst his glossed lips part into a wheezing ‘o.’

and at that moment, he knew he was pussy drunk.

the bed creaks beneath you both. it’s creaks sounded more like groans, and the entire wooden headboard was practically about to split in half.

“mhm, eyes on me ‘toru,” you remind him, glancing at his icy blue eyes that wandered every direction but your face. that was always a habit of his. whenever you rode him, sometimes he’d stare off to the side . . or the ceiling . . or his favorite place, your bouncy tits. “not there, baby,” you tilt his chin up, watching the pout gloss across his lips. satoru claws a hand at your hip, grunting as your cunt sucks him in wholly. every time—you had quite the grip on him, and it’s enough to make him his blushing tip smear across your insides. you moan, feeling the hooked curve of his cock expand through your walls, zigzagging its way through your pasty entrance. “fuck, ‘toru. close again, yeah?”

“m- mhm,” he inhales, gnawing at the bars of his inclosure. your hips were killer . . and every single time - he falls in love with how greedy you slam back and forth against him. rutting hips of yours constantly clashing further into him before a hand wraps around his throat. satoru’s snowy lashes flutter as he glances at you, moaning once you give his neck a slight squeeze. “heh, kinky today, are we angel? usually i’m the one who does the choki—fuuck,” he croaks mid sentence. your squeeze around his throat tightens just a bit, not too much. it’s the right amount of pressure that makes his dick twitch inside of you, and you feel the sporadic pulse instantly. satoru starts to pant, and as your cunt’s still freely constricting around his lanky fat length, his head leans back. “goddd, such a naughty girl. you get y’r cockiness from me that’s for sure.”

“do i?” you purr, leaning in to lick a slope down his neck. satoru moans, and a barred palm of his creeps down toward the fat near heart-shaped juncture of your ass. with a stinging whack, he smacks your rear as you rut into him at a much more quicker pace. with the way your hips rolled, you were gonna hypnotize him with your pussy. you’ve still got dried splotches of cum sticking at your sides before his lips start to quiver in impatient frolic. “baby, open your mouth,” you hum, a sudden idea popping into your head.

working even thinking, the white haired man pries open his mouth before looking at you with low hooded, pussy drunk eyes. “ ‘kay,” he replies submissively, heaving each drawn out breath through his full lungs. satoru’s cock plugs you in snug ‘n fully, and each time you slam your flooding wet cunt against his lap—he’d get whiplash. “what, do i stick out my tongue too or . .” and he pauses, cocky grin fading, and within seconds—he’s growing sheepish once he sees you smugly grinning. “oh.. you’re serious, okay!”

satoru lolls out his pink clean tongue, singing out a playful ‘ahhh’ before that’s when you spit directly in his mouth. he blinks thrice, and instinctively, he swallows. after he savors your taste, a slutty moan leaves from the back of his throat as he’s squeezing your ass. “fuck, do that shit again.”

“yeahhh, more?” you whisper, wiping a thumb across his slick pursed lips. satoru broke a cold sweat, and the more you touched him—the more he started to pant like a dog. his dick ached inside of you, and every time you clamp down on him he lets out a sharp hiss. compressing his lips together again, you give him a quick chaste kiss before purring haughtily. “say ‘pretty please’.”

satoru pouts before sighing with a grousing grumble. his ego was nearly massacred, but he wanted more . . and he wanted you. “pretty . . please,” and he brings a hand toward your right breast, stroking a thumb against your nipple. satoru watches you writhe with his dick still tucked inside before his smugness shortly returns.

“spit in my mouth again,” and satoru, with his lopsided cunt-drunk grin, he puffs his lip out, giving your ass it’s final playful spank. “mommy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji fushiguro’s an absolute animal whenever it comes to your pussy. straight up, and he might as well change his tittle to the ‘pussy killer.’

he practically lived between your thighs, and fuck could he eat. it doesn’t take toji long at all to get pussy drunk either—in fact, all he even has to do is just smear the buttony tip of his nose down your sopping wet clit, getting a nice whiff.

your scent – it was so strong that without even using his tongue yet, he could already taste you. his tastebuds were salivating… and with you lying pretty, legs sprawled and all, you really brought out the beast out in him. you meet his feral entranced gaze and toji’s heavily panting—already starting to drool from the cracked crevices of his lips just at staring at your cunt.

and all you knew was . .

he’s hungry, and you made him this way.

“f- fuuuck, toji,” you’d croon out a whine, wiggling your hips before he pulls your jittery legs apart from each other. your legs stuck together with such gluey sapping slick that it was cute—you felt hot the more he started to bring his face towards your teary entrance. “n-ngh,” a soft grunt leaves from you as you felt his cold stare intently focus on your poor weeping folds.

one of toji’s favorite things to do though, was to eat you out.. right after he came inside . . and oh, it was the prettiest sight he could ever see.

as toji swiftly goads a plump thumb up to your tender labia, he watches as the mess start to stream out of you – all at once.

you were putting mere waterfalls to shame with how wet you were, just profusely sopping. as he continues to have an eye contest with your sweet drenched folds for a long amount of seconds—toji finally closes the distance, leaning in and sloppily pressing a kiss your pussy.

immediately, he hears the cute ‘psssh’ ‘s your entrance makes and he darkly chuckles once he feels lustrous strings tear away from your entrance, landing onto his mouth. toji didn’t care that he was tasting himself—a sweet.. filthy mixture of you and him that’s now shamelessly coating his scarred, wry lips.

there’s a faint tang of bitterness as he starts to dip his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt—but again, he’s nasty – he’s dirty and your cunt made him even dirtier. toji made sure to thoroughly drag his tongue through every crevice, lapping up the wads of runny cum that was trying to glissade down your puffed pussy. he’s crazy, grabbing ahold of rickety unstable your hips with two bare hands. shaking his head side to side like a madman.

“toji… fuck, you’re s-so nasty,” you moan, fishing a hand through his rumpled overgrown tresses. toji groans once you give his hair a solid pull, yanking him forward. his entire face was stuffed against your pussy—and honestly, to him.. this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out.

death by pussy.

toji found it cute how you could never stay still, his tongue was that much, and you let off a sweet dragging yelp once the tip of his tongue greets itself against your pretty throbbing g-spot. “fuckkk!”

“nasty just for you, babygirl,” he hoarsely whispers against your folds. hitched hot breath waves into your entrance and you were already starting to arch toward. breathy, labored breaths of yours started to grow more ‘n more irregular as he continued eating you out. after every toe-curling movement from his tongue alone—toji moves even closer, lolling out the entirety of his long flat tongue to get an extra good enough taste. he was greedy.

verdant eyes meet yours as he creates a slow sloppy trail, starting at your fluttering hole allllll the way until he’s guiding his tongue to lick in between your slit. toji thinks it’s cute how you’re throbbing in his mouth – pulsating on his tastebuds the entire time—pulse after fuckin’ pulse. you let off a cute ‘ah!’ as you’re just shoving his head against your face and he snickers.

toji slurps you clean, creating such lewd noises from his mouth before meanly spanking your cunt, staring it dead in the entrance. “she’s my favorite girl, always” and he hums. “ ‘s funny though. she’s just like you,” and you whimper once his palm swats against your pudgy folds again, squelches getting louder. “she talks back exactly just like you, baby. wet with a smart mouth.”

your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you watch with glossy-doe eyes whilst toji plays between your legs. each convulsion gets stronger… and by now, you started to feel yourself short-circuiting. you were so tender, and toji loved more than anything to spank your cunt raw, kiss it, rub it—then spank it again. a feral cycle.

right then, that’s when he snakes two thick fingers inside of your cunt, watching his fingertips slowly disappear. soft shrilling moans drag from your vocal chords before he licks the remnants of his cum from your pussy before a breathy ‘heh’ fans against your clit. “god, she’s fuckin’ nasty today. no manners just like her pretty owner,” and toji pulls his fingers out, licking them before spanking your cunt again with a free hand. “oooh,” he jibes, pointed ears perking at the cute popping slosh. you’re so wet—so so wet and he only wanted more. as his hand continued to smack against your folds, a few droplets of your sheeny juices splat right near the corner of his mouth. a few millimeters away from his slashing scar near his lip. toji happily licks himself clean with his eager tongue, giving your pretty pussy another spank, and another, and a-fuckin’-nother. .

the room’s filled with nothing but loud spanks of his hand going against your cunt—you moan ‘n whimper everytime, the brief occasional sting from the palm of his hand leaving a sweet dirty taste in your mouth. at his next spank, toji hears you moan out a pretty ‘oooh’ of your own and he looks up at you.

