20 ~ Black ~ system ~ she/they ~ will I ever do anything besides reblogging? Who knows ~ I write occasionally ~ I forget this account exists sometimes so I apologize ~ 18+ only please
you get caught between the campus' valedictorian and hearthrob, completely unaware that they're actually twins and not just one annoying person. what happens when your heart gets caught up in the messy drama between rivaling twins?
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. college au :: lots of smut :: angst :: messy dynamics :: named twin :: jealousy/possessiveness :: messy reader :: semi public sex :: parties :: nerd/delinquent trope :: academic rivals :: fuckboy!bikerjo :: rival!nerdjo
Pairing: Rudo Surebrec x Platonic! Den Mother! Reader
Summ. Arguments were few and far between you and any of the children but when you notice a certain someone ditching his veggies for sweets you can’t help but let your maternal instincts take over. Sadly Rudo soon finds himself with a new problem he could’ve avoided had he just eaten his veggies.
Warnings: Rudo’s a brat (just a rebellious 15 yr old refusing his veggies), unhealthy coping mechanisms, mention of inability to carry children, etc…
Things became much easier around HQ once you’d finally reconciled with Enjin, even so old habits die hard. You tried to get out of your sewing room more often but it seemed easier to just have the door open for any of your fledglings to just come in as they pleased. Somehow you managed to convince yourself to go down to the dining room to have dinner, your entrance wasn’t dramatic or anything but moody lil Dear managed to catch you entering the room. He stood up fast and raced towards you hugging you tight, “Evening Dear, heard you tore up a big old trash beast all on your own. Great work.”, you smiled at him, watching a smug expression paint across his face at your praise.
The rest of the kids quickly swarmed you, welcoming you to sit down and join them for dinner. Zanka offered to get your plate for you while you joined the rest at the table. You just so happened to sit next to Rudo who was greedily chowing down on some cake. Curious (e/c) eyes landed on the nearby plate that only held a sad pile of abandoned steamed carrots and sautéed peppers.
“Rudo are those your veggies? You should’ve finished those before dessert sweetheart.”, you sighed, pointing to the plate.
Rudo visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice, he quickly shoved another piece of cake into his mouth before you could protest.
“They’re gross. Who needs veggies anyways when I can have sweets?”, he argued, avoiding your gaze.
“Little boy I’ve seen you inhale olives like they’re candy don’t give me that bull.”, you replied in an unamused tone, Riyo giggled at the end of the table because of your comment, you shot her a warning look before continuing, “Rudo you have to eat your veggies. They’re good for you especially the carrots, they’re good for your eyes and as a Giver your eyes are put under some strain every time you use your powers.”
Rudo shook his head, finally meeting your gaze, “No way, why would I waste good stomach space for terrible veggies when I could just eat things I like.”
You sighed, “Young man good produce is hard to come by down here. Don’t waste food especially when it’s good for you in the long run. Dear and Guita eat their veggies with no sass, why can’t you?”
“They’re just carrots and peppers why are you so pressed about this?”, Rudo huffed, Zanka had just returned with your food when he caught on to the argument brewing.
Riyo snickered from the other end of the table watching you go back and forth with Rudo about the importance of veggies over cake. Sadly Rudo wasn’t listening and growing more and more agitated the longer you pushed the subject. Before you could get one more word in Rudo stood up and slammed his gloved hands against the table before shouting, “Quit treating me like I’m your kid! You’re not my mom and you never will be!”
The room fell silent, sure you’d heard that phrase before but it never softened the blow to your heart. You were going to drop the subject but Rudo wasn’t done, “If you want a kid so bad just have one. That way you can stop hovering over me.”, he hissed.
That was the nail in the coffin for you, Rudo noticed you’d fallen silent and already regretted what he’d said. He turned to apologize only to see the deathly cold look in your lifeless eyes, the older kids quickly tried to apologize for Rudo in a weak attempt to ease the tension because the others knew something Rudo didn’t. You couldn’t bare children after a mission gone wrong years ago. Rudo paled watching you stand up quietly and walk away, you refused to look at him and refused to answer anyone. The damage had been done and now there was nothing anyone could do. Zanka and Riyo both glared at Rudo for being an insensitive brat before chasing after you, your plate of food long forgotten on the table while the rest of the kids rushed after you.
“Fuck.”, Rudo groaned slamming his head on the table.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first no one noticed much of a change, you’d holed yourself up in your room again refusing to come out. The kids were the first to notice the changes before anyone else, you missed your sparring practices with Zanka making him antsy and impatient. Riyo couldn’t find you for gossip or her nightly hair brushing routine that you’d do just for her. Dear and Guita would wait outside your door for any signs of you but it was like you vanished into thin air. Enjin knew where you were and he kept your whereabouts to himself for your protection, all while Rudo was left to stew in his guilt. Rudo searched for you the most after that night, Enjin had torn him a new one after yelling at him about why you were so motherly to everyone. You could never have kids of your own so you treated every young cleaner as your own, Rudo was your newest fledgling and because of his background you were extra gentle with him. Now you were gone, lost in the depths of your despair where no one could find you.
“Where could she have gone?”
“She’s never ghosted us like this before. She’s always around even when Enjin had pissed her off with that last fight.”
“Do you think she left? (Y/n) wouldn’t abandon us over a stupid veggie fight right?”
“I heard Dear’s been extra pissy lately without her. Nobody’s been reading him bedtime stories and he’s staying up since he’s anxious from not seeing her.”
“It’s all my fault.”
Riyo and Zanka turned around, seeing Rudo standing there with his head down in shame. The two teens shared a look before their faces changed into an angrier expression. Riyo crossed her arms over her chest ready to berate Rudo until she noticed Enjin standing behind him. Enjin’s heavy hand landed right on the crown of Rudo’s head gently patting him, “That’s enough everyone. Look (Y/n)’s just blowing off steam, she knows that Rudo didn’t mean it but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Semiu’s told me that she’s taken solo jobs back to back to vent off her rage.”, Enjin explained with a tired sigh.
All three teens turned to him with looks of shock, solo missions were dangerous even for seasoned Cleaners, why would you put yourself in danger like that for no good reason.
“I’m going to find her!”, Rudo roared, racing down to see Semiu.
The others wanted to give chase but Enjin signaled for them to stay back. Rudo would apologize even if it killed him. Semiu refused to give Rudo any details of your missions, she assured him that you were safe and that you’d be back soon after all your tasks were complete but it still wasn’t enough for him. Rudo paced his room like a wild animal until an idea popped in his head, it was a mean idea but it should do the trick. The ache in his hands were back, he hated the ache and it meant he was due for a bandage change, very few people were allowed to touch his hands and if he had to limit that number until it was just you then he would.
“It’s just a little pain I can handle it.”, he whispered to himself.
So it began, a few days would pass before there was any word of you and Rudo’s hands had a noticeable tremble to them from the lack of care. Riyo was the first to notice and warned the others about what he was doing, Rudo refused to let anyone close until you were back forcing Enjin to call you. Enjin headed to the top of Cleaner HQ and gave you a call on the blood collar s, you answered after the fourth ring. The sounds of trash beast cries and screeches resonated from the collar before Enjin could hear your ragged pants for breath.
“Wifey are ya good?”
“Y-Yeah…yeah sorry babe. I’m doing okay, just finishing off these last few jobs before heading back home. I’m feeling better, sorry I went M.I.A I’ll be home soon.”
Enjin smiled hearing your voice, “That’s good. Listen I don’t mean to rush you but Rudo needs ya. Little shit’s decided to go on a strike until you come home, he’s refusing to let anyone redress his hands and he’s starting to get an obvious tremor from the pain he’s feeling.”
“What did you just say?”
Enjin physically paled hearing the icy venom in your voice, see you were upset but you wouldn’t stand by and let one of your kids suffer just because you were upset with them.
“I’ll be back before dinner tonight. Tell the chef to make up a batch of my brownies for the kids.”, you ordered.
“You got it mama, love you.”
“Love you more, be home soon.”
Enjin sighed once you’d ended the call, he knew you could fix this, he could only hope that Rudo was smart enough to actually apologize. Just as nighttime showered across the Ground a single jeep drove back into HQ, Guita’s squeals were enough of an announcement to let the rest know that you’d finally returned. Dear was the next to welcome you back before the others showed up to welcome you home. Your eyes scanned the crowd of kids for the boy with soft white hair but he was no where to be found. Zanka informed you that he’d slept by your room door waiting for you to return, his hands shaking so much from the lack of care.
“Thanks Z. All of you head back to the dining hall, there’s a special surprise for all of you.”, you hinted to what it was making several of the kids run through the halls, Riyo gave you a sad look hoping that you knew what he’d done, “We’ll be down soon lovelies. Go on.”
You made your way up to your room and sure enough Rudo was asleep on his side right by your bedroom door. “You planning on being down there all night Rudy Boy?”, the young teen twitched at the very sound of your voice.
Ruby eyes opened up to see you standing above him, he winced from the pain in his hands but quickly stood up to face you. “Welcome back.”, he whispered.
You nodded in acknowledgment and took his trembling hands in yours, “What’s this about a strike you’re on? You know I don’t like when you neglect your hands like this.”, your words were sharp and unforgiving, your eyes icy with rage.
Rudo swallowed the lump in his throat but admitted the reason behind his self imposed punishment, “I promised I wouldn’t deal with the pain until I apologized to you. Zanka and Riyo explained everything to me, why you’re so motherly, what happened to you, and why you can’t have kids. I’m sorry, for all of it, I know you were just looking out for me. I’m just not used to being cared for or loved yet but I’ll try to be better, promise so please don’t hide from us anymore.”, Rudo begged softly bowing his head.
He waited for you to say something, anything really, he expected you to curse him like everyone up in the sphere had when they saw him. Then he realized why you were so important to the kids of the Cleaners, instead of harsh words he felt your hand on his head gently playing with his hair.
“You’re forgiven kiddo, sorry I hid away for so long when you were suffering too.”, you smiled softly watching him slowly look up at you with big wondrous red eyes, “Now let’s get you cleaned up and head downstairs, there’s a surprise for everyone and if we don’t hurry Riyo will take out the whole thing.”
Rudo didn’t realize he’d begun to cry until you wiped away his tears, his face flushed as he tried to wipe the rest away with his aching hands, he didn’t want you to see him like this. Emotional, raw, exposed, you shook your head and pulled him into a tight hug to comfort him.
“It’s okay Rudo, we’ll get through this together. We always do don’t we?”, you grinned watching his eyes light up with newfound determination.
“Yeah…yeah we do. Sorry again, you’re the best mom out there, promise I’ll work on being less of a brat.”, he sighed hugging you back just as tight.
You grinned taking him into your sewing room to redress his scarred hands before finally heading downstairs together. Everyone noticed you both side by side and breathed a sigh of relief, on the table was a batch of fresh brownies for everyone to share. Rudo had never had brownies before but he was excited to try a new dessert. He almost lunged at the table for the tray but stopped himself when he realized something, “I um…I can wait. I haven’t had dinner yet, veggies before sweets right?”, he turned to you expecting you to agree.
Enjin appeared by your side, stealing a quick peck from your lips before you returned your attention to Rudo.
“Just this once, after that you get a good meal in your belly.”, Rudo beamed throwing himself into your arms before running to the table to fight Dear for a slice.
Enjin chuckled softly under his breath watching the kids and teens share the brownies, he looked over at you to see your hand absentmindedly resting on your stomach. He knew you’d dream about it sometimes, and maybe that’s why he had an affinity for bringing kids into the cleaners to keep you happy, “You’re the best mama around, I hope you know that.”, he whispered into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek to pull you back from your train of thought.
You smiled at him and nodded, watching the kids laugh over the sweets, “So who’s gonna tell them there’s zucchinis and carrots in those brownies?”, you whispered making Enjin burst out loud in laughter.
The kids all turned around to watch him laugh, your face holding a smug smile and evil eyes as they continued to eat the delicious brownies. Maybe for now it was best they didn’t know.
Synopsis. Five times Ryomen Sukuna’s “wingmanning” family is the biggest cóckbIock in existence, and the one time he finally gets what he wants - you, his nephew’s hot preschool teacher.
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, 5 + 1 things, Itadori family shenanigans, unckuna, he has the BIGGEST crush on you, making him blush, face-ríding, síxty-nine, Sukuna with tattoos, PÚSSYDRÚNK Sukuna, he goes feraI, p sIapping, p talking, he’s BIG, chokíng, tummy buIges, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, creampíes, through pantíes, cúmplay, slight bréeding, getting together, nosy families, lowkey crackfic, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.6k
A/N. HEHE TOLD Y’ALL I’D WRITE IT…
“This is my uncle, he just got out of jail.”
“Hell yeah.” Not the most courteous introduction to Yuji’s wide-eyed lil’ friends - but if Jin had bugged n’ blackmailed him into picking the brat up from preschool today then he was going to make sure it never happens again.
And as Yuji starts swinging from Sukuna’s broad, beefy biceps, he grins at his miniature crowd. “He also has tattoos and likes to drink.”
“Hell yeah- don’t forget about the cars, twerp.” Sukuna’s nodding, breezing past the horrified faces of parents that tugged their children at least seven feet away. Seriously, how long was this teacher going to take? He could see your back hunched by another corner of the classroom, hugging a sniffly student goodbye.
“Oh yeah- and he likes driving fast and slashing tires.”
You straighten, probably hearing every word - not that he cared, Sukuna couldn’t imagine who’d want to be around this all day. “Hell ye- oh.”
Until you turned his way.
And Ryomen Sukuna feels his heart drop- right along with the muscular right arm that was stuck out for Yuji to climb all over like a handlebar. And with it, his nephew.
Who seems quite disgruntled at his sudden meeting with the soft, padded floor of the preschool classroom, standing on his own two feet for the first time since Sukuna had arrived here. He furrows his light brows, “Hey- wha’s the big- oh! Teacher!”
Seems like it runs in the family, Sukuna muses - because all it takes is one glimpse of you starting to head their way before Yuji lights up as brightly as the Sun itself. And to Sukuna, whose nephew was a perpetual Christmas tree, it almost made him wish he wore his usual shades.
At least that would’ve hid the way his crimson eyes sweep up n’ down your figure, languidly. Breath stuttered, mouth partly agape.
Sukuna’s utterly forgetting himself before he’s called out by one of Yuji’s friends- a squeaky, orange-haired girl no older than five. “Ewwww- why are you red?”
“Shut it, bob-cut.”
“So—” Perfect timing, you sidle up to the bustling little group right as Sukuna spits out the tail end of his sentence. A brow of yours raised, bob-cut?
And oh- you’re even more perfect up close. Is it really too late for him to enroll in preschool? He didn’t see any age restrictions around, and he could count till ten, surely. Genuinely considering, he’s gulping at the way your pretty eyes narrow. “Jin’s not here today? Yuji, do you know this man?”
