I Should Just Walk Away !
His knuckles are split, what are you meant to do? Not tend his wounds? Someone’s gotta do it! It doesn’t mean you’re going to fuck him again. No way.
✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Genre: porn with a plot (and a sprinkle of angst?)
Notes: I'm gonna make a masterlist and stuff bc I love this au but I'm lazy pls bear with me! ♡
Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, blood ♡, wound care, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, tit sucking ♡, slight edging?, dacryphilia, m+f masturbation, car sex ♡, vaginal sex, creampie ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, kid), mutual pining ♡, angst??, calls ur pussy she/her ♡, (lmk if i missed any!!)
Words: 8k
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Even after proclamations of love for each other, the rest of the ride home is silent and uncomfortable. In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision to divulge the truth of your tryst with Sukuna to your little brother.
You could try to reassure him. But what would be the point? You’re only a few years older than him, yet somehow, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager. When you were Megumi’s age, though, you had parents.
They were alive.
Sure, you were somewhat rebellious but you behaved for the most part. You studied, worked hard, steered clear of ‘bad’ boys. And, as Sukuna so elegantly put it, you’re a ‘snooty doctor’. You’re thankful for that, because without that salary you’d never be able to afford subsidising your brother.
You had your parents.
But you’re all Megumi has.
It’s a little unsettling how quiet he’s actually being. You were bickering not too long ago, you’re taken aback that he seems to have no desire to continue. A fleeting thought that he might be trying to punish you enters your mind.
Your head snaps a few times to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same. There’s a little grimace on his face as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.
It’s disgust.
“Are we okay?” you wonder, and the way it leaves your lips in a warble must be pathetic for your brother to hear. He scoffs immediately after, still outright refusing to say another word. You make sure to keep an eye on the road, though your gaze can’t help but wander towards your sibling when you get a chance. “I’m just going to make sure he’s patched up properly, okay? He’s not staying the night.”
“As if that matters.” he rolls his eyes.
It should matter. You don’t know what he means, and you don’t dare ask him to elaborate. There’s no reason for you to be scared of a seventeen-year-old. You aren’t. You’re more afraid of disappointing him.
“Megumi…” you take a breath. “It’s late. I think we should talk properly tomorrow.”
He takes a breath not too dissimilar to yours, you aren’t sure if it’s inherited or if it’s a habit he’s picked up from you. Is he mocking you? He doesn’t say much more, shrugging his shoulders is an answer all on its own. And still, it makes your heart twist as anxiety pierces through it like a stake.
“Fine.”
“Really?!” you bark out unintentionally. Maybe he’s more mature than you’ve given him credit for, because agreeing to talk properly is the last thing you expected. Your eyebrows knot briefly, and you look at him again when you reach a red light. “Are you fucking with me? You’re not serious, are you? You’re gonna sneak out in the morning and I won’t see you until—”
“I said fine. Didn’t I?” he grunts. “At least be quiet when you fuck him if you insist on lecturing me in the morning.”
“I’m not doing it again, I told you.” you assure him. “It was a stupid mistake and I regret it but I just wanna make sure his hand is okay. And then I’ll tell him to leave. I promise.”
“Should prob’ly tell him that, ‘cause he won’t stick around once he realises.” you both find yourselves looking in the rearview mirror at the man following behind you at a distance before quickly averting your eyes. “Don’t make promises you’re not gonna keep. You sound like my dad.”
“Ouch, babe. Noted.” you laugh a little despite being genuinely offended.
The rest of the journey is completed with your brain on auto-pilot. You aren’t even sure how you made it home without crashing once you realise you’ve parked perfectly in the driveway.
Megumi snatches your purse and ducks out of the car, making a beeline for the front door. You watch him as you allow your head to gently thud against the headrest behind you; he’s frantically looking for the house keys so he can shield himself from any possible sighting of you and his boss together.
He drops your purse on the ground with little care once he finds what he’s looking for, and you’re startled when you hear a knuckle lightly rap against your window.
“Nice place, princess.” he speaks, though it’s slightly muffled by the closed window.
“Stop calling me—”
“Oi. Pick up the purse.” Sukuna warns your little brother before he can hide indoors.
He looks over his shoulder at you both before slowly crouching down to pick it up. He grips it tight before finally disappearing.
Sukuna gives you room to breathe before offering a hand to help you out. Like you’ve never gotten out of your car before. Instead of taking it, you stare. You stare at his obscenely large hand and can’t help but remember his fingers had been inside of you mere moments ago.
You smile, as politely as you can, before hurriedly chasing after your brother.
He saunters after you with a lazy smirk playing on his features. You only see it when you remember you’d forgotten to lock your car. The sound of his Mercedes locking is a deafening reminder.
You enter your home; he hadn’t even bothered to turn a single light on as he charged straight towards the kitchen. You’d expected him to have locked himself in his bedroom by now. But instead, his silhouette is illuminated by the light emanating from the open fridge.
He grunts when you switch on the living room light, looking at you like a raccoon caught going through the trash as he chomps down on the cereal you’d bought on the way home from work.
“Can you get the first aid kit from the cupboard?” you ask him as you take off your coat and throw it down over the back of the couch. “You shouldn’t be eating so late, y’know.”
“I’m starving. I didn’t eat today, ‘m a growing boy, y’know.” he counters. He moves to look through each and every cupboard. He looks at you and shrugs before continuing to eat.
Your eyes are both directed to the sound of a gently closing door. You half smile at Sukuna as he enters before you look at your brother again in contemplation.
“Oh I moved it to the bathroom ‘cause we never use it.” you sigh as you make your way there. “You can finish eating in your room if you want.”
“Tryna get me out the way?” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t wanna stick around here anyway.” he side eyes Sukuna as he walks with his bowl towards his room.
You don’t see the amused grin he offers your little brother while you retrieve the first aid kit.
If you had, you’re sure you would have sent him home too.
“Sorry,” you groan, setting the kit down on the coffee table. You stand with your hands on your hips as you stare at him. It’s dawning on you, now, regardless of how exhausted you are. You’ve let a man you barely know into your home. A man older and stronger than you’d ever hope to be. You’ve welcomed a criminal into the space that is meant to be the safest for your little brother.
“I’m not gonna kill ya, sweetheart.” he cuts through your thoughts as if he can read your mind. It makes your heart race, though your face remains stoic as you try and disguise your evident worry. “Last thing I wanna do is scare you, though. I’ll go if you’re—”
“No, it’s fine.” you interject. “I’m tired, though. I’m gonna get changed because I wanna go straight to sleep after this, okay? You’re not staying.”
“Shame, I had fun.” he grins, circling the couch before sinking into it. His body is angled towards you while his eye looks you up and down with purpose. “Get comfy, I’ll be right here waiting for you, darlin’.”
Even someone as headstrong as you can’t deny how giddy he makes you. You walk backwards, unable to take your eyes off him before you eventually find your bedroom. Everything he says is so intentional, it’s almost vindictive. Like he knows just what to say to have you weak at the knees for him.
But this isn’t you.
You’ve never been the type to fall for a man’s alleged charm quite so easily. But you also didn’t think you were the type of person to fuck a stranger. He isn’t exactly a stranger, though.
He’s Megumi’s boss.
“Stop calling him that.” you whisper to yourself as you try and break yourself out of your spiralling train of thought.
You dress yourself in the most unflattering pyjamas you can find, wearing them with the full expectation of turning Sukuna off of you. He can’t possibly still be angling to fuck again when he sees you in mismatched pyjamas, complete with aged holes and stains from that one spaghetti night you and Megumi attempted.
There’s a feeble attempt made at wiping your makeup off, although you barely try. Your smile is almost blinding as you look at what a mess you are. The panda eyes from your smeared eyeliner and mascara enhance your sunken eyebags. Your eyeshadow glitters across the bridge of your nose and into your hairline beside your temples. Your pretty lipstick that you’d lined so perfectly is half removed while the other half is smudged down your chin.
You emerge from your bedroom with a confidence you only ever experience when you’re at home in your comfiest clothes. Despite your appearance, and even despite your company, you’re so content.
His eyes squint as he looks at your face, and even still, he’s smiling. He chuckles softly as you get closer to him, sitting beside him as you open the first aid kit.
“You look way prettier like this, princess.” he tells you, folding his arms across his chest as he continues to stare.
“Ah! Really? You think I look prettier?” you ask sarcastically.
“No, you look awful.” he laughs. “Is this all for my benefit? I still want to fuck you, admirable attempt though.”
You shake your head and roll your eyes as he laughs a little more, and you force yourself to frown when you realise his laughter is contagious. Everything he does is so effortless; you can’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks.
His eye fixates on you as you begin to look through your little first aid kit and pick a few things to use on his knuckles.
“I’m sure you could have done this yourself,” you start as you pick up a packet of antiseptic wipes and begin to clear the blood surrounding his knuckles. “Could have gone to a walk-in place if you were really worried.”
“Of course I could. Been doing this for years, did you really believe I don’t have my own first aid kit?” he asks. “I wanted you to do it.” he confesses, though he’s no longer smiling. You don’t stop wiping away the combination of wet and crusted over blood on his hand, though you can’t help but stare back at him.
Is he trying to scare you?
“You’re unbelievable.” you tell him, quietly.
“It’s hard to do it with one hand, sweetheart. And you’re a professional, I’d have to be an idiot to do it myself.”
You look away, only to pour rubbing alcohol onto a clean wipe. He can’t help but be transfixed as he watches you, admiring how your dainty little hands are so delicate with the equipment. How your face appears so irritated as you perform tedious tasks such as this, but you do it regardless, and he thinks it’s sweet.
“You should be on my payroll,” he finally smiles again. “My private doctor.”
“No.” you shut him down.
“I forgot how stuck up you are. I thought you’d at least be fununtil tomorrow.”
“Be grateful I’m doing this at all.” you reply with ease. All enjoyment and giddiness over his company seems to be a distant memory as you recall the type of man he actually is. You’re grouchy and exhausted, and he’s testing your patience. “I don’t like you and I don’t like what you do. And I hate that you’re involving Megumi.”
“Lighten. Up.” he warns you.
You press the wipe quickly into his cuts, and you can’t help but smile as he winces from the abrupt stinging pain. You laugh harder as he tries to downplay it. His expression becomes unreadable as he tries to appear detached. You can see it in his visible eye, though. It’s watering.
He can’t help but break at the sound of your laughter, however, as you continue to snicker whilst rummaging through for a roll of gauze to wrap around his knuckles.
“I usually don’t crack when I do that myself. You wanted it to hurt.” he smirks, shaking his head.
“Guilty.” you continue to giggle as you face him again.
He doesn’t say another word as he watches you wrap a thick enough layer of bandages around his bloody knuckles. The somewhat shallow lacerations seem to cause slight discomfort despite being taken care of. You watch him, purposefully, as he flexes his fingers a few times to test how it feels.
You aren’t sure if he knows you’re staring, but his guard seems down. It could be an act to disarm you, but you aren’t convinced he’s a good enough actor to pull it off. The genuine curiosity and intrigue on his face due to your handiwork makes you feel off. Is he judging your ability to provide proper care?
It’s not like you wanted to.
But you both know that’s a lie.
He grins when he finally notices you staring at him. And that makes you relax. You were right, he was genuinely lost in thought despite being in your presence.
“You should go now,” you say quietly. You angle your body to rest your arm over the back of the couch, your balled fist supporting your head as you begin to yawn. “I’m tired.”
“Sure.” he nods, moving to stand before relaxing into the soft seating. “I need your number.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, ya need to give it to me sweetheart,” he smirks, mirroring your body language. “Need it so I can tell you when I wanna see you again.”
You scoff, shaking your head defiantly at his bold claim. The thought of him clicking his fingers for you to come running like a loyal lap dog is almost enough to make you gag. You’d slap him if it wasn’t so late, you’re too tired and you don’t want to cause a fuss for Megumi or your neighbours.
“You’re never gonna see me again,” you smile, biting your lip as you look him up and down. “And you’re not seeing Megumi, either. He’s done with your little fight club. And I’m done with you, period.”
“Aren’t you meant to be smart? Concerning that a doctor could be so naïve.” he squints slightly as he regards you, looking you up and down as you had him. You’re so sure of yourself, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve forgotten about your current appearance. “I’ll be seein’ you both again. Megumi isn’t quitting. And I like you, and I’m not the type of man to give up things I like.”
“Tough shit,” you laugh lightly. “You’re gonna have to find another poor woman to pester. I’ve got enough going on without dealing with a loser like you.”
“A loser? Really?” he chortles. “You were moaning on my dick and calling me daddy earlier. Now I’m a loser?”
“Shut up.”
He leans in close to you, noses almost touching and his smile widens further as he sees how glittery your face is from your poor makeup removal. “Are you only going to be nice to me when I fuck that brat out of you?”
You turn your head away, your heart racing as your body betrays you. The want and desire bubbles in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t. You know you can’t; because you promised.
He isn’t special.
Sukuna is not special.
“You’re not fucking anything out of me.” you tell him, peering out of the corner of your eye to see him look a little surprised at your declaration. He thought you were playing hard to get. You aren’t playing. “It was a one-time thing.”
“Really?” he asks, barely missing a beat as he responds. “I don’t understand you. I thought—”
“Of course you don’t understand me. You’ve known me for a few hours. Just because we’ve fucked doesn’t mean you know me.” you remind him. And he nods, he agrees with you. He’d be a fool not to, and the man is no fool. “It was just a heat of the moment mistake. I mean it. I don’t want to see you again and I’m not letting Megumi fight anymore.”
“Why?”
“Why?” you scoff. “He’s a child. It’s dangerous. I don’t want him—”
“No, sweetheart. I’m not stupid, I know why you don’t want him to fight anymore. Do I look like a moron to you?” he asks, voice gruff and harsh as he interrupts without a care. His temper is visible and rising as he begins to run out of patience for your attitude with him. “Why don’t you want to see me?”
“Because you’re shady and I don’t want to upset my brother. He’s already upset, I don’t want to make it worse.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“Excuse m—”
“That’s a reason why Megumi doesn’t want you to see me. Yeah I’m a little shady, but you like me. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me come over here, see where and how you live, and tend my wounds like a good girl.” he sneers.
“Fine. I don’t like you and I don’t want to have a platonic relationship with a criminal. Let alone a romantic one. What happened earlier was a mistake.”
“… You’re lying.” he says, and it’s curt. You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head with an amused laugh as you digest his denial. How he can sit there and act so full of himself when you’re being perfectly clear is beyond you. It’s jarring.
You jolt as you feel thick fingers lightly grip your jaw. Your wandering gaze is now brought to him. Your eyes forced to fixate on the placid expression plastered across chiselled features.
“I see you, princess. You don’t wanna see me because you want to get mixed up with a criminal, and you’re scared of that. I see you.”
You stare at him, licking your lips not so discreetly as he continues to cradle your jaw. His lips curl at the sight of the little pink muscle slipping between your lips to wet them. You’re angry. Furious at yourself for letting him touch you, hold you, like this. And you hate yourself, right now. Maybe even more than you hate him, too.
Because he’s right.
Your lack of action gives him cause to stare down at your shimmering lips, it’s a warning. A silent announcement for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t let go, but his head tilts. He leans in closer to you, daring to give you what you both know you want.