“yeah, girl? like that one, huh? fuck, can’t tell who’s nastier,” and he spits on your cunt before lapping it up before it could dribble between your slit. “messy little girl. cute how y’r pussy’s tryna compete with you,” and as he spanking it for a while, toji maneuvers soft tenderly circles against your throbbing heat.

“my messy pussy. all mine.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

it’s rare for nanami to get pussy drunk—but when he does, watch out. he’s a eater at heart, and the moment you tell him what to do, he’s get cunt drunk within a matter of seconds.

“sweetheart, the least you could do is let me see you while ‘m between your legs,” nanami would huff, and his eyes were completely covered by his tie. tied in a neatly loose knot, he’s buried between your legs, so so close to your sopping saturated cunt. he could practically smell you, and as he spoke it was a cute pout that decorated his thin pink lips. as his glossed lips inch closer, he brings your pulsating clit a chaste kiss. “you’re wetter than usual today,” he whispers, and you let off a moan as your head tilts back, clawing a hand through his mussed blond strands. nanami looks up, his vision still blocked—but it’s almost as he’s making direct eye contact with you. as his finger gingerly peels your soddened folds apart, his husky voice pitches deeper. “does me bein’ on my knees ‘n blindfolded turn you on—”

with a impatient sigh, you give nanami’s hair a harder tug. “kennn,” and he watches as you create a wider spreading ‘v’ of your legs, glistening folds spreading apart also. “talk too much. finish eating,” and then a sly smile pulls against your lips as your eyes glance down at his unoccupied hand. “spank it too. . while you’re at it,” and you pout. “pretty please?”

“spank it?” he repeats, nearly getting lost at the sheeny stream of slick that pours down your slavering entrance. your pussy was profusely weeping from top to bottom, and nanami brings a hand up, softly caressing your tender twitching muscle. “my, where’s this comin’ from? you know i wouldn’t wanna hurt you, princess.”

you let off yet another frustrated sigh, feeling your chest heave in and out as nanami’s lips brush up against your swollen clit. pretty, ruby lips of his were all damp—along with the lower part of his jaw that was starting to water all due to your sweetened juices freely cascading down his chin. “ ‘s not gonna hurt, kento,” you reassure him, your voice getting shakier once he goes back to delving his pointed tongue in ‘n out of your throbbing heat.

there’s a coquettish simper that twists near each sides of his lips before he uses a palm to pat your cunt. “yeah? you want me to spank you here, huh?” and you whimper, watching as he starts to swirl a plethora of shapes against your sobbing entrance with his palm. immediately, you coat his entire palm with your slick and he starts to lick against his hand. with a sudden smack, you gush right on his palm a little and you whine at the abrupt contact. “ooh, how was that, my love?”

“harder,” you moan, feeling the bottomless pits of your stomach flutter with butterflies once nanami’s ethereal caramel eyes lock against yours. you hadn’t even realized he pulled his dotted patterned tie up above his eyes, getting a pretty peek of you and your sweet greedy cunt. once he gave you that look with that sleazy lopsided grin, fuck you knew it.

nanami kento’s pussy drunk, and it makes you throb just knowing only you had the power to make him this way.

with a playful snicker, he shakes his head. “ah, ‘harder,’ she says,” he whispers, giving your pussy another spank. one turns into two . . then three, then four . . and eventually, the only sounds that fill the room is nanami’s wide palm swatting against your squelching sex. if you weren’t vocal, you definitely were between your legs because your cunt continued to spat sloshes and squelches from each direction hit from his hand. “my oh my~ she’s a bit of a chatter today, no?”

still with a pout painted across your lips, you let off a sweet needy whine. “ ‘ken, spit on it,” and his ears perk up at your carnal words. you leer down at him as the corners of his lips crease inward, showcasing his dimples and he hums. “please, spit on it kento. need it.”

“no, baby. you want, not need,” nanami corrects you, the frigid silvery band of his watch brushing up against your cunt. as the coolly air of the room fans against your twitching flaps, he gathers up a nice wad of saliva before spitting down on your plump pussy lips.

nanami stares at you the entire time—openly, relishing in your expressions and you’re shivering and pulsating at the same time. seconds later, he leans in to slowly lap up the stringy trail of his own saliva while maintaining direct eye contact with you the entire time. nanami lolls out his lengthy long tongue, curling it inside of you before he gives your tender nub a niiiice long suck. he slurps literally everything out of you, and now. . he’s starting to to spell his last name with the tip of his tongue.

n-a-n-a-m-i k-e-n-t-o and as he’s tracing each letter libidinously, you feel your own hips rock and writhe into his mouth at an unsteady pace. nanami’s growing stubble tickles against your pussy and you whimper.

after a while, he grabs ahold of your hips and his head starts to sashay back and forth. he’s fast, and he softens his voice, talking over your sweet wailing whines. “fuck, use my face, honey. ‘s okay, i don’t bite,” he purrs against your clit. but as he spoke, his soft fawn irises lock against yours before he hums, teasingly nipping his teeth against your sensitive pearled nub while giving you the most pussy-drunken grin you’ve ever seen.

“unless.. you’re into that too, sweetheart—me biting your clit, i mean.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO

with choso—he gets cunt drunk the second he gets a fresh view between your legs. so pretty, just seeing you spread eagle in front of him, teasing him with that playful look in his eyes, oh you were gonna be the death of him. but in this case—not you, but your pussy instead.

“come closer baby,” you quietly coo, watching how your boyfriend’s eyes bulged wider. you look so pretty, slouched back against his side of the bed with your legs spread. he gulps as he openly stares at your drooling cunt - weeping with honey slick that creates a trail of wet molasses. you were so soaked, and choso could tell you were playing with yourself while he was out. “chosoooo,” you hum, a smile marinating against your glossed lips as you could clearly see him nearly entranced by your spread out pussy. he barely blinks, and once he starts making his way between your legs, he lets out a soft whimper. “c’mere, give it a ‘lil kiss.”

“y- you sure?” he sheepishly says, the darkened scar that runs across the bridge of his nose creasing up. as choso brings his face between your thighs, his warm breath aerates down your slit. god, he couldn’t help but get a good whiff. you smelled so sweet—and he hasn’t seen you all day. instinctively, he runs a thumb down your sobbing cunt before feeling his lips twitch. “f- fuck, princess. were you playin’ with yourself earlier?”

in this case—you’d end up making choso an ever bigger freak than you. with an impish grin, you paw a hand through his oily raven strands before inhaling a deep breath.

“maybe jus’ a little,” and you moan once you feel his thin lips pucker, bringing your cunt a soft three second smooch. “yeah- uh huh, like that,” and as your voice starts to tremor, you give his hair a light tug. “choso, use your fingers a little. can you do that too?”