The boy in question bounces with excitement, “Of course! This is Sukuna, my uncle who just got out of jail and drives fast cars.”
“Ah- ahah.” Said Sukuna chuckles gingerly, eyes flitting between his beaming nephew and your blank expression. Finally settling on the kid, “Yuji! What have I told you about uh- the benefits of um- safe driving and caring for our fellow civilians on the road?”
And there was Sukuna’s first mistake - asking a question, because surely that was a sign for Yuji to nod solemnly. “That it’s for lame pussies who- mmpf!”
“Ah…” You blink.
The damage was already done- but Sukuna’s clapping a meaty palm over Yuji’s mouth already. Oh, he was smashing this kid’s iPad when they’re home. A thin line of nervous sweat beads down his temple as he stares up at you, “K-kids these days, right, ma’am?”
Yuji frowns, “But you do call them lame pussies who-”
“Yuji!”
“Right right, miss.” The lively girl from before - Kugisaki, he thinks her name was - latches onto your swaying skirts. “And he also likes to drink.”
“And slash tires.”
“Tuna mayo.”
The crowd mercifully quietens down for a split-second. “…”
Until a grumpy black-haired boy peeks through his bangs at that last line, as if translating. “He says he also sets fires.”
Sukuna never said that - but he doesn’t get a single chance to say so. Too busy staring at the constant knit of your brows, the way your gaze was darting from the children to Sukuna like a tennis match, trying to bite back a smile. “I-is that so?”
“And he has a lotta tattoos.” Yuji pries off his uncle’s muffling palm, back to climbing him like his very own jungle gym. As if to prove his point, he pokes the bulging band of black ink that encircles Sukuna’s bicep. “See?”
And if he was any less devastated about making himself look like an absolute fool in front of his nephew’s pretty preschool teacher, then maybe he’d have noticed that look in your eyes.
Maybe.
Maybe he’d have seen the slight glint in them as you followed Yuji’s pudgy, directing finger - from the wide tattoos at his biceps, to his wrist, to the circles peeking through Sukuna’s off-white undershirt. So tight that it was like the pale color was nearly painted onto him- if Itadori Jin was the sweet, soft single dad that was always early for pick-up, then Sukuna was just rugged.
From the dishevelled state of his twinning rosy hair, to the studded piercing on his left earlobe, to the naturally-honed muscles that made him look hulking.
And it almost seemed like you were…checking him out? But surely that was a figment of Sukuna’s imagination, right? Right?
You’re nodding as Yuji looks to you impatiently for approval, “Why, you’re quite right, Yuji.” The corners of your glossed lips curl upwards as you turn to Sukuna - and he feels electricity pang down his body. “Uncles these days, huh?”
Ah, he was gone for.
It was almost a comical sight, you’re thinking - such a large, towering man well over six feet, speechlessly gawking at you. Leaned forwards, ears red; barely even registering the way his nephew grabs onto the tufts of his coral pink hair like a horse- whispering for the rest of his friends to join in.
Kugisaki makes two treks grabbing onto his sides before she’s looking up and crinkling her nose, “Ew. You’re red again, Mr. Felon.”
“He’s not Mr. Felon, he’s Mr. Tire-slasher.”
Yuji shakes his head, “No, he’s Mr. Mugshot.” Seated upon Sukuna’s broad shoulders, the boy adjusts his body to stick a hand inside his backpack and search. “Would you like to see the mugshot, miss-”
“Okay, time for us to get home.”
Firmly, Sukuna tries to shoo away the army of toddlers trying to climb him as gently as possible - only four glares, now that’s a record. Nephew still on his back, bag now wrestled into his hand and well away from where Yuji could procure any printouts of his (admittedly flattering) mugshot.
He’s feeling his heartbeat pick up just a lil’ as he darts his eyes back to you, “I-it was just probation, by the way. Happened to slash some uh- tires…”
“And also drive fast!” Yuji pipes up happily.
“…That too.” Grouchy face wincing at the amused smile on your face- goddammit he’s never going to be able to show his face here ever again. Sukuna simpers out a wave, making sure to flex his chiseled biceps at you ever-so-slightly - if he couldn’t keep reputation, at least he could make you stare. “See you ‘round, teach.”
“See you around, Mr. Mugshot.”
Fuck.
.
.
.
“I thought I said I’m not doing shit for the brat’s school again.”
Jin patiently gestures for him to hush with the swearing in front of the gaggle of children, humming as he keeps handing out sugar cookies - half-off for dealing with Sukuna’s shoddy customer service. “Well, technically, we’re not in the preschool. We’re in the park.”
His younger brother seethes, flicking the ribbons of his pretty pink apron (Jin’s doing, of course.) “Having a damn bake sale-”
“Shush, Ryo. There are children around.”
“Exactly my point!” Was Sukuna the crazy one? He must be the crazy one. And he’s running a grumpy hand through his unruly pink locks- before remembering that one of those damn kids running around this bake sale had called him cotton-candy head and now he’s both irritated and unable to self-soothe.
It’d been Jin’s idea to drag him to the preschool bake sale, held at the nearby children’s park- something about raising money for a talent show.
Honestly, fuck talent shows. It didn’t even take two minutes surrounded by all the fanfare for him to have half the mind to eat those sweet treats himself and just leave-
“Oh hey, you’re Mr. Mugshot.” A little boy wearing a panda mask, one he’s never even seen before, points up at him and giggles as Sukuna glares. Did that nickname really spread?
He’s bending over their frilly pink stall with a damn good word or two about-
“Oh! Jin, thank you for coming.” Before he’s hearing the sound of the pearly gates of heaven, and an angel to accompany right along with it. You. Who’d silently meandered up to their cookie stand with an expression of both delight and concern. Your gorgeous mouth pursing as you stop to think, “And…Sukuna, right? Thank you, too, the children really appreciate the work you’re putting in.”
You remembered his name. He has to hold back a squeal.
“A-ah, yeah- yeah! Of course, of course.” He’s swiftly leaning over the stall, arms crossed so that you can fully take in the way they streeetch his tight sleeveless turtleneck.
In the faint distance - honestly, it feels like miles away - he’s hearing the panda-mask boy unsubtly whisper something to his father about how ‘Mr. Mugshot has turned red.’
Not! Obviously not- smooth. Ryomen Sukuna is supposed to be smooth, and he’s desperately attacking his features into something that resembles suave nonchalance. “I’m a…real philanthropic type of guy, y’know?” Cocking his head with a smug grin, “So, you come ‘round here often?”
You’re smirking, your giggle sounding like his favorite song. “Well, it is my preschool class.”
Ah, shit. His eyes widen just a fraction, right.
Scoffing, “Tch, uh, yeah. I knew that.”
So many days spent mentally praying that yet another one of Jin’s work meetings went over time again - just so that Sukuna would have an excuse to see your pretty face. And that’s the first thing he says?
Suddenly, he’s too aware of the ogling toddlers, of the snug pink apron that he was currently donning - and the way your eyes seem to stray down to the gaudy bow settled between his pecs.
At this point, it seems even his brother takes pity on him. Adjusting his glasses with a soft chuckle, “It seems Ryo here had the greatest time at pick-up last week, he only had good things to say about you, ma’am.”
You blink in slight surprise, eyes taking in Sukuna’s large, fidgeting figure. “I’m quite flattered.”
Yes! Sukuna’s pleading eyes snap to the interested twinkle in your eyes, and then to the other man- yes, keep going!
“Of course, Yuji did tell me he was upset he didn’t get to show you his printed mugshot of him. It was all that he could-”
Fuck no!
Catching the other’s urgent eyes, Jin sputters- “B-but- but, it was just a little vandalism, of course. Just a little ah…a little driving and- eek!” Cutting himself off promptly as soon as Sukuna steps down on Jin’s foot, syllables stumbling, looking ‘round anywhere for any distraction. “Why don’t you- ah! Why don’t you give our lovely teacher here a cookie, Sukuna. Free of charge.”
You’re waving your hands, oh-so-sweetly, “I could never, please let me pay-”
“Nah, a pretty girl like you? I should give you more, ma.” He could give you a totally different type of cookie but this might just not be the place to say those words out loud- ah, he’s still got it.
Sukuna’s thumbing out the biggest baked treat between a fluffy tissue and handing it over to you- ready to feel the sweet, sweet graze of your fingertips, if he was lucky.
But oh- it seems like the gates of heaven really have just opened up to him, because instead of taking it from his hands, you’re leaning down and taking a bite. Straight from where he held it. Humming as the candied taste floods your mouth, the soft pushness of your lips taps against the edge of his thumb.
And he wonders how they’d feel on his lips, instead.
“Ah, sorry.” You’re taking a peek at him through your lashes and maybe he doesn’t still have it because Sukuna feels his breath hitch. “It just looked so good, and my hands are a little…”
And it’s only then that he’s noticing just how many boxes upon bags of things you’d bought from nearly every stall here. Happy to support your students - oh, you really were an angel.
“Oh, let me.” Ever the gentleman, Jin hastens to move around a few bags so that you’re more comfortable. All while Sukuna can only hold out the cookie and freeze. Slack-jawed.
Completely ridiculous.
He doesn’t move a single millimeter, not even when you’re now able to easily grasp the baked good from him. Expectantly waiting, palm raised - while he only ogles you.
“I uh- let me just-” And it takes Itadori Jin both hands to pry the crumbling cookie from Sukuna’s hands, sighing before wrapping up about two more in apology and handing them over to you. “We do hope you like them, ma’am.”
“Mhm—” Rubbing over the crumbs at the edge of your lower lip with one hand, you look dead-set on Sukuna as you murmur. “It was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
Sukuna might not have been the chef - baker, whatever you said goes - it was Jin, but he can’t help but feel on top of the world as if he was. Waiting just until you’re out of sight, walking through the sunny Spring park up to the next parent-manned stand, to pump his fist with a low ‘hell yeah!’
“Ryo, you haven’t been this smitten since- well, ever.”
“Daddy, Mr. Mugshot is really weird.”
Sukuna whirls at a few staring parents- “The fuck are you lookin’ at?”
.
.
.
“Remind me why you’re here again?”
“Remind me why you’re here again?”
Arguing with a thirteen-year-old wasn’t very high on Sukuna’s bucket list, and yet, it seemed to happen on a nearly daily basis. He would blame middle school for being the root of Choso’s attitude, but he suspects the new emo look has something to do with it, too.
And maybe the fact that the older man was accompanying one of his weekly visits to Yuji’s preschool playground. Cutting off just the last of Friday’s classes just so that he could walk down the street to see his little brother. Despite seeing him at home every day, but still.
That’s also what Sukuna himself was here for- of course. Why else would he-
“Ah ah- Kugisaki, what have I told you about using the toy construction hammer for things other than construction? We don’t hit, m’kay?”
Sighing, the way that Sukuna’s towering frame leans against the playground’s cherry blossom tree for support draws such disgust from Choso. Dark eyes flickering between his blushing uncle, and you - in the middle of the sand pit, trying to wrangle a class of toddlers. “You’re pathetic.”
“Shut it, scrawny.”
“Why don’t you just talk to her?”
Sukuna’s life flashes before his very eyes, and strangely it’s mainly made up of every moment where he’s embarrassed himself in front of you. Looking away with a huff, “It’s…complicated.”
The other snickers, “Well, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated because she’s coming up to us right now.”
Oh, fuck.
Now, he might have had the sense to ‘accidentally’ bump into his oldest nephew just as he was on his route to meet Yuji (Sukuna had memorized his schedule, sauntering by this very block for an hour until he’d run into Choso) - but he didn’t have enough wit for this.
Conversations? With both parties and a classroom of preschoolers participating?
He was just about ready to race right out of here and leave Choso to the wolves-
“Cho! You’re here as always.” You’re smiling as you waltz up to them, a neat line of toddlers following you as they would a mother duck. Hitting him with your scent of flowers n’ the sunniest of days, “And I see you’ve brought along a guest with you- how are you, Sukuna?”
“F-fine.” F-fine? With a stutter? Sukuna simply bristles at the smirk his nephew shoots his way, already feeling the tips of his pierced ears start to scald bright hot.
“Bubba!”
Saved by the bell-like shriek of Yuji, enough to make Choso take a few steps over and hug his toddling brother so tight that the former squeals. Checking him over for scratches, dust, stickers- you name it.
You’re catching the raise of Sukuna’s brows and chuckle, “He is always quite the attentive older brother. You should join us more often, I’m sure Yuji would enjoy having his favorite uncle around.”
Mouth dry, “I’m- I’m his only uncle.”
Yet, your grin still stands - a slight knowing curve in them that makes his brain fuzzy, and his lips just a bit too loose. Did he say he liked drinking again? What a fucking lie, you got him more buzzed than a shot of straight vodka pumping through his nerves.
And he’s finding himself reaching over to brush a stray petal of cherry-pink from your crown. Blurting out before he can stop himself, “Hey…so what’s your ty- I mean, are you seeing any-”
“She’s mine!” Cuts off an annoying, grating voice - one that understood what you evidently didn’t, with the few syllables that Sukuna had been able to croak out.
And he’s looking over your shoulder to find himself being stared down (stared up at?) by a boisterous, buzz-cut boy slightly older than Yuji. Protectively standing behind you as he glared daggers, “When I’m old like you, she shall be my bride, Mr. Mugshot.”
Huh.
You’re droning out in your nicest tone, wagging your finger. “Now now, Todo Aoi, what have I told you about not proposing to your teachers?”
“To not.”
“And what are you doing?”
“Proposing.” Stifling a sigh, you realise that it would be yet another chat with Todo’s guardian about the boy’s harmless little puppy crush.
But before you can direct the conversation back towards anything else, he’s stabbing an accusing index up at Sukuna’s looming frame. “Miss teacher here-” Not quite your name, but close enough. “-and my sweet idol Takada-chan are the only ones I shall marry. You can’t have either!”
“Who the hell…” Sukuna furrows his brows- what was this boy talking about? “Listen, kid, I-”
“Pffft–!” He could recognize that burst of muffled laughter anywhere, and at least Choso was having a grand ol’ time- whispering to Yuji, “Don’t you think this is like those late-night dramas dad pretends not to watch?”
No! Sukuna’s internally groaning.
“Oh- oh yeah!” An over-hearing Kugisaki bounces at the mention of dramas, “My mommy watches those. Times like this the two guys will fight over the pretty girl.”
Todo puffs up his chest, “Then fight me, old man- I demand a duel!”
“I’m not even thirty?”
“That’s old.” Choso nods.
“You’re thirteen.”
“I’m five!” Yuji jumps up, and immediately his older brother’s pulling his phone out to snap a few hundred photographs at the cuteness.