And again, he’s thwarted.
You turn away, unable to look at him right after this time.
“… You should go, now.” you tell him.
He sighs, but pulls away. You almost mewl as his thumb softly swipes across your chin. And when he withdraws it, you feel your body fill with loneliness. Your skin feels colder.
And it hurts, because he’s on the right track. You’re pushing him away because of Megumi. But deep down, as much as you crave him right now, you know it’s the right thing to do. You jolt a little as he abruptly stands up from the couch, the breeze from his movement makes you freeze.
He sees it.
“Go to bed, you’ll warm up.” he says bluntly before making his way towards the front door. He stops as he grabs the handle, holding up his bloodied knuckles. “Thank you, for the first aid.”
“It’s… it’s fine. No problem. Goodnight, S-Sukuna.” you say, cursing yourself for the audible whine in your words despite your attempted conviction. You watch him as he grabs the handle before turning to face you again.
“Come with me.” he tells you, curling the tip of his index finger. “I need to give you something, don’t argue. For once.” he demands.
You’re compelled to follow, in spite of his demeaning way of summoning you. You truly don’t want him to leave, you don’t want him to go, so any extra time you can spend with him, you’ll take.
He walks ahead of you, leaving you shivering in the doorway as you try and preserve any warmth you can. He opens the door to his car and turns around, a little bewildered that you aren’t right behind him. It makes you giggle to see him look around in search of you before he finally spots you still at the front door.
“Come here.”
You close the door and rush to his side, quickly looking back to make sure Megumi isn’t looking for you. He rests his arm atop the roof of his Mercedes, before holding out a small piece of paper between his fingers to you.
It’s a business card.
“What kind of thug needs a business card?” you ask before you even think about what you’re saying. He scoffs, squinting at you.
“You’ve only fucked me once, you don’t know me.” he smirks. And at that, you can’t help but laugh. “What you said… makes it seem like we’ll learn more about each other if we keep fucking.”
“I don’t want to know you, Sukuna.” you sigh, reluctant to keep up the charade. Reluctant to keep pretending he doesn’t excite you. To keep pretending the few hours you’ve spent with him haven’t been the liveliest your life has been in years. Maybe ever, really. “I can’t be selfish, you don’t get it.”
“You’d be surprised.” he says, abruptly. “Why did you follow me out here if you don’t want to know me?”
“Because you asked me to, you said you wanted to give me something…”
“You could have said no. Do you always do what people tell you? You wanted to. I wanted you to. And now you’re here, you have my number. If you want to be selfish… you know where I am.”
“I don’t—” you sigh, shivering aggressively before you push his card back into his chest. “I don’t need this.”
He grabs your wrist hellbent on sending you away with this one little piece of the puzzle of his life. A way to talk to him again if you change your mind. He’s giving you access, he wants you to take it, desperately.
He crouches down, levelling his head with your own so his one, uncovered eye is levelled with yours. He can’t help but smile, it’s almost maniacal, as he watches your resolve falter under his glare.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good, kid.” he grins. “And you’re not all that smart, for a doctor.”
Your face burns with heat. And you can’t tell if it’s rage or lust. Do you want to kiss him or kill him? You don’t know, you don’t know. His smile grows wider as he realises what he’s done to you. Your faces are so close to each other and this time you can’t will yourself to turn away. You can’t submit, not after this.
“I’m smarter than you.” is all you can think to say. It feels pathetic and phoned in. And he reads it, too, by the ever-growing look of amusement on his face.
“I don’t doubt that.” he nods. “What’s got you all hot ‘n bothered, hm? ‘Cause I called you a dumb li’l doctor? Or ‘cause daddy, called you kid?”
You feel your face sear further. So much so you can even detect each and every drop of sweat beading at your hairline. You’d forgotten it was freezing outside, instead trying to find a way to subtly cool yourself.
“You d-didn’t even call me dumb. I’m not.” you say, stuttering over yourself like a true idiot as you try and gain some semblance of composure through this agonising conversation.
He closes the already small distance between you, placing his hand on the small of your back and pulling you towards him. Your eyes flutter closed under his as he examines you. His head tilting and turning, forcing himself in your line of view.
“I am learning more about you. Should we fuck about it, sweetheart?”
“What are you—”
“Do I remind you of your old man, hah? I bet that’s it… was daddy never proud of you?” he chuckles darkly, carding his fingers through your hair as he stares down at you. “S’that why you like me, darlin?”
“Shut up.” you respond, voice meek and pathetic as you wrestle with your will and want. His fingers lace through your hair, delicately holding the crown of your head before you find yourself being pulled closer still. His lips ghost yours, and he’s a tease. He’s such a fucking tease.
“Got a thing for older guys who talk to you like shit… I see it. Get too much respect at your little doctor job all day. Do you like being talked down to, hm? No wonder you like a thug like me.”
“You don’t know what you’re— You d-don’t even know.”
“Yeah? I don’t?” he asks, his tone melodious and teasing. His head tilts back, the feel of his lips intensely teasing yours soon broken as he does. But you look up to him, eyes full of anguish and sorrow like a kicked puppy who doesn’t know what it wants. You hate him and the reason is clear.
You don’t hate him at all.
You just hate that he’s right.
“I think I’m right. I think you’ve got daddy issues, and you like it when I call you kid.” you turn away as he speaks. But almost as quickly as you do, he’s forcing you to look at him again. His ruby eye flaring, an expression all of its own. A warning, a look of command. A look of lust. “Am I right, baby? Is your little cunt soaked ‘cause I call you kid?”
“… I have to go.” you say, quietly.
“Sure.” he smirks.
A sense of déjà vu overwhelms you as you recognise in his smile that you’ve done this dance before. You can’t move and you can’t speak. There is no desire in you to leave him now and return to your home, your bed, like you should.
All you can do is stare. Your eyes fixated on the man who has just read you like a book. His amused expression doesn’t falter. He’s patient, surprisingly. You wouldn’t have painted him as a man with patience. But looking at him now, you know he’d be willing to wait all night if he had to. He’d wait for the sun to rise just to prove a point.
But he doesn’t need to.
You lunge forward, your hand cupping his face as you break the boiling tension between you and seal your acceptance with a scalding kiss.
He won.
He told you before, he doesn’t lose.
Your lips suctioning and pecking at his would make you embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. He welcomes it, too, meeting yours with just as much urgency. He wraps his arms around your back as you slip your tongue between his lips, allowing them to tangle and swirl in a passionate encounter.
He chuckles into it as you curse. Curse him, curse his name. You can’t believe he’s reduced you to this, again. Your heart heaves in your chest, and you break away just to instruct him.
“Open the fucking back door.”
He laughs again, keeping hold of you as he guides you in a way he can carry on kissing you and still do as he’s told. He ducks in first, pulling you in with him right after. You grind your hips against his heavy bulge as he closes the door after you. He looks up to admire you, to adore you.
“You smeared your makeup like a fucking idiot so I wouldn’t fuck you,” he laughs. “And look at you, humping my cock like a desperate little pet.”
“Shiiiit, I forgot I’m a mess.” you sigh, though you don’t really care. You wrap your arms around his neck, keening as his heavy palms grip your thighs press you flush against his body. “This is the last time. I m-mean it.”
“Whatever you say, princess.” he says, smugly.
You dismiss it, too enamoured by the feeling of his bulge alone as you continue to grind down hard and purposefully onto him. He’s relaxed, allowing you to take the lead and go at your own pace.
It’s embarrassing, really, you’re not as experienced as he seems to be. He’s older. And you hate to admit it, wiser. When it comes to encounters such as this, anyway. You’re smart and well read, sure, but casual hook ups are foreign to you.
You’ll keep that to yourself for as long as you can, you can’t think of anything worse than giving Sukuna that little tidbit of information about you. That he is only the third guy you’ve fucked.
He hit the nail on the head back at the club, but you can’t let him know that.
“Let me feel.” he mutters. His hand holds your hip to keep you in place. Another snakes down into your sleep shorts, his mouth falls open with an amused chuckle as he touches you. “Still full’a me, baby. Bet I’ll slide right in.”
His fingers play with your pussy without any real goal. And still, it makes you delirious. He smears the evidence of your previous tryst around your folds, and he watches with conviction as his fingers circle your clit.
He withdraws them, briefly, to move your shorts into the crease of your thigh. You watch him, and he doesn’t take his eye off you, either. Your lower lip droops as you admire him. Truthfully, you’ve never been in the presence of someone so domineering as him. He is the true definition of a red-blooded male.
Sukuna is huge. In the literal sense, he is unnaturally tall. His build is enormous, his hand is larger than your face. But his aura alone is enough to fill an entire room with an ambience that he sees fit. He could instil fear into the minds of men just because he wills it.
Unfortunately for you, you are not immune to his will.
“You’re so pent up darlin’, you must work hard. Y’need to relax… no wonder you can’t keep your hands off me.” he says. It could be read as demeaning. You think it should be. And yet, you don’t detect any malice from him. He makes a show of spitting on his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as the ‘ptuh’ sound leaves his lips. It makes you shudder.
Though when he touches you with such purpose, so lewdly, a whine you never knew you could make leaves your lungs. He looks up at you like you hung every star in the sky as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. The ‘shlick’ suctioning sounds of your already tainted walls couldn’t possibly be any louder.
He sees how embarrassed you are, but he doesn’t care. Your nose crinkles and your eyes close softly. He curls his fingers and his palm flattens against your clit. And you cry out for him, lurching forward as you wrap your arms around his head rather than his neck. He’s surprised to see your hips rock against his touches, riding his fingers like it’s the only contact you’ve ever known.
His free hand reaches up to tug down your vest. His tongue is flat and wide as he sticks it out to lick your bare tits. He isn’t rough, he isn’t aggressive, he isn’t rushing. He sensually swirls his tongue over your nipples, breathing heavily on occasion before he kisses them. You whimper when he sporadically skims his teeth across them. There’s no bite. No effort. He just wants to hear you cry for him like that. It’s like his teeth are barely there, just enough that you know they are.
“Do you touch yourself?” he mumbles against your skin. You can’t bear to look at him after hearing that. You pretend you didn’t, moaning louder as a diversion. It’s fruitless, and apparently you aren’t a good actress. He yanks your hair and forces you to look at him. His fingers stop, and your body writhes from the loss. “Don’t do that again. Answer me.”
“S-Sukuna…” you fuss. The feeling of your building pleasure being torn away from you is making you stupid. It’s pathetic. And yet, in spite of how humiliating it is, you’re still rolling your hips in a bid to get the feeling back. His expression falters to one you can’t read. You think it’s annoyance, but it’s so detached and expressionless. You yelp as he withdraws his fingers completely, with no time to feel the loss when he grabs your face with his slick-coated hand.
“I want to know if you make your pretty pussy cum after a hard day at work.” he says calmly, a low rumble in his chest as the words roll plainly from his tongue. Your eye contact falters as you notice him pulling at his sweatpants in search of his aching length. “And I want you to show me how you touch her. So go on, answer my question.”
“I… I—” you stumble. You watch him intensely as he frees his throbbing cock. He wraps his fist around himself and lazily strokes. He still glares at your features. While you’re utterly captivated by his cock.
It looks so angry. Too pretty and perfect to be real, you think. But somehow, it is. You think he’d be better suited as a porn star than a criminal with an asset like that. He spends an extra second squeezing his length just below the tip when he strokes himself, it’s like he’s ringing all of the pre out that he can. It dribbles out of his slit, coating his tip the more he summons. It’s beguiling.
You suppose you hadn’t really had a chance to admire him back at the club. It was so heated and hasty. Now, it’s purposeful. You look at his face again when you realise this is what he wants. He wanted you to look at how he touches himself and how gorgeous his cock is. He wants you to see how big he is and how much he aches and throbs when he needs to be buried in a sweet little cunt.
He wants the memory of this to stain your mind.
“I d-don’t.” you confess. “Not much… I’m always tired. Busy.”
“Mhmm… I can tell.” he nods, his voice is somewhat sympathetic. “Come here, princess. Sit on it.”
His hand grips into your hip while he lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him, you don’t hesitate. You let him push you down, you eagerly suck him in. Your eyes roll back as you feel him swell through your walls. Even after taking him earlier, you’d forgotten how monstrous he feels inside. And this time, somehow, he feels bigger.
“Fu-uck,” you gasp as his tip immediately nudges at your sweet spot. You hold his shoulders and hope he’ll assist you. The thought of disappointing him makes you anxious. The idea of him knowing how inexperienced you really are makes you sick.
He throws his head back as your hole swallows him greedily. He looks at you through a heavy-lidded stare, and relief fills you as his hands grab the fat of your ass. You moan pathetically as he spreads them. But his ultimate goal is to bounce you on his cock. You feel weightless in his hands as he helps you. Each steep drop down onto his length makes your throat tight.
He's there.
You feel him there.
“Play with yourself, go on. Rub her f’me.” he says lethargically.
And your face feels like fire. The foreplay was gasoline and his command is a match. And yet, out of fear of him withholding pleasure from you again, you comply. Your hand slithers between your thighs and you do all you can to pretend you’re elsewhere.
You try and pretend you’re in your room, in your bed. What usually gets you going is a mildly heated scene from a movie or TV show. The sexual tension of an almost kiss makes your face flush, though a lot less than it is now. And you think it’s unbearable to witness sexual tension and not see any resolve, so you scamper to find a video online to suit your needs. Something quick and short as you reach into your nightstand to find your favourite toy.
The thought of being caught by your brother makes you sick so you have to be fast with it. The website you ordered it from assured the toy would be whisper quiet. And you can only hope it’s true. You don’t touch yourself, not without aid. And even then, it’s sparse. You haven’t rubbed your clit with your own fingers in years.
Years of being riled up and having a useless boyfriend who didn’t know what he was doing lead you to finishing yourself off each and every time. And you knew, the moment you got a job and your own income, you’d buy yourself a vibrator.
It’s hard to pretend Sukuna isn’t here, though. It’s hard to pretend you’re in your room with Netflix playing quietly enough in the background it can still cover the sound of soft core moaning from your phone while you vibrate yourself to completion.
Because his cock fills your each and every thought. Every sense you possess is dominated by him. The feel of him stretching you out beyond your limit and repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. The sound of the sticky tacking of his length as he slams you up and down on his pulsing member.
Your vision alternates between his gorgeous gaze and the point where your bodies connect again and again. Your pussy gushes slick and the evidence of your prior combined coupling stains your inner thighs and his crotch.
The scent of your sex fills the car and the heat of your sweaty bodies exacerbates it. Your skin is damp, as is his. And it’s overwhelming. He groans into a chuckle as you moan louder and louder for him. If anyone happens to be awake at this ungodly hour, they’ll no doubt hear you. If anyone looks out of the window, they’ll see how the car rocks back and forth. It turns you on further. The tang of sweat and arousal filling the car. It makes you lightheaded.
“I can— fuck— c-can taste you, daddy…” you whine. He urges you to fall forward so he can kiss you. It forces you to take over, moving your hips on your own as you try and maintain your building pleasure. “You’re too big… can feel you in my throat, Sukuna… tastes so good.”
“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” he smirks, kissing you again. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Not the good girl you pretend to be, hah?”