“mhm,” choso replied meekly, and you didn’t have to tell him twice. as your legs continued to sprawl themselves open, he gradually pops in a finger – immediately feeling you try to clamp down on him. choso lets off a soft airy breath, watching with big marveled eyes as your cunt’s so eager to suck in the single digit.

you squelch—then you squelch again, and you let off a moan once you feel him start to scissor his finger way past the tight ring of your gummy entrance. “s- so warm inside, baby,” he murmurs, and he can’t help but lean in, sliding his tongue against your twitching sex. “mmph,” you stare as his eyes flicker back for a moment, and you knew right away that it didn’t take long before he choso kamo was fatally pronounced entirely pussy drunk.

the moment his digit’s buried deep inside of your sopping cunt—he can’t help but add in another, and he’s moaning right with you.

choso was near the side of the bed and his hips took it amongst theirselves to start rocking against the wooden edge. “c- choso,” you mewl out, feeling an eerie stir swarm around the bottom pits of your stomach. his fingers were long, and he made sure to delve them in and out of you, coating each ‘n every inch with such slimy volumes of your sweet sap. “fuuuck, keep kissin’ it too, baby,” and as he continues to obediently follow your words, your legs begin to wrap around his neck. “fuck, fuck, don’t stop. ‘s good, good fuckin’ boy.”

“m’ your good boy,” he repeats, feeling a strain at his dick that sheaths under his jeans once he hears you. your praise—choso’s number one weakness. whenever you showered him with praises, or even degrade him a bit, he’d probably cum right through his pants. choso’s thick fingers plummet deeper until they twist around, maneuvering circular shapes to make you whimper out a desperate battle cry. you slump back, gasping before you feel your leg start to twitch. “ ‘s this okay, baby?”

with another whine running past your lips, you felt a sudden pressure gradually building up. its creeping—and the curvature of your mouth forms into a oval-like ‘o’ the second you feel him rubbing his nose against your cunt.

fuck… you were so close and choso made sure to study your body’s movements. “m’ gonna cum, ‘cho. fuck, right there, don’t stop, ngh,” and as your eyes squeeze shut, you watch him briefly pull out his slick-coated fingers. you’re panting heavily. harsh-heated breaths snatch from your lungs unapologetically, and as you’re laid back with your legs spread wide – you don’t even realized you had gushed right out… a pretty shimmering geyser that sprays out your overwhelmed pussy.

your orgasm was beautiful, and choso’s ears twitched at the melodic sound of you abruptly finishing. you ended up squirting, and it makes him moan knowing he did that. “so.. pretty,” he pouts, lapping up his wet chin with his tongue. you could feel your legs still violently shaking as you were trying to get over your teetering high, your grip in his hair loosening. “hah, good girl. did so good, a bit m- messy but good,” he cheekily jibes, raven eyes flickering up at you.

choso gives your sloppy cunt one more kiss before you moan, feeling him slither both thin fingers back in.

“more… do that again f’me,” and choso playfully nibbles at your clit, hearing your cute yelps from the tenderness. “wanna see you squirt again, and again, and again.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

you’d make him pussy drunk in the most random times — he’d be working out, and you’d be straddling him, bare ‘n all.

geto grunts, feeling your soft wet cunt just laid all out, sitting against his flexing sweaty abs. such carnal thoughts roam through his brain… imagining all types of things—like him being between your legs to start, eating you out like a starved man.

“h-heh.. now m’ startin’ to get why you love watchin’ me do my sets, sweetheart,” geto slyly purrs, raising a brow once he sees you straddling not his lap—but his chest. his perfectly chiseled chest with glistening trails of sweat tearing down his sculptured v-line.

it was true . . you indeed loved to watch geto whenever he worked out, but it always made you super aroused. how his hefty tense muscles would tightly tense at each pull of his dumbbells. how his veins in his forearms would bulge from each rough pull. but the moment you peeled your panties to the side, geto hooks a hand on your hip. “oh? is my girl feelin’ a bit nasty tonight?”

“suguuu,” a cooing whine slithers past your lips as you pout, your wet cunt sitting flat against the top chiseled row of his abs. they were so hard.. and it makes your legs clench together, feeling his chest heave in and out. he’d just gotten through a bunch of reps, but you couldn’t wait—and neither could the stream that’s starting to gloss between your stick thighs. “you’ve been workin’ out all day.”

geto darkly chuckles, brushing a thumb down your drenched pussy. “babe, it’s been three hours,” and as his hooded eyes trail down at your cracked open legs, he exhales deeply. “but. . with a pussy this pretty, i gotta give you some attention too, right?”

“mhm,” you breathe, and he groans once he feels your hands slither toward his pecs. they were so big — and they glistened with sweat, beads racing down every corner. geto leans back, bringing both bulgy arms to rest behind his head as a coy grin plastered across his face. you couldn’t wait any longer, and that’s right when you started to move your sopping cunt against his rock hard abs. your hips moved slowly, and you were going back and forth, up and down . .

“fuck, look at you,” he whispers in a raspy hum, trailing a bare hand toward your the cute curving slope of your ass. geto gruffly groans, feeling his dick twitch in his black tight compression shorts. his noticeable bulge vigorously throbs and aches beneath the cottony fabric and you grinding your sweet cunt against his chest wasn’t exactly helping. geto’s sinister-dark eyes remain fixated on you the entire time, flickering towards your cunt from time to time—and within a blink of an eye, he swats a hand against your ass. “faster baby, don’t slow down now. ride ‘em good. make my fuckin’ abs just as dirty ‘n messy as you, yeah? use that pretty pussy. all for me.”

you start to pant - sharply, and as your eyes meet his, and oh, was he was feral. geto can’t help but strum a few fingers down your clit, bringing his fingers back up toward his lips for a shameless taste. as soon as he got a single taste of you, he was done for.

“sugu, m’ gonna cum,” you whimper, feeling your back starting to arch to a certain degree. slender fingers of yours rummage through his strands, tickling near his scalp before giving it a firm tug. geto groans, and you’re still jerking your cunt against his abs. it’s a lewd snail-trailing slope. you made sure to coat half if not all of his abdomen with your honeyed slick. “suguru, hng. gonna c- oh fuuuck!”

“c’mon then, make a mess. be my messy baby,” he whispers, his tone getting more and more huskier. each word he spoke in such a filthy sultry manner makes your pussy twitches. geto brings a hand down between your legs, ghosting a swollen fat thumb down your needy clit. throb after throb, you were getting closer toward your teetering edge—so much so to where you could almost taste it without actually tasting it. it was becoming inevitable, and right when you end up cumming, you let off the cutest seven-second mewl.

your jaw stupidly hangs open as you end up finishing against his core ripped stomach—geto flexes his pecs underneath you and he huffs. “fuck, good girl,” and as you’re creaming on a row of his washboard abs, geto combs a hand through his hair. your cunt pulses against his skin and he hisses out a breathy needy ‘fuck.’ glancing down with low hooded eyes, he sees your clit dilating. so cute, you were convulsing right on top of him and your hips fatally come to a crashing stop. breath after breath leaves from your lungs as you’re a mess, watching his glossy his entire lower chest glisten with your own arousal to blame. “god, made such a mess on me,” and geto reaches in his boxers as you straddle him, phewing at how hot you looked on top of him.

but right as he sits up, you lightly push him back against his cushiony weight bench, hearing him land with a gruff ‘ugh.’ you pout, dragging a finger down his sharp sculptured v-line before stopping at his black faded happy trail. “s- suguru, let me lick it off you too.”

“atta giiirl,” he croons, giving your ass once final spank. geto leans back, his eyes following you as you lean your head down, still quietly whimpering from your recent release. geto groans, giving your hair a ruffle before sighing. once your tongue starts to trail its way down his sheeny slick abs, he sucks in a breath. “fuck, lick everywhere sweetheart. don’t miss a—hah, don’t miss a drop, fuck.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“tch. what’s with . . the weird look, woman,” sukuna would pant, and he’s heavily out of breath. he sits back on his throne and oh, he’s flushed. you rode him to a point where he’s nearly speechless for a few seconds. you straddle on top of him with his cock stilled inside of you, feeling all various arms of his wrap around your waist. a pink slit brow furrows before he sighs. “quit looking impish, it’s.. irritating.”