Todo stomps, “Fight me, fossil–”
And his young nephew - that traitor - is the next one to shrill with glee at the altercation, clapping his hands once Todo charges forward with a damn war cry to pummel Sukuna’s abs with hits about as fierce as cotton. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
At the slight raise of your brows at the chaos, Sukuna rushes to explain, “Please excuse my nephew’s behaviour, ma’am, I don’t know where he got it from-”
Choso deadpans, “But you’re the one that taught us that the best talk is to talk with your fists because-” The two brothers turn to each other in unison, as if preaching the truth and nothing but the truth. “-we’re no weakass bi-”
“Their father.” Sukuna grits out- okay, maybe that kid’s punches were getting a little more painful. Or maybe it was just the way you were cocking your head at him that made his stomach churn, “Surely.”
“Defend the honor of your woman, geriatric–!”
Seemingly snapping out of the little reverie of taking in whatever the fuck this was, you clap your hands in that teacherly way to demand silence. “Alright alright, break it up. You wouldn’t want me to take down any of your star points, would you, Aoi?” Tugging away the boy from Sukuna, you grimace up at him. “I’m so sorry about all of- well- this.”
“Y’know how they apologize to each other in the dramas?” Kugisaki speaks up, and honestly, this girl really did speak up at the most inopportune times. She glows at all the attention on her, “They kiss.”
And she was a genius.
An absolute genius, bob-cut!
Yuji - ever his lil’ ally - starts pumping his fist with whoots- “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Starting up a slight chant within your group, you turn to him in question.
“I uh…” Sukuna starts, tilting his body down ever-so-slightly, until you could could nearly every thread on his dark hoodie. The way his slashing tattoos framing his jaw ripple as he gulps, “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, ma- that’s assuming you wanted to do something, and what I meant was-”
It was one second. A singular, heavenly second that your lips graze the right side of Sukuna’s cheek as he rambled - fluttering away right before his skin started to scorch with a blush.
Quite frankly, fuck nonchalance.
“Ewww, he’s red again. What’s wrong with him?”
“Were you this red when you were setting fires, Mr. Mugshot?”
“He looked nothing like this in his mugshot- wanna see?”
“Salmon.”
Ears tinting a shade that matches his hair, voicebox void of any coherent words, Sukuna barely even functions until he’s hearing the sharp ka-chick! of a camera shutter. Whirling his head ‘round to find Choso with his phone pointed at him, catching him in all his flustered glory. “I’ll send it to the family groupchat.” He turns to you. “And to you on the preschool groupchat.”
Imagine Sukuna’s surprise when he finds you nodding, “Mhm, oh, and I should really be getting the kids back now, it’s almost time for the bell.” Making the kids waddle into a neat line once more, you wave. “Thank you for the visit- do come again, it was quite…interesting.”
And they stare - Choso at Yuji, Sukuna at you - as you and your classroom disappear back within the preschool walls. “No phone for you for two weeks.”
“No hot teacher’s number for you forever.”
Only after a second- “Hey- hey kid. Show me that number again? I’ll make it one week.”
.
.
.
Sukuna had almost, mercifully, forgotten about that damn talent show.
The bake sale? Gaping at you for nearly five full minutes straight? Never happened.
And he’d almost convinced himself of that- until the time came for him to be seated right on the very front row of the cozy preschool auditorium. Taking up nearly three chairs as he squeezes himself into the humble seat, arms crossed and scowling.
“You know…” Jin claps as Yuji and Kugisaki fight to clamber onto stage first, with a reluctant Fushiguro in tow. About to showcase whatever it is that they’d been practising with doves and sticks all week. From the corner of his mouth, “When we had the kiddos over, Megs told me something very interesting the other day.”
“Hm.” Sukuna’s grunts noncommittally when Yuji pulls out a comically large fairy wand - ah, a magic show.
“Something about you duelling with a kid for the hand of a certain someone.”
Letting out a strangled groan, his eyes immediately find you - as they always seemed to do. Stuck on the way you were kneeled by the front of the stage, motivating each little performer tonight. “Y-ya don’t say…”
Jin beams, “You know, you should really ask her out, Ryo- oh! Do you need our help? I can tell you this, the Itadori family makes great wingmen.”
“Ya don’t say.”
Tattletale, Sukuna’s grousing. And just as Fushiguro Megumi finds himself being stuffed into a box - to be sawed in half as all good magicians did, apparently - the older man slowly, menacingly pulls out his prized camcorder.
Just in time for Fushiguro to glance over and have his face pale at the blinking, recording lens.
“After all, Megumi did say you were blushing like a- what was it- ‘maiden in love’ that day. How cute.”
“Ya don’t say.” Sukuna zooms in, right on the black-haired boy’s ashen face once the saw raises high in the air to magically cut him in half. And to make things even worse, he starts pointing at his camera, mouthing through a grin, ‘Oh yes.’ At Fushiguro’s slight shake of his head. ‘You are dead.’
But, alas, it was too good to be true.
And instead of having the little snitch be the casualty in one of Yuji’s magic tricks, the talent show goes shockingly smoothly. Hell, Wasuke slept through only about half of it, which was as much of a compliment as one could get.
All because of your efforts, surely - and when the entire thing ends with (surprise, surprise) every little brat getting awarded a winning prize, Sukuna finds himself not half-annoyed that he’d actually sat through all of it.
Well, right up until about when it was time for the exhausted preschoolers to be taken home by their families.
And Yuji comes bounding up to the four with a squealing—“Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps–! Mr. Mug-”
“Another word out of you and I’m throwing your iPad out the window.” Sukuna grumbles, heart leaping to his throat when he’s spotting your chuckling figure follow up behind his nephew, as if Jin’s elbowing wasn’t a sign enough.
Yuji frowns, “Aw, but I already told everyone here.”
Damn gremlin- but before he can get another word in, you’re already greeting his brother and father with a smile. “It’s so great to see you again, Mr. Itadori- I hope that blood pressure you were telling me about is better now.”
“Ah, ya know- I won’t be dying any time soon.” Wasuke barks out a hoarse noise of laughter, before beadily eyeing Sukuna. “This one, however…”
Your gorgeous face drops in worry, and he doesn’t know whether to whine at his father for letting you make that expression, or giggle because you cared about him. Fuck. “Oh no- everything alright, Sukuna?”
But Wasuke answers for him, “No. Not at all, quite the incurable disease, my dear.”
He watches on in matching confusion with Yuji as Jin lights up beside him, “Ah- ah! Right right, that-” Soothing his face into something pitiful as he turns to you, “That ah- thing that only heh- one person can solve.”
About as subtle as a sledgehammer.
And just as efficient in bagging the woman of one’s dreams.
Because you only furrow your brows in confusion, “I’m…sorry? What?”
Sukuna’s older brother’s smile tightens in desperation, nervously laughing. “You- you know…that thing?” And you tilt your head, eyes darting between the four as if trying to work out the punchline. “The thing like- the heart condition? No- not something serious but like…the butterflies?” Now looking to Sukuna for help - as if the other man wouldn’t just let him rot in the very grave he’d dug for himself.
Then at Choso, who’d been quietly attempting to disappear into the wall plaster. Trying not to laugh as he dotes on Yuji, “The doki-doki.”
Jin snaps his fingers, “Yes! Like the doki-doki? The-”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake- he wants to fu-”
“That’s enough for tonight, pa.” It really does run in the family - because in a split-second, Sukuna has his palm clapped over Itadori Wasuke’s mouth. Smile painfully plastic, “Did you take your meds today, dear father? I don’t believe you took your meds today.”
He plunges his sprightly father into Jin’s arms, “Say, Jin, why don’t you get dad his meds.” Making note of the way that you - still thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly off your shift helping each student get to their guardian - were toyin’ with the cute decorations of your car keys.
Letting his mouth work before his brain could regret anything- “And why don’t I walk you to your car, ma?”
“I- what.” You’re somewhat shocked at being addressed so directly, and at the kindly incline of Sukuna’s head. “Don’t you have a heart condition? I wouldn’t want to exert you, Sukuna.”
Wasuke grunts, “Exert him in another- mmpf-” Hastily shushed by Choso’s palm, more for his sanity’s sake than his uncle’s.
These damn- he narrows a glare down at an unabashedly-eavesdropping Jin and Wasuke. “No. No, don’t worry about it, they were just joking. Ha. Ha.”
Well…it was quite dark outside the building, even with the surrounding streetlights. And your vehicle might just be a little ways away but it never hurt to be extra safe, did it? Especially when his stature was so intimidating anyways?
And so, you nod.
And he walks with you.
More like floats beside you on cloud nine, actually. Sukuna’s sure you two made quite a sight in the corridor, if the way passing parents whispered to each other signalled anything - him, with his ears flared red, unable to even look at you directly as you two were alone. You, as perfect as ever.
“Ah- so-”
“What did you-”
You’re both speaking at the same time once you’re out of the school building, laughing into the nearly-empty night air that forms clouds out of your puffs of laughter. The few minutes of a walk to the parking lot seemed like eternity - and Sukuna would have gladly let it be.
“You speak.” You’re urging.
“No you.”
“You-”
“I refuse.”
“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you never noticed the way he always seemed to nudge his head ever-so-closely to you whenever you spoke. As if he was hanging onto your every word. “What did you think about the talent show?”
“Brilliant. All because of you, of course- got so much blackmail to use in ten years.” He cackles.
Though, that’s stopped short very soon the nanosecond you’re nudging him playfully. Heat touching heat. And he shivers, “Hit me if this is strange.” Letting the tense air clog his throat, at least, that’s his excuse for it. “But do you remember that thing I meant to ask you that one time at the playground…”
“Yes—?”
“Are you-” Sukuna’s husky baritone cracks and he twists his face into a wince, “D-do you happen to be seeing anyone?”
You blink, and there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like you’re holding back such a smile. How he wished to see it right now. Musing into the silent night air, only thrumming with your footsteps towards the car, “Nope.”
“O-oh.” And if this was any other time, then he’d be embarrassed about how obviously relieved he sounds. How you surely must have picked up on it.
Faking nonchalance, he’s stuffing his hand into the baggy cloth of his ripped jeans, “Cool.” And it was a damn good thing you didn’t have x-ray vision like all the heroes in all those weekend cartoons Yuji watched - because then you’d have seen the way his painted nails dig in so deeply into his palms in pure excitement. Nearly hard enough to draw blood. “Very cool.”
“Very cool.” You’re echoing, now stood by the driver’s seat of your car - just waiting for him to say something. Anything.
Waiting as he opens his mouth- “What’s your ty-”
“Yuji- Yuji noooo- don’t interrupt your uncle’s k-drama moment- oh, dammit.” Itadori Jin, who’d been chasing after an adventure-hungry Yuji, balks at the way you were both so close. Snatching up his struggling toddler, “Forget about me! We- we never here- go back to doing whatever you were doing!”
And somehow, you lurch apart as if you’d just been shocked. Only now realizing just how warm the temperature of his proximity was, fighting to keep your professional façade in front of your spying audience.
“I bid you goodnight, Jin- Yuji.” Gesturing out a wave, you’re getting into your ride so quickly that Sukuna thinks he must’ve been dreaming you up. “And you, Sukuna.”
Nevermind- not a dream.
Definitely not a dream. Because even in his sweetest hallucinations he wouldn’t have been able to make you say his name like that. Almost a purr. Almost batting your lashes.
Almost ripping out his heart from his very chest as you then speed down the road.
“That’s the best ya could’ve done, sonny? Even after I taught you everything to know about wooing a woman?” How very much like Wasuke to manifest from nearly thin air, from somewhere out of the shadows of the building.
“Not that.”
“Especially that.”
The older man only waves off Jin’s bemoaning concern about ‘ruining the moment- they had a doki-doki moment!’ “Choso’s in the car, can’t believe I lost a bet to a middle-schooler. Dammit.”
Sukuna’s eyes widen, “You…bet on me?”
“Whaddaya think, sonny?”
Jin smiles, “Guilty.”
“Gwuilty!”
“No- no, Yuji, not guilty.”
Wasuke paces away, shaking his head. “Thought I raised you better- keh! Thought I’d get grandchildren from you, too. Tch, now I owe a middle-schooler fifty yen, oh, woe is me.”
It takes a second for Sukuna to register the words, “Wait- only fifty yen?”
“Yeah, that’s just about my belief in you, kid.”
.
.
.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Oi- oi, Jin. Go get the door.”
“I’m cooking dinner–! Cho, could you get the door?”
“I’m in the middle of homework- ask uncle.”
Sukuna grumbles, why the hell was he the one to always answer that damn door? Honestly, Yuji could buck up and get some experience yelling at sleazy salesmen sometimes. Sprawled out across the TV room couch, he stares at his nephew playing with a toy bow and arrows set on the floor, “Yuji, could you get the-”
“I can hear you, Ryo.”
Dammit- there was a reason why Itadori Jin was the older brother.
And there was also a reason why Ryomen Sukuna had a reputation in this quaint neighborhood for being a boor - not that that was much of a brag. But at least it explained why he was stomping up to the oak front door, damn near ripping it off its hinges with a growl- “We’re not buying any- oh.”
‘Oh’ was right.
Because standing right there on his porch was a damn sight for sore eyes - you.
You, with your mouth parted and your brows slightly raised as you looked from the messy bangs of his locks to the oversized sweater he was wearing. You, who doesn’t even flinch about the fact that he’d just answered the door yelling. You, donned in a pretty lil’ skirt that makes him gulp-
“You okay, Sukuna?”
“No. So how are you doin’ on this fine day, ma? ”
“Oh!” A happy call of your name makes you turn - even though Sukuna just stares, shell-shocked. Jin shoves him bodily out of the way, opening the door wider, “Please- come in, we’ve been expecting you.”
Looking down at the slight stain of something at the hem of his sweatpants, the other man frowns. It’s not like that was news he’d ever forget - so why the hell was he looking like that? “We have?”
“Yes?” Jin’s showing you the way in- only for you to be dragged in by an overeager Yuji anyways. And as the two of you disappear down the halls, he’s turning to his taller brother in genuine confusion. “Did Cho not tell you that we were having Yuji’s teacher over for dinner tonight?”
At Sukuna’s sputtering, Jin wastes no time grasping a nearby broomstick and thumping the wooden end up against the ceiling. “Kamo Choso–!”
And out comes a muffled reply, “I told grandpa to tell him!”
“Haaah? I told Yuji to.”
It sinks in. The fact that you were here, all prettily dolled-up and at their family home - and you’d happened to see him in nothing but a stained, ratty sweatshirt and pants torn down the side of his thigh to show off one tattoo.
Jin grimaces, “Um…we can still wingman our way through this?”
“I’m gonna kill you.”
Murder does not, in fact, come before dinner; as all good manners dictate. And Sukuna decides that revenge can wait after he’s totally, completely, utterly made you swoon.