You nod, agreeing. He’s right, after all. You’re talking in a way you didn’t know you had in you. He takes over again, holding your rear so he can take full control of your body. He guides you repeatedly until your eyes cross from the pleasure. Your walls tighten, and your throat feels hoarse as you cry out for him.
“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, kid. Don’t be shy. Cum for daddy.” he encourages you.
You cry, at that. Falling forwards to envelop him in your arms as you come undone. He coos, sweetly, kissing your cheeks and licking away your tears. The feeling isn’t lost on you, the feeling of disgust. You’ve never felt happiness or value like you did just now. Realising how right he was about your issues and using them to subdue you.
Your pussy gushes and he moans further, chest roaring as he finally lets his sight drop to see what a pretty mess you’ve made of yourself.
Made of him.
Made for him.
He pushes his thumb into your clit and rubs quickly, further extending your pleasure through it all. You could just about cum again when you feel him shoot another load into you, his warmth filling your womb for the second time today. It makes you feel special. It makes you feel loved.
The very idea of it has you pushing yourself away from him desperately. But he holds you close. His moans are boisterous and uncaring. It’s loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, you think. And at the very least, you’re sure Megumi will hear if he doesn’t have his headphones on.
His arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor of the car as he fucks himself into you. He’s sure to empty every last drop into your cunt, his balls slap against your ass as he ploughs into you furiously.
And when he stops, you freeze. You feel cold. You feel filthy.
He doesn’t discard you or try to kick you out. The opposite, really. He’s still holding you close, lightly peppering your chilled skin with kisses. Eventually stopping to rest his head on your chest. He feels you try to move away, but he only holds you tighter.
So you stop trying to leave. And instead, you run your fingers through his hair. He hums contently, at that. And you feel your heart pound harder, a little smile works its way onto your face.
Maybe he’s not so bad.
That thought alone makes you stop. He looks up at you, his stare soft and gentle as he wonders what made you halt your actions so abruptly. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you move to leave.
“I have to go, I really have to go now.” you say bluntly. He huffs, watching as you scramble to put your clothes back in place, clambering off him in a hurry. He doesn’t say anything in response. He watches as you scramble to open the door. Tears of panic begin to fall as you struggle to open it, you frantically pull and push as you try to get away. He leans over, and with little effort, he opens the door for you.
“Goodbye.” he says, simply.
“G-Goodbye.” you respond, ducking out and briskly walking to your front door.
You take a deep breath when you get there, preparing for the possibility that Megumi is about to greet you and bite your head off. Sukuna doesn’t move. He stays in the back seat and watches you with a sombre expression. With no inclination of what happened to change your mood, he can only assume he stepped out of line.
He doesn’t want to leave just yet. At least not until he knows you’re safely inside.
As you grab the handle of the door and push, your heart sinks.
“No, no, no… d-don’t do this to me now.” you sob, hysterically fiddling and pushing the door. You stupidly think that you just need to try harder and it will open. But no such thing comes to pass. You’ve locked yourself out.
Sukuna sits upright when he realises, watching as you slowly turn to look at him. His hand folds, gesturing for you to come closer. And with no other option, you do. Your phone is inside as well as your car keys. You can’t text Megumi to tell him what you’ve done. And even if you could, he’d only come outside to see that you’ve let him down. Again.
“Silly girl.” he says, looking at you with a weak smile when you finally approach. You duck down to look at him, not willing to get inside with him. “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll bring you back in the morning.” he suggests.
“I’m not fucking—”
“You can stay in a different room.” he answers your obvious assumption with a reasonable response. And still…
“N-No. I don’t want to go to your house.”
“Then I guess we’re sleeping in the car. Come on.” he sighs. He waits until you get in, begrudgingly, and then gets out himself. You watch him as he circles to the trunk of his car, looking ahead at your home as you wait for him to return. And he does, with a large, fur blanket.
“Why do you have this?” you wonder.
“I don’t remember. You better not be complaining, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t fuck off right after I came like I usually do. Especially after that little performance.”
“Performance?!” you yell. You position yourself as far away from him as you can in the confined space, sitting as closely to the door as you can. “You just don’t get it! At all.”
“You’ve made that clear, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll steer clear when you get back inside tomorrow. I’m too old to be playing stupid games with little girls who don’t know what they want.”
You huff, covering your legs with the blanket before folding your arms.
“I told you it was a mistake.” you correct him. “I told you I didn’t want to see you or do that again.”
“Shut up.” he shakes his head. “Just go to sleep and we’ll never have to see each other again. Because that’s what you want, yes?”
You pause before speaking. Images of his delicate expression in your arms haunt you. You’d overreacted because of your own cowardice. Because of a promise you evidently had no intention of keeping. It wasn’t a performance. It was just… fear.
“Yes.” you tell him. Your response is bold and scathing.
He doesn’t react, he merely shrugs, adjusting the blanket over his own legs, too. His arms cross over his chest, and his head rests against the window. You can’t see beyond his eye covering, but you assume his visible eye is closed.
You do the same, hoping you fall asleep sooner rather than later.
You’re wrong, though.
His eye is open wide, looking upwards to the light polluted sky. There are a few stars visible, three. He stares at them, thinking about the events of the evening. He hadn’t expected to end up fucking once tonight let alone twice. But when you walked into his club and tried to give him a piece of your mind, he knew.
He knew he’d have to have you.
And he hadn’t expected to be so lucky so have you again, like this. But he can’t put his finger on why things went so sour. It could be one thing or a number of things. He has ideas. He thinks your less complicated than you seem to think you are. You’re keeping him at arm’s length, and that, he understands.
He’s a stranger, but he doesn’t have to be.
He doesn’t want to be.
But what can he do?
He’ll just stare at the stars until he drifts off to sleep.
Maybe things will be different in the morning.
—
© 2024 rinhaler
—
chapter one | m.list (working on it) | chapter three
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toji fuckin u so good that u js go limp <3
TRUEEEEE i have smth inappropriate to say abt this 😵💫
with one of his big hands on your hips, toji watches you try to move up and down on his cock. he just smiles at your attempt, a pathetic one, but he thinks it’s cute. “struggling?” he slides his thumb over one of your nipples, watching your body respond to him.
“help me, please,” you’re begging as your hips slide back and forth, just anywhere for a sense of satisfaction.
“you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” he doesn’t look away from you, doesn’t give you the opportunity to hide from him.
toji feels much, much, much better as he’s pounding ur cute hole while you grapple for his arm— or anything to hold on to.
he loves watching you twitch and moan when he changes pace, waiting for you to buck your hips forward for him.
“cmon, princess. be patient,” he taunts. his cock is all consuming. he’s shamelessly watching it disappear into your cunt. you’re reaching for his arm but can’t find it in you to move; the way he’s fucking into you, treating you like this, it’s too much.
“yeah, that’s good. atta’ girl,” your body goes limp when he’s fucking you like this, all control and sense of consciousness disappears so easily with him, “just lay there like that. let me use you.”
and you’re not sure if it’s your far-gone mind, but toji looks like he’s smiling at you.
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OFF TO THE RACES
DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.
PAIRING: toji x reader
WC: 1.9k
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification
A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!
“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist.
a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response.
he had told you to dress up today.
how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs.
if only you had known.
you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.
you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time.
it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him.
the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough.
but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him?
that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now.
toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely.
“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”
you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most.
the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands.
he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong.
you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that.
you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people.
but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?
the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four.
it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it.
the heat inside you spreads further.
“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”
it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there.
“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds.
your shut your eyes tightly.
you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are.
you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses.
you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.
they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win.
a one in eight change.
god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day.
you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.
“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort.
it’s useless, of course.
toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger.
he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you.
but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least.
your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over.
you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy.
your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.
he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are.
toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.
your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know.
stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.
toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt.
he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.
no remorse at all.
it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere.
you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy.
your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit.
you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers.
someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock.
an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.
surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—
before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race.
but his fingers don’t leave you.
no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles.
and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.
if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you.
you wish you could cry right now.
instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.
those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of.
you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse.
“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”
you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him.
“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.
his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more.
“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well.
it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder.
when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another.
you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.
dangerously close to first place.
it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you.
you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you.
if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.
when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease.
you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair.
there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch.
“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”
the man points his thumb over his shoulder.
the race is over.
horse number four came in at fourth place.
how fitting.
his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.
but still. are they really going to—
“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.”
toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense.
“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”
that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face.
toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?
you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it.
there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all.
the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.
he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger.
toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement.
when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout.
“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”
toji smirks.
you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks.
you swallow down the last of your sobs.
“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."
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“C’mon mutt, look at the camera. Your owner wants to make sure you’re still breathing.”
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If It Serves You.
(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)
Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.
READ WITH CAUTION
Word Count: 3.7k
Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.
Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.
Dividers by @/saradika
Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-
“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”
You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.
“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”
“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.
“Of course, of course you can.”
Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.
“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”
His laughter rings rather hollow.
“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”
You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.
You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.
“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.
“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”
He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.
“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.
The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:
“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”
He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.
As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.
Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.
Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.
You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers.
But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone.
You take a deep, shuddering breath.
“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily.
The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.
“Amortentia,” you try next. No response.
You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue.
“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.”
Nothing.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”
A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.
You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office.
Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.
No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.
“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath.
“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?”
He spat that last word as if it was a curse.
“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.”
Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…
You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.
Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great.
“Did you now?” He sneers.
In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin.
“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.”
Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra.
“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.”
Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-”
“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.
“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage.
(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)
“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”
The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough.
Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit.
“Stop,” Snape orders.
At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes.
Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps…
“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey.
Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew.
“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.”
“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.
“Headmaster…”
You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.
He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden.
The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.
“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you.
You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard.
Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile.
“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.”
You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream.
But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth.
A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches.
“Open your eyes,” he demands.
You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face.
His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw.
Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue.
“Swallow it. All of it.”
You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily.
“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.”
Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing.
His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:
“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit.
“Yes!” You choke out.
“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock.
“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!”
He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you.
“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.”
It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself...
One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate.
“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.”
Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and—
Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes…
I even once wished I could brush away the strands…
Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort.
Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:
“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.
No, of course you don’t expect—
No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—
“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…”
“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again.
Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming.
“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.”
“Please what, ___?”
You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out.
“Please, fuck me!” you plead.
You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.
Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table.
“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?”
What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class…
“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.”
In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived.
Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars.
“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan.
“And do you? Do you want this…?”
He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers.
“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain.
But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk.
“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.”
Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving.
“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.”
He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…
“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head.
“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.”
Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches.
“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.
“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.
Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood.
“___… When you cum, you cum for me.”
Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—
Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.
The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.
After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape.
There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is.
“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.
Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew.
There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will.
You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’
After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.
In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.
You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.
You flick your wand and flush out the light.
No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.
A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.
You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.
They should leave those matters to you.
Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.
When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.
Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.
He offers you a hand.
“Come here,” he says.
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Ok but imagine you’re at a club in the city, it’s NYE.
You wear your short sparkly dress and favourite heels. You’re dancing with your friends, giddy and tipsy.
Then you see him, across the bar.
Saturo Gojo.
The club lights dancing off of his silver hair, his muscles stretching his tight black t-shirt. His brilliant blue eyes catch yours as he lazily looks you up and down, a smirk playing on his lips.
You look away, nervously.
The music blares as you dance, the alcohol taking effect. You shake your ass and whip your hair as the men around you stare, hungrily. You see Satoru watching you as your hands run over the curve of your hips.
You spin and twirl in a giddy, drunken haze. Your dress lifting and flowing, revealing your bare thighs and the bottom of your ass. You look back at the bar but realise Satoru isn’t there anymore. You huff, deflated.
Just then you feel a hand on your ass, grabbing you. Hard. Someone begins pushing you through the crowd toward a shadowed doorway.
Satoru spins you around to face him and pins you to the wall, his huge frame towering over you.
“I think they’ve seen enough of you.” He smirks, nodding to the crowd of men on the dance floor.
“But I want to see more”
His huge hand slides up your dress and his fingers wrap round your lacy panties, pulling them down in a swift motion. You gasp.
Satoru chuckles as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around him. Before you can think, he kisses you ferociously.
With your legs spread open you feel him unzip,
lining his throbbing cock at your soaking entrance.
You moan forces himself into you. Taking no time at all to pound your tight little hole.
The music blasts as he fucks you against the wall. You clutch at his back, your face buried in his neck. He laughs as you pathetically try to stifle your moans- but the more you resist, the harder he fucks.
You bounce like a slut, dripping down his massive cock as he pounds your soaking cunt. Faster, harder.
In the distance you hear the crowd is counting down to the New Year-
“10…!”
You can’t barely think straight, feeling his biceps pulsating as he fucks you senseless. He kisses you as you moan into his mouth, his dick pummelling your soft walls.
“Who’s a good slut?” He growls, slapping your ass.
“I-I am” you cry
“3…!”
He pounds harder. You whimper, breathless as he continues to ruin your pussy. Your legs shake.
“2…!”
Your vision starts to blur. You almost can’t take it anymore, you feel like you’re going to-
“I-I’m gonna-!”
“1…!”
You cry out in ecstasy and squirt all over his cock as he cums deeps inside you. You both pant.
He pulls out his throbbing cock and puts you down; your legs wobble.
“Happy New Year” he sneers, leaving you stood breathless, his cum dripping down your thighs.
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Heat like Fire
a/n: happy halloween my fellow monsterfuckers!! couldn't have a spooky season without blessing y'all with a spicy venom fic
pairing: Venom/Host!Reader [AFAB, Gender Neutral]
word count: 1.5k
content: NSFW, developing relationship, mating cycles, tentacle sex, mild dom/sub, tentacle bondage, biting, degradation
Mature Audiences ONLY
You sat on your cracked leather couch, staring at the screen of your TV. A cheesy Hallmark-style movie was playing, though you weren't paying attention. You felt sick. Your body ached, your skin was clammy, and the worst was that nothing you did seemed to help. The ice pack did nothing to cool your body, the meds hadn't put a dent in the aches.
And someone was being... decidedly quiet.
"God, Ven, what's going on?" You groaned, your head woozy. "Are we sick? I feel like I've got the worst flu of my life."
“No, we're not.” They sounded defensive, like there was something they were hiding from you.
"Are you gonna tell me what's going on? You seem to know," you snarked.
Silence.
"Ven? I just want to know what the fuck is going on with my body."
"We are in heat," they said, their voice heavy with guilt.
"We're in WHAT?" You demanded, springing out of your seat.
"Heat, [Y/N]."
"Like some kind of fucking animal?!" A sharp pain shot through your stomach, and you were forced to sit back down. "No... no no no this can't be happening. Humans don't go into heat."
"Symbiotes do."
"Fuck." You buried my head in your hands. You shifted your weight, moaning as slick rolled down your leg. "What are we going to do? It's not like we can just go out and find someone who's willing to fuck us through this."
"You could always call that person you were seeing before."
"Alex?" You asked incredulously.
"Yes," they hissed. "I'm sure they'd love to see you like this."
"I don't think someone who ghosted me would want to help with this. God, I don't even think I could explain this to them," you groaned. "Even if I could, I don't think I'll be able to wait long enough for them to get here. I feel like I'm gonna pass out."
