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AnasAbdin
ellievsbear
shark vs the universe
Jules of Nature
Cosimo Galluzzi
almost home
taylor price
trying on a metaphor
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
will byers stan first human second
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
⁂
Product Placement
Andulka
Discoholic 🪩
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Cosmic Funnies
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
seen from Chile
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@elleoelliot
⋆✿"𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞."✿⋆
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ'ꜱ ᴍɪɴᴅ
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗!
𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜
𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝚊𝚜𝚔
𝚝𝚊𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
𝚊𝚘3
recent fic: it’s getting hot in here (so take off all your clothes!!) ft. g. suguru x puppygirl!reader
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
need to be sitting on kirishima’s face while kaminari sits on his cock and then we kiss above him who the hell said that
i really want drabbles/fics of reader and character crushing on each other. not really flirting, but soft, kind moments between each other that speaks volumes about how much they care for each other.
if u have any…. please share!
how i feel searching for hours for angst fics but all i can find is y/n sucking their soul out of their dick.
Please recommend good angst fics
# GOJOCRASHES OUTAGAIN
the gap moe is gojo satoru, number one gaming youtuber in japan, and how he crashes out loser style whenever people hit on his vlogger girlfriend. (that’s you, by the way.)
content: language, crude humor, crack fic, modern au, youtuber au, everyone is an adult, hints of reverse harem
gentlmen higuruma and nanami
18+ how to sexually harass your hot law professor, higuruma !
1. HRSS 1O1 : YA LIKE MY TIDDIES, PROF ?
law professor! higuruma hiromi is lecturing a class on courtroom ethics while you sit front row & flash your tits in his face.
let me rephrase: professor higuruma is pressed tweed suit / half-loosened tie / hair damp & sticky with afternoon sweat. you’re a third year law school student with translucent excuse for a button-up shirt & an ego bruised from being rejected by your law professor one too many times.
it’s always “you’re too young,” or “this is inappropriate.” never ‘yes y/n, i’d love to put my balls in your jaw !’
so you take matters into your own hands.
no one who’s anyone attends the 4PM lectures. so when higuruma hiromi watches you stroll in at 4:11 PM sharp, hair tied back & blazer on & looking uncharacteristically presentable, professor higuruma can’t hide the way his eyes flit to you & back to the half-empty class again. suspicious.
you sit front row & center. hiromi doesn’t react.
not until you’re flashing your breasts in his face, that is.
sweat beads on your perky nipples & you can only thank the midsummer heat. higuruma hiromi is staring—wide-eyed now, as his least favorite, much too perverted student pinches her nipples with her thumb & index & gives them a good rub for him to see.
& because that’s not enough—it never is with you—you have the audacity to soak your fingers in the wetness of your tongue & play with your pebbled nipples right in his face! two rows to your left in the half-empty classroom is a boy named mike ross who’s caught on to what you’re doing yet keeps his eyes trained straight. he’s just here to graduate. what the fuck is happening?
“class is dismissed. you may all leave.”
the lecture soon comes to an end. you’re packed books & buttoned blazer now, boobs tucked away & the picture of perfection.
“not you, y/n,” you freeze.
“meet me in my office in five.”
2. HRSS 2O1 : TUMBLR SMUT ABOUT YOUR LAW PROFESSOR ? SRSLY ?
professor higuruma isn’t paid enough for this.
that’s what he concludes as he fails the nth essay of the night. it’s 9:15 pm & he’s in the discomfort of his home, back bent over his desk & blue light glasses perched low on the hook of his nose.
one more paper to grade before he goes to bed tonight. that’s what he tells himself, at least.
and behold, the paper is yours! law professor higuruma hiromi knows he should save himself the trouble & give you a big fat F. girls like you are only good at picking slutty skirts & bending over just far enough that he can get the perfect view of your ass mid-lecture. not writing reports or drafting thesis statements.
but law demands fairness, so higuruma opens the document anyways.