“S-so-” Only after a quick change into his best tightly-fitted turtleneck and his silver chains did he dare to show his face ‘round you again. Spritzing enough cologne to almost overpower Jin’s omurice, he tries to smize from where he was sitting right opposite you on the kotatsu. “Nice place, huh?”
The shot of extra, extra strong sake that Wasuke slides over is a consolation as much as a ‘you’re not in a restaurant, you fool!’ He finishes the cup in one go.
“You do have a very beautiful home.” You’re nodding over at a proud Jin.
“And the- food- how is the food?” Another cup- what moral support, father.
“Mmm- amazing, I usually never have the time to cook much for myself with the kids n’ all.”
Which Jin takes as the cue for him to butt in on the conversation, helping it flow as smoothly as an enclosing dam would to a river. “You like kids, huh?” Kicking Sukuna underneath the kotatsu, he rattles the plates. “Our Ryo here also…tolerates children.”
“Really?” You’re teasing, “I couldn’t tell.”
“Why I love kids, yeah.” Sukuna tuts as he lifts his hand to pat the crown of Choso’s head- who only swerves out of the way, food finished n’ leaving the room to join his brother playing. Hiccuping, you were so pretty sat in front of him like this- too pretty, that the vision of you was starting to get blurry.
And another cup.
He’s jostled by the tap of Jin’s hand on his arms- “And he’s actually quite sweet in his own way once you get to know him. I’m sure dad agrees-” Ignoring Wasuke’s ‘I don’t’. “-that he’d make such a responsible-”
“U-unless you don’t like kids.” Still stuck on that - still. Sukuna downs it and then shakily pours himself another. “In that case, I don’t like kids either. Yeah, can’t stand them.”
And another.
Jin and Wasuke share a glance between themselves when the hulking man leans over the kotatsu towards you with what sounded suspiciously like a whine. “Would you want kids with me?”
And-
“Sukuna-”
“W-well—time for Ryo to be put to bed, I think.” Jin hastily stands up, struggling to hoist his oversized younger brother from his seat. Failing, evidently, as in that time he’s managing to gulp down another two or three sake cups. “Dad- a little- help?”
Wasuke only shakes his head gravely at you, “You should know he was switched at birth.”
“We’re nearly identical twins–”
“Twins? What-” Sukuna babbles, “Does she want twins?”
Glassy eyes blinking n’ squinting furiously down at you as if trying to figure out whether you were real. Before ultimately giving up, it seems.
Because he’s stumbling a few unsteady steps forwards, pulled by Jin, before dropping to his knees and toppling his head over your lap, just by the gap of the kotatsu edge and your stomach. He’s nuzzling his face right against your tummy, “Mmm— maybe triplets. Would be the cutest fuckin’ things if they looked anything like hck! her.”
You giggle and he gasps- as if the epiphany had just struck him. “Quadruplets?”
Starin’ down at him, at the rosy blush painting his ears, you’re muttering. “You wish.”
“Dammit- even this hck! illusion of her is fine as fuck. Shit. I wonder if her type is…”
Trailing off, he looks to his older brother for assistance- who helpfully supplies, “Sad and drunk?”
Wasuke’s contribution- “Zero game- as the kids say?”
“Dangerous?” You pretend to think, assessing over the mountainous heap of a man. “Actually- only pretends to be but is really a softie inside?”
“Yes! That- wonder if he type is dangerous…pretend dangerous. I’d give her all the kids she’d ever want- all big…n’ glowing…” It was almost like the setting of the sun, and just as quietly that Sukuna’s dipping past the edge of consciousness. “And…mine…if she wants. Oh, only if she wants- I’ve gotta- hck!” He turns up slightly to you, “-gotta woo her first, you see? Gotta date her…marry…but- but most of all…” Words slowing, heartbeat still racing whenever he looked at you. “I…just want to love you, pretty girl.”
And with that, he was out like a flickered light.
With only Wasuke, Jin, and Choso with his camera snooping through the doorway as witnesses for when you’re snaking a hand down to the phone bulging in Sukuna’s pocket. Quickly entering a few coordinates and a date.
And a heart emoji.
.
.
.
“Oh- oh, shit, mama.” Sukuna’s tongue lays over the sheeny insides of your thighs, throat muddled with groans and the cloying taste of your slick gluing to his rovering mouth.
Honestly, fuck whatever tips his family had made him memorize before coming over for his lil’ ‘talk’ at your cozy apartment, as promised. Because the two of you had barely made out two or three words before Sukuna found himself sprawled on his back on your bed.
Your knees framing his face, your clothed cunt right near his mouth.
Right near where he’s dotting your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your entire body tremble. Whimpering over your shoulder, “D-didn’t think you’d be such a tease, Kuna.”
“Because this isn’t real.” He’s breathing out, as if he’s just so sure of that fact. As if he can glide his ringed index down the dampened slit of your folds and drool- because this feels like a dream n’ he was going to savor every moment. “Fuck, there’s no way this is-”
And just at that very moment, he’s craning his head up further between your pretty, pretty legs. Greedy tastebuds darted out just so he can catch the treacly splat! of your leaking slit.
Dampening his tongue n’ drooling all down the edge of his tattooed chin, “Do you even know how many times I’ve imagined this exact moment?”
“Mmm- no-” You’re wrenching out a heady puff of air- spread on your front in the meanest sixty-nine. You gulp down your parched throat as you’re taking in the wet, bulging outline of Sukuna’s erection through his boxers. “But I can guess.”
He was just so big, aching-
Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just rock-hard. He was hard enough that he’s sure his round, bawling tip was damn near ready to fall off, twitching oh-so-painfully in his pants as he’s snapping back your soaked panties with a wet thwack!
Just a glimpse of the wet haven you were hiding and he’s groaning throatily, “Guess-” He hisses, close enough that the straight end of his nose slides down your puffy pussylips. Nudging your panties to the side and sniiiiiffing you, “You’ll never be able to guess how badly I want you, pretty girl.”
Never.
Never would you have even been able to register that within mere split-seconds, he’d have one beefy arm looping around your hips to make you sit on top of his mouth.
Slamming the edge of your cunt against his chin, plopping your full weight down until he’s nose-deep between your quivering legs. “Fuck-” Letting the first gush of your saccharine juices flood his throat, lips against lips. “Fuck fuck fuck- what was I even…saying?”
“W-wait–” Your breath hitches, spine arching into such a perfect curvature. You claw onto his meaty thighs in an attempt to regain balance, “You won’t be able to breathe like this, Sukuna-”
“You think I fucking care?”
It’s spat - spat - out right against the swollen nub of your clit. Hazed crimson irises rolling to the veeeery deep, dark depths of his skull at the first long gliiiide of Sukuna’s tongue from top to bottom of your pussy.
Cheeks hollowed the very moment he’s pushin’ himself even closer, “You think I ngh- can care about anything else?” The very moment he’s tugging you back down - with the full force of his upper strength, hard enough that your heated aches with raw, primal bruises. “Be a good girl n’ put that hah- pussy on my face. Fucking- sit-”
“I don’t- fuuuuck—” Fingers twitching, it’s all you can do to fumble with the drawstrings of his wettened boxers.
Thighs shaking at every flicker of his slimy tongue swirlin’ and stirrin’ every inch of your outer pussy. Your head muddles with the realization that Sukuna’s tongue was just so long that he could lap at your glisten hole n’ still have enough length left over to snag on your clit. “You’re not going to be the only hah- one-”
Whimpering, you find your eyes blurring up each time the ridged texture of his tastebuds glissade between your folds. Curlin’ in just past the elastic circle of your entrance-
And you’re gasping - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the lecherous intrusion or because of the way you’re pushing down Sukuna’s snug underwear to free his massive cock.
Reddened, swollen.
He’s bulging all solid and girthy that it makes your hole clench ‘round his flexible tongue. The cutest ruby-red at the top of his shaft, forming a gradient all the way down to his tight, heavy balls. Mentally, you’re counting about nine- fuck, maybe even ten damn inches that hit the end of your chin as he springs up.
And from where you’re straddling him, you can make out what looked like a matching thick, black band of ink around his bulky hilt.
Letting the polished pink crown of his cockhead smear out a generous dollop of pre, you’re teasing your tongue out just enough to taste the salted caramel taste.
“You’re so…” Sinking him past your spit-slicked lips, his swabbing mushroom tip is just so big that your jaw aches just by looking at him. Just by fitting him inside, right until his drivelling slit- “-s-sho big, Sukuna.”
“Fuck- fuck-” He’s spitting into your cunt and you find yourself flinching, hard enough that his pearly white canines nip at your thighs and you cry out.
And he’s only holding you back - not letting you shift your restless hips even a single centimeter as he’s eating you out like a man dying of thirst. Dry tastebuds lavishing himself with wads of slick, Sukuna’s stuffing your tight hole with the entirety of his tongue. “You’re m-making me drool.”
You swear you’re feeling the thin line of his wet spittle stain the front of your cunt, whimpering around his bulbous cockhead. “Made ya stutter, too, Sukuna.”
“Ohhhh- talkin’ smart, are we?” Snickering, he lets off a loud spank against the front of your pussy - one that makes your bones reverberate, and your mind numb. Pushin’ back to ride the circling girth of his tongue, to ride him. “Why don’tcha put that mouth into use elsewhere?”
Elsewhere - his cock was so hot and throbbing between your swollen lips. Just the slightest slip n’ slide makes it feel like he’s pulsing all the way at the back of your throat.
Creamin’ out a spray of syrupy precum that slides down your tongue, “So big- too big.” And yet- it was just so cute how you’re suckling him like your favorite lolly, eyes criss-crossing when you’re trying to take more. He couldn’t even bottom out. “Mmm– dunno if it’ll even all fit.”
“Well…”
The way he’s drawling out in a smoky tone makes you ponder that this won’t be ending well for you. And Sukuna’s dark chuckle hits your cunt in a murky gust, “You’re takin’ it in from here—” Just at that sultry second, he’s crowning the snug circle of your hole with two fingers.
Making you break out with a shrill waiiil as he sinks in the thick, calloused curves of his fingerpads. Letting such thick digits stretch you out fully, make your head spin. “So shut it n’ take this looong fucking cock, ma.”
All that it takes for him to plunge a few more throbbing inches past your maw, oh-so-big that you’re drooling down the sides of your mouth already.
Striking the edge of your throat and making you choke on his sheer size, your nose wrinkles as you’re tickled by the curly tendrils of his pinkish hair. “This enough or you want three, pretty girl-”
“I-”
Letting out such a cloying squelch that spurts from your pussy once he’s teasin’ your entrance, “Not you, mama. She wants three.”
Moaning away wildly after each pump of his fingers- Sukuna doesn’t even have to try to dip into each nook n’ orifice. Slamming to fingers down to each knobbly knuckle with a resounding slam- “See? See?”
So cockdrunk on the feeling of his velvety tongue that you’re only partly registering the way his vocals are higher. Unsteady.
The way you’re clamping your dewy walls in a cute, squelching smooch ‘round his digits makes his voice fucking crack. “J-just take it a bit- fuck- deeper.” Mindless little half-thrusts up into your heated mouth like he can’t even control it- “You can swallow it up like a reeeeal good girl, can’t you?”
“Mmm—” Purposefully letting off your pretty sounds all over his fleshy girth, “Yes- yes yes yes- more.”
“More?”
“More.”
As if he wouldn’t fucking ruin you if he could.
“You want more?”
“Y-yes- oh.”
Only to be gifted with such a rude slap of his doughy palm, “Not you.” And he’s waiting for the soppy squelches leaking out from your cunt, the way you’re talking to him from your swollen lips just to continue.
Squelch after squelch.
Your pleas only spur him to tug at the sweet, softened ring of your cunt, latching his lips over the flexing muscle. “If you say so—” Crooning, you can feel the cold hiss of his metallic rings upon the insides of your thighs. Sukuna’s biceps shifting as he starts to tug them off–
“A-actually-” You’re popping off of the strawberry-pink curve of his cocktip with a plop! a few glittery strings of pre and spit still connecting you lewdly to it. “…Keep them on?”
“Oh. Ohoho- you naughty lil’ thing.” He’s swatting over the slope of your dripping wet pussy n’ giving your clit a good pinch with his ringed fingers. “You like it like this- like- this-?”
He’s spitting out each word into your cunt, thrusting the barrelling tips of his fingerpads to graze just below your pulsating g-spot. “All those mouthy lectures?” In vulgar tandem strokes with the thwack! of his heavy, curvaceous balls slapping your chin. “And you wanna take it like- this- mama? Ohhh, it just makes me wanna…”
Trailing off, Sukuna’s body is just bulky - oh-so-tall that he can bend and reach down to cup your throat with his one free hand.
Digging five of his fingertips into the side of your throat as he’s holding your neck and squeezing- feeling the cylindrical outline of his cock bulging your poor mouth. Up n’ down, up n’ down- he’s feeling for the precise moments his plump cockhead lodges at the back of your throat.
“Who’d have known the cute lil’ teacher would be such a slut f’me. Cat got yer tongue, girl, orrrr—s’it just my dick?” Humming over your clit, he’s adding a fourth finger that swabs at the texture of your gummy walls.
“F-fuck off- ngh-”
“Wha’s that? Try- try and say my name?” Squeezing. Only feeling your ripped, pathetic vibrations. “Can f-feel myself over here.”
With four neatly pushing fingers.
Pulling back with a sluuurp–! Slowly, just so that you whimper that the knobs of his joints, just so that he can thump right on the target of your g-spot and make you cry out in cute bliss. “So s’only fair that I’m over here, pretty girl.”
“Yes- yes yes yes—” Words bubble out and slur out of your maw, in unison with such sloshing spurts of saliva.
You’re drooling everywhere - from both pairs of lips. Your mouth over Sukuna’s hard, vein-covered erection, glazing his puffy lines of veins with sap. And your pussy slide-slide-sliiiiding down the gaping area of his mouth, wide open and eagerly lapping up each sloppy drag of your hips.
Faster.
And now that Sukuna had actually found your most favorite spot, he couldn’t fucking stop.
Not when each whack at that same exact spot makes you splash your sweetened slick all down his throat, not when you were clenching your walls and cryin’ out at the frigid brush of his thick rings.
Again and again, he’s probin’ his crowned fingertips to push against the insides of your pussy, “Don’t think m’gonna last ngh-”
“Yeah-” And that’s not to say his tongue was letting you off easy, either- simply aching with the feverish state of his movements. But it hurt Sukuna more any moment he wasn’t snogging your glossy cunt, n’ so he’s slapping your clit with a wet one-two. Spank after spank to make your hips jerk back and forth, “Whaddaya want? To cum? S’that it?”
Blubbering over the taste of his slick, sensitive slit, “Yes- yes, please- m’so fucking close.”