“ ‘kuna,” you remain still, nearly slipping at a moan once you feel his flaccid cock rest between your folds. he’s stretching you out so good as shaky, rickety thighs of yours ached and burned. every vein within your body. he sucks in a breath once your hands feel down his bare, exposed chest. sukuna’s wearing nothing but a kimono on, it’s slit open and you felt all down his body. he’s warm, way warmer than usual and as you continue to touch the curse’s skin, you stop at his oversized pecs. “mhm.” sukuna’s got such a wide chest—but you weren’t so much focused on that, you were focused on his nipples.

his pink, perked nipples that you knew were always so sensitive. he told you about it . . once, and never again because it was well, embarrassing. even air brushing against his skin makes him shiver, including with causing his nipples to shamefully twitch. “can i suck on ‘em again?”

“suck on—oh..” his gruff voice trails, and you can see a splash of bashfulness paint his pale face like a canvas. sukuna ryomen’s embarrassed.. and oh how he wished he could wipe the smug smirk off your face. sukuna scoffs, but it doesn’t take long before he finally caves in. “fine, get it over with.”

your smile never falters, and as he’s still idly buried deeply inside your cunt with such salaciously thick inches, you bring your lips toward his pecs. sukuna inhales deeply, mentally preparing himself before fuck, you cup your lips around his right nipple. “hah, such a weird one you are,” he breathlessly groans, an arm gently clasping under your head to support it. your eyes close, and you suck on it—until he lets off another raspy groan. sukuna’s dick twitches and he’s so tender, so . . . sensitive.

the demon scrapes a few claws down his meaty thigh as your tongue lies itself flat against his perked nipples. “mhm,” your lashes flutter close, and at that exact moment, you start to ride him again. it was sudden, his eyes widen before he lets off a needy husky moan, squeezing a portion of your ass tightly before his crimson eyes roll back. he’s pussy drunk – entirely, especially since he was still trying to get over his most recent orgasmic orgasm. sukuna tried to keep up his façade, but with a cunt as hypnotic as yours, he might as well be buried six feet fuckin’ under. a vein twitches on his cock and its sporadic pulses make you pulse.

he’s just big inside, easily rearranging your insides without even having to move an inch. his lazy downward curve of his dick made you drool—sukuna reached far inside of your pussy, never forgetting to bruise and kiss against your sweet beloved g-spot. “ ‘kunaaa,” you repeat his name, and he could feel his entire body heat the more you whisper his title through those pretty glossed lips. as you briefly depart your lips from his nipples with a loud ‘pop!’ sound echoing through his eerie domain, strings of saliva detaching from your mouth. “hah, can you lactate?”

“you did not just ask me that,” the curse angrily pouts, and you feel his pecs tense. sukuna remains sat on his throne before scoffing. “you humans and your weird fantasizes. no, i don’t lacta—”

“wouldn’t hurt to try,” you titter, and he groans the second your mouth goes back to sucking against his tender skin like a leech. so good, a fang of his pokes beneath his lip as his mouth hands open. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. sukuna grunts from the sensitivity and you thought he was gonna push you away, but instead—he does the opposite. sukuna pulls you closer with one arm, digging his sharp keen fangs into his bottom pulled out lip to suppress his incoming whimpers.

your tongue swirls it way around his nipples, making sure to wet everywhere—he groans, sucking in individual sharp breaths before he feels his cock tightening. fuck, he felt something approaching quickly. his reaction time was devastatingly slow and his look of cockiness suddenly forms into . . neediness.

“ugh, such a nasty girl. but shit— don’t stop,” he snarls, one of his feet thumping against his regal glass floor. he’s chewing on salty anticipation and it’s never tasted sweeter. sukuna’s dick that stills itself inside of you aches for more, and as he watches as your own saliva lewdly race down the corners of your lips, he grumbles. “have some c- class, woman.”

oh, you’re making him stutter now.. and it’s cute— sukuna ryomen was flustered, and he’s so lost in his brief fantasm that he doesn’t even realize he’s cumming inside of you yet again. but at the same time, he starts leaking from his pecs. there’s a sweet taste that trickles on the flatness of your tongue as you hum. at the same time, a raw hot load pours into your womb deeply and he lets out a growl that echoes ‘n resounds through the soundproof walls of his domain. “fuck,” he hisses, veins prodding all through his thick neck. your cunt wholly accepts every drop, and you teasingly grind against him as your pussy flutters around him. then it dawned on him, sukuna came… just from you sucking on his nipples. you were about to say something as you try to get up, but he pushes you right back into sucking on his pecs, wrapping an arm around you.

“y’er .. a fuckin’ weirdo,” sukuna grumbled, still shuddering from his intense release. sukuna felt both of his nipples grow hot, and he’s shaking as he’s never felt more sensitive. velvety ropes shoot into you rawly and he huffs, lazily slouching all the way back on his throne.

“so you can lacta—”

“shut up, woman,” he snaps at you, but you can hear the cute shiver in his voice. sukuna’s eyes were droopy and he’s still heavily panting, moaning as you suck on his tender nipples. as you start to move your hips again, relishing the candied taste in your mouth—he’s still dumping hefty amounts of sweltering hot cum until it dribbles past your thighs. you’re overflowed, you’re overflowed and he’s undeniably pussy drunk.

“but… phew, didn’t say you could stop. do it again,” and sukuna’s vermillion-bloodshot eyes narrow at your smug grin before he curses under his breath, eyes rolling back eyes again,

“…please.”

11K notes · View notes

tonycries · 2 months ago

Text

We Neva Play!

Synopsis. Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, séx pollen, innappropríate use of jujutsu (like a LOT), pússydrunk Gojo, limitless, both are teachers, creampíes, oraI (fem), síxty-nine, banter, breaking the bed, FÉRAL Gojo, pússy-slappíng, BRÉEDING, spítting, reader’s CT mentioned, Yaga’s had enough, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.3k (cries)

A/N. Lacked Gojo in the manga so I present to you more Gojo <3

“Gojo, I will kill you before that curse can-”

“Aw, man!‘ Yuji whines over Nobara’s cackles, reluctantly slapping a few thousand yen onto her outstretched palm. He thuds his head frustratedly against the cool vending machine they were crouched behind, “That was rigged!”

The girl scoffs, counting her hard-earned winnings victoriously, “I told you they wouldn’t even make it until the school gates before fighting. It’s not rigged, it’s common sense - not that you’d know anything about it.” Satisfied, she sneaks a look over the side of the machine at the shrinking backs of you and a too-happy Gojo Satoru. “Besides, we’ll get a rematch soon enough. My money’s on her, double or nothin’.”

“You really think they’ll kill each other before the mission is over?” Yuji muses, eyes locked on Gojo’s infamous smirk - only widening the closer he drives you dangerously towards an aneurysm. “I bet-”

“No.” Megumi’s deadpan interruption startles them both. And as much as he’d like to pretend he wasn’t cramped with the two idiots stalking their squabbling teachers, he unfortunately, very much, was. “I bet ten thousand yen they kill each other before the mission is over. Or worse - end up dating.”

---

“A love hotel.”

“A love hotel~” Gojo echoes, with a hand clutching faintly at his chest. Swooning over you with each word, “Now, usually you’d have to take me out to dinner first, but for you I will make an except- mmpf-”

Now, Gojo knew he could’ve easily blocked your attack - hell, he didn’t even have to bat an eye to activate limitless. But where was the fun in that? Giving into your elbow digging sharply into his side, he’s only cackling at your venomous words, “I could take down both you and those special grades, y’know?”

“Oh yeah?” he hooks a long finger underneath his blindfold, showing off that infuriating wiggle of his snowy brows. “If you’re so great, then why did Yaga have you assigned with me, pretty girl?”