LAWP-302 — THE BURDEN OF PROOF : PROXIMATE CAUSE IN PERSONAL INJURY CASES.
beyond the title, the document is completely empty.
hiromi higuruma counts himself lucky. empty doc means earlier bedtime. so before closing his laptop & putting his things away, he reopens your assignment thread to send a new email:
———-
Subject: RE: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
helloooo professor here’s my research paper!!! finally on time for once :p if u don’t mind could u call me a good girl for my efforts??
xoxo,
[Y/N] 💘💓
————-
hiromi winces. he’d already had the misfortune of reading your email before, but accidentally skimming it a second time makes his stomach curl with disgust. he purses his lip, nose scrunched, glasses slipping down his cheek as he steadies the keyboard.
———-
Subject: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: Higuruma, Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
Your submitted assignment was completely empty. Lucky for you, there is still a day to the deadline. Complete the paper and resubmit as soon as possible.
Also, you are a student of a prestigious law school. It is expected your assignments are completed in due time, and I will not “praise” you for your “efforts.” They are expected, and asking me to call you a ‘good girl’ is extremely inappropriate. Not that you seem to care about what’s inappropriate and what’s not.
I’ve also told you to stop emailing me with such casual language. Signing your name with heart emojis is extremely informal and inappropriate. I can only issue so many warnings. May God’s plan for your life be bigger than your breasts, else I can assure that you will never make it.
Higuruma Hiromi
———-
hiromi sighs, body limp & bone heavy. perhaps the late-night frustration has gotten to him—he knows he should delete the last part, but his thumb slips (or not?) & he sends it anyways.
he’s about to close his laptop when an email notification pings. he makes the mistake of refreshing his page, & unfortunately the email comes from you.
———-
Subject: RE: RE: LAWP-302 RESEARCH PAPER
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
Professor 😟,
whatttt are u doing awake at this time. not that i’m complaining!! if you’re emailing me this late because you’ve FINALLY decided you’re interested in me & my big breasts (i’m so glad you noticed their size! the fenugreek must be working 😇), you can message me at 42-42-564 <3333
alsoooo my bad i think i sent the wrong draft </3. the actual paper is attached below!!
night night prof 🌙💤
[Y/N] 😇☺️ (no heart emojis this time bcoz im a good girl :)
——-
law professor higuruma hiromi doesn’t get paid enough for this.
that’s what he tells himself for the third time today. he chooses not to respond to your email, instead opening up the file to get things over with. it’s nearly midnight now & the chill of his office is unforgiving, but with red nose & freezing fingertips hiromi opens up the doc regardless.
⋆˚࿔ 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑤 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑒.ᐟ mdni. 18+
what ?
at this point, higuruma hiromi should shut his laptop & retreat to bed. this is clearly not your research paper, & whatever you write in your free time is none of his business.
but his name in the first paragraph catches his eye.
“hahh—hiromi,” you whine, a mess of shaky thighs & flushed cheeks. “can’t do it—need your help, please”
higuruma only grips your hips harder, big hands bruising at your thighs. he wastes no time lapping at the juices that spill from your achey cunt, giving your pussy a wet lick before his head tilts back so his nose digs right into your puffy clit. above him you’re half dressed & fucked dumb, mouth hung open & boobs spilling from your bra cup. you’re writhing on his nose, but hiromi doesn’t fucking care.
“you asked for this, no?” his voice is hungry, guttural. “ride, baby.”
what the fuck?
now, professor higuruma should definitely stop reading. he can already feel heat crawling up his throat & itching at his ears. he should step back. mark the document as "Inappropriate Content" & forward it to the disciplinary board. say a prayer & repent, if you will.
instead, his eyes snag the last sentence of the page.
hiromi pulls back, breathless & sticky with your slick, to look at the mess he’s made of his favorite student.
”good girl,’ he murmurs, “look how much you’ve leaked for your professor.”
he slams his laptop shut.
and his heart hammers with a rhythm that has nothing to do with justice. he knows monday will come, & so will your slutty skirts, half buttoned tops, shaky thighs—
he’ll have to see you in his office again. & he knows—with a sorry sense of dread—that it won’t be to fail you.