“Not. You.” Each word ended with two swats on your simmering pussy, you’re webbing his chin all down with syrupy sap.
Moving off from your throat with a final squeeze, a bicep tightening ‘round your hips to squeeze you in place. “Not you- but you, pretty girl.” Slickly gliding back and forth all over your pried-open cunt, all over the quivering rim of your hole. Everywhere and anywhere. “Why don’tcha talk louder?”
And it’s not just you riding his tongue dry - it’s Sukuna bucking animalistically upwards, too. Pressing the ridges of his washboard abs up against your front, you’re just fountaining out so much sappy slick that it’s running down to the large mouth that he had tattooed across his stomach. As if both his ravenous mouths were gulping up each of your slick puddles.
Crooning at the oversaturated squelch that spills out of you- he’s nodding like he’s never heard a sweeter sentence. Nudging his knuckles to bump against your g-spot, “If you say so—”
You don’t get to find out what he’s hearing - but you’re registering the gist soon enough.
Because by then Sukuna has his ringed index swiping your g-spot, coldly massaging that bundle of nerves. Hard. Sloppy. At the very same second he’s settling the fringes of his canines on your perky clit and streeeetching-
“O-oh my god I’m—” Keening out a whimper, your high runs you over like a rollercoaster. And you’re rocking your boneless body to and fro just as much, thumping your thighs into Sukuna’s sharp jawline.
“Yes-” Clenching around his motions so hard that he has to fight to unstick his digits from the sides of your bubblegum walls, still fucking you through your lecherous high. “Oh, hell yeah, been so good for you, mama- why don’tcha reward me? Use me- hck- use me.”
As if you weren’t thrusting your cunt back into his face in a frenzy already, he’s using the arm holding onto your waist to keep you repeatedly moving.
Tired-out. Fingers tugging into each crevice of your velvety walls. Cheeks aching and hollow where he’s putting such force on your throbbing clit to suck- “Ride my- mmmf-” Talking with his mouth full, “Ride my fuckin’ face raw- wanted to taste y’cumming on my tongue for so long.”
With your spine arched, you’re pulling off of the bulged tip of his cock just as he’s spewing out a slimy ribbon of ivory white. Just a single drivel of cum- just from the way you’re cumming.
“God- god fucking dammit.” Sukuna spits, right into your cunt. And he barely even takes his eyes off of your slobbering pussy to snake a free hand down and plug his geysering orifice with his thumb.
Stopping himself promptly from cumming if it isn’t anywhere near your pussy.
But that didn’t mean he was letting you get away.
Oh, no- he’s still pulling you back with inclines of his head like a man addicted. Thoroughly drunk on the heady globs of slick that travelled between your legs, pushing and pushing himself upwards to glue his glossed lips all over your cunt.
You can feel yourself squealing with each lap of his scratchy tongue- the primal overstimulation too much that great droplets of tears take over your eyes.
“O-oh– fuck- m’so sensitive, Sukuna.” You’re arching your back away- “I don’t know if I- oh!” Only to get pulled back down. Toes curling when this only spurs him to dive himself even deeper, flopping out the flexible end of his tongue to try n’ flit past your squeezing hole.
Drawling, “Remember those fuckin’ sugar cookies? You taste- hah- even fucking better.”
Sniffling, your spine zings with a few more zaps of electricity as he’s starting to caress your sweetened g-spot once more.
And the only thing you can do is try and pathetically pry his firmly-planted palm from his lengthy shaft, trying for the life of you to just get another taste-
“Oh. Oh.” Sukuna gasps from behind, pink brows raising. “I see what you’re doing, pretty girl. H-heh…hungry for more, are you?”
He didn’t need any further answer - because the way you’re cutely clenching to glaze his scouring digits tells him more than enough.
And before you know it, you’re finding yourself pulled off of his long, aching cock like some glorified ragdoll. Sukuna was just so large - in every sense of the word - that he could manhandle you with only one arm.
Clinging onto the side of your waist as he’s sitting up, he makes you straddle the twitchy length of his cock. And now that you were seated upon his lap- oh, could you admire him.
Ryomen Sukuna was a fucking masterpiece.
From the bands of tattoos circling his biceps, his wrists, straight down to the plush of his sculptured thighs. “Like what you see?” He tilts his head cockily down at you, slouching sexily back on your wooden headboard to let you take in all of his tensed core.
Glistening pecs all temptingly large, abs ripped.
“M’gonna get those pretty haaah- fucking initials of yours tatted.” He’s tapping the prominent side of his left v-line with a polished finger, “Right here.”
Climbing further upon his lap, you rest your ass cheeks back against his swaying cock, bobbing so hard n’ proud between your sheeny thighs. Pouting, “Only if you fuck me, Kuna— ngh-”
“Kuna? Tch- you see that lil’ tattoo here, mama?” He sounded as if he was shattering, and he’s leaning back so that you can take a goood, long look at the circular tattoo on his base. Nuzzled by the tufts of his pinkish happy trail, and his tender underside - but it was still there.
Like a target. And Sukuna’s thinking the exact same thing, “You’re gonna take it riiiight- till- here-” Lodging the swollen end of his shaft to plug your hole, it’s such a tiiight fit as he starts bullying inside. “Until- hah-” Feeling a hand down your tummy, your womb. “-here.”
He was going to fit himself until your pretty pussy won’t be able to forget him.
And it takes only seconds for you to be clawing onto his tattooed deltoids for dear life, feeling the inner parts of your thighs slip n’ slide down his own with perspiration. You scramble with the stringy, slightly-torn fabric of your panties still on- “Kuna- Su–Kuna, this-”
“Nah, let it stay.” Snickering, he claws onto the top of your scalp. “You have much…heh- bigger ngh- problems ta worry about, pretty girl.”
Bigger - his prolonged shaft was simply ravaging your walls. Plumply ballooned-up enough that his veiny layer rubs your sweetest spots without even meaning to, and you’re just seeing stars with every inch deeper his mazing cock spears through. “Fuck- fuck, it really is big-”
“Mhm– and you’re going- to take- it all.” Times like this he’s wishing he had just about four fucking hands. Because one’s pushing down, down, down on the lolling top of your head, the other’s pushin’ your trembling thighs apart just so you could straddle his meaty hips. “All hah- say my name. Say my name while you take it-”
And he always did love the way you said his name.
The way you’re letting free a few bubbly spurts of saliva as you’re babbling away–”Sukuna- Su-” Throat clogging up with so many sobs of utter bliss, “Kuna—”
“Again with the ‘Kuna’- s’not my name, silly girl.” Even though each sound of that slurring nickname makes him twitch against your deepest insides.
But you can’t even hear him properly, eardrums distantly popped until the only thing you can feel is the thump! of your heartbeat between your legs. And the way that his reddened, slick-glazed tip was thrashing your tight insides, “Kuna- ngh, please, Kuna. Wan’ it a-all hck! Inside.”
The swabbing girth of his cock was so fat that he has you stupid with just his size, biceps bulging as he’s pressurizing down on your head. “God-” And you can only blink pathetically once he’s bringing up his free hand to your blurry line of sight. Hissing, “Bite down-” Lips smirking as you plant a kittenish bite, he fucks up into you once to make your force increase. “Bite down harder and take it.”
He wasn’t wasting any time - he didn’t have the fucking patience.
He barely even had the sanity to tease you and edge you for hours on end like he’d always wanted to. Instead fucking up into you like a damn animal- he’s swatting your cunt with the edge of his throbbing cock. Spitting through clenched teeth, “O-oh, if yer gonna ask for all of it then m’not playin’ around, ma.”
You sink your teeth in and nearly scream into the flesh of his forearm, gnawing down right at his tattoo. “Mmmpf- big- nghh–” Unable to fucking take it, the only thing you can do is arch your hips deeper and let his pummeling rams spike your poor insides.
Hitting the very back of your cervix with a wet thwack! that makes your eyes damn near bulge out of your head.
He…bottomed-out.
“Lemme check now…” Taking a single peek at the way his hilt was all covered up by your bloated folds until he couldn’t see that tattoo anymore. “S’all in.”
And the towering man wasn’t celebrating once he did - he was pumping all his fleshy inches into you like he’d gone feral.
Eyes dazed and hooded, mouth frothing with a line of silver drool - Sukuna grunts after each singular gliiiide of his watery orifice drawing down the bottom of your pussy. Sloppy. “F-fucking hell, never felt like this- what the…”
“Are you okay- oh god nghh–”
“M’fuckin’ more than okay.” Spitting out crassly, Sukuna swerves his hips off of the rickety bedsprings to drag his cock harder down your cunt. And it just felt so delicious to have his swollen veins stir up your walls, “S’just— who let you feel this good?”
Your honeyed cunt has made him way too pussydrunk that now he’s tattling out everything from his melty mind. And you can only whine– “Heh-” One hand grazing his scorched ear, “You’re blushing, Kuna- better not be ngh- tapping out on me.”
“Tapping out?” Punctuated by a hard spank against the door to your womb - exactly where he said he would be - and then a harder one against your mapped-out g-spot. “Me? Me tappin’ out?”
Blinking through the splotchy whites sparking in your vision, “Y-yeah- fuck!”
SPANK!
Oh-so-hard, he’s swatting your pussy with enough stinging force that it makes glittering drops of slick splash across his slamming palm. “You n’ this smartass pussy are gonna see.” He’s gritting through dangerously grinning teeth, “There’s a fuckin’ reason I’m Ryomen fucking Sukuna.”
Because he’s rude - and he fucks even ruder.
Pounding away upwards into you like he doesn’t care if he’s bruising great purple bruises at the bottom of your cervix. The mattress creaks in fervent protest after each gyration of his hips, “P-please-” The only thing you’re mewling out like a broken record, “I-it just feels so…”
Trailing off, your movements are sluggish as your hand starts to slither down between your rutting legs. Yearning to just touch your neglected clit-
SPANK!
“Oi- and who’d ya think you are to touch- hngh- my pretty girl?” He’s grinning, manhandling you in an instant. Before your candied brain can catch up, Sukuna has both your arms pinned behind your back, chin hitting his cushy pecs. “I’ll touch her when I feel like it-”
Such a fucking tease, at the constant timing of his slimy mushroom tip spearing your cunt like a headlight- Sukuna lifts off one of his hands downwards.
Replacing your own with his roughened fingers, he pinches your poor clit—“Sh-shit m’so sensitive there- keep going, Kuna–”
And at this point you weren’t just drooling you were sheening the entirety of his smooth pectorals with a shiny polish. Letting it smear down the side of your cheek as you drunkenly lean on them like pillows, “Chehhh-” He’s spitting out, staring down at the glistening glaze dripping down to his bumpy abs. “Tha’s supposed to stay inside, pretty girl.”
“I-inside?” Dazedly, the only thing you can think of were your rummaging insides, the way that Sukuna was fucking you like he hated you.
But it was the complete opposite. And he’s draggin’ on your clit, giggling to himself like he’s in love as he watches you huff n’ puff. “God you love it like this- c’mon, ngh- teach, milk this fucking cock- why don’t ya?”
“I-I am-”
SPANK!
“Harder, mama, make me feel it.”
With a right spank to emphasize his sentence, he’s jostling his hips upwards so you’re left throwing your head back at the full, stretching impact. Unable to even handle the slightly spring recoil that comes with striking your cervix, he’s bouncing you on his pelvis.
“S’this what you thought about every- hah- time you saw me?” Taking hold of your neck for a brief moment, he’s spitting doooown your throat. “Wantin’ me to fuck this- ngh- pussy raw?”
And the locked restraint on your neck helps bend you into the perfect geometrical curvature to stare up at him as he collapses forwards. Hot breath wafting your features, you whimper- “Y-yes.”
“Not you.”
“Kuna.”
“I’ve been dreamin’ of this for aaages now-” His clammy forehead crinkles as he’s scratching down your clit with the rough texture of his happy trail. Leaving it all stinging n’ raw to make sure the impact is extra sensual as Sukuna rubs over a slooow ‘K’ right on top.
Rutting into your poor cunt so hard that the skin surrounding his v-line was all reddened- and he can’t help but take one look and moan. “M’getting that tattooed.” Watching as his mean, curvaceous cock molded your walls constantly to him. “Oh- trust when I say-”
And then a ‘U’
“Fuh-fuuuuck, please-” It almost feels like you’re begging for your damn life by now, lungs ripping with moans every time he’s thumping up. You ride your hips in a sexy figure-eight and feel the way Sukuna’s thumb trembles on your clit.
A wobbly ‘N’
And you already knew what was headed next- oh, you were already prepared.
But what you weren’t ready for was the completely vicious way that he’s accelerating his papping hips, so fast that the dark tattoo nuzzling your entrance was almost a blur. Thump after thump-
You’re falling over until that symbolic inking of a widely-opened maw on his stomach licks up your core. Body twitching with white hot flashes of something electric running through your veins, “F-fuck- fuck, s’not gonna last-”
“S’that soooo—?” Sukuna asks down at your pussy to confirm, and only after a few ‘uh-huh’’s does he bore into your stupidly heart-shaped eyes. Tongue lolling straight out for him to lap up into his own mouth, “She says you’re close-”
A firm ‘A’
Another SPANK!
“-and I say you’re cumming already.”
“Wh-what…”
He’s ending off with a perfect heart shape rolled over your clit. What’s that spell- he’s asking mentally.
Only for you to mewl wantonly as if you’d just heard. “Kuna- Sukuna- Yes- yes m’cumming m’cumming—”
It’s like you’re enveloped in a tidal wave - you didn’t know where your orgasm started and where it ended. Just that Sukuna’s moans break into something octaves higher as he fucks you through your bliss.
You claw down the expanse of his flexing back with each burst of pre splattering your gooey insides. Toes curled, eyes all teary. “I-it’s so- hck! Feels too good…”
Turning you into absolute mush every time he pumps his thorough inches into you- and the mean fingers on your nub just tug n’ tug.
And it’s only after a few more of your shrilling whines that you’re still feeling the hot entrance of his shaft plummeting through, your walls squeezing ‘round his flared tip. “I want you to cum, too, Sukuna.”
“F-fuck.” He lets out, softly.
Cupping his attractive face, if you thought you were gone then you weren’t ready for the way that Sukuna looked. Cheeks burning hot and red, mouth parted with overspilling drool, brows furrowed into such an expression that it almost makes you feel shy.
Repeating those very same words, you start sloppily swervin’ your hips straight to his. “Cum inside m- ngh, please?”
All this time and his cute lil’ teacher was still minding her p’s and q’s.
So, of course, when you’re asking him that nicely- it’s the least he could do to listen. To let out a final, vulgar stroke that has him spilling over the edge.
In great, piling heaps of ivory cum that puddles at the bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that your ears ring with the lecherous sluuurp–! as your cunt walls suck up every last steaming drop.