There was a tentative pause, an odd silence in your head.
"We could always help you with it," they mumbled, their voice subdued, almost nervous.
Were they offering to have sex with you?
"You mean like... making it go away?" You laughed nervously.
"If we could make this go away, morsel, we wouldn't be here."
They were definitely offering to have sex with you.
And you weren't... opposed to it.
Your body quite liked the idea. Blood rushed to your cheeks as your legs spread further apart. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of their tendrils wrapping around your skin, toying with you while you're completely helpless.
You told yourself that was just because of the heat. It wasn't that you was actually attracted to them, you were just reacting weirdly because your body needed to be fucked.
That was totally what this was.
"What... what would that be like?" You fidgeted, my hands tapped against my thigh.
"It could be anything you want," they purred, sending shivers down my spine.
You moaned, loud and obscene, and quickly shoved a hand over your mouth.
"You need to be somewhere comfortable, morsel. A nest."
You cocked your head to the side. "Like a bed?"
"Yes, that would work."
"Can you take us there, love?" The pet name just slipped out, but it felt right. "I feel like my legs are gonna give out if I try to stand."
"Of course." Your body was rigid as they seized control of it. Their movements were jerky and uncanny, but you didn't collapse into a heap on the floor. That was a bonus.
They laid you down on the bed gently, removing your clothes as their tendrils delicately wrapped around your legs.
You moaned and arched your back, desperate for any sort of friction.
Your face grew hot when I realized what you'd done. You squirmed. "Fuck," you groaned. "Why am I like this?"
"It's because of your heat, [Y/N]. We already established this."
You sighed, exasperated. You couldn't take it anymore, you needed them inside of you. "Venom. Please just shut up and fuck me."
More tendrils slinked out of your body, pulling your hands above your head and pinning you to the bed. You tugged on them, testing their strength. There was no give to them.
"We know exactly what you want," they purred into my ear. "What you crave."
You whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow.
The tendrils around your legs tightened, keeping your legs spread far apart. The rest spoiled over your body in a shibari-like pattern, claiming you as theirs.
"We know our morsel likes this," they said as their tendrils played with your nipples, twisting and pulling until you were a moaning mess beneath them.
"Please, Venom, I need you to fuck me," you whined.
"Beg for it."
Usually you would be mortified by the idea of that, but you beyond embarrassment.
"Please," you whined, your slick soaking the sheets beneath me. "I need you to fuck me. Please, Ven, I need you inside me."
"Well, since you asked so nicely..."
You moaned as Venom's tendrils traced up my thighs, caressed every inch of your body. One of the ones playing with your chest split off, wrapping around your neck to form a collar. You squirmed and tried to bring yourself closer to them, but the bonds didn't budge.
"You can squirm all you want, morsel, but you're powerless against me. You couldn't stop me even if you wanted to."
You whimpered. You were so weak in comparison to them, so powerless, and you wouldn't want it any other way.
A tendril found your clit, rubbing it ever so gently. A jolt of electricity shot through your spine, your back arching into the sensation.
One of their tendrils finally eased its way into your cunt. You moaned as another joined it, pulsating inside of you.
"You're so loud, slut. So eager. If we had our way, we'd be making you scream." Their voice was low and lust-ridden as their tendrils forced their way into your mouth. "But we can't have anyone interrupting us, can we?"
You sucked them further in, loving the feeling of them gagging you. They chuckled darkly and indulged you, pushing themselves further until you were choking.
And fuck it felt so good.
They pulled back in my throat, letting me breathe as they slowly began to thrust into my pussy.
You tried to buck your hips up into them, only to not be able to move. You needed more, more of them inside of you, pounding into your pussy and breeding you.
They must've sensed this desire, as they started thrusting into you at a steady pace. Their tendrils stretched you so well, so perfectly.
Their tendrils pressed deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot.
Your moan was muffled by the tentacle in your mouth, one which was coated in your spit. Drool rolled down your chin, landing on the pillow beneath your head.
"You take us so well, sweet one," Venom purred as their tendrils continued to fuck into you. "It's like you were made for us."
Venom wasn't lying when they said they could give you anything you wanted. Their tendrils pounded into your sweet spot every time. Their tendril on your clit, rubbing and sucking, brought you closer to the edge faster than anyone ever had before.
The heat was building in your stomach. You felt your stomach muscles tense, ready to release.
Tendrils pulled away from your chest. Their head emerged, fangs bared in a feral grin.
"We can tell how close you are morsel," they growled. They moved their head closer to you until their fangs brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "We think we know how to push you over the edge."
Their fangs sunk into your flesh, drawing an obscenely loud moan from you. You threw your head back as you came, your toes curling. You shook softly as the feeling enveloped you.
You collapsed, your body like a dead weight. The tendrils holding you in place loosened. Some retreated back inside of you, while others gently caressed your form.
The tendrils inside of you pulled out slowly, drawing a small moan from you before retreating back into your body.
"Did you enjoy yourself, sweet one?" Venom asked.
"I think that's an understatement, dear. God, we might just have to make that a regular occurrence." You smiled, pulling their head in to kiss between their eyes.
They blinked, uncharacteristically quiet as they healed the bite mark on your neck. They left just enough of a mark that it looked like a hickey, a reminder that you were theirs.
They stared at you for a moment before purring, nuzzling into your face.
"We love you, [Y/N]."
"Love you too, Ven."
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𝐀𝐌 𝐈 (𝟐𝟓𝐅) 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 (𝟐𝟖𝐌)
i know it sounds bad but we got high and he's hot!!
✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ plug!ryomen sukuna x f!reader
Genre: porn with a plot
Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for beta reading for me!! this is part of @ohkento's reddit-inspired collab! (ps this isnt a true form fic i just think he looks SEXY IN THAT PIC HNNNNGN)
Warnings: 18+, dubcon, mean dom!sukuna, sub!reader, cheating, hate sex ♡, drug taking, weed smoking, blowbacks/shotgunning, heavy degradation, slight praise, fingering ♡, vaginal sex, sixty-nineing ♡, face sitting, squirting ♡, pussy spanking, noncon filming, coercion, manipulation, daddy!kink, creampie, cervix fucking.
Words: 10.6k
“I’ve heard about you.” Yuuji starts, turning his head from looking up at the stars to facing you. Your mind feels cloudy, but you return his stare. He thinks your pearly smile belongs in the sky; a permanent constellation to remind him of this moment. “How come this is my first time meeting you?”
You sigh, reaching over as he hands a lit spliff to you. The bonfire rages in front of you both, the smoke burning your eyes until they fill with water.
At least you have the perfect cover if you burst into tears.
“Things got… hard.” you tell him, not really wanting to elaborate. But golden-brown puppy dog eyes will you to continue. It’s stupid, really, how cliché people become when they smoke. You’re no exception. The intoxication and the setting make you feel as though you’re in an indie movie, longing to share your scars and become closer to the one attractive boy giving you his attention. “My ex, he cheated on me. I was with him for two years so it hurt.” you confess, taking a thick drag before passing it back to him, he tuts as he takes it from you.
“I’m really sorry,” he expresses, holding eye contact while he smokes. The feeling rushes straight to his head and through his blood. He laughs a little as he gets comfortable in his seat. “Sorry… I’m not laughing at you.” he clarifies, laughing again.
You start to laugh too, leaning over to grab the spliff from his hand before he sets the back garden on fire with it. Both of your attention is pulled from each other as you hear a scream from inside. The party is still going on indoors, and the scream soon turns into a girly laugh.
No doubt one of your friends flirting with one of the other guys.
“It’s okay.” you assure him, getting just as comfortable in your own seat as you smoke the remainder of the joint. You wrap yourself in the blanket you brought outside and turn your body slightly to face him. “It was with my best friend, too.” you continue, your deepest wound not seeming so scarring as you allow the high to expose your secrets on your behalf.
“Shit.” he shakes his head.
“I’ve been doing therapy and stuff so I’m better. I just wasn’t in the mood to see people…” you explain, jolting upright a little as you realise you’re oversharing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so deep and make you feel uncomfortable.” you tell him.
“I’m fine, I’m the one who asked.” he chuckles, getting comfier under his own blanket as he turns to look at you.
His warm eyes make you feel relaxed, safe. And you hate it. You hate how much of a cliché you really are becoming and you hate that you can’t help it. This moment feels so much bigger than anything, but deep down, you’re paranoid, because you’re sure it’s the drugs talking.
You’ve heard about Yuuji, too.
You’ve heard about how sweet he is and how he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He has a sports scholarship of some kind, and after a quick stalk of his socials you noted how reflected this is in the form of his chiseled body. Could he really be so nice? He seems, perfect.
And apparently he, gives the best head.
“I have a secret.” he tells you, quietly. His voice almost drowned out by the crackling bonfire beside you. You aren’t sure what makes you heat up so quickly. The implication of his words or the way he said them. A lustful look in his eyes as the fire dances wildly beside you both.
“Yeah?” you tell him, cheeks fill with warmth as you try to ignore how fucking hot it is in pursuit of looking cool. And that makes you giggle, for some reason. Yuuji isn’t the one making you flush with heat, it’s the fire, idiot. “T-Tell me.” you encourage him, throwing off your blanket and fanning yourself dramatically.
So much for looking cool.
He grins, almost coyly, as he leans across the arm of his chair. And for some reason, you instinctively mirror him. Is it so secret that you need to be close? He might whisper it to you.
He tilts his head, smirking. His eyes flit from your eyes to your lips a few times. Enough times that you make a note of it. And your heart is fucking racing with each flicker of his gaze. You think you know what’s coming. But you stay still, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move.
“… I really wanna kiss you.” he admits. And if you weren’t hot before, you certainly are now. You try, and likely fail, to keep it cool. A wide grin spreads across your face and you burst into giggles. But your eyes meet his again, and you see a smile just as wide as yours on his face as he observes you.
“Yeah?” you ask, dumbly.
“Yeah.” he nods.
You gulp, shallowly, leaning in closer to him and letting your eyes fall closed. He smirks, again, leaning in until your lips meet. It’s sweet and passionate, until he pulls away. It surprises you a little. Worries you, even. Are you a bad kisser? Maybe you are when you’re high. But worry turns to astonishment as he pulls your chair closer to until the arms of both of your seats touch. He smirks, again, wrapping his arm around your neck as he leans in to kiss you.
And now, you really do hate yourself.
You moan into it.
You aren’t even sure where it came from. Was that really you? He grins, nonetheless, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest as his tongue meets yours in a more than welcome manner. You pull away, a string of spit connecting you both. A kiss infused daze covers your features as you look at him under heavy eyelids, and you pant, deeply.
“I have another secret.” he whispers, stealing another sweet kiss from your raw lips. Gloss smeared over your lip line and a dewiness transferred to his.
“Is it as good as the first?” you tease, giggling as his hand cups your face. You mewl, melting into his touch as his thumb strokes your cheek delicately. Your eyes widen. A look of curiosity replaces the majority of the lust, though you both know it’s still lurking.
“Well,” he starts, his eyes begin to wander. You observe him as his vision roams from the sky to the flames beside you. He takes his time, the anticipation of his words runs rampant through your bloodstream. Until, finally, he blesses you with his gaze once more. “I want to stay with you until the sun comes up. I want you to sit on my lap, with my cock inside you, under our blankets. All night.”
You’d hoped once he told you that your anxiety would have diminished. Though you’re sure with the way his eyes are fixated on your lips, your heart is surely surveying an escape route from your slack-jawed mouth as it pumps hard and violently through you. He doesn’t seem worried that you haven’t said a word, and his gaze doesn’t falter.
“Okay.” you nod.
It excites you. You haven’t been with anyone since your ex. And it might be a bad idea, but it doesn’t stop you. It’s not like you’re rushing into being with someone. It’s been months since things ended with your cheating ex-boyfriend. You stand up, bringing your blanket as you stand over Yuuji, and he holds your hips gently.
He feels under your skirt, smiling when he feels how soaked your panties are but he doesn’t comment. He moves them into the crease of your thigh and encourages you to straddle him.
You do.
Hovering slightly as he pulls down his joggers and his semi springs free. It’s big and pretty, like him. You kiss him as he jerks himself until he’s aching. He’s desperate to bury it inside of your gummy walls, his cock catches against your eager hole with every purposeful stroke.
He throws his head back as you sink down on him, and your hips stutter slightly from the stretch. You’re trying to focus on concealing your bodies with the fuzzy blanket wrapped around you, but your lips fly to his in a bid to silence yourself as he sheaths himself fully.
“Fuck, you’re tight… so wet, too.” he mumbles, hips rolling ever so slightly as he enjoys the feeling of being inside of you raw.
You jolt, panicked, as you hear a knock from the kitchen window. Both of your attention is stolen to see the origin, and you spot a group of partygoers hollering from inside. Two of his friends and one of yours, they all cheer and whoop as they can only assume what’s going on under the blanket.
Yuuji smiles, shaking his head before turning back to capture your lips in another soft kiss. You’re too distracted to notice him flip them off until they disappear.
“Do I remember the night the most perfect woman in the world let me hit her raw after a few minutes of talking under the stars? Yes, baby, I remember the best night of my life, why?” Yuuji asks after you recall that first night you met. “Very cool of you, by the way. I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”
You giggle, punching his arm softly as you curl into his side in bed. And you sigh, dreamily, thinking about it again. It’s been over a year since that night and you feel just as hazy around him as you did then. You were worried about him thinking of you as a one night stand. Worried that you’d just given in to this stranger for no real reason only to get your feelings hurt again.
But as the sun began to rise and wake you both up in that horrendously uncomfortable chair, he kissed your forehead and held you tightly against his chest. He stroked your hair until you managed to blink the blurriness from your eyes and see his in a new light. The crackle of the orange and white flames had gone from them. Instead, they were honeyed and soft. The kindest eyes you’d ever seen.
“The McDonald’s breakfast in the carpark was better than the sex in the garden, by the way.” you tease him, earning a tickle attack into your sides.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you were begging me to fuck you in the backseat afterwards.” he laughs, stopping his assault as you begin to scream. You cuddle into him again, his fingers tracing over the flesh of your upper arm. “It was good though, really good. Should we order hash browns?”
“Yes.” you nod, excitedly.
He sits up and reaches over to his bedside cabinet to grab his phone. He sighs as he checks his notifications. You sigh, too, watching him as he gets out of your warm bed in search of his clothes.
So much for hash browns.
“Yuuji…” you start.
“Don’t start, please, I don’t wanna leave in a bad mood.” he tells you. He smirks when he realises you’re checking out his abs, only focusing on him again as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. “I don’t want to rush moving in just because you feel sorry for me.”
“I’m not rushing you, and I don’t feel sorry for you!” you tell him, shuffling onto your knees and crawling across the bed until you’re kneeling beside the edge of the mattress. “I hate your brother. He’s a creep and he treats you like shit. I have plenty of room here… you can move in here and have your own space and—”
“I know he’s a dick.” he agrees, pulling on his socks and slipping his feet into his sneakers. “But he’s my only family. I’m not just gonna ditch him. Why don’t you move in with me?” he wonders.
“Um… I live in a townhouse instead of an apartment and it’s better, it’s in a better neighbourhood and your brother isn’t here.” you smile, smugly, and it earns a chuckle from him.