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples, “Only because someone-” And oh, if he had the most renowned eyes in all of jujutsu, then you had the most withering glare. “-completely skipped out on his last mission to stuff his face with sweets, n’ now I’m wasting my time babysitting. So this time, I’m in charge.”

Ah, a woman after his heart - in more ways than one, for sure.

“Yes, ma’am~”

Dramatically, he mimics the zipping of his lips shut, readily following you towards the flashy building standing out amongst the bustling Tokyo street. Walls painted such a suggestive pink, neon lights flickering special discounts at passersby - it would have almost been scandalous to be caught outside such an obvious love hotel such as this - if it hadn’t been for the mission, that is.

“Didn’t think our first date would be at a love hotel.” he chuckles as soon as you reach the gaudy, perfumed reception. And that flickering, wide-eyed stare of the woman behind the counter is enough for Gojo to prattle on, “Now, tell me what room you want, honey-” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, you’re pressed helplessly against his toned front. “-they’ve got candy-themed, anime-themed- oh, they’ve even got a train station-”

“Best to keep our train station fantasies to ourselves-” You simper, subtly stepping on his foot with your own, but that only topples you against him. Instantly, another strong arm snakes around your waist to support your weight, as if second nature, “-isn’t that right, dear?”

And you swear, you could spot a tiny dimple when the ends of his mouth curl even wider into a saccharine sweet grin. “If my memory serves me right, you were the one that dragged me here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shivers run down your spine - ones he runs the soft, rounded pads of his fingers up and down along. You’re sure you looked like a disgustingly loving couple to the poor lady working at the counter. And to put her out of her misery, if anything, you recite, “A-anyways- apologies. Room 143, please.” Managing to plaster on a weak smile, it only falls flat when the receptionist hands you your key - and two complimentary condoms along with it. “I- uh- thank you?”

And it’s all you can do to not just shove off the 6’3 thorn at your side when he steers the two of you to the elevator with a disbelieving, “Only two?”

Though, you’re sure it wouldn’t do much against him, anyway. It never has - because ever since you’d stepped foot through Jujutsu High’s towering gates as its newest teacher, Gojo Satoru seemed to make it his mission in life to get on each and every single one of your nerves. The only mission he’d willingly do, mind you. Insisting on interrupting your classes, hiding you little sweets in your office, pushing your buttons in front of-

“Well, that went as inconspicuous as ever.” Gojo hums, reeling you out of your little reverie. “Of course, it did, thanks to me.”

“‘Inconspicuous’ my ass.” you groan, hastily punching in the ground number for your room. Yaga had said that the veil was already completed around the entirety of the curse-infested floor by now, good - the faster you could get away from Gojo, the more intact your sanity would be. “If it wasn’t for me smoothing things over, she’d be filing a complaint against the sleazy man in a bad Kakashi cosplay at this very moment.”

“Hey! I didn’t see you putting on any Oscar-worthy performances. And my Kakashi cosplay is gre-”

DING!

The elevator doors open to a seemingly normal, barren hallway - not a hair or person out of place - though, you knew better. And as much of a fool as Gojo acted, he did, too.

His steady arm drops from your side when you stretch out your limbs in preparation - shit, you forgot it was still there. “Watch and learn, Gojo.” you hum.

“Hell yeah, I’m watching.”

A beat of silence. Two.

With his thick blindfold, Gojo’s expression was almost indescribable - but your skin prickles with the slow, sultry sweep of his eyes down your figure. But before you can snap back at his loaded tone, it happens- “Don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

Curses burst out of the fourteen heavy, wooden doors along the narrow corridor - some small, some big, all crushed easily under the power of your cursed technique. And neither of you had to utter a word to know you’d both be trying to best the other.

You’ve got one slobbering mess of a curse trapped underneath your heel, locked in combat when Gojo calls out from somewhere across the hallway. “Still stuck on that grade one?” Your jaw ticks, pressing the curses face deeper into the carpeted floor of the bedroom, “I’ve already located one of two special grades- better keep up.”

Fuck, curse him and his six eyes.

Not wasting any more time, you easily exorcize the remaining curse, feet carrying you door after door. Most of the infestation had been cleared out by now by the both of you, splatters of red and limbs lining along the hallway - you only felt bad for Ichiji having to organize a clean-up after this.

The next time you saw Gojo’s flash of cerulean eyes was from outside another bedroom. Goading, “Heh, need a little help, Gojo?”

“Oh fuck-” he wraps two arms around the special grade’s flowered horns. Powerful legs bowed, cloudy hair mussed, blindfold dangling somewhere around his neck - he was beautiful. And it was fleeting moments like this that you held an ounce of begrudging respect for him. Ripping those offending appendages, “-off. Roughed up the other special grade for ya since you were so slow, sweetheart - consider it a lil’ gift for this date.”

“Oh, fuck you-”

In the midst of it all, Gojo still manages to flutter his long lashes your way, “Well, we are in a love hotel, after all. Just say so if you wanna get those pretty hands on me.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Earth, Gojo Satoru.”

His loud bout of laughter follows you to the final hotel room - 143, coincidentally. It was decadent, almost-spotless - had it not been for the towering curse hunched over in the middle. You could tell that Gojo had been here, because its pink, scale-like skin was already bruised.

You slam the door shut behind you, better to keep the property damage to a minimum. Hastily getting into action - it wasn’t anything new, after years of exorcizing curses you’d grown used to predicting their pattern of attack. But it was only after a pressurized, finalizing punch of yours lands right on the curse’s thumping neck that you find yourself growing weary. Cautious of the tiny, red flower that’d sprouted out of thin air on its skin. Immediately, you think back to Hanami, because it was blossoming - unnaturally fast - petals unraveling to explode in sparkly pollen-

Shit. Your head whirled, eyes watery at the heady scent, “Wh-what the fuck-”

It takes only that split-second of distraction before more blooms pop! pop! pop! all down the curse’s figure. It just heaves with fatigue when they all burst out the same powdery substance from before.

“Fuck- what is this-” your thighs clench together, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. You stagger back towards your opponent, and it seems this last-ditch Hail Mary caused more damage than good. Because the curse was lethargic, barely even flinching when you’re back to pummelling it with your cursed technique. Again. And again and again- “-if only you’d taken to making perfumes- instead-”

It falls to the ground with a last ringing screech, the flowers withering away instantly.

But the damage was done.

And you’d never felt so drained - even after your most difficult of missions. Never sinking down onto your knees this way, skin heated, mouth salivating. The air in the room was just thick with something so delicious - syrupy, with hints of pine and cherry - traitorously, you find yourself inhaling deep, addictive lungfuls of the scent.

“Smells so-” your brows furrow, digging a hand into the plush bed beside you to clamor back onto your feet. “Smells like-”

Gojo.

Your entire body jolts with something so dark - visceral, gasping when you feel your underwear just drench. Mind such a melty mess filled with only Gojo Gojo Gojo - and before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the door-

Bang!

The aroma only grows heavier near the door, blood thunders in your ear at the deafening crash from outside. Shit, had you locked the door-

Bang! Bang! BANG-

Fuck, neither of you were making it out alive.

It’s the first clear thought headlining through your mind for the first time in what feels like ages - only several, syrupy-slow seconds later does it follow up with the realization that you’re now standing face-to-face with Gojo.

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Who looked absolutely crazed right now - teetering unsteadily on his feet, his head was bowed, fingers trembling. The mahogany hotel door in mere splinters under his hands.

“F-forgot you could teleport?” It comes out a yelp - pained, almost - and the very first note of your strained voice is enough to have his entire, powerful body wracking with a gasp. Goosebumps pricking along his milky skin, he finally - finally raises his eyes.

Shit, he’s finally lost it.

Because Gojo’s gaze was burning, lids hooded, dark pupils blown so wide that his eyes looked almost black. He didn’t look at you with that usual teasing glint, no, he looked like he was going to rip you apart. Twitchy, drinking in a shaky, drawn-out gasp of the scented air. You almost had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade masked as your coworker.