You can feel it trailing down the insides of your thighs like a waterfall and keen, “Just like that, f-fuck…” Almost like you’re hypnotized, you drag one of his much-larger hands to palm the outside of your tummy. “Can feel it all the way here.”
“O-oh my god…” He’s groaning, eyes drifting off to the back of his head as soon as you’re meeting his tempo. Slamming down to rob his aching balls, milking him all dry - you were overspilling and it still wasn’t enough. “Y’really are a dream.”
And there’s something about the way he’s sluggishly brushing away a stray bead of perspiration from your temple. Something about that lazy, half-lidded look in his eyes, the complete n’ utter reverence in his tone as he asks- “So…s’your type ‘dangerous’, mama?”
Almost…shy.
Oh, it hits you. He’s pussydrunk.
You’d made big, bad Ryomen Sukuna completely and utterly pussydrunk.
To the point where his studded ears flare a deep crimson once you giggle, “Mmm- pretend dangerous, Kuna.” His eyes shine. You think back to that night at the Itadori household, “And I also remember something about quadruplets?”
It’s then that Sukuna whimpers.
Not even pulling out. Not even considering such an impossible feat for even a split-second before he rolls your weakened body over.
Hovering over you now, it’s so easy for his beefy arms to tug your legs over his shoulders. Still shaking. Still suffering from the aftermath of your orgasm as he’s holding them tight and bending down, down, dooooown.
Straight into a mating press.
Oh, your breath catches.
“Before I pound you until you can’t haaah- walk, mama-” Uncharacteristically, Sukuna gulps as he shifts his crimson eyes away from you. “-m’I giving you quadruplets that’ll have my last name?”
Now that was a round-about way to ask someone out- and he knows it, too.
But it only makes you shuffle up onto your elbows on the now-ruined sheets, sticking to you like glue. You place a lingering peck on Sukuna’s wobbly, overstimulated lips, “Mm- I love you, too, Kuna.”
Oh, how he loves you. He almost cums right then and there.
Fuck.
He does.
.
.
.
“You.”
“You.” Yuji narrows his eyes down at the sight of Ryomen Sukuna towering over the busy preschool pick-up. Trying to look over his broad shoulders for any sign of his father, “Huh? But dadda said he was coming to pick me up today?”
Sukuna gingerly scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, well…listen, twerp- I mean, kid. There’s something I need to-”
Only to be cut off by a dramatic gasp—“Oh no- Did dadda go to jail just like you-”
“No,”
“Did he drive fast-”
“No.”
“Did he drink-”
“No-”
“Did he slash tires-”
“Maybe once?”
And fuck- he really didn’t understand tiny children, because explain to him why the pink-haired boy starts bawling in his arms. Pitiful enough to draw the glares of parents wrenching their own children away from the perpetrator, loud enough to draw the sweet concern of you.
Walking from your station saying goodbye to one other student, “Yuji what- oh!” You’re pressing your lips together to contain your smile as you happen to see who was throwing Yuji on his shoulders to soothe him. Bouncing him lightly until he smiled- and you did, too. “I didn’t expect you so early today, Kuna.”
“Yeah, well.” He’s using Yuji’s palms to cover the pinkish ends of his blushing ears, “Decided I wanted to see ya off from work today.”
Now past grief and straight into utter nosiness- “Wait- what do you mean ‘see off’.” He gasps, “Is she going to ja-”
“Brat-”
“What your uncle means to say, Yuji-” Playfully pinching his chubby cheeks, you try to ignore the gawking stares of every other one of your remaining students as you promptly turn to face Sukuna. Giving him a sweet, sweet peck on his. “-is that you’ll be seeing a lot more of me around.”
Another gasp - well, multiple.
One from Itadori Yuji, who gapes, open-mouthed between you and his uncle - as if wondering how he ever managed to bag you, and wait does that mean you’re his auntie now?
About twenty from your crowd of students, right along with a few whispers.
“Hey, isn’t that weird Mr. Mugshot?”
“So that’s why Mr. Mugshot was always red- eugh! In my momma’s dramas they don’t get together, they just die.”
Fushiguro frowns, “I would rather die than watch him like this. Gross.”
“Caviar.”
Walking up from the group, Fushiguro tugs on your skirt. Innocently - but Sukuna could feel the evil intent. He just knew that boy was a villain. “Inumaki asks whether you mind that he sets fires, miss.”
What the fuck is with the fires-
And then finally - three distinct, unfortunately familiar gasps that make Sukuna dread turning around. Struggling against it, even as his nephew tugs on his locks of pink hair with a delighted squeal- “Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps-”
You smile, watching Choso take flustered pictures of his uncle. “How the hell did you even win her over? All of these are going in the blackmail folder. Maybe your wedding presentation too.”
Sukuna bites back a shy blush- turning it into a scowl, “Maybe…”
“Well, I’ll be.” Wasuke nods his head in approval, “All thanks to the ah- ‘wingmanning’ as the kids say. I’ll be expecting at least three grandchildren in the future, sonny. And when I say ‘future’ I mean in nine months-”
“Dad! It’s too early for that.” Jin, ever-the-voice-of-reason, gives you a breezy handshake. “Congratulations- by the way.” And it’s all soft. It’s all sweet- that is, until you’re trying to pull your hand back and he only tightens his grip. Smile still tightly in place, “I will be the kids’ godfather, by the way.”
Settling an arm around you now, You and Sukuna don’t know whether to laugh or stand in shocked silence as Jin finally sets you free - but you don’t have to make the choice.
Because the annoying, grating voice of Todo Aoi breaks through—“Noooooo– my bride!”
warnings/notes; my own headcanons , reader is teacher in elementary school , this is mostly reader-centered (a way i like to narrate and that i will explain briefly: creepypastas are people alien to the protagonist. therefore, the protagonist will go through life without knowing about the creepypasta until it is too late. most likely, my stories that have functional people -meaning people who work, study or have their normal life- as 'readers' will be of this kind of readings at least in certain cases) , mentions of killing and more. probably some mispelling mistakes.
The recent winter schedule change had applied to your work. As a teacher, it was clear that children would have more difficulty getting up, more trouble responding and that didn't qualify well for your classroom which, despite having children who were very quiet and involved, their parents also had a bad sleep schedule. Especially now.
You liked winter since you were little, maybe because of jumping in puddles of water on streets that had potholes or because you liked being at home by the stove while watching your favorite movies. Now, as an adult, it was a problem.
Your car was still at the mechanic after problems you'd been ignoring for months, but you'd always been someone who ignored those little details.
"It'll be running soon. It just needs a little bump to shake it out” was your way of excusing the roar of the engine that tried to listen to you until one exam morning when it wouldn't start anymore. Your students of course were thrilled.
Now walking in the rain with your umbrella in hand, your backpack on your back and your bag of school supplies in the other hand, you felt that your life was not so bad. The pay was good at school –probably because it was a town with few people– and the children's parents or grandparents were also very polite and understanding of your problems.
In a town where everyone knew each other, it was nice to know that you were already identified as 'Miss' at parent center meetings or neighborhood meetings. Proud of the title that hung in your home, of course. Oh, you had to pay the electric bill this week. A little reminder.
You adjusted your jacket a bit as you kept walking and among the thousands of job postings on the pole, you noticed a recent ad. The rain hadn't yet undone the paper and you slowed your journey to read.
“MISSING PERSON: KATHERINE WOODS. 10 years old.”
Your heart squeezed as you read the description. She was from a couple of towns over, missing after the murder of her parents. You remembered the case, you'd seen it on the news that morning it happened on Channel 5. The bodies were found with their throats slit in their beds, bound and gagged.
It reminded you of a movie that came out a few years ago. Sinister.
A small emptiness remained in your chest thinking about the crimes. Of course that happened in the country, but in small towns? Where everyone knew each other? It was terrible to know that a person came out of nowhere to slaughter people for… fun, in your view. There is no reason to kill innocents. No reason to leave children without their families.
Moving forward, you just wished the poor child would rest in peace. The information was already a week old and you were sure that, with pain in your heart, she was no longer in the world of the living.
“Ah, Miss!” a car passed by you and almost threw water on you, but as they slowed down it was a pleasant distance away to not get you wet. You turned and were surprised to see the father of one of your students and smiled at him, nodding.
“Good morning, Mr. Elias.”
“Would you like a ride?” he asked and for a few seconds you hesitated, but as the rain was slowing down in intensity, you denied. He worked on the outskirts of town and you'd rather he arrive on time. Walking wouldn't take you too long.
“Oh, thank you very much for the offer, but I'm fine. I'll walk,” you smiled at him and he politely insisted.
“Are you sure? It's no problem at all.”
“I'm fine, thank you very much. Have a good day at work.” you nodded and he said goodbye softly, smiling.
His son Thomas was a good boy, just like his father. Humble and caring. He had a good teaching. You still felt sorry for the death of his wife years ago, who sadly committed suicide in the forest.
You turned your head to the opposite side of the street where a few meters away you could see the fences surrounding the immense green place and sighed, thoughtfully.
Death is so close to everyone.
“Tch— t–that bastard–” you heard a little rustle a few steps away from you and as you turned to look ahead, you were surprised to see a boy hunched over. Bah, boy was being very nice, he was a man about your age. In his thirties. Your heart squeezed at the sight of him alone, sitting in the middle of the street and for a few seconds you even thought you recognized him as someone from around, but no.
“Excuse me, are you okay?” you asked from a safe distance. If he was a bum, you'd rather chose he didn't hit you or insult you, but he did neither. Instead, he bopped his head gently, but repeatedly and you took a step closer. “It's raining.” you reported, as if it were a surprise to someone who was completely wet. “You'll get sick if you don't go home.”
He didn't answer you and you didn't want to sit next to him, but the usual instinct of concern –which had been pedagogically formed in you– was stronger and you moved closer, making a small sound before touching his shoulder.
You had already had your share of different children in classrooms and from the way he acted it didn't seem to be a panic attack or something that could be life–threatening, but something of his own. Soft sounds before a physical touch were the ideal thing to avoid sudden movements or aggressive attitude.
“Hey.” you smiled at him and when he turned to look at you you kept the smile, though his face showed nowhere near the kindness you offered.
His hair was wet even underneath the cap of his jacket and he was wearing a black mask that covered his mouth and nose, so you could only see his eyes. They were brown, with a dull tone that made you question whether you should really talk to him. But leaving someone in the rain wasn't very kind and the weight of conscience would come to you later, thinking about what you could have done to help him. “What's your name?”
He blinked repeatedly and stuttered before speaking. “T–t... Tobias.”
“It's nice to meet you, Tobias. What are you doing in the rain?” you asked patiently, squatting down beside him, but he didn't move away, though he didn't move closer either.
“P-problems… with… m–my teammates...” he stammered, looking down at his hands. They looked a little purple, and you became concerned, though you didn't say so explicitly.
“I see,” you nodded and held out the umbrella so it would protect both of you. “Well… it wouldn't be good for you to stay here all morning, would it?” your voice was soft and gentle, the same one you delivered to your colleagues in the morning.
“Y–you don't care. Nobody gives a f–fuck ab–buh–bout what I do” he spat with annoyance and you were quick to correct.
“But you do care, don't you?” you cocked your head to the side, maintaining your smile. “You're here alone for a reason. You wanted time to think and you got caught up in the rain, or am I wrong?”
He snorted, but didn't deny your words and in a kindly way, you extended your umbrella towards him.
“And I care too… because everyone in this town must come home dry. There is always someone waiting for us. Like loved ones or just friendships… don't you think?” his eyes connected with yours and for a moment, he stood looking at you and you could better appreciate his face.
“There's no one for me.” he admitted hoarsely.
“Someday there will be. And it will be worth every second you fought with your coworkers.” you laughed softly and he shook his shoulders. Not a chuckle, but something close to one. “Go on home. Have a good day, Tobias.” you smiled at him as you stood up. The rain was softer now.
For a few seconds he just sat there, watching you leave. You could have sworn he smelled the umbrella, but you chose to ignore it. You always ignored some small details.
…
“All right, then— can you tell me how we feedback today's class?” you smiled at your students and at least three hands shot upward. Almost a month had passed since that rainy day and honestly, everything felt quiet. You didn't run into Tobias again and after talking to people around, you knew there was no Tobias in town, but maybe he was just passing through.
Maybe he was working in the electrical area and stayed at the inn in town. Since the winter started, the electrical problems were getting worse and worse. Short-lived blackouts, lights flickering in certain parts of town. It wasn't beyond belief.
You wrote down a couple of words on the blackboard. Key concepts that the kids copied into their notebooks before they started packing up their things.
“Remember that next week we have a formative activity. Form work groups of no more than four,” you reminded them, sitting down at your desk to begin planning next Monday's classes. Before they could speak to you, you anticipated, “And no, I will not accept groups of five.”
You heard some groans and laughed as you typed on your computer.
“Goodbye, Miss. Have a good afternoon!” ”Bye, Miss.” “Take care!” the goodbyes from the students were not long in coming and after a while, it was just you in the room.
Tap, tap.
You looked up out of inertia to turn to the window, but there was nothing there. It wasn't the first time it had happened, for a few weeks things had felt strange.
It's not that you didn't believe in the paranormal, but it was the first time something had happened to you since you were about twelve years old, maybe it was just the winter changes affecting your sleep and with it, your day.
You picked everything up once you were done, went to the teacher's cafeteria and noticed that it had started to rain again. Drops were falling and sliding down the windows. Maybe that's what you heard earlier. A short drizzle.
“Mhm…” you hummed a song you had heard on the morning radio on your way home as you put away the day's and tomorrow's material. You counted the copies, sighing to yourself.
“Job of four…that would be…so many copies…” you tried to remember, closing your locker and grabbing your backpack. Tomorrow morning you would arrive early to finish organizing it.
Walking at the entrance you politely said goodbye to the janitors who did the same and started walking with your cap on tightly to avoid getting your hair wet.
“Ah, teacher, this way!” in the parking lot of the school you noticed Thomas, raising his hand as his father arranged his scarf, his back to you, but soon Elias turned to see you and smiled sweetly.
“Would you like me to take you this time?” he asked and at the worsening rain, you sighed.
“If it's not too much trouble.” you scratched your cheek somewhat embarrassed, but Thomas was quick to get excited and reach over to take your hand, pulling you with him into the van excitedly.
The ride was uneventful. Thomas was telling his father about the day's homework, about playing with his classmates and more. You watched out the window as father and son had a pleasant conversation in which you preferred not to interject.
Maybe it was your idea as you passed by looking through the woods, but you swore you saw a figure with an axe that dissolved with the droplets fogging the car window.
“Miss, my father wants—” Thomas was interrupted by a loud cough and you turned quickly.
“Mhm?” you nodded, waiting for him to continue and Elias turned onto one of the streets, coming around the block to your place, braking in front of your house.