“Okay, you’re right about that. Speaking of which though I can’t stay tonight but you can come over if you want. I’ll order those hash browns for you tomorrow when I’m on my to the gym. I’m booked with PT sessions my entire shift.”
“I’m not waking up at 6am to eat hash browns alone, Yuuji.” you roll your eyes.
“You can text me when you wake up and I’ll order them for you. Pleeeeease?” he flutters his eyelashes dramatically before kissing your forehead. “Good girl.”
“I didn’t say yes?” you respond, flabbergasted. “Is Sukuna gonna be there?”
“Well, yeah. He lives there.” Yuuji tells you, earning an eye roll from you. He is in complete agreement on how much his older brother sucks. He understands why you hate him. He’s irritating, he’s crass and seems to have no concept of personal space or privacy. Yuuji doesn’t care for his brother in the least, and he has no doubt the feeling is mutual. There is love there, of course, but only out of necessity. “You don’t seem to mind him when the family discount applies for weed, though. Interesting.” he says with faux suspicion.
“Okay, that is literally the only thing he’s good for.” you remind him. He laughs, agreeing.
He kisses your lips chastely, hurrying to grab his backpack to hurry home to his expectant brother. The only two reasons he ever leaves you in haste are for work, or for Sukuna. Today was meant to be a day you could spend together since you both have the day off.
But of course, Sukuna ruins everything.
YUUJI: FORGOT TO ASK
YUUJI: ARE WE SMOKING TONIGHT?
YOU: DUH!
YUUJI: BETTER BE NICE TO SUKUNA FOR THAT FAMILY DISCOUNT THEN 😉
You stand outside of your boyfriends apartment complex, shivering, waiting for somebody to answer the door. He ordered a taxi for you since he knows you always worry about your car getting broken into when you visit, his own car suffering numerous break-ins in the span of your relationship.
And really, you don’t want somebody to answer the door. You want it to be Yuuji, specifically, the thought of Sukuna answering the door and tormenting you until you get to the safety of Yuuji’s room is entirely too much to handle. Your nerves are already shredded by being here, the thought of having a battle of words with Sukuna will surely tip you over the edge.
“Oh, hey, I didn’t think you’d get here so quickly.” you hear a voice from behind you. You turn around to see Yuuji. Fuck. You see the hallway light flicker on from under the crack of the front door to his apartment and you realise too late that a demon has been summoned. “I went and got cookie ingredients, I thought we could bake some before we smoke later.”
“Sounds fun.” you smile, his sweet idea assuages the tension you feel, albeit briefly, before his elder brother swings open the front door. Yuuji pulls his lips into a thin line when you can barely contain the scoff that scratches through your throat. Sukuna rolls his eyes, moving aside to let you both in. He peaks inside the bag Yuuji is holding before his little brother smacks his hand away. “Do not touch or I will kill you.” Yuuji warns him, carrying the ingredients to the kitchen before putting them away.
You decide to help, hoping it will go quicker if you pitch in and you can escape his brother’s intimidating stare faster. Sukuna approaches, leaning over a counter as he watches you both.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, princess. It’s been a while.” Sukuna taunts, but you ignore him. He clacks his fingernails against the countertop, and the sound is jarring. He smirks when you shoot him a pointedly aggravated stare, giving him reason to do it more. “What do we owe the pleasure?”
You sigh, nostrils flaring as you put two bars of chocolate in the fridge.
“We’re just hanging out, gonna bake these cookies and smoke.” Yuuji answers for you. So you smile, falsely, and rest your back against the wall once you’re done. “Oh, speaking of which… family discount?”
“I’m busy now.” Sukuna looks at you and then back at his brother. “Ask me later.” he expresses, red eyes fixed on you for a moment before he turns to leave.
It’s like you can finally breathe again when you hear him go to his room and close the door. You kick yourself away from the wall and into Yuuji’s open arms. He smooths his heavy hand over your hair, hoping you’ll relax a little. He spends some time figuring out what you can do to pass some time, knowing you’ll need a distraction.
“Let’s just bake the cookies.” you speak, words muffled as you talk into his shirt. You pull away as he looks down at you so that you can speak to him clearly. “I just wanna stay in your room all night…”
“Sure, baby, whatever you want.” he nods. “Okay, lets get all of the ingredients out again.”
He takes his time trying to remember where everything is. You, on the other hand, are rushing to gather them all. Sukuna has a way of making your anxiety spike. He’s too… commandeering. He has a way of forcing everyone’s attention to remain solely on him whether you try to ignore him or not.
You’re intimidated by him, he’s more muscular than your boyfriend and he’s a drug dealer for fuck sake.
It brings shame to you when Yuuji has to snap his fingers to get you out of your trance as you think about his brother. You start cutting up the chocolate bars while he puts ingredients in the stand mixer.
And your mind wanders, again. It’s not like you’re scared of Sukuna. Well, you are, terrified would be more apt. But you know he wouldn’t do anything to you. He’d risk losing Yuuji. And as much as they don’t really get along, they’re extremely co-dependent. Especially Sukuna. He likes the presence of his little sibling and has a slight superiority complex due to being older.
The reality is, you think Sukuna would be lost without Yuuji. Lonely, even. And having Yuuji’s steady income is a nice sense of security for him. He makes plenty of money being a dealer, of course, but he knows it’s a fools game. It’s not reliable and it’s risky.
You put the chocolate chunks into the mixer and watch him as he masterfully fills the ingredients into the bowl. Your thoughts calm for a moment as you can do nought but watch the whisk whir.
“You know I wanna move in with you eventually, right?” Yuuji tells you, and it fully breaks you from your train of thought. You look at him, staying silent so that he can feel free to continue speaking. He leans against the counter as the ingredients continue to mix. “I wanna live with you… marry you… all that.”
His talk of marriage makes your cheeks fill with heat, though you’ve gotten better at playing things cool since your first encounter. You just smile, and nod, as you drink in the delicious information.
“I’m just worried about him.” he tilts his head, indicating he is referring to his elder brother. You nod in understanding, though you don’t have much sympathy for your future brother-in-law. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. “We aren’t like you, we don’t have a big family. It’s just us.”
“Well my family isn’t that—” you stop yourself, looking into Yuuji’s disappointed eyes. It’s foolish to pretend you aren’t blessed with an adoring family. You’re your parents only child, though. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have a sibling. And, of course, you’re spoilt rotten. The reality is that if you didn’t come from privilege, you and Yuuji could have been neighbours. But your parents weren’t about to let you live in a dangerous neighbourhood when they can easily afford to subsidise you. “It must be tough, baby. I know you feel guilty for wanting to leave him.” you rub your hand up and down his arm as a show of comfort.
“Yeah…”
“But…” you start, his eyes locking with yours again. “He’s a grown man, Yuuji. You’ve lived the same life and look at you now… You’re nothing like him.”
You’re right. He knows you are, that’s why you’re standing in silence until the timer goes off and he checks the ingredient bowl. It’s sticky. He scoops a little on his finger and dots it on your nose. The kitchen fills with laughter as you try to retaliate. He’s too fast for you, though.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” he tells you as the situation calms. He licks the chocolatey dough from your nose and presses a gentle kiss onto the tip. And dammit you can’t help but smile.
You begin rolling the dough into balls on a tray. The silence has dissipated, but your thoughts still run rampant. Should Sukuna really be Yuuji’s responsibility? No, of course not. But Yuuji won’t see it that way. He’s sensitive and caring. God, he cares so much.
It makes you dizzy as you watch him smile and walk with the cookies to the oven. They smell so great already, you could have eaten them raw. But they’ll be even better when they’re baked to perfection.
You’ve made these cookies so many times now. The pair of you have process committed to memory. They’re so good. Especially with a tall glass of milk. You always tease Yuuji when you do this since he’s always left with a milk moustache after devouring his plate of cookies.
The sound of the timer rings through the kitchen again. You clap excitedly as Yuuji covers his hands with some oven mitts. The chocolatey smell hits you both like a train, the pair of you moaning involuntarily as you inhale it. He brings them over to the countertop, setting them down to cool.
Sukuna smells it, too. He loves it when you bake cookies because he knows neither of you will deny him one. He’s been smoking and playing video games since he retreated to his room. He’s thoroughly stoned and would very much enjoy a sweet treat right about now. He pauses his game, and the sound of his door opening and closing brings back all of the tension to your body.
“Here.” Sukuna speaks as he enters the kitchen. He tosses a baggie onto the counter and looks at his brother expectantly. Yuuji nods, reaching into his pocket for his wallet so he can pay him. Sukuna’s eyes are fixed on you in the meantime. And as you go to grab the weed, he places his hand over it and pulls it back towards himself.
“Thanks, man.” Yuuji smiles, handing the cash to his brother who pockets it without even checking it’s right. Though Sukuna’s stare doesn’t waver, you find yourself looking down at his hand covering the weed and then turning away completely. He internally beams with pride at that, thrilled to know it’s still so easy to intimidate you. But on the outside it’s simply portrayed as a slight curve of the corner of his mouth. “Is something wrong?” Yuuji wonders.
“Yeah, actually,” Sukuna speaks, finding your eyes again before he looks into Yuuji’s. “I want a cookie, call it family tax.”
“Take two.” you tell him, sternly, a new ferocity in your eyes he hasn’t seen before. You walk over to them and place two cookies on a little plate for him. You go to hand it to him, but as he reaches out to grab them you place them down on the counter. “Let them cool.” you smile, sarcastically.
“Aren’t you sweet.” Sukuna snarls, teeth bared as he slides the plate towards himself. “Sweet enough for your turn. Pay up, you know what I want.” he chuckles. He turns his head and taps his finger against his cheek.
“C’mon, dude…” Yuuji tries to interject. You know Yuuji is furious, deep down. But he won’t call him out on it. Last time he did he wouldn’t give either of you any weed for two weeks. It wouldn’t be a problem if you knew anyone else you could buy from. And the shit Sukuna gets is good. Yuuji has given up on trying to be a dominating presence when it comes to living with his brother. Sukuna is always one step ahead and Yuuji can’t quite keep up.
You go to him, reluctantly, and plant a soft kiss to his cheek. It makes your skin crawl. He makes your skin crawl. And despite your sense of urgency to flee the scene, you can’t. His hand grabs your wrist, and Yuuji is ready to spring to action. Sukuna’s face is unbearably close to yours. His red eyes piercing your own as he does all he can to make you feel small and pathetic.
“That’s a good girl.” he sneers, placing the baggie on the top of your hand after releasing your wrist. He chuckles, darkly, as he walks away with his plate of cookies, taking a bite out of one before he disappears. He kicks his bedroom door shut behind himself, the sound of laughter and guns shooting loudly from his TV are the only thing either of you can hear.
“I’ll bring the cookies and clean up.” Yuuji sighs as he ventures to the sink. “Go and get comfy and pick a movie.”
You don’t say anything, leaving your boyfriend to tidy up in silence. You’re seething with rage. This isn’t right. He does this every single time you’re here and you buy a deal from him. And Yuuji just lets him. You know you neither of you have much choice if you want the access and ability to smoke. But it’s getting to you, badly.
Around fifteen minutes pass after you left the kitchen. You’ve since gotten into your sweatpants and comfortable vest. Shorts would have been preferable, since there’s still an uncomfortable sizzle to the November air, but you’ve learnt your lesson about what you wear when you visit the Itadori household. You’ve had Sukuna leer at your thighs more times than you can count. And it’s never subtle, his eyes lingering for a moment too long to have it potentially be an accident. It’s always so lecherous and purposeful.
You decide to watch Clueless, again. You’re sure Yuuji will be defeated when he sees your choice, he’s lost count of how many times you’ve watched it recently. It’s been a comfort movie to you, for some reason, since Halloween.
“Hey.” Yuuji smiles as he enters the room, somehow managing to carry two glasses of milk and two plates of cookies. “What are we watching?” he asks, looking at the TV. You rush to grab a plate and a glass from his hands to ease his load, putting them on your bedside cabinet as he does the same with his own.
“Clueless.” you smile, happily. “Her step-brother has been hitting really different for me, lately.”
He closes his eyes and stifles a sigh. You can see a laugh desperate to break free as his mouth shakes through a smile. But to his credit, he manages to compose himself, eyes opening again once the reality has set in. Clueless. Again!
“Sounds great baby.”
It’s been a week since you last got to spent time with Yuuji. Your work schedules have been clashing, it feels like a lifetime since you got to spend any time together.
You enjoyed your hash browns in bed after he ordered them for you when you stayed over at his place. Though he ended up ordering Sukuna breakfast, too, leading to uncomfortable extended time with him that you prefer to avoid at all costs. He tried to make conversation with you, he often does, but you took it upon yourself to go back to bed with your hash browns. You tried to enjoy them. You tried to relax. But it’s near impossible when you’re under the same roof as someone you loathe. You watched a Youtube video on your phone while you ate, and then quickly got ready and booked a taxi home.
You’d hoped next time you got to see your boyfriend it would be at your house and away from Sukuna. But, alas, that was not the case. You received a text from him at 10am asking you to come over ASAP.
YOU: is something wrong??
YUUJI: no
YUUJI: just stressed
YUUJI: pls can u come? I’m working tomorrow so I cant stay over ☹️
YOU: okay ☹️ omw 💖
You’ve never had a text like this from him before, and it scared you. Something was telling you that he was downplaying how he was feeling. It took you barely any time to get ready. Forgoing makeup and making an effort in favour of rushing to your boyfriend’s side. Maybe something had happened at work.
Maybe he cheated on you.
He could be dying!
“Shut up…” you whisper to yourself as you pack your toothbrush into its travel case and throw it into your overnight bag. You pick up your car keys, not wanting to waste time waiting for a taxi.
You throw your bag on the passenger seat and speedily drive off. Your anxiety and the adrenaline was getting to you, you knew you’d have to calm down or you’d end up getting into an accident. As you focused on getting to your destination in one piece, you took several deep, slow breaths.
You’re safe.
You park up your car and lock it up. With your bag in tow, you rush to your boyfriend’s apartment. Your left foot taps impatiently after you knock on the door.
No answer.
You knock a little louder.
No answer.
And then you find yourself knocking louder, repeatedly, while you wait for your boyfriend to answer the door. He knew you were coming. He said it was urgent. So why are you waiting here, freezing, for him to answer the door? You’re filled with relief when you see his figure obscuring the light trickling through the cracks of the door. Your teeth chatter, and you begin stepping from foot to foot in a bid to warm through.
But your blood runs cold as the wrong Itadori opens the door.
“Heh. What do you want?” he asks, a cocky grin permeating his features.
“Move.” you demand, barging past him with your bag so that you can hurry to Yuuji’s side. Maybe something is wrong. He could be sick and resting in bed.
“He’s not here.” Sukuna informs you, halting you in your tracks. You turn to face him, a scowl that could kill adorning your face. Did he do something to him? All fear you’ve ever felt from him dies as you approach him, setting down your bag so that you can hit or punch or scratch him if needs be. “Relax.” he tells you.
“Where is he?”
“At work. I thought you had your entire relationship on a Google calendar, you didn’t know?” he laughs, angling his body so that he can bypass you in the skinny hallway. You huff a little, picking up your bag again so that you can follow him.
