#it's always been a bit surfacing to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

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

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

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

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

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna.

But far from your last.

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

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

“You want another drink, Choso?”

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

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

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

“Uh—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now he had visited you in your dreams too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now you’re getting it, baby.”

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

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

“Have you been avoiding me?”

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

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

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

“Had” being the operative word.

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it was more of a curse.

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

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

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

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

SLAM!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl.

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

But you couldn’t. Not without him.

“Sukuna—“

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

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

And he smiles all the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, fuck.

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

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

It was only the first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle.

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

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

“Want me to prove it?”

And oh, he would. Again and again.

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

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

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

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hivepixels · 6 months

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#thinking abt sollux not giving a shit for the hemocaste order again #on one hand it makes his dynamic with eridan and feferi funnier knowing he'd only been gauging them by their surface-level personalities #but on the other. yknow when you're the audience following along our main stumbleboy karkat #knowing his over-the-top reactions and neuroticisms stemmed completely from his entire complex around his blood clr #there's something so remarkably pretty abt hussie giving us that hint of sol's stance on the hemospectrum hierarchy #like. *we* know this about sollux bcs hussie gave us that crumb. but its left unclear whether or not karkat does #and so the natural progression of that turns into fanworks portraying karkat revealing his blood to sollux on his own volition #with subsequent sol's reaction of ok alright good to know whatever idc.#it cldve been funny if there were portrayals of sollux actually weirded out or even casteist about it. but. how could that be?#he'd shut down that possibility the moment he wondered what clr was below yellow.#mumblings #idk. its always little things like this that make me weep for them #their relationship is so contained in bits and pieces of high intensity moments #what u see is what u get its just so straightforward. never got the chance to be dragged out longer than it needed to be #their friendship served its purpose well both narration-wise and character-wise. and wrapped up quietly as it finished #i cant help but appreciate that. it feels very preserved and compartmentalized as its own entity #there may not be much but i can hold that memory of them in a little box and revisit that box anytime i wish #the same way ppl get excited when sollux reappears onscreen from the void #the same way ppl get excited when slkt gets an interaction post-canon #the same way karkat gets excited when he sees sollux again #sigh. wish i could write a Thing like theirs. but i cant ill get teary

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retrosabers · 1 month

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𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine smut #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #x men #the wolverine

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tizeline · 2 months

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This is it, FINALLY we're gonna see the actual beginning of the story! Episode one! Yay!! So Donnie and April are just hanging out when they find this weird fox-dog-cat-creature or whatever, but before they have time to figure out exactly what it is, they're interrupted by three Normal Human Teenage Boys! Uh Oh!

... okay so the Normal Human Teenage Boys were actually Giant Turtle Teenage Boys. Cool.

So from Donnie's and April's perspective, as far as they know Donnie and Splinter are one of a kind, they've never encountered any other mutants or yōkai before. Both of them have of course always been curious about Don's origins but have never found any lead on where he came from nor how he was created. All of this is to say, suddenly encountering three other mutant turtles like Donnie himself out of nowhere is literally the craziest thing ever for them!

From the Drax Bros' perspective though... they have no idea why this random yōkai dude is acting like he's never interacted with any other yōkai in his life?? Like sure, some yōkai who live on the surface can be a bit out of the loop when it comes to the rest of yōkai-society. Not knowing what a cloaking brooch is is certainly weird, but whatever, maybe he just kinda lives under a rock or something. But then he reacts Like That to seeing their true forms?? What's this guy's deal?? (Give them a second, they're gonna connect the dots real soon lol)

Next part ->

Reference for the Human Drax Brothers! And yes I have made it A Thing that Leo is a huge Shadow fanboy and I will STICK TO IT!

Also in that TMNT x Power Rangers crossover comic, when the turtles were disguised as humans they all had backpacks to represent their shells, I thought that fun a fun concept so they all have backpacks here too lol.

Oh and another thing, when I was showing sneak peeks of the comic to some peeps on discord, it was pointed out to me that that one panel looked like an Omori encounter so I made this low-res edit in like 2 minutes, enjoy

#Tiz Sep AU #tmnt #rottmnt #tizel art #my art #digital art #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #comic #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt april #rottmnt mayhem

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss.

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer.

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length.

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod.

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better.

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly.

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby.

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose.

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma.

the way the world works.

the way you and satoru work.

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base.

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants.

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.”

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear.

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him.

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind.

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face.

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity.

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

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