“I had thought of… inviting you to dinner one of these days?” he smiled shyly, looking to the side.
Your heart skipped a beat at the words, for you hadn't expected them. You knew it had been a while since his wife's death and you didn't want to intrude on a family, but from the look both males gave you, you felt welcome.
“I'll think about it.” you nodded after a few seconds. It wasn't to play hard to get, but rather to be able to, and it's worth the redundancy, think it over.
“Ah, of course. I hope that– the answer is yes, anyway, Miss.” Elias nodded as you got out of the van and smiled at them both.
“Thank you very much. Have a good afternoon. Don't forget your work for next week, Thomas.” you reminded the little boy who nodded.
As the van drove off, a slight but still present headache came to you and you hissed, holding your backpack better to enter your home. The door took a while –it always got stuck somehow– but soon gave way and you stepped inside. You took off your jacket, set your backpack on the couch and got ready to make some hot coffee. Anything to take the chill off your hands.
You tried not to dwell on the issue regarding the Williams' family and instead, got ready to watch TV, changing clothes to something more comfortable with a blanket on your intertwined legs.
Channel 5 promptly started up about another child disappearance which made you sigh nervously and clutch your mug tighter. In a family of five, all dead in some way. There was already starting to be talk of a serial killer a few days earlier. Your classmate, a philosophy professor discussed it in the cafeteria with other colleagues.
“He just goes after families and takes children. God knows what will happen to those poor souls.”
And she was right, which left you with even more anxiety.
You took another sip of coffee as the news moved on and so did the time. The lights flickered a little before your home suddenly went dark. You saw the time on your cell phone on the side and noticed it was almost nine o'clock at night.
There was no noise on the streets beyond the rain, so you calmly texted a co-worker.
“Is the power out at your house?” message sent at 20:43 PM.
“Not here. Did you pay the bill?” message sent at 20:44 PM.
“Yes. I paid it at the beginning of the month.” message sent at 20:44 PM.
“Maybe it's just a sector. It will be back soon.” message sent at 20:46 PM.
You were about to send another message when you heard a glass break from the second floor.
You stood still for a few seconds. Even the slightest noise was pertinent now and the rain was on the back burner.
“Someone broke into my house. Call the police.” message sent at 20:49 PM.
It wasn't a bird. You knew it wasn't. That force was from an elbow breaking glass. You knew because you once had to break the one in your car to get in again.
There was someone. Oh, god, there was someone rummaging through your things and your heart began to race. You stood up, setting the cup down slowly and carefully on the table in front of you, hands shaking.
“I–I'm not a good… s–singer…” the voice made your hair stand on end because you immediately recognized it. A month had passed, but it was impossible not to remember that voice. That stutter. “B–but I thought that… f–f–for a first date… it's ideal–to bring… m–music…”
The wood of the stairs creaked and with silent steps, you walked to the table, hiding underneath.
“And for those in love… this is a song by Anonymous for… a very special woman he met on a rainy day like this. We're moving on to Be My Baby by The Ronettes!"
The music gave you goosebumps and an instinct to gag was immediate as your body trembled to keep from crying.
“I uh, p–picked it for you…do you like it?” he kept moving forward and you heard his soft footsteps. “Be my… be my baby…” he sang in unison with the chorus. “I heard that… you put it on your-f-f-first day of school… to put the k–kids at ease…”
You couldn't even speak as you begged God to please don't die. That he would go away. That this was just a nightmare.
“Oh, since the day I saw you
I have been waiting for you”
The music dropped a little as you heard him a few steps away from you and heard your phone vibrate on the couch.
“Fuck” your lips quivered as you raised your head in despair.
“My girlfriend and I... are b–buh...busy.” he spoke after answering, dropping the phone on the floor and you saw the glow of the electronic go out as his axe split it in two.
It was him. In the woods on your way back. Another wave of fear invaded your body.
“Come out, p–please… my boss doesn't give me… m–muh–much time off…” he muttered, still walking until he settled on the table and you heard him sigh. “I–I brought your… umb–brella…”
He was about to turn around when the lights came on again and you heard him give a light chuckle.
“You were waiting for me with a s–surprise…?”
The television in the morning was turned on as usual.
HORROR IN WILLOW CREEK: MAN FOUND DEAD, SON AND TEACHER MISSING
Willow Creek, February 12th, 2014.
A gruesome crime has shaken the quiet town of Willow Creek after Elias Williams, 36, was found brutally murdered in his home Sunday night. His death, described by authorities as “cruel and violent,” has only deepened the mystery surrounding the disappearance of his son, Thomas Williams, 9, and the boy’s teacher that we don’t have enough information about besides her age, 31.
According to investigators, Elias and Thomas were last seen Friday afternoon when they dropped Thomas’ teacher off at her home during a heavy rainstorm. When police searched her house, the only thing left behind was an open umbrella near the principal door with blood that, according to authorities, was from Mr. Williams.
Sheriff Mark Grayson has called the case "deeply disturbing" and urged anyone with information to come forward.
hiii this is my first time requesting anything idk if you’ve gotten this before but can you do a really feminine clingy (like dresses and skirts all day everyday, likes cutesy things, does her hair all nice, likes to sit on his lap) reader x the creeps? like ej , hoodie , and masky or anyone you want 🙏 nsfw or fluff is fine !!! if you don’t wanna that’s totally fine thank you <333
Yessss, this is so sweet!! both NSFW and fluff included!
Creeps With a Girly S/O
♥︎ Ticci Toby ♥︎
He would be intimated by the feminine energy at first. It's not something he's used to at all, so when you enter his life, all pretty and dolled up, he's like: what do I do?
He doesn’t understand most of the things you love, but he’s completely mesmerized by them. He loves watching you paint your nails, totally focused as if your brushstrokes are some form of magic. He sits quietly as you hold up outfit options and ask what he thinks - he’s not great with words, but you can see it in his face: he thinks everything you wear is perfection.
Toby is obsessed with delicate, dainty lingerie. Lace, bows, little satin ribbons. Seeing you in a sheer nightgown or a matching set with tiny floral patterns drives him crazy in a way that’s not even fully sexual sometimes - it’s just too pretty. He never thought something so soft could exist next to someone like him.
If you ever ask him to zip up your dress or buckle the ankle straps on your heels, he does it immediately, no hesitation, straight to work. There’s something deeply grounding for him about helping you with gentle little tasks, it’s quiet intimacy, and he’s never had much of that before.
When you ask if you can practice doing makeup on him? No complaints. He doesn't get embarrassed easily, not when it's just you. He lets you brush highlighter over his cheekbones, coat his long eyelashes with mascara, gloss his lips, even curl his hair if you want. He’ll sit cross-legged on the floor, knees bouncing, fidgeting a little, but he lets you do whatever you want. He trusts you and your judgement, and he'll gladly be your little doll.
Spritzes your perfume on his wrist so he can smell you when he's out on missions <3
If you’re into plushies, Toby takes it seriously. If they’re important to you, they’re important to him. He’ll sit them upright if they fall over. He remembers which ones you sleep with. You didn’t think you'd ever be co-parenting stuffed animals, but here you are.
NSFW
Toby begs you to wear pretty lingerie in bed. He gets whiny about it, half playful, half desperate. “C’mon… wear that p-pink one. The one w-with the bows. Puh-please? Just once?” And when you do, he falls apart.
He loves fucking you with your panties still on, just pushing them aside, keeping that cute little barrier there as long as possible. It’s the contrast that gets to him - soft, pastel lace stretched thin while he’s deep inside you, his fingers gripping at your thighs like he’s holding on for dear life.
Tears your stockings all the time. He drags the tip of his hatchet up your leg just slow enough to make you squirm, then slices through the delicate fabric without hurting you. Sometimes he uses the hatchet to ruin your clothes first, slits open your panties with precision, lets them fall apart at your feet.
Begs you to stuff his mouth with your pretty panties while you ride him. He’ll whine and tug at your hips, flushed and desperate: “Put 'em in my m-mouth. Puh-please, just, your p-panties, stuff 'em in–” And when you do, he moans like he’s being torn open. Just having your scent on his tongue, your lace between his teeth while you fuck yourself on him, he’s gone. That alone could make him cum, hands trembling, hips twitching up into you.
♥︎ Tim/Masky ♥︎
You are his precious girl. Tim adores how feminine you are, it’s like your sweetness fills in all the rough hard-edged parts of him. You in your little dresses, soft voice, scented lotion, it all makes him feel grounded and needed in a way that’s hard to explain.
Having a girly girl feeds his masculinity like nothing else. Being the strong one beside someone so soft is his favorite thing in the world. When you're walking next to him in heels, swinging your purse and looking up at him fondly, and he’s all dark jacket and heavy boots... it't such a kick for him.
If you tell him you're gonna go get your nails done, he's giving you money before you even finish the sentence. Just hands you a wad of bills like "Here you go pretty girl, pick a nice color, yeah?".
Tim is obsessed with girly hairstyles. If you braid your hair or tie it up with ribbons, he can’t stop touching it. He’ll twirl strands around his fingers while you're watching TV or run his palm over the back of your head while kissing you.
Will never let your carry heavy stuff, ever. He’ll snatch it out of your hands and grunt like it's no big deal.
He loves having you sit in his lap when you're in a dress or skirt, bare thighs brushing against denim, skin warm and soft. He’ll stroke your legs absentmindedly while you talk, fingers sneaking under the hem just to feel the lace of your panties or trace the curve of your hip.
Tim loves to eat. So if you bake, if you show up with homemade cookies or cupcakes with sprinkles, he's in love. Feed him good and he'll treat you good. Also, wear a cute lil apron in the kitchen, he'll love it.
Big on pet names, will call you his sweet angel, sweetheart, princess, doll.
NSFW
Loves lipstick blowjobs! He’ll fuck your pretty red mouth and watch with glazed eyes as the lipstick smears all over your lips, your chin, his cock. When you’re drooling, eyes watery, mouth messy, he tilts your head up: “Look at you. Fuckin’ gorgeous. My perfect girl.”
He’s verbal in bed, a total praise dom. He can’t shut up about how soft, pretty, and good you are, especially when you're being passive and letting him do all the work. “That’s it, baby. Just lay there and look pretty. You’re doing so good for me.”
Tim loves himself a pillow princess. He doesn't mind you just laying there, looking beautiful as you're taking him.
If you’ve got braids in, you already know what’s coming. He’s fucking you from behind, one hand on your hip, the other tugging your hair with every thrust until you’re whimpering and seeing stars.
And if you’ve been teasing him, been bratty, or too slow to obey, he’ll bend you over his lap, palm pressed firm between your shoulder blades. “You wanna act like a bad girl? Then you’re getting spanked like one.” He doesn’t go easy. Big, hard slaps that leave your ass glowing red, his handprint clear and hot. He watches every flinch, every gasp, and only stops when you’re trembling and crying.
♥︎ Brian/Hoodie ♥︎
A girly girl is exactly Brian’s type. He’s not loud about it, but everything you do - how you dress, how you decorate your space, how you take care of yourself - it hits him deep. There’s something special to him about how you make the world a little softer just by existing in it.
He loves that you’re delicate, graceful, and self-aware. That you try to look beautiful. It makes him feel chosen.
Sundresses are his weakness. Especially when you pair them with heels. The light fabric, the way it flows when you move, the bare shoulders, he has to physically stop himself from pulling you into the nearest empty room.
You are his passenger princess!! <3 He doesn't think a pretty girl like you should ever have to drive a car ever again. He'll drive you to work, to Starbucks, to Sephora. You name it, he'll take you there.
He's a man of few words, he shows affection through actions. He’ll silently fix the wobbly leg on your vanity, reach for the coffee mug on the top shelf, or carry your entire haul of shopping bags with zero reaction.
Eventually, when the trust is strong, he lets you have a lil spa day with him. You warm a towel, lay him back, and go through your entire skincare routine on his face. He’s tense at first, but your fingers are so soft, so careful. He closes his eyes, breath slowing. You work in silence, and somewhere between the exfoliator and toner, he almost falls asleep.
NSFW
Brian has a deep fixation on seeing you on your knees, begging for him. He expects pleading from you. He stands there with his cock in hand, looking down at you, dark eyes unreadable as you whimper for it. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how bad you want it.” He wants his girl to be desperate for him.
He demands gratitude. When he wrecks you, makes you cum until your legs shake, he waits for you to thank him.
He loves how innocent you look. It doesn’t matter if you’re not really innocent, he’s hooked on the illusion. The perfect little dress. The sweet smile. The perfume. It makes him rougher. He needs to ruin it. He wants to see sweat running down your neck, mascara smudged, thighs trembling.
Enjoys seeing you flustered and shy, seeing you blush when he calls you "slut" or "whore". It only pushes him to be more cruel, to mock and tease you further.
When he's pleased with you, he'll call you a "good girl".
And yes - he’ll fuck you while you're wearing a pretty dress.
♥︎ BEN Drowned ♥︎
He thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and that’s saying something, considering he's on the internet all the time and has seen everything. The first time he lays eyes on you in your full girly glory, the only thought in his head is: Mine.
He fully supports your girliness… even if he teases the hell out of you for it. “What are you, sponsored by Hello Kitty?”
If you’re into Sanrio, kawaii plushies, or cutesy characters, he goes insane. He buys you merch like it’s a sport - socks, crop tops, sweatpants, panties with character prints, collectible toys, themed blankets, limited-edition perfumes. If it's pink and has ears? You own it.
He’s obsessed with how you smell. Like lotion, shimmer body oil, sweet perfume. He’ll press his face into your pillow just to breathe you in. He’ll sniff your worn shirts. Unashamed.
He will watch all your favorite rom-coms and silly shows with you. He complains constantly (“This is so dumb”), but 15 minutes later he’s gripping the pillow, whispering: “No way she’s going back to the ex. That’s actual garbage behavior.”
He begs to pick out your outfits. Not just lingerie, everything. He wants to style you like his personal doll.
You sitting in his lap doing your makeup while he’s gaming, that's his dream. He’s got one hand on the controller, one arm around your waist, totally content with the feeling of you leaning into him, applying lipgloss and giggling at his game.
He loves when you take cute selfies with him! He likes that you both look like complete opposites, him with messy hair and a hoodie, you in a cute floral dress and lipstick. He posts the selfies with dumb captions like: “opposites attract and btw i'm the one who gets pegged.” (…He’s kidding. Mostly.)
He’s surprisingly generous. Online purchases? Gift cards? Impulse mall trips? He's all in, especially if you let him pick your underwear and model for him in the dressing room.
NSFW
Ben is a freak, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. The second he finds a cute pink vibrator in your drawer, he stares at it for a full ten seconds before grinning like: “Can I use this on you? I wanna see your legs shake.”