“But he asked me to come over, he said it was urgent.” you explain, though he doesn’t stop walking. You hurry after him, grabbing his arm until he stops. And he does, his eyes slowly dart down to where your hand holds onto his bicep until you awkwardly let go. “S-Sorry. I’m just confused. Why would he text me if he’s not even here?”
“Sweetheart, I’m not his PA. I don’t fucking know.” he turns away from you again, opening his bedroom door. You huff, again, utterly defeated as you try and decide what to do. You look towards his bedroom door and then to the entrance. You suppose you could go home until he finishes work. Or you could go to the gym he works at and find out what’s happening. You head towards the front door, thinking you’ll decide once you start driving. Sukuna hasn’t fully retreated into his room yet, leaning against his door frame as he calls out to you. “I’m making a bucket, want one?”
Your eyebrows knot as you turn to face him, another involuntary scoff turning to laughter as you look at him in disbelief. He’s got some nerve. You don’t even want to respond, opting to carry on your journey towards the entrance before you look at him again.
“Are you out of your fucking mind? I don’t want to smoke with you.” you roll your eyes.
“Awe, why not, princess? I won’t even add any tax.” he smirks, already heading towards the kitchen as if you’ve given him the answer he clearly wants to hear. And you hate him with your whole heart, because fuck, if you aren’t intrigued. It’s been a while since you’ve had a gravity bong. “Excellent choice, good girl.” he winks as he sees you out of the corner of his eye, as he grabs an empty one litre water bottle from beneath the sink.
You don’t say anything, leaning over the island counter as he prepares the bong for you both. It’s embarrassing, after some time, that you find yourself having to avert your gaze as realise you’ve been staring at his defined back muscles. He’d decided to forgo any form of clothing to cover his torso, only wearing a low riding pair of grey sweatpants, though they’re a darker grey than yours.
It isn’t much better as he whistles, tilting his head for you to join him by the sink. You’d close your eyes if it didn’t make you look like a complete freak, only to hide them from his flexing abs and his juicy pecs. The tattoos aren’t helping, either. It only serves as a reminder that you’re hopelessly trying not to ogle your boyfriends, older, larger, and scarier brother. He’s behaving interestingly, though. He’s never been like this before. He’s dismissive and almost uninterested in you.
“C’mere.” he orders you, dragging you closer to him as he lights the weed in the bowl. You gulp, a little intimidated. Gravity bongs are something you don’t partake in often, you can’t even remember the last time you did one. He moves his finger from the hole he’d poked into the bottle and the water begins to drain from it. Smoke fills the bottle in it’s wake, and when empty, he screws the lid off for you. “Quickly.”
You begin to inhale everything. Not caring how fucked up you feel in the least. You show no signs of stopping, and it impresses him. Your fingers hook around the kitchen counter as you finish, knowing when your bones feel like jelly that you’ve had too much.
“Atta girl,” he comments before repeating the process for himself. He pays you no mind as you wander towards the corner counter space, lifting yourself up like you’re the queen of the kitchen taking her throne.
He continues to ignore your presence as he smokes, inhaling and entirely draining the smoke that had filled the bottle. He tosses it into the sink, walking by you to grab a bag of ice from the freezer, filling two glasses to the brim with the frozen cubes. He fills them with water, sliding one to you.
“Drink.” he commands, and you do, not realising how thirsty you’d become. Your throat burning and eyes flooded with red veins. You drink the water and immediately need to refill. He shows you a kindness, though, handing you his glass to drink before filling your own again. “You’re a real lightweight, huh?”
“Oh shut up. I’m just gonna go.” you tell him, jumping down from the counter and going to collect your bag again.
“You can’t, you’re high.” he reminds you, and in your stoned state the sentence makes you burst into laughter. “You’ll end up crashing your car. Fool.” he gives you another glass of water, refilling his own for a second time before turning to leave the kitchen.
“Great, so I’m stuck here with you and nothing to do?” you pout, opening the fridge to see if there’s anything to eat. “Why did we not make cookies?” you mumble to yourself.
“I have snacks in my room.” Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, like a snake offering an apple in the garden of Eden. You’re tempted. God, you’re tempted. What else are you going to do until Yuuji gets home? He grins, widely, as he hears your feet follow after him as he walks into his bedroom.
You’ve never been in here before. It’s quite tidy, all things considered. It’s very tidy, actually. You’d expected it to be some dimly lit shit hole. It smells nice, save for the weed, the windows are open wide and the sheets smell fresh as you sit on his bed.
He throws a sleeve of Oreos at you and you turn into a giddy child. The two of you kick off your shoes, not caring for where they land as you both get comfortable on his bed. You’re above the duvet, sitting adjacent to him but angled away with your legs crossed. He gets under the covers, though, picking up his Xbox controller as he mindlessly plays GTA V.
You spend far too much time licking the cream of your first Oreo, utterly entranced by the characters, the plot and the violence of the game he’s playing. He doesn’t seem to mind when you ask him a million questions about it, either. He’s more amused that you’re so clueless.
“Here,” he tosses the controller at you. “Go for a drive, it’s fun when you’re stoned.” he tells you.
You’ve played video games before, you aren’t a total idiot. Though he had expected you to ask for more help when he gave you the controller. He thinks it’s cute that you try to obey the speed limits and stop at every red light.
He reaches into his bedside cabinet, pulling out a joint. It’s ignited quickly, his eyes squinting as he inhales and watches the screen to make sure you’re not getting him into trouble on his game.
“You’re not bad when you’re high.” you tell him, passing the controller back to him. He takes it from you, saving his progress before reaching out to smoke again. He sits upright, and you barely react when he pulls you away from where you were sitting until you're facing him. “U-Um…”
He’s giving you a look. That look. The look Yuuji gave you when he told you he had a secret. God, they could be fucking twins if Sukuna wasn’t covered in tattoos, it’s scary. But he doesn’t say he has a secret; he doesn’t say a word. He simply watches you with a pondering stare, but an aim behind his eyes nonetheless.
Your own eyes shift when you see him bring the spliff from his ashtray to his lips. The cherry end of it igniting holds your focus before your eyes are on his again, enraptured by the moment and what he’s thinking. He sucks the smoke deep down into his lungs, and you can’t help but watch the way his chest moves from his heavy breath.
You gasp, softly, as he snatches your stare once again. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and tug downwards until your jaw is lowered. His face is barely a centimetre from yours, you know he’s going to kiss you. But why are you about to let him? His lips ghost yours, and you’re taken aback as you feel a plume of smoke invade your mouth. He’s impressed when you breathe it in, though, but smirks wildly as you begin to cough it up.
“You taste like cookies and cream.” he whispers into your ear, the sensation of his words rushes straight to your heat. But your sense comes back, pushing him away from you as you look sternly into his eyes.
“I didn’t say you could do that.” you remind him, preparing to move back to where you were sitting prior. But he stops you, easily, pushing your body down until your head is in his lap but over the duvet cover. “Sukuna…” you sigh, your head and your limbs feel too heavy to move on their own anymore.
“Mm?”
“I’m wi- I’m with Yuuji… I’m with your brother.” you remind him, you move your head a little so that you can look up at him. He doesn’t look at you, though, still focused on his game. You can hear dialogue again, and guns, you’re not as exciting in comparison to that, you suppose.
“I know.” he speaks, his jawline bulging as he swallows and clenches his teeth slightly. “Don’t tell me you thought I was gonna kiss you. Silly girl.” he speaks, still not bothering to grant you with the eye contact you’re so desperately craving for some reason.
But your body betrays you as a whimper escapes from your throat. And that does get his attention. His game pauses, and he looks down at you. But you hide your face, scrunching your eyes shut so he can’t read your expression. But your shy little display tells him all he needs to know.
“Oh? You minx,” he torments you further, and you want to scream. You can’t hide your face anymore, your cheeks becoming too warm and your entire body sizzling with heat. You’re panting, uncomfortably as you try and cool down. “You wanted me to kiss you. You’re with Yuuji, remember?”
“I didn’t! I- I- would never. I love Yuuji, I’m in love with him! I’d never kiss you. Yuck.” you fib, if you weren’t high, you know you’d never be in this predicament. You know you’d never have agreed to hang out with him. But really, it’s a lie. You weren’t high when he asked if you wanted to do buckets. He intrigued you, and you’re a fool, because you fell for it. Hook, line and sinker.
“Hm…” he hums, his spliff resting between his lips as his eyes linger on your cleavage before roaming down your body to your sweatpants. He places the blunt back in the ashtray, his eyes setting their sights on your hands. He moves one with ease above your head, though you instinctively pull it back. But it’s too late, the other one joins, a singular hand of his pin both of your wrists down above your head. You wriggle against him, but you don’t pose a challenge in the least.
“S-Sukuna?” you question as his fingers breach the waistline of your sweatpants. A sadistic smirk sprawls across his face as he realises in your haste to be here you’d not bothered putting on panties. You mewl, desperately, as his fingers find your petalled flesh. He doesn’t do much, simply feeling your slick and teasing your folds as he examines your facial expressions.
“You didn’t want me to kiss you?” he asks again. He drags two fingers up your slippery slit until he finds your clit, rubbing targeted circles around it slowly. The tension makes your hips buck, but his face is stern as he watches you keen for him. “Then why is this cunt soaked?”
His words almost bring you to tears, and he can tell. The way they fill with water so rapidly and your face becomes sweaty. You’re ashamed. You’re embarrassed. He’s humiliating you, but you’re too turned on to tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop.
“I hate you!” you tell him, and there is certainly venom behind it. Because you mean it, you really fucking mean it. He’s the absolute worst. You’re so in love with Yuuji, but he’s ruined everything, now. You should have known this would happen. He’s been flirting and teasing and bothering you throughout your entire relationship with Yuuji. But you never thought it would come to this, ever. Especially after what you’ve been through, you’d never want to inflict that same agonising betrayal onto Yuuji.
“I know. You think I’m so beneath you, yeah?” he grins, and your mouth falls open in surprise, though his circling touch doesn’t stop. “I’m a drug dealer, I’m a bastard, I’m a piece of shit. But, sweetheart, me ‘n Yuuji didn’t grow up with daddy’s bank account like you. But look at you, princess. You hate me and you’re still letting me play with your sloppy cunt.”
“Fuck you.”
“You can, I know you want that. You’re drenched. My fuckin’ fingers are pruning.” he laughs, you want nothing more than to cover your face in shame, but you can’t while Sukuna’s heavy hand trap your wrists. “Awe, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Much cuter than when you’re trying to be tough f’me.” his rubbing halts, though the sense of abandonment is short lived as he plunges two thick fingers into you tight hole, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit again.
“O-Oh, fuck, hnng—” you groan, eyes meeting his as he pleasures you. And he drinks in the sight. Your tongue lolled from your mouth as you accommodate his touch, the pads of his fingers batter your g-spot again and again until your back arches. “Sukuna, s-stop, we can’t.” you warn him.
He smirks, ignoring you, opting to do the opposite. He increases the pace in which his fingers torment you, his cock leaks when he sees a few tears spill from your eyes. He’s that good, huh? Maybe his little brother isn’t as talented.
“You’re fucking tight. You’re gonna cum, aren’tcha?” he taunts you, you attempt to clamp your thighs around his hand, but it only spurs him on more. His fingers sink deeper. Your mind and rationale become lost to him. “You’re gonna cum for a bastard like me? Your boyfriends brother, too. Gonna cum in your pants like a virgin just for me? Pathetic little girl.”
“Oh FUCK, GOD!” you cry out, thighs trembling around his hand as you orgasm. Your chest heaves, and he doesn’t fail to notice how your nipples have began to poke through your vest. “C-Christ, okay, lets just forget—”
“I’m not done with you.” he speaks, it cuts through you as he lets your hands go. You massage them quickly, before he pushes his full weight on top of you as you lie flat against the mattress atop the sheets. He holds your jaw, roughly, and kisses you.
He humps his clothed, hard cock against your soaked sweatpants, your slick dampening them with each roll of his hips. He breathes heavily as you kiss. An exchange of saliva and clashing teeth as you moan and break away before licking at each other’s tongues again and again.
You shudder when you feel him put his hands down your pants again, collecting the dewiness at the apex of your thighs before forcing it onto your tongue. And you suck, gratefully, replacing the loss of his lips with his monstrously thick fingers. You can hardly believe he fingered you so easily.
Your lips wrap around his digits beautifully. He moans as he watches your little hands in comparison to his own hold it in place so you can bob your head up and down the length, your tongue licks and laves until there isn’t a trace of your dewiness left.
So he kisses you, again, tongues tangling as he dry fucks his cock into your clothed core. His hands roam and pinch and squeeze every inch of your body that he can grab. He yanks your sweatpants down, tossing them aside with little care to where they might land. And he surprises you, again, when he manoeuvres you seamlessly so that you’re straddling him.
He thinks it’s cute as you look around, unsure of how you got into this position. But he brings you back to him when he humps up into you so that you fall forwards. You kiss him again, but he breaks it to speak.
“Let me taste you, baby. Sit on my face.” he tells you. You’re nervous, but you move yourself so that you’re hovering above him. He pushes a finger into your hole and you throw your head back in satisfaction. “I said sit. I wanna know what a slutty princess cunt tastes like, so fucking sit.” he orders, his arms hooking around your thighs and forcing you down until you smother him with your heat.
“FUCK,” you moan, loudly, as his nose nudges against your throbbing clit. You aren’t sure what to do with so much freedom to move. The way he slurps and feasts on your dripping flesh sends wave after wave of embarrassment through you. And he’s loud he’s so fucking noisy as he moans into your heat and drinks every drop that your heavenly cunt has to offer. “J-Jesus… ah—!” you yelp, feeling his palm come down hard to strike your behind.
You begin to roll your hips, rubbing your pussy up and down over his face and stimulating your clit with his nose. He reaches under your vest, tweaking your nipple as you hump his face. He spanks you again, quickly, as you stop moving. You’re too gone, completely lost in the moment as you use him for your pleasure. You’d never have expected this from him.
He relinquishes your nipple to free his cock from it’s material prison. You heard the sticky sound of it ring through the room as he jerks himself off. His moaning becomes louder. The divine taste of your cunt and the ability to stroke himself goes straight to his head. You’re gone, you’re fucking gone. But he’s right behind you. The way you’re smothering him makes him lightheaded, but he’s not letting you go until he’s ready.
You see the pink silhouette of his cock as you look over your shoulder, but you’re desperate to get a better view. He groans, so loudly that you think he might have came, as you tug on his pink hair. Using it to your advantage as you ride his face into your next toe-curling orgasm. And at that, you do collapse. Practically singing his name as you cum in his mouth, only when you’ve reached your high does he let up on you.
He admires the view of your tits as you back up to look down at him, throwing your vest over your head as carelessly as he’s discarded your pants. His face is shimmering with your juices, and you feel another searing tidal wave of embarrassment as the reality sets in that you’ve done this to him. And you’re still cheating on your boyfriend. But you’re past the point of no return, you think. Yuuji is barely on your mind, all of your attention is on his brother, now.
And he’s still not through with you yet.
“Do you need some cock?” he asks.
“Y-Yes.” you nod, pathetically.
“Look at it, then. Look at my cock and beg for it.” he tells you.