But it’s real - it’s so, so real and you can’t deny it when he’s baring you with such a vicious grin. Plump lips pulled back to show off those glinting canines, “You.”

“Satoru.”

His lips are on yours - pressing and pressing so hard you were sure it bruised. But fuck- you’re kissing back - because how could you not? The candied seam of his mouth was addictive, breathing you in like his last breath of fresh air.

“Kiss me-” he spits into your slack mouth, as if he wasn’t already. Two hands surging forwards to cup your cheeks even deeper, “Kiss me kiss me kiss- fuck-” That last little swear almost comes out as a whimper, and you can only keen when Gojo wraps his pretty lips around your tongue, sucking lewdly. “Y’smell so sweet- taste so sweet-”

“Sa-t-toru-” you’re managing out. It just then hits you how weak your knees have gotten, sinking down to straddle his muscular, jutted-out thigh. It makes him throw his head back when you’re just dragging your hips in a long, languid stripe. “Look what you’ve- what you’ve gotten us into.”

Pulling away to lick lazily up, up, up your neck, his teeth bite just at your thundering pulse. “Me?” he hisses out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m the one fuckin’ responsible for this?” It almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “I’m responsible for this-” And his startling eyes sink down to the darkening wet patch on the middle of his leg, your flimsy panties sticking to his uniform. “-am, I?”

“Yes.” your defiant fingers are trailing down the hem of his shirt, ripping apart those buttons in hasty, urgent tugs until it was off completely. “If only you hadn’t half-assed it with this special grade then-”

Gojo huffs out in humorless laughter into your lips - the same one he’d give a persistent little curse, and it makes your hairs stand on end. Wondering how high the kill count would really be. In the hundreds? Thousands? “I thought you were supposed to be the babysitter, huh?”

Millions.

“And aren’t you the strongest?” A trembly hand of yours ventures its way down his flexing body - down, past those plush pecs, past his flinching abs, dipping teasingly just above where you could feel the hiking tent in his tight pants. “How did you end up this hah- bad?”

You’re holding back a groan at the long, solid inches straining to break free of his thick fabric, you could feel the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing length under your palm. Fuck, water was wet - Gojo Satoru, unfortunately, had a big di-

“You.”

It’s low, ragged - so quiet that for a second you think you almost imagine it.

“You.”

His lips are sagging open once more, greedy gaze widening - and you knew it was glowing now. Tiny flickers of blue lightning flickering at the ends of his eyes with every mindless gyration of your palm down his bulging, clothed shaft.

“It’s all because of you.”

Yeah, you would be lucky number one on his kill count when he breaks - or maybe he would be on yours

Your back is hitting the mattress, and the buttons of your poor uniform are hitting the velvety floor - absolutely nothing against the strongest, who was now tearing through your clothes the same way he was ripping apart those curses from before.

Shit- did he teleport you two?

“Don’t know-” Gojo pants out feverishly, and at that moment you weren’t sure if you’d simply babbled your thinking out loud or whether he could read your mind. “Don’t- don’t know- fuuck.” Low, feral groans crack at the back of his throat with each inch of your exposed skin, and before you know it, he’s surging forwards into the naked valley of your breasts. Breathing you in so filthily, “Just know that I need you- fuck m’gonna fuckin’ kill someone if I don’t-”

Each spat out little word is punctuated with an intoxicated push and pull of Gojo’s hips. Angrily rutting in-between your thighs until it was just a clingy, syrupy mess of slick and precum between you two.

“Oh-” your lips drop into a soft gasp, reaching out your fingers to smear a sinful sheen down them. It glosses all the way to your wrist with each newly beaded wave of his precum.

It feels so dirty the way you’re pushing the very tips of your fingers into your mouth. Gojo can only look - can barely even breathe when you slur, “You taste so good, too, Toru.”

Oh, that was it.

Gojo Satoru had finally thought he was getting control of his sanity - he finally thought the effects of that cursed technique were wearing off. But now - at that little nickname - he feels something snap. The lamp on your right bedside table shatters.

And usually, Gojo’s taunting was tinted with a little laugh, an inkling of fondness in them - but right now they sounded pained. Wrenching out of his broad chest, “Fuck you. Need you- do you know what you’ve done.”

Your useless skirt - along with your soaked, see-through panties - are ripped off of your squirming body. And for once in his life, he’s speechless - eyes almost bulging out of his skull, nails digging into the plush of your thighs.

Your clothes end up in a pile of sad tatters on the floor, and you felt a strange inkling that maybe you’d end up much the same.

Smack!

Two, large fingers slap down harshly right on your drooling cunt, slobbering down a glistening coat of your pretty juices down his wrist. “Pay attention.” He’s pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neglected nipples, your stomach, down, down, down in a flurry until the very tip of Gojo’s nose was nudging at your pulsing clit. “Because if m’losing control I need you to stop me.”

The dim hotel lights flicker when Gojo meets your cunt in a sultry, self-indulgent kiss. And through it all, one thing burns into your dizzy mind - his eyes. Maddened, gleaming with slight blue cursed energy in-between your legs.

“Oh.” you’re gasping at the sheer burning stretch of your thighs being pushed to their limits. Gojo didn’t need that much space - he just loved the way you whined. “You’re s-so much better when you shut- hah!”

His tongue shuts you up by flicking harshly over your puffed-up clit, letting your syrupy juices slide their slow way down his eager tongue. “There we go- good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Hah- all it took was some shitty curse to get you hah- honest like this f’me, huh?”

“Don’t act like- ngh!” you’re barely able to drawl the words out, which makes him grin a dangerously content grin. Sharp teeth clenching teasingly around your angry clit, throbbing and slicked glisteningly with his spit, “Don’t act like I’m the only one- this way- hah-”

It was true - every hollowed-out suck on your needy clit had him grinding onto the mussed-up mattress. Those silken sheets hiking up with every drag of Gojo’s weepy erection down onto the bed - imagining you underneath him. It wasn’t enough - it never will be.

That realization was enough for him to break out into a drunken grin, hot tongue smearing open your folds over and over- “Yeah? What about it? Does it scare you that I want to fuckin’ break you, sweetheart?”

He was crazed.

Dangerous. Depraved.

“N-no-” you give such a harsh pull on his soft strands, he’s leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. Looking for the life of him so used - you just knew there’d be thousands that would kill to see the strongest so fucked-out, ear blearily blinking open, flushed your favorite shade of pink up to his cheekbones, mouth chasing those thin spit strands to your glossy pussy. “Jus’ think s’unfair how I’m the ah- only one havin’ fun right now.”

You’re shutting up his pussydrunk protests about how he is having fun and to “please, please, please don’t stop” by crashing your soft lips against Gojo’s. Wrenching him upwards, he lets himself be so used.

“Need you-” you’re gasping, biting into his pouty lower lip. Nosing slowly up his bobbing Adam’s apple, you gasp in that heady combination of pine and candied cherry. “Wanna see if you hngh- taste as good as you smell right now.”

“No fuck- fuck you.” he hisses, wrangling you to straddle his angrily fidgeting hips.

Running a hand down to fumble with his metallic belt - already loosened. But you don’t have the patience - or the sanity - for that right now, because you’re tugging, shredding. The tell-tale buzz of jujutsu fizzing at your fingertips when you tug down the entirety of Gojo’s pants. Kneading the soft peaks of your palm over that sensitive divot on his head, “Who’s fucking who?”

“Me.” And there’s another smack! to the heated place of your cunt, Gojo’s own fingertips having you see stars with his power.

He takes the distraction to just drag you upwards like some ragdoll, easily maneuvering you around. “Turn- turn around f’me- thaaat’s right, fuck-” You’re jostled until your shaky thighs straddle either side of his head, puffed-out pants condensing hotly against your cunt. Your own coming face-to-face with the fat head peeking out from the hem of Gojo’s boxers. Head swimming with how angrily pink he looked, already winking with a drenched sheen of precum up at you. “Arch that cute back a lil’ more- lemme see.”