3. HRSS 3O1 : GET ‘EM BANNED !
monday comes & so does your slutty skirt.
it’s 5PM midsummer & the office air is sticky with heat. a fan hangs heavy in the center, creaky & aching, just loud enough to mask how hard hiromi’s shoe taps against the wooden floor.
in front of him you’re bright smile & pink nose & lace bra peeking from your button-up. hiromi doesn’t let his eyes dip. he doesn’t know how you’re beaming—perhaps it wasn’t clear he’d called you into his office for literal sexual harassment.
“professor,” you coo. “is this about my email on friday? you’re taking up that offer about my breasts?”
two desks to the left, history professor nanami kento clears his throat. on the opposite side is professor giyu tomioka who isn’t paid enough for this & just fucking leaves.
higuruma clears his throat, skin itchy. “i have no idea what you’re talking about, y/n. mind your mouth while in my presence.”
“did you read the smut fic i wrote about you?”
nanami exits the office.
hiromi drags his palm over his face; tired, weary, utterly embarrassed. in all his years of teaching never had he encountered a student as shameless & perverted as you, & even now he’s pretty sure you’re turned on by his exasperation as well because your skirt crinkles from your thighs squeezing beneath his desk. god.
& perhaps hiromi is equally perverted; because some sick, twisted part of him, the part that likes watching you bend over for him to see your panties dig into your pussy, or the part that likes stroking his dick to the memory of you palming your pebbled nipples that one day of class—doesn’t hate it. & he really should. & he really ought to teach you a lesson for fucking with his head & riling him up the way you do.
“professorr,” you sing-song, patting your chest shamelessly. “my breasts? you wanted to take up my offer, right?”
“enough.”
his voice bangs like gavel, and the sound shocks you—he knows because you’re looking up at him now with flushed cheeks & glossy eyes. like you’d never expected him to actually get mad.
and to make things worse, your thighs are squeezing like you like it.
and in that moment, hiromi decides he will take you up on that offer. he’s towering now, jaw tight, palms firm on the mahogany table.
“strip.”
and you waste no time, honestly. hiromi can tell you’re excited, even though you bite your cheek like you’re trying not to show it. your fingers are clumsy against your button-up, pathetic & half-shaky, and hiromi wastes no time before leaning over & snapping your shirt open himself. you let out a squeak as he unclasps your bra. cute.
but he doesn’t lower himself to your perky nipples—nope. higuruma hiromi would rather die than give you exactly what you want. he grabs you by the hair & forces you over his desk instead.
“professor—“
“quiet.”
but girls like you are stubborn as fuck & whine against him anyways. higuruma decides he has no time for that—his palm shifts from your hip to your mouth, keeping you shut & steady against him as he fiddles with his belt. god, you’re already writhing against him, ass rubbing against his already hardened cock. & hiromi doesn’t groan—he’d rather die than give you the satisfaction—so he bites his lip & ignores the taste of blood in his mouth instead.
“f-fuck…”
hiromi takes his sweet time. only his boxers separate you now, clothed dick dragging up your cunt. and he goes slow, painfully slow, like he’s punishing you for all the times you got him rock hard mid lecture & he had to jerk himself off with only the image of your panties digging into your folds or your perky nipples glistening in the fluorescent light.
you’re moaning against his palm now, voice a muffled, damp mess. your hips jerking against his cock make his thighs twitch. god, he’s wanted this so long.
and he finally decides to give it to you.
his dick practically springs from his boxers, heavy & thick & dripping with precum. fuck, he’s aching, practically twitching to get inside you. fuck fuck fuck.
“inside—“ you groan into his hand. “please,”
he’s barely done anything & you’re already a whiny mess! god, what a pervert you are. and hiromi would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it. his palms grip you roughly, lining you up & pressing into your back so you lean far enough to give him the perfect view of your ass.
hiromi doesn’t let you slip your skirt & panties off beforehand because he likes the idea of your skirt fluttering around each time he digs inside you. who says he can’t be a pervert, too?
and he does exactly that, bony fingers sliding your panties over your cunt. & you’re already soaked, wet & sticky so when he slips his fingers aside they’re already dripping with slick.
hiromi doesn’t give you time to adjust.
you don’t deserve it, so he simply doesn’t give it to you. he slides himself in, teeth gritting as your pussy flutters & grips him much tighter than he expected. truth be told, he hadn’t expected your aching cunt to give him such a hard time. dumb sluts like you came easy & pre-stretched, right ?