You adjust your position so that you’re hovering above his face again but facing his cock perfectly. It’s beautiful, you think. More defined than Yuuji’s but around the same size and width. His cockhead is more prominent and the veins are unmissable. You’d have begged without even being asked if you’d gotten the chance to see it earlier.
“Go on,” he starts. You feel his hands between your shoulder blades and he pushes you down roughly. “Beg for my cock, whore.”
“Please, please Sukuna. I need you to fuck me.” you start, completely reduced to tears as you look at it as your mouth waters. You hold him with both hands, and you’re still unable to hold the entire length of it. “Wanna cum on you. W-Want you to b-bruise my cervix. Need to feel you inside, please, please please.” you’re practically sobbing as you continue.
“Kiss it.” he demands. “Worship my cock, and I’ll decide if your slutty cunt is worthy.” he tells you. Your eyes widen, but you kiss his tip without question. It’s so sweet and affectionate despite how sordid and lewd it is. But you can’t help it. It’s worthy of worship. You’re sure it’ll hurt, but you’ll take it. You don’t mind in the least.
You lick your tongue across his slit, poking your tongue into it slightly and relishing in how he hisses from the sensation. He buries his face in your cunt again, moaning into your soaking folds as you please him.
His length is freed from one of your hands, making the decision to cup his balls as your kiss down his shaft towards his pubis. His head is thrown back as you make contact with his balls, the grunt he releases is ethereal, you’d never have known such beautiful sounds could from him.
You scream, slightly, as he spanks your ass. It encourages you to take him down your throat and ignore your gag reflex and you bob and suck and run your tongue along each vein it can detect. He can barely focus on eating you out, too bewildered with your near pornographic performance.
“Such a good little cocksucker. No wonder Yuuji likes you.” he spanks you again. “Think he’d still like you if I told him I’ve been balls deep down your throat, slut? I’m not so sure. But I like you, a lot more now.”
“S-Shut up.” you tell him, defiantly. You silence him as you lower your pussy to his lips again, distracting him momentarily with your sweet taste.
You feel his cock flexing in your hand, like he’s ready to blow his load right down your willing throat. Even though you don’t want him to cum like this, you wouldn’t mind. You’ll swallow every last drop for him.
He stops you, though, shoving you away from him so that he doesn’t cum prematurely.
“Hands and knees, now.” he speaks coldly. He admires your face quickly before you get into the position he wants you in. It’s glistening with sweat, tears, spit, and his precum. “Good fucking girl.” he spanks you as you arch your back and wait patiently for him. Your legs spread apart and your cunt pulses in anticipation for him to slot himself inside.
He doesn’t though, not right away. Instead, he leans over to his beside table and pulls his phone off charge. He kneels behind you as he pulls up the camera app and swiping to video mode. His sweatpants are shoved down his thighs and rest at his knees. He takes a few photos of your glittering, pulsating cunt, spreading it open as his fingers dig into one of your ass cheeks.
“Pretty fuckin’ princess pussy…” he moans, and you mirror him, following it with a giggle. You feel a sense of pride at his praise, arching your back deeper. “Ohhh there she is, good girl, good little slut.”
He drags his cockhead through your shimmering folds, gasping each time it catches against your hole.
“P-Please fuck me, daddy, n-eed it.” you whine, earning another hard slap against your ass. He’s happy, of course. He didn’t expect you to be such a slut, he’d never have expected you to utter such a filthy title for him of all people. He’s certainly never heard you refer to Yuuji as daddy whenever he hears you fucking through the thin walls.
“You’ve got good manners, for a whore.” he speaks, your hole flutters with each word, but he sees how hard you clench as he degrades you. A new understanding of what your body likes. He’d only been doing it for his benefit, but now, he knows you like it too. “Do you like being a whore for daddy, hm?”
“Y-Yes,” you pant, “Love bein’ a whore for you, daddy…”
“Cute. I’ll give you my cock, then.” he pushes the tip in before pulling out completely again, chuckling at how whiny you are from the loss. “But you know, princess, good whores like to be cummed in. You’ll let me, won’t you?”
“Please… please cum inside. W-Want you to fill me up!” you tell him, and it’s enough. It’s more than enough to have him bullying his cock into your desperate cunt. You moan, boisterously from the stretch. You’re sure their neighbours won’t be happy if they’re home, the whole complex probably heard you. But you don’t care, and neither does he.
He’s glad that you said he could cum inside.
It’s not like you had a choice, though.
“Do you still want me to bruise your cervix?” he asks, angling the phone in his hand to capture how fucking deep he is inside of you. Your ass pressed flush against him as you swallow his cock hungrily. You nod, dumbly, yelping again when you feel a stinging slap against your cushioned ass. “Words.”
“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.” you wince.
“You’re such a good fuck toy, aren’t you?” he laughs.
He begins to pound into you, his brute strength and weight behind every aggressive pummel of his hips. It hurts, God, it fucking hurts as his tip nudges against your cervix. But you don’t care, you’re sure you will when you’re sober and your logical train of thought returns.
But now, in this moment, you truly are Sukuna’s fuck toy.
And it feels fucking sublime.
He captures on film the way that you moan and gasp and plead for something you aren’t even aware of. The way your hands grip into his pristine white sheets. But is favourite part is watching how your pussy stretches open as you swallow his coke can cock. And the way your ass ripples with each pulverizing thrust into you.
“F-Fuck,” he moans, “You’re fucking suffocating me.” he speaks, barely able to contain himself as he feels heady with lust. He doesn’t stop, though, he doesn’t care if you cum anymore. He’ll finger you again to finish you off if needs be, but for now, he needs to be selfish. Thoughts of filling you up and flooding your unprotected womb make him feral.
“Sukuna! S-Stop!” you warn him.
“Huh?” he responds, showing no intention of stopping or slowing as he rams his cock into you repeatedly. The only thing on his mind is finishing, he couldn’t care less about your change of heart or guilty conscience.
“F-Feels funny, I- I can’t! Hnnng—!” you finish, cunt squirting and gushing like a fountain all over him. “Oh my god…” you pant, burying your face in the pillows as you hide your shame from him.
“Holy fuck,” he responds, thrilled that he’d captured the moment on film. You show no signs of stopping either. You squirt as much as a backed-up teenager getting his first handjob. He spanks your pussy and rubs his hand all over it, making a complete mess of the two of you and the sheets below. “Dirty little squirter, hah? Fuck, you’re like a pornstar.” he tells you, chuckling again.
You don’t dare show your face, but you mewl into the pillows as you ride out the rest of your high as he shoves his cock back into you.
“Do it again, on my cock.” he demands.
“C-Can’t, can’t cum anymore.” you tell him, utterly spent and defeated as you allow him to use your body for his own benefit.
“Brat. You’ll cum on daddy’s cock and be grateful that I’ve been so good to you.” he explains. And true to his word, he manages to build it up in you again, somehow, as he continuously batters his length into your g-spot until your vision turns white.
He’s not doing much better, either, still enraptured by the sight of your dripping wet pussy and soiled sheets. It’s something he needs to see again, a sight he will treasure ‘til the day he fucking dies.
“Cum, slut. Make a fucking mess.” he speaks through gritted teeth.
“Mmmnf, hah, aaaah—!” you moan, granting his wish. The sight helps him topple over into his own bliss. His cum flooding your ruined walls, he fucks it further into you, but pulls out eventually to see his sperm dripping from your filthy cunt.
“Are you embarrassed, brat? You sprayed yourself again.” he snickers, spreading your pussy open with two fingers to see the mixture of his cum and your release spill from your twitching hole. “Has Yuuji ever made you do that? No… I’m sure he doesn’t know you’re this much of a dirty whore. But I do, I know now.”
The mere mention of the man you’ve betrayed has you bursting into tears. The sex was mind-blowing, yes, but at what cost? You’ve been begging him to move in. Hell, he was talking about marrying you. But you can’t have that with him, now, not after this.
You sobered up a little after a shower, making sure to keep the door locked as you washed yourself of your indiscretion. You even waited in there until you dried off to get changed, not wanting to risk Sukuna seeing you naked again. The damage is done, of course, but you at least want to be able to proudly say it was a mistake that will never happen again.
Maybe Yuuji will forgive you.
There’s no way you can keep it from him. Not after what you went through. It’ll break his heart, of course it will. But you can’t hide it, it’ll just get worse over time when it eventually comes out, because it will. Whether you tell him or Sukuna does through a weed induced stupor, the truth will come out.
You’ve been checking the time on your phone repeatedly to see if Yuuji has finished work yet. Eager and filled with fear and anxiety so that you can tell him, honestly, what happened. He’s going to hate you. There’s no way he won’t hate you after this. But you owe it to him and you owe it to yourself to be truthful.
You tense up as you hear a knock at the door. Yuuji wouldn’t knock, so you know who it is.
“Go away.” you warn him, but it doesn’t deter him.
“Aw, don’t talk to daddy like that.” he smiles, a shit eating grin that you want to smash against concrete.
“You’ve ruined my life, get out of here.” you tell him, crossing your legs as you check the time on your phone again. You sigh, throwing it further down the bed so that it’s out of reach. You’d missed how he shrugged his shoulders with a laugh as he turned to leave. But you stop him. “Don’t tell Yuuji, please. I want to be the one to tell him.”
“Tell him… what?”
You look at him, bewildered, unable to process if he’s being serious or not.
“That we fucked.” you remind him, deciding you aren’t about to spend all day trying to decipher his tone. “I need to be the one to tell him, so don’t say anything.”
“Oh, tell him that?” he questions, laughing again as he realises he knows something you don’t know.
“It’s not fucking funny, Sukuna!”
“Yeah, it is, you’re a little slow on the uptake.” he laughs some more, sitting on the edge of the bed. His ruby red eyes piercing into yours intimidatingly despite the smile on his face. “You don’t need to tell Yuuji anything.”
“Yeah, I d—”
“Yuuji knows.” he laughs, louder, almost bursting into hysterics as he sees the astonished look on your face.
“W-What?” you sigh, looking around the room in horror.
“Yeah… I mean, c’mon.” he smirks. “Why else would he text you to come over, when he wasn’t even home?”
© 2023 rinitxshi
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toxic!armin x bimbo!reader with a breeding kink
18+ MDNI
cw: fem! Afab reader, Armin's only kinda mean—some light degradation is included but then he’s sweet too!, bimbo reader, dumbification, mating press, cream pie, breeding kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, mult. orgasm, reader referred to as mommy once, also pretty girl, Armin referred to as daddy twice, 1k words, sooo self indulgent and not proofread don't mind me
Armin’s noticed you’ve been spacing out a lot today—more often than usual which sort of alarms him. He’s never expected you to be quick-witted, but the entire time he's been over tonight your responses have been especially slow, eyes glazed over more often than not. He thinks of it like a fun puzzle to solve, trying to guess what could possibly be troubling your pretty little head, but you end up revealing where your thoughts have been all on your own once he's balls deep inside you.
He has you folded up on the edge of your bed, legs around him and staring up at his face with little hearts floating around your head when, for the first time today, you have conviction in your tone.
“So I decided something…”
He picks up the pace of his hips a little, tilting his head to encourage you to elaborate.
“Decided I want you to breed me, ‘Min. Wanna have your kids. S’that okay?”
The ruthless pace of his thrusting has your water line on the verge of spilling over and Armin almost laughs at your vulnerable expression paired with your words. So this is what’s been stirring the air in your skull. How cute—he finds you so cute. Like a puppy he’s itching to kick.
“Pretty girl,” he’s panting from the squeeze of your pussy, fighting to keep his tone gentle, “you sound psychotic.”
You hum like you disagree, but the sound only warps into a high pitched cry as Armin pries one of your legs off his hip and folds it up by your chest. The new position is almost uncomfortable but you can hardly complain when his cock reaches even deeper inside you, filling you till you can hardly breathe—giving your body what it didn’t know it needed.
You try to grind against him as you chase a fast approaching high, and Armin rakes his fingers down your soft skin as he watches you grow drunk with the feeling of him. He loves looking at you like this. He loves the give in your flesh while he abuses you, while he pounds the last of your senses out of your mouth in a jumbled cry, the way whatever fragile composure you held dissolves behind hazy eyes. He loves that all that’s left is a body, clinging to him like that’s your only remaining instinct—he loves that he can make you even stupider.
But it’s unexpected when you somehow come around to cry to him when you cum, tears streaming and nails digging into his shoulder when you whimper,
“Ngh, Armin I wanna have your babies. Please, please, please… want your cum!”
At this point you’re too gone to even realize that you’ve accidentally struck a chord. The feel of your cunt clamping down on him, sucking him in so tight that he can’t remember what it feels like to be apart, paired with the image of you round and glowing and filled up with his kid. Armin wants it. Suddenly he needs it. Your relentless begging and crying while you cum only spurs him on—Armin’s lost any resolve to say no—forgetting why he even should.
“You wanna have my child?” He almost whines, fucking you through your orgasm and struggling to maintain his composure while your pussy throbs around him—maybe it’s already long gone. You can only nod and reach a limp hand to brush some hair temporarily from his forehead, you wanna look in his eyes but you can hardly concentrate enough to keep yours open.
“Want me to—god—fill you up? Gonna be a mommy with my baby in your tummy?”
Armin’s words are breathy, and his grip below your folded knee is so tight you’re losing feeling in your foot. Your pussy has him in a trance.
You find your voice through the overstimulation to cry out “uh huh! Wanna make you a daddy, ‘Min.. Let me make you a daddy...”
He huffs as his own release edges near, using his other hand that’s been bruising your hip to wipe tears off your cheeks before folding your other leg up. Now you’re in a mating press—brain mush while he absolutely obliterates you.
“You’re so… you’re so annoying. Ugh.”
His hips start moving even faster.
“But yeah… I’ll give you what you want… guess you deserve it.”
You don’t have to power to respond, only nodding in encouragement while Armin’s heavy cock rams into you with the kind of force you're pretty sure could give you a concussion—you’re past overstimulation, you’re on the brink of another orgasm right along with him.
Everything is Armin—that’s all you can focus on, his breaths turning to wanton sighs as he approaches release, his grip tightening on the dewy skin of your thighs where he holds your legs. When he finally tips over the edge, you manage to peek a heavy eyelid open and watch the angelic face he wears—the way his eyebrows crinkle together and his glossy lips part in a little “O”, the whiny moan he lets out—it’s pornographic. But you can only steal a glimpse before your forced to squeeze your eyes shut again as you topple almost painfully over the edge with him, head going fuzzy with the overstimulating feeling of his dick twitching inside you, emptying his heavy balls till you can feel his hot cum in your tummy. You can hardly even hear Armin's strangled cry when you clamp down on him a second time, twitching on his cock till he’s seeing stars.
When you both finally finish, and your twitching slows enough that he can pull out without wincing, he’s hypnotized by the way cum pours out of your abused cunt, starting to pool onto the mattress below you before he fingers it back in. Then he’s pulling on some boxers before taking inventory of your lifeless body, collapsed on the sheets with closed eyes.
He rubs a palm over your tummy not unkindly, thinking about how it’ll get bigger.
“You okay, pretty?”
You can barely nod.