And If you don’t have one, he’ll buy it for you himself. Bonus points if it’s sparkly or has a bow.
He's so into roleplay - specifically the dynamic of you being soft, innocent, helpless… and him taking full advantage of it. He’ll pin you down on the bed and murmur in your ear: “What’s a sweet little thing like you doing all alone in that short skirt, huh?”
He's the kind of guy who moans louder when you call him names back. “Pervert.” “Freak.” “Degenerate.” He lives for it.
He’s obsessed with your accessories during sex. If you’re giving him a handjob and your bracelets are jingling, he’s losing his goddamn mind.
His biggest weakness is the contrast between your innocent look and how filthy you get for him. That perfect eyeliner, those pouty glossed lips, your cute little top, all of it completely undone by how much you want him. It genuinely short-circuits his brain.
He’ll record it. Watch it back later. Probably jerk off to the sound of your soft moans mixed with the jingling of your damn bracelets.
♥︎ Jeff the Killer ♥︎
Jeff relentlessly mocks your girly aesthetic. He'll do high-pitched impressions, fake giggles, and dramatic air kisses just to get on your nerves.
Steals your lip balm constantly, just to mess with you. He’ll put it on with a mocking face like “ooo berry blast bimbo, my fave” but then secretly keeps doing it because it actually feels nice and makes his lips all soft.
Despite all his posturing, Jeff lives for the contrast between the two of you. Your softness, your light, it’s so foreign to him, but it reminds him not everything has to be gloomy and dark all the time.
Weirdly enough, he's insanely good at doing hair. Something about muscle memory + control. If you pout and beg long enough, he finally caves, grumbling as he parts your hair with precision and starts weaving an intricate braid like he’s done it a thousand times. He has very skilled hands and they come in good use.
If you love plushies, he'll pretend to hate them, but one night he walks in and throws a beat-up teddy bear at your head. It’s clearly been stolen, but it's real cute. “Here. Whatever. It looked stupid. Thought you’d like it.” And then he'll dodge your hugs and pretend he's annoyed when you try to thank him.
He will use your $38 coconut body scrub in the shower. And your shampoo. And your leave-in conditioner. He smells like a vanilla cookie and refuses to admit it. And oh, don't expect him to replace any of those products, he'll use them till they're finished and then wait for you to buy new ones.
NSFW
Loves seeing you ruined for him - makeup smudged, mascara running down your cheeks. There's something about destroying a pretty exterior, it flips a switch in him. “You got all dressed up just to be ruined, huh, princess?”
The more dolled up you are, the rougher he gets. He wants to fuck the innocence right out of you until you’re shaking and crying for him.
He'll make you hold your favorite plushie against your chest while he's pounding you. “Tell your little friend Mr. Snuggles what a filthy fucking whore you are.” And being the asshole he is, he'll probably cum on the plushie's face, and laugh while you squeal and try to clean it off.
Knifeplay is a non-negotiable kink for him. He loves pressing the blade against your inner thigh while you’re still wearing your sweet little dress. Maybe he slices one of the straps just to watch it fall.
Gets you a pink collar to wear during sex. “C'mon, put it on. You look like my little pet. Mine to fuck, mine to bleed, mine to keep.”
♥︎ Eyeless Jack ♥︎
Jack is initially cautious around you. Your softness, your voice, your expressions, they're all so vivid and alive. At first, it’s disorienting. He’s used to silence, detachment. But you… you talk with your hands. You wear pink. You even hum while folding laundry.
He studies your every move thoroughly. He watches you adjust your stockings, put on earrings, smooth down the hem of your dress with gentle fingers. It mesmerizes him in a way that feels almost wrong.
He’s extremely scent-sensitive. Overly sweet or artificial fragrances like cotton candy, synthetic vanilla or tropical fruit give him headaches. He prefers natural, clean and warm scents like fresh laundry and unscented lotion. So when you switch your body products for his sake, he notices instantly. “That smells like you. Not product. Thank you.”
He’s not overtly affectionate, but his care is structured. He’ll quietly clean up your space when you're overwhelmed. Organize your vanity. Fix the hinge on your drawer. He won’t mention it, but he wants to be useful, to support your softness.
He doesn’t get the point of makeup, but he never disrespects you for it. He watches you do your lil routine like he’s observing a sacred ritual. Might even ask some questions about your products or read the ingredient list with genuine interest, he genuinely wants to know what you're putting on your pretty face.
If you wear your heart on your sleeve, if you cry easily - he freezes. He cares, but emotion is foreign to him. He doesn’t comfort you the way others might, he simply just kneels beside you and offers a silent shoulder to cry on. He might even kiss your tears, tasting the salt, the wetness, the quiet ache of your pain.
NSFW
He loves when you wear light, minimal lingerie. Delicate lace, pale silk, soft straps. Especially in white, cream, or pastel colors. You look so soft, you remind him of a little lamb. And he wants to ruin you precisely because you look so pure.
Your reactions are everything to him. You whimper. You arch your back. Your lip trembles. He watches every single flicker of movement with dark, unreadable intensity, as if he's studying you from the inside out.
If you’re too loud, too whiny, he gently places his hand over your mouth and tilts his head: “Shh. Let me feel you. Focus.”
He likes when you cry from pleasure, not out of pain or fear, but that teary-eyed, mascara-smudged overwhelmed look you get when it’s too much but you still want more.
After he’s finished with you, he doesn’t speak much. But he dresses you again, pulls your pretty panties back up with careful fingers, might even brush your hair out for you.
what would the creep's bedrooms be like? also would they live in the mansion?
✦ . JEFF THE KILLER
Mansion, second floor, far end of the hall (he insists on distance from everyone else so he can be loud).
Chaotic, teenage-boy-lives-forever energy. Torn band posters on stained, yellowing walls, clothes and knives left absolutely everywhere. There’s a suspiciously fresh-looking blood trail leading to a closet where he sometimes dumps “souvenirs.”
Mattress directly on the floor, no sheets half the time, cheap-ass scratchy blanket, smells faintly of sweat, iron, and some weird aftershave he stole from Tim.
Coppery, acrid, the cheap detergent trying (and failing) to cover up gore. Always reeks of man.
Grunge-slash-homicidal frat boy. Knives in the bedside drawer, a lighter, and a dead phone he never charges.
You walk in and instantly feel like you’ll get tetanus just from breathing.
✦ . TICCI TOBY
Mansion, ground floor near the back door (so he can sneak out for walks in the woods).
Surprisingly cozy—walls covered in ripped-out nature magazine pages, newspaper clippings, string pinned to maps showing his routes because he forgets where he’s going sometimes. There’s a dog-eared stack of comic books on a crooked shelf.
Bed has a soft, lumpy mattress, flannel sheets with random holes burned through from cigarette accidents.
Faint pine needles, wood smoke, and that dusty old-cabin scent—like someone living half-outdoors.
Survivalist meets haphazard carelessness. Hiking boots in the corner, half a broken clock, a few childhood plushies hidden under the pillow (shhh).
Feels safe but unhinged, like you might get a hug or get punched depending on how you wake him up.
✦ . EYELESS JACK
Mansion basement, in a side room originally used for storage.
Spartan. There’s a single desk where he writes things down obsessively, walls scrawled with half-finished plans and tally marks. A faded Polaroid of a childhood memory is pinned over the light switch.
Sturdy cot with a gray blanket, and some pillows—he hates being too coddled.
Damp concrete, stale coffee, a faint hint of oil and mold from the water heater/pipes next door.
Bare, functional, borderline prison-cell chic. One pair of boots lined up perfectly by the door, weapons in a locked box that he barely touches.
Heavy, oppressive, a sense you shouldn’t be here without permission.
✦ . MASKY (TIM WRIGHT)
The mansion’s basement, in a converted maintenance room he took over.
Surprisingly warm, a little messy in a human way. There’s an old, secondhand couch covered in a plaid blanket, and a small lamp with a soft golden glow. A corkboard on one wall is pinned with yellowing Polaroids that Kate gives him.
A decently thick mattress, layered with an old quilt and mismatched sheets.
Dust, faint coffee, cheap cologne, and a trace of tobacco smoke from cigarettes he tries to keep outside but sometimes can’t help it.
Rustic comfort. Scuffed wooden nightstand, dented thermos for late-night coffee, a couple dog-eared paperbacks stacked by the bed. There’s even a half-finished crossword puzzle on the nightstand.
Cozy in a low-key depressive way, like a loner who’s made a small, stubborn safe place for himself in a world that’s constantly out to get him.
✦ . HOODIE (BRIAN THOMAS)
Mansion’s top floor attic room, furthest from Slender.
Monastic. He only keeps what he needs: a neat bed, a simple trunk of clothes, a worktable with maps, notes, and old cameras. Blackout curtains nailed to the wall.
Thin mattress on a metal frame, perfectly made every morning.
Cold, faintly of film chemicals, dust, and wood. He develops photos in there too, so there’s a blinding red light when you flip the light switch.
Minimalist and functional, but a sense that everything is placed with obsessive care. He has a system.
Chillingly calm, almost monk-like—you’d feel watched even when he’s gone.
✦ . KATE THE CHASER
Mansion, second floor, has a good view of the woods.
Surprisingly soft and personal. Pale curtains to filter the harsh sun, a thick rug on the floor to keep her toes warm, and a secondhand vanity she’s refurbished with fresh paint.
Queen-sized bed with simple but cozy bedding—cream sheets, a chunky knit blanket, and a faded pink throw she’s had since childhood. There’s a single stuffed animal tucked behind the pillows, hidden from sight but still treasured.
Faint lavender from a diffuser and wood polish.
A comforting blend of practical and sweet—warm wood tones, a few potted plants she tries her best not to kill, and a framed cross-stitch on the wall she works on.
Protective but gentle. A place that says “you can breathe now” after a hard day.
✦ . BEN DROWNED
Mansion’s greenhouse shed with functioning internet and electricity he rigged illegally from a cell tower.
Looks like a 2000s gamer’s crypt—flickering monitors, a massive tangle of wires, empty ramen cups, Mountain Dew cans, game cartridges.
Filthy futon shoved in the corner with a worn Legend of Zelda blanket.
Electronics burn, stale soda, and faint mildew.
Techno-chaos with a bit of “gamer gremlin” energy. Neon LEDs, game posters peeling off the walls.
Loud, overstimulating, but weirdly cozy if you’re a fellow night-owl.
✦ . CLOCKWORK
Mansion third floor, next to an old sewing room she took over.
Busy, creative mess—unfinished sketches, paint, sculpting tools, journals. There’s a mirror covered in sticky notes with reminders and song lyrics.
Soft, plush comforter in deep reds, a tangle of pillows.
Oil paint, wood shavings, a faint warm floral from her lotion.
Boho-artist with a faintly macabre twist (one of the sketches is definitely a murder scene).
Warm and creative, but with a tension buzzing underneath.
✦ . LAUGHING JACK
Mansion’s attic but took over a storage room to make it his own.
Carnival nightmare. Bright and dark colors clashing, broken toys, striped curtains, some stained with who-knows-what. Genuinely feels like a big-top circus tent.
Gigantic beanbag that smells faintly of cotton candy and something rotting.
Sugar, rotting sweets, a chemical bitterness from old clown makeup.
Chaotic clown lair, visually overwhelming.
The longer you stay, the more wrong everything feels, like you’ll never leave the funhouse.
✦ . NINA THE KILLER
Mansion’s third floor, right next to Clockwork’s room (they gossip a lot).
Hot pink splattered with blood. Posters of boy bands, Polaroids of kills she tapes to a mirror, perfume bottles half-used. Looks like an animal cruelty ad from how many things are covered in cheetah, leopard, and zebra patterns.
Fluffy comforter, big stuffed animals, a pink knife under her pillow. One of Jeff’s hoodies is hidden under her blankets.
Bubblegum, body spray, and copper.
Teenage killer Barbie-core and gyaru baddie.
Energetic, girlish, but with a horrific edge if you look too close.
✦ . HOMICIDAL LIU
Does not stay at the mansion—lives in a rotting trailer on the edge of the woods.
Manages with what he can find. Collects clothes, bedding, and items to keep himself warm at night.
Long sofa with a scratchy blanket that came with the trailer.
Wet wood, dirt, cheap soap, faint trace of whiskey.
Worn-out, tragic, heartbreakingly simple.
You’d feel like he never truly moved in, just hides there.
✦ . JANE EVERLASTING
Rents a modest house on the outskirts of a small, sleepy town, hidden under a different name.
Warm neutrals, lived-in, candle wax drips on the dresser, books piled everywhere.
Cozy queen bed, layered blankets, a weighted throw to help her sleep.
Lavender, faint gun oil, honey soap.
Homely but with scars showing through—a survivor’s nest.
Grounding, safe, but you can feel a hidden blade under the softness.
✦ . X-VIRUS
Squats in abandoned hospitals around the city, moves often.
Makeshift—stolen blankets, random stolen medical supplies, loose syringes in a jar.
Thin, stained hospital cots and work tables.
Disinfectant and the faintest copper tang.
Junkie doctor meets drifter squatter.
Restless, temporary, never quite safe.
✦ . SLENDERMAN
Private wing of the mansion—no one goes there.
Gothic elegance, heavy carved furniture, impossibly neat, no personal effects.
He doesn’t sleep, but there is a massive canopy bed in case a guest ever needs to “rest.” Mainly stays at his grand desk.
Clean, wood polish, something ancient and cold.
Timeless, Victorian, oppressive in its formality.
You cannot relax in there, period—you’d feel him even when he’s not visible.
Being in a secret relationship with gf!Fujiwara Takako means hearing a bunch of teenage boys scream like little kids when you forget about the “secret” part and walked up to kiss her before practice
Of course the biggest things on their minds
“Manager is dating someone?!”
“The manager is dating a girl?!”
“The manager likes girls?!”
Of course, both you and Fujiwara could do nothing except stand there, faces burning as you realized there was no escaping this.
Taking your hand, she faces the crowding groups of boys.
“This is my partner, [name].”
You gave them an awkward wave, obviously not expecting all the attention.
Greetings were shared, some awkward, some full of energy (cough cough Sawamura) some felt more like an interrogation than hello’s honestly.
What’s wrong with wanting to make sure your manager has a nice and healthy relationship?
Afterwards, everything returned back to normal, they went to start practice, and Fujiwara gently pulled you aside.
But before she could say anything, you spoke up.
“I’m so sorry Takako, I wasn’t thinking and I just so excited to see you and I-“ she cut off your words with a finger to your lips.
Smiling, she continues “It’s alright, at least we don’t have to hide it anymore, hm?”
You sighed and decided to drop it, glad she wasn’t mad at you for accidentally exposing your relationship.
But your thoughts were interrupted by a peck on your forehead.
“I’ll talk to you after practice is done.” She said, smiling at you once more before walking back to the field.
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