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders to catch the fucked-out grin on his lips, dragging his tongue out to lap up every bead of your sweet sweet juices, he tilts his pliant head back against the pillows to let it slide down his bobbing throat. “Y-you’re really that pussydr- hngh!”

Another branding smack! leaves you gushing even more down his tongue. “Yeah, s’what I fuckin’ thought.” he spits out a thick wad of spit into your messy cunt. Gliding his wet fingers over the dripping mess that puddles onto the his chest below. “-can’t even run your mouth- so desperate f’me. Taste so good-” Using his inhuman strength to haul you down onto his pretty face.

Before he knows it, he’s slotting the thin tip of his tongue past your quivering hole. Taking him so greedily, the elastic ring of muscle stretches all around his form, clamping down as if to milk something delicious.

And Gojo knows - he thinks with whatever’s left of his rationality that maybe he should slow down, take a second to fuckin’ breathe. But, no, he’s making out with your ravaged pussy like he’s angry he hasn’t done this before - way back when he first met you.

A slender fingers pushes past your swollen folds to curl deftly into your gummy cunt, molding up into that easy divots at your walls. He’s feeling around so depravedly for your g-spot, aching to make you feel just a drop of the sheer need he does.

“Fuck!” Your velvety walls come crashing down around his fingers, knuckle-deep inside your ravenously swallowing cunt. Only getting faster - dipping perfectly to press up against your spongy sweet spots. Shit, he really was good at everything, huh? “You’re so…”

“What was that?” Gojo’s tittering, “Can’t hear you over your cute cunt, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer - you don’t need to, because all the breath in his lungs exhale out in a low cascade. Hiccuping around your candied clit when you take Gojo’s thick, weepy tip just past your lips. Wrapping just around the sensitive slit, it makes him gasp, it makes him keen, it makes him spit out some sloppy swears into your cunt.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over my cunt, Toru–” you bat your lashes, humming around his velvety head. Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have taken longer admiring him.

Because he was so massive, so pretty with prominent veins thumping at the roof of your mouth. Girthy, rotund end a throbbing red, gradiating into a creamy pink that meshed in delicately with those neat tufts of white at Gojo’s toned pelvis. So delicious. Big enough that you were already wondering just how you were going to walk out of this bedroom - if either of you are in a walking state - or even alive - that is.

“Fuck- fuck you little-” his mouth refuses to part with your puffy pussy lips, even if it was to talk back to you. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ think this is-”

The new angle has his sharp jaw grinding up into you, jostling your body up and down all over his face. He’s whining - heaving - at this point with every sultry swirl of your soft tongue around his twitchy head. Coating down every inch of your silky soft mouth with a hot sheen of precum, he tastes so good on your tastebuds - slightly salty, with a tinge of something so sweetly Gojo.

Powers acting before him, he doesn’t even realize it before he cheats - just a little. Eyes burning with power when Gojo uses his six eyes to plunge scarily accurately into the plushy bullseye of your g-spot. Greedy fingers hitting it again and again and-

“Satoru!” your scolding tone has his globular tip twitch ferally into the back of your throat. “That’s not- I can feel your jujutsu, y’know. S-so-”

“What? Good? Heavenly?” Gojo rattles off. You’re fucking your drooling pussy back into him - you can’t stop the mindless, shallow little grinds in an attempt to meet his mean pace. “Never said anythin’ about a jujutsu ban, pretty- you’re sounding like a sore loser to me.” As if on cue, your cunt is gushing out in more silken sweet juices all down the lower half of his face, squelching so obscenely. His droopy eyes admire your glistening cunt, riding his face to his insanity. “Well- not this cunt, of course, in fact- I think she’s gonna cum.”

He didn’t have to tell you - you already knew, with the trembling in your thighs, and the white-hot pleasure stemming from his incessant making out. Without answering, you only swallow up a few more solid, rock-hard inches of his painfully hard cock, lips stretched obscenely.

“Y-yeah- fuck, now I definitely know you’re close, pretty girl-” he’s lolling out his tongue to let you drag your pussy across harshly. “Don’t be stubborn- cum f’me,” Rough patches of his tastebuds massaging you just right, fingers still pumping recklessly. “Cum f’me- please. Wan’ it on my tongue- want you- want you to use me- please.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re finally cumming, fucking your high over and over Gojo Satoru’s pretty face. He’s wrapping a free hand around the small of your back, just crashing you back into his drunk mouth over and over and–

“F-fuck, Toru–” you whine, toes curling with each crashing wave of pleasure. It was so violent - so dragged-out, like no orgasm you’ve had before. And you didn’t know whether it was because of the technique or the lazy drag of Gojo’s mouth all over every beading inch of your pussy. Your fist tightens around the thick, heated base of his cock, “Need- need you to-”

“No. Fuck-”

In the fleeting millisecond it takes you to blink, your front is being pushed back onto the now-damp sheets again, a grinning Gojo hovering over you. He looked so ruined - smile gleaming with your trickling, dripping precum, eyes crazed. Suddenly, you almost understand why every breathing thing fears him - almost. His eyes were blazing, flushed angrily. “I’m burning- think m’gonna die if I don’t fuck this cunt right now. Fuck-”

“Havin’ to use your powers for everything?” you’re quirking a brow over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the only reason you brag about being so hah- good in bed is because of that?”

He’s narrowing his glowing eyes, tiny sparks of lightning flying furiously, “Ohhh s’that a challenge, sweetheart?” Gojo’s sharp canines tug on your bottom lip, and you moan into the messy clash of a kiss - all spit and teeth and the taste of you two. “Tell me.”

“So what if it is?” you’re managing to push back against his slender waist. “Without those stupid powers, m’the better…”

Whatever insult was on the tip of our tongue dies down at the glint of the foil in his hand - the condom from before. That tiny square looking so pitiful held between two fingers, “The receptionist gave me an XL, funny, right?” Gojo murmurs, so dark. “Such a shame it won’t fit.”

One daring glance downwards proves him right - because Gojo was sitting so heftily sandwiched between your swollen folds. Painfully beading needy pearls of translucent precum all over your front - fuck, your cockdrunk self from before didn’t recall him being so large. Big enough that you were sure any rubber would be on the verge of shattering into little pieces.

So then go in raw- you think. But before the words can tumble out of your mind, he’s giving a slow, slippery slide on your cunt, “S’alright- with these ah- ‘stupid powers’ m’still gonna get a taste of this pretty cunt.”

And then you can’t breathe - fuck, you can’t even think straight.

You feel like you’re being split-apart, because Gojo’s just barely pushing in the fat, round girth of his head. Managing to pop in his long shaft past that sensitive slit, before his body starts moving in hurried, impatient little grinds. Frantically trying to squeeze himself in deeper- “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, even with limitless you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Limitless - fuck, that’s what it was. You could feel the slight pinch of the pressure around your body, the way he was reaching in so deep inside your velvety cunt despite not even being halfway inside yet.

“Satoru-”

“No-” his flickering eyes bore deep into yours. “Not that- call out f’me properly now, I know that smart mouth of yours can do it.”

Your words are barely a whisper, “Toru–”

The remaining lamp at your left goes out - cracking into tiny shards. And that’s all it takes for him to push and push in, distantly, Gojo knows he should slow down, maybe give you a second to relax - to think. But he could feel his sanity dancing away with every fucking inch fed into your sopping wet pussy, your elastic walls contorting to massage every ridge and vein of his so heavenly. Fuck- he’d fight a thousand more of those special grades just for another taste of this feeling.

“Oh-” Gojo’s jaw hangs slack when he finally bullies past that feeble resistance of yours. The very top curve of his head nudging deeply in a glissading glide down your spongy cervix, heavy balls kissing against your ass.