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is it really so much to ask for my friends to find my blog and make fun of me for it? laugh at me for being into puppyplay, calling me a dumb mutt, asking if i want to go for a walk... noticing how i start squirming and one of them sticks their hand up my skirt to feel me through my panties
"oh my god, their so wet!"
"no way this turns you on too."
"jesus you really are a little whore"
i try my best not to whimper when one of them yells 'speak!' one of them walks over to me and pinches my nipple, making me moan loudly.
"aww is that all it takes? one little pinch and you're moaning like a slut for us?"
another comes up behind me and gropes my ass, fingers inching towards my hole. I whine at the feeling.
"what a little slut, barely even touched and you're such a mess."
"let's play with them for real, it's not like they'll mind."
i try so hard not to moan or whimper as i'm pulled to the floor, shirt pulled above my head then binding my wrists together. my skirt is flipped up and panties pulled down, strings of my wetness clinging to them.
"aww, so wet from us feeling you up huh? pathetic slut."
a finger is swirled through my juices then stuck in my mouth. I can't help the moan that comes from the taste.
"what don't they like?"
"do you wanna see who can make them cum more? I bet they won't mind~"
"only if i get to ride their face on your turns."
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HOUSE PET
Pairing - Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel x reader
plot/summary - You accidentally find yourself in front of the three most dangerous men in the world, and they decide to take you and keep you as a house pet.
Warnings - NONCON, BDSM elements but it's not actual bdsm because it's noncon. Spanking. Petplay. Anal. Degradation. Humiliation. Dacryphilia. Face slapping. Forced marriage.
Chapter specific warnings will be added to the chapters.
Chapter 1
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— deer in headlights || DARK CONTENT
tw: manipulative behavior, sleep deprivation, religious themes/behavior, degradation of self worth, minor injuries, false words of salvation, power imbalance.
Yandere!cult leader x cult member!reader/you
Yandere! Cult leader who was specially helped during your initiation into the commune and was involved more in your initiation rather than other newcomers.
Yandere! Cult leader who reaffirms that you’re special, more different from newcomers because he treats you different from the others.
Yandere! Cult leader who lets you sleep in for one more hour since he tries to not make it obvious that he favors you more but helps you catch up with the flow.
“It’s time to wake up.” He smiles, sitting next to your half awake form. “I know you don’t want to get up but you must. Come on, my heart.”
You waved him away and buried your face deeper into the layers of pillows. Trembling softly while the cold rings rubbed on your exposed back and your eyes peeled open. Turning over to look at him with the remaining bits of tiredness.
“Can’t I sleep a bit more?” You asked. “Can’t you let me sleep for a bit more.”
His smile grew, holding your cheek and pulling you into his embrace; aroma of herbs and fresh flowers surrounded him.
“I know that you don’t want to get up but you have to contribute to our cause,” he said. “I know how difficult it was for you to go through the rebirth. You had struggles but I was there to help you.”
Yandere! Cult leader who keeps you from the rest of the commune because he deems them as dirty and knows that you and him are the only clean ones.
Yandere! Cult leader who makes sure that you do the easiest jobs in the commune and somehow manages to get his eyes on you to make sure that you’re doing everything that he wants; near perfection.
Yandere! Cult leader who always has you in the front row to see your behavior and notices your wandering eyes during the morning sermon.
“Your eyes,” he said. “Why were they wandering?”
His hands remained on your shoulder, silver eyes that once held love now held a scrutinizing tone, your breathing was rapid thinking that if you decided to look away, his very glare would rip you down.
“I don’t,” you stammered, “know why..know why they wandered. It was—you’re upset with me?”
“Very upset, my heart.” His hand let go of your shoulder, holding your chin. “I know that you’re better than this. We both know this, has something caught your attention?”
“Why do you not let me do other jobs?” You asked. “I can do them. Let me try to recruit the lost ones to our—“
“You’re too important for those jobs, let’s stick to the jobs that you know,” he said. “You don’t need to be around such repulsive and filthy people, my heart.”
Yandere! Cult leader who desperately tries to find you in your usual job that he assigned but he couldn’t seem to find you.
Yandere! Cult leader who hears from a commune member that you somehow managed to sneak onto one of the many cars that was transporting members to the outside to recruit the lost ones.
Yandere! Cult leader who gets reports from members that your immediate family gets in contact with you and he immediately wants you back in the commune to repent and begin the cleansing ritual because he can’t have his favorite member falling back in their old ways of damnation.
“I gave you everything.” His hands rested on the cabinet. “My heart, you’re disgusting. The outside polluted you, you’re not pure anymore. Don’t be afraid, I will lead you back to your salvation.”
Cold knees against the wooden floor that carved into your bruised skin and only a thin towel was draped over your shoulders to cover your wet skin, sobs escaped your mouth and wracked your body. He slipped on gloves and walked towards you, wiping away the tears. A smile carved on his lips, tears dribbled further down and using a handkerchief to wipe away the remains of vomit from your cracked lips.
“I know that your stomach doesn't like tea,” he said. “It’s for precautions to get rid of the toxins from your insides, dear. See I know that you can handle this.”
“I don’t think I can,” you responded.
Yandere! Cult leader who makes you get up earlier than the others to begin your tight schedule and smiles when you go to him for basic necessities because he’s restricted every single luxury that you had before your stunt.
Yandere! Cult leader who occasionally leaves you sleep deprived and makes you repeat passages that he chose to drill into your mind since you’re too tired to focus on anything else.
Yandere! Cult leader who happily finishes your cleansing process and spoils you for the day. He no longer scrubbed your skin when it felt like it was bleeding but held you without the gloves and praised you for making it back to him.
You curled up in his arms, gasps escaped your mouth while parts of your limbs were still wrapped in bandages due to the harsh scrubbing process.
“Look at you, my heart.” He kissed the side of your temple. “You’re finally perfect and I intend to keep you this perfect.”
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La Petite Mort
(Lucius Malfoy x Reader)
Cw: Smut, Noncon, PwP, Afab Reader, Death Eater Lucius, Unprotected Sex/Creampie, Fingering, Choking, Forced Orgasm, Degradation (‘slut,’ ‘whore,’ ‘mudblood’), Nasty Graveyard Sex™️
HEED WARNINGS
Word Count: 1.2k
Ao3 || Masterlist || Dividers by @/saradika
Late that evening, you find yourself wandering, loitering, roaming aimlessly in the quiet of your local graveyard. Humid fog cloaks the night as street lamps flicker on and hum, flashing with yellowy light. Death is out of reach, distant and unreal.
But then, it finds you first, grasping you powerfully. You yelp as your head bumps sorely against the mossy tombstone, caged in by a spectre…
“Who— Who are you?!”
The hooded figure does not answer. In the dark, your blood freezes to ice inside your veins as you watch him reach into his clothes and draw out some long, sharp object— A switchblade, he’s going to—
“Muffliato,” he hisses.
The flash of car headlights blinds you— But your desperate pleads for help all go unanswered. He tsks as his gloved hand seizes your jaw and pulls you forcefully towards him. Blown softly from the slits in his mask, his cool breath fans over your skin.
“To think this utter filth could have such an effect on me…” The figure mutters quietly, as if to only himself: “You dare to be so alluring…”
“I— I don’t know what you’re…”
You shriek as he brandishes the pointed object again, uttering incantations, and your clothes melt away like fragile, torn spiderwebs. It dies in your throat as he squeezes your windpipe, the frigid night wind air biting at your naked flesh— If only you could wriggle out of his grasp— but some unnatural force has paralysed you, left you completely at his mercy.
“Hold your tongue, Mudblood,” he spits contemptuously, as the other leathery hand slithers down your belly, prying your thighs apart— Now, you finally understand— His true motive—
A long, smooth finger curls into your pussy, and you screech at the unwelcome intrusion. But then, he pulls briefly out, his strange knife prods at your leg, and lustful heat pours into you— No, this can’t be happening, but oh God, it is— The heady slick of your arousal is coating his glove, eliciting slimy, lewd noises as he pumps mercilessly into your wet cunt— Fuck, he’s tightening his grip on your throat, cutting off your whimpers as you choke, squirming feebly.
“Look at you, muggle slut,” he’s mocking you, his deep voice dipping silkily into a croon. “You are lapping it up, aren’t you? Desperate whore.”
His thumb rubs harshly over your clit, and you shudder, flinching away from the jolt of nerves that stings you; rejecting it. You let out a strangled sort of cry as the offending fingers pinch, hard, and another slides into your soaked pussy, assaulting you utterly.
“All this time, you’ve been waiting for me…” The man sneers haughtily. “None of your weak, worthless kind could ever satisfy you, no, not like I could.”
Fear-stricken, all you can do is stare dumbly into those metal slats. You’re still petrified against the stony grave, as if bound by invisible manacles— Worse still, the satisfaction you feel is real; a fiery spark of pleasure, rising up against your will…
And then you shriek loudly again as you are thrown onto your back on the filthy ground. You see him clearly now, looming tyrannically against the backdrop of a coldly gleaming sky— The outline of a dark, shrouded robe, long strands of silvery hair escaping through the confines of his hood, and the unforgiving visage of his embellished mask…
But your moment of freedom is abruptly cut off as you’re rolled around onto your stomach, gasping and clutching for purchase on the foetid soil. The dark fabric of his shroud billows and wafts over you, strangely pleasant… Almost.
“Yes… This is all you’ve ever wished for,” he murmurs softly into your ear, caressing you, gentle as a lover. “… And so much more. Isn’t that right?”
Your joints lock up, horrified, as the unmistakable outline of his cock twitches over your ass. The hooded figure sighs contentedly, and, flexing his gloved hands, lifts you up by the hips, positioning himself readily over your dripping cunt. You swallow, only capable of whining futilely in protest; whatever restraint binds you, it holds you fast.
“Be still, now,” he commands.
You have no other choice. With a pleasant hum, your assailant fills you to the brim with his cock, sinking into you like hot, insidious venom. Damp cemetery dirt sticks onto your bare flesh, crusting your knees as you press your forehead to the ground… No, no, If you could wish for anything but your escape right now, it would be to smother that sickly sweet aching in your abdomen, the drag against your insides as he rolls his hips into you… Pulling out, slowly, and thrusting back in with a wet slap. He moans deeply.
“This is good, very good…” The masked man purrs. “See how you can pleasure me, serve me… Even as a mudblood. You are gifted, indeed.”
You let out a croaky noise - somehow too exhausted to fight back any longer - as he kneads your thighs, forcing you to take every sordid inch of him into your throbbing cunt. The soil spills through your fingers, whining pitifully as unwanted thrills spiral through you with his every deliberate movement.
“So tight… So wet. You can’t deny it, can you?”
Chuckling, the man adjusts you carefully and fucks you harder still, vibrating your ravished body with a low groan, a decadant thing.
“Ah, you take me so well…”
There’s nothing that can stop the needy whine that spills from your lips, as he just hits that perfectly mind-numbing spot— Are you under some strange fog, a dream, or spell…? He slides you over his cock so perfectly, it feels as if you were meant to be his, in his grip, being used like a beloved plaything… You could almost let him have you… Just let him…
“That’s it,” he’s saying. “Surrender yourself to me.”
As he holds you flush against him, his cool breath brushes over your nape, the silvery strands of his hair tickling your skin. His pace quickens as he rocks steadily into you, lapping over your consciousness like euphoric waves, rising higher and higher…
“Please…”
You don’t know why you’re begging; or what for, but the heat radiating from your core is burning so hot, like boiling poison threatening to spill over. Trembling now, you choke out a strangled moan as his gloved fingers swiftly find your clit again and rub urgently— his breath hastens and hitches above you— his thrusts strike true, burying himself deep inside your pussy— Your walls spasm and clench around him— Your own climax jolts you, giving sorely little warning before releasing its knot and assaulting your body, so intense it’s almost painful— The masked man rolls his hips hard— He cums inside you, and it feels like the sting of fangs, a deposit of venom.
For a moment, there is stillness. You hear the distant squeal of tires again, but louder is your own heartbeat, skittish as a captured prey animal.
“You’re mine, now…”
Your assailant’s darkly rich voice has dipped into a hypnotic hiss - almost calming - and you go limp in his arms, fucked into submission. He hums and softly strokes your hair, almost affectionately, and the darkness, thick and bleak, consumes you.
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GhostSoap X m!reader hc's bc I said so?? 💀🧼
warnings: not proofread, nsfw, degradation, established poly!relationship, gay ppl being gay, dick in butt, bottom reader & character + top character (not sure how to do these sorry)
sfw
They both love how excited you get when you see them both; Soap always getting you riled up when he greets you and Ghost giving a casual, more calm greeting (mainly just a pat on the head and few exchange of words)
To put it simply, your relationship isn't that complicated (even if it is just you and soap bugging the hell out of Ghost 80% of the time)
They both love you very much!! You all have a sense of balance within each other, and that's what's best about the relationship <3
Never a bad moment! And if there is, one makes the other apologize to the other, even after the most brutal of fights (if it leads to that) You'll always have each other's backs, one way or another
nsfw
I like to believe Soap and Ghost are both switches, and you all like to switch roles from time to time
It doesn't matter who's in charge, you all get the right amount of pleasure and are satisfied by the end, even if it's a punishment
But here's a few scenarios that could possibly happen
Simon could want to punish you, or they both could want to share you! It always depended on what was agreed beforehand, and what was within all boundaries. But sometimes, the situations laid themselves out in front of you throughout the day.
Like when Simon decides on punishing you.
"P- Please!", you beg, the harsh thrust of Ghosts hips knocking the wind out of you with every movement. You had been sassing him and Soap all day, along with a few moments of teasing. You just couldn't help it! You had been so needy for them for days; but they were just "too busy" to fulfill your needs. You completely understood, having been a busy man yourself, but this time, it was just too much waiting!
Simon grunted as he continued to pound into you, his gruff groans and small pants were faint in your ears as your mind raced, unable to focus on anything else but the pleasure and pain of his movements. He had your wrists pinned with one of his hands as you laid on your stomach, hips up in the air as he held you by your waist with the other in that position. You had already spilled previous climaxes onto the bed sheets, your overstimulated body trembling.
"Such a fuckin' slut, aren't you baby?”, he teased, the pace of his hips practically bruising your skin.
"Like when I treat ya like this? Hm?", he continued to question. You could only whine and nod your head against the bed, your words lost somewhere in your throat. Who knows how long this would continue, but Ghost would make sure to get his point across by the end of it.
Or when you and Johnny decide to take care of Simon
"You're alright, LT, just relax”, Soap coos playfully at Ghost, who was laying down on your shared bed, scarred face holding a blank expression with a hint of blush sprinkled on it. You were sat beside him, sitting at his side patiently while you waited for Johnny to continue his own actions. A few minutes later, Soap had entered Ghost with his cock, softly rocking his hips against the slightly bigger man, breathy moans leaving the both of them.
You slowly reached your hand down to Ghosts cock, taking it in your hand gently as you felt his body shiver. You slowly reached up to kiss him, soft lips pressing against his. You slowly began to stroke him, eyes looming over to Soap, watching his actions. Johnny picked up the speed of his thrusts, earning more moans from the gruff man. Simon loved both you and Johnny’s attention on him, and he sure loved receiving it like this.
~ ★
That’s all for tonight!!
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