He lets himself be pulled, used like some filthy toy when your hot tongue cranes to lap up the trail of drool down the corner of his drunken mouth.

“Wanna feel you-” you’re gasping through each thorough, steady ram into your snug channel. “Wanna feel all of you.”

Another memorable slap! resounds through the heady air, sending sparks exploding behind your lids. “Heh- s’this your way of hah- having me stop using my powers?” he chuckles. “I’m onto your dirty, dirty tricks, y’know.”

Truly, he wasn’t. Gojo didn’t think he had enough of his brain unfried to even contemplate that right about now. But it was just so much fun to watch you mewl in protest, your cunt dripping even further down his twitchy balls with each taunt.

“Please- fuck m’burning up-” you spit. “Scared s’gonna have you c-cumming early?”

As a punishment - or maybe a little reminder about who really was the strongest, Gojo infuses his next sharp smack on your clit with an ounce of his jujutsu. The curve of his thumb gliding over in tiny circles to soothe over the buzz, “Talk to me when you can say “cumming” without hngh- stutterin’-”

“Talk to me when you-” Growling into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do right now to bow his hulking body even deeper into yours, kneeing apart your stutteringly closing thighs. There’s a sloppy, milky ring forming where your folds kept smacking repeatedly against the sharp lines of his pelvis, “-can fuck me without your limitless going haywire.”

Fuck- fuck, how he wanted to prove you wrong. To have you crying out for mercy.

But Gojo’s throat drags out in what almost sounds like a cry when his limitless flickers on and off - just for a second. The mere touch of your slippery soft walls around his hot cock making him just slam down an arm on the headrest. It breaks - shattering into tiny wooden pieces, though, neither of you notice right now.

He’s maneuvering the two of you so easily to push you onto your back. Stuffing your gaping entrance back full again, this time throwing your limp legs onto his broad shoulders to pummel you in such a mean mating press. Just the sight of your fucked-out, pretty face has his ragged breath hitching, “S-sweetheart…”

Whatever answer you give is tangled up in Gojo’s drunken tongue, lapping at your words. His cock feels so heavy, so hot shoving between your legs. And the stretch - fuck, the stretch was something you’d always remember. Stretching out that tight hole into the very girth of his shaft - all the way down from his leaky, flinching head to the thick circumference of his hilt. “I don’t think I can- fuck, can I feel- please, m’dying to know what this cunt feels like-”

Your nails rake down the pale display of his back, those red, red jagged lines making him rut even deeper into you. “Do it then-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh.

Fuck.

It’s like something shatters - maybe limitless, maybe his restraint. Because Gojo’s eyes just fall shut in pure ecstasy, aching cock growing even larger inside you - as if that was even possible. Expanding tautly at your walls, he’s forming you so sinfully around his shape.

“Oh-oh– fuck you feel- how the fuck do you feel so good?” His free hand dips down to roll a depraved thumb over the nub of your neglected clit, catching on your bulgingly-stretched folds. “Holy shit- think m’gonna pass out- think m’gonna die.”

“Hah-” your back arches up sluttily into his around the fifth consecutive time his rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, fingers buzzing with electricity at your clit. “You’re s-so weak-”

But it didn’t matter, did it? Because all you could do was hiss out a few wet gurgles into Gojo’s mouth, blinking in the sinful sight of him with his eyes so hooded, cheeks burning with a scorching blush, mouth dangling so addictively open while he sucked your tongue. Like he didn’t even realize what he was doing - how each pressurized thrust into your gummy pussy had the lights overhead flickering, sparks of blue lightning bolting from the corners of his mouth at the same sloppy staccato as his hips. How it made you cum.

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body. Convulsing up over and over into his weighty body, “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Crack!

And then it’s dark.

Hell, Gojo barely even realized when he does, too, shooting out creamy white ribbon after ribbon of seed with a soft, shuddering gasp of your name. And it’s the only thing on his usually-sharp tongue - voice cracking pathetically, when he whines it like a little mantra over and over and-

“Oh-” his five, long fingers splay out across your lower stomach - right where he could feel his own cock twitching wildly at the very bottom of your gooey pussy. Pressing down, hard. “Oh shit- just look at how you’re painted white from the inside-”

The lights were gone out - in all the wards of Tokyo, actually - and yet in the light of the slight flickers of electricity surrounding you two, you could spy the slow, syrupy glob of his cum down your thighs. Coating his hilt in a milky gloss, it sticks to the two of you like a sloppy second skin. “And you expect me to- hah- not go insane.”

You manage out a wet chuckle, too tired to notice how the bed was missing a headboard now. How all the furniture in the hotel room was trashed - as if it’d been slammed down from several feet above. “Hah- b-blame it on the sex pollen.”

The technique has him cumming more than usual, every new wave sloshing at your insides is followed by another - and another until Gojo’s cock felt so raw. Twitching sensitively in a way that brought big fat tears pricking at his eyes, and yet, he still fucks you so harshly into the mattress. Sucking out every remaining dredge of seed in those fat, cum-filled balls thwacking! at your skin. Sloppy. Depraved. Oh, he looked so ruined - like a man that crawled back from death, only to drag you down with him.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gojo drags his swollen lips down your earlobe. Voice shot, “I don’t think the sex pollen is done yet.”

---

“Trashed all across the floor, trashed furniture - especially in room 143 - Hokkaido still doesn’t even have power.” Yaga’s bellowing voice has you sinking ashamedly further and further into his office seat.

Gojo, however, only beams, throwing an arm around the edge of your chair, “Damn- we should really try to send out the power in all of Asia next time, huh, my pretty girl?”

“Out!”

Across the hallway, three first-years eagerly (well, two of them and a reluctant Megumi) peer into the tense meeting. Wondering what exactly happened in your last mission that caused a record-level amount of property damage and the power to still flicker on and off throughout the day.

Yuji is the first one to speak up, “Well, no one’s dead but- why does the air seem so-” he gestures towards the almost non-existent space between you and Gojo - not anything out of the usual, sure, but the one thing different was the lack of threats. “-weird.” he finishes.

“Tell me about it. That Gojo almost seems…” Nobara shudders in disgust. “...happy.”

And of course, at that very moment, the man of the hour himself turns to look straight at the first-years doing a poor job of hiding themselves behind the door. Sighing overly-loudly, “If you say so, Yaga~” Intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you up with him, “We had a date anyway.”

“A date?”

“A date?!”

“I win.” All eyes - including yours and Gojo’s turn towards the usually-quiet Megumi, his lips turned into the beginnings of a smile. Almost. “You both owe me ten thousand yen.”

A/N. Hope you babygirls have a good weekkkk!!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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gojonanami · 4 months ago

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❝ 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

#sab [mlist]#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna fanfiction #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna x you

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slytherinslut0 · 1 year ago

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jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons

author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.

-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.

Draco Malfoy.

Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.

“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”

Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.

Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.

His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.

He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.

“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”

He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.

Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.

“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”

He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.

“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”

Blaise Zabini.

Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.

When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.

This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.

He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.

You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.

After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.

“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.

Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.

Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.

His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.

You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.

He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.

“Who was that guy, darling?”

You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.

“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”

He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”

You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”

Mattheo Riddle.

“Who the fuck-“

Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.

You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.

You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.

Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.

You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,

“Is this fucker bothering you?”

Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.

“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“

He’d heard more than enough.

“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”

Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:

“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”

Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.

And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.

When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”

You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.

Theodore Nott.

He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.

Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-

Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.

Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.

Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.

His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.

He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.

“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”

As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.

Tom Riddle.

“AVADA KEDA-“

Lowkey kidding but not really.

No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.

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heechwe · 22 days ago

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but daddy i love him | 𝐬𝐣𝐲

୨୧ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone?

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night.

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door.

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on.

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.”

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated.

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip.

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under.

Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket.

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?”

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago. Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

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