& he’s half-right, because your folds adjust to him. eventually. just when he lets his palm shift from your hip to your breast to grope them roughly & caress your nipples with his fingers. & god you squeeze with every rub, & you feel so fucking good & hiromi’s not sure how he didn’t give into your pretty pussy much sooner.
well he’s here now, & he wastes no time ramming into you. he digs in deep, hands working your perky nipples as he thrusts into your aching cunt. & he can barely muffle your moans now & he should be concerned about someone walking in but how can he when your whiny moans all go straight to his dick?
& because hiromi’s not easily satisfied, his right hand leaves your lips & sinks to your thighs instead. & god you’re so wet, & he only dips his hand to finger your swollen nub but you’re already a sloppy mess on his palm & fuck he loves it. loves how your ass twitches & hips jerk as his fingers graze your clit, fast & rough, like girls like you don’t deserve warm pace & gentleness.
“hah—ah…hiromi!”
you squeeze him tight, walls pulsing & hips stuttering against him. he thumbs your sensitive clit even harder through your high, thumb digging as you spasm & twitch against him, palms still heavy on your perky nipples. & only when you relax against him, pussy still fluttering, does he slip out his cock to cum on your ass with heavy pants & a breathy “fuck.”
girls like you don’t deserve aftercare or ‘are you okay?’ so hiromi doesn’t give it to you. he’s already buckled belt & smoothed out hair in his seat, watching with lazy eyes as you struggle to shift your skirt over your ass.
you’re still buttoning your shirt when you beam,
“see, prof? that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
except it was, & the post-nut clarity hits him like a bullet. fuck. he should’ve never let a perverted thing like you get under his skin.
hiromi breathes, pulls a drawer from his desk. “i have something for you.”
“another round ??”
higuruma hiromi laughs.
“even better.”
HARASSMENT 1O1, end.
© HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
ts might be the greatest thing i’ve ever read. on kirky❤️🩹
Random texts from JJK men
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
Summary: Random texts between JJK men and you
Starring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Hiromi Higuruma, Choso Kamo, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro
A/N: Part 1 ~ more on my blog! Masterlist
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
• . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. •
⌞ JJK SMAU ⌝ ASKING THEM WHAT LEG THEIR D!CK IS ON!
STARRING ★ g. satoru, g. suguru, n. kento, f. toji, k. choso, r. sukuna, h. hiromi, k. shiu, i. takuma
CW ★ crack, suggestive, one use of “daddy” (as a joke)
KIT’S NOTE ★ this is so fucking stupid, im crying. but, phy requests and i happily supply! @riveredmoon ilyyyyy, i hope this makes you laugh. not proofread!! likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3
© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.
🔖 @idontwannatalkrn1
Business proposal
Your family sets you up with potential husbands….. rich, influential JJK men… for a business marriage. You try to scare them off by acting weird but it backfires… and now you have 4 men obsessed with you.
Pairings : Yandere JJK men x Reader
Ft. Gojo, Sukuna,Toji, Nanami
A/n: MDNI, 18+, I've decided not to include Geto Suguru😔. I'm sorry cuties
Part 1 - part 2 part 3
Your mother has this particular way of smiling when she's about to ruin your life. It's not malicious per se. She loves you, in her own way. She also happens to see you as an asset that's been sitting on the shelf too long, depreciating while your cousins pop out heirs after heirs
“We’ve found some potential matches for you,” your mother said over breakfast on a random fucking Tuesday “Your father and I think it’s time you settled down.”
The coffee you were drinking nearly comes out your nose, which would’ve been unfortunate because you were wearing white and also because aspirating liquids hurts like a bitch.
“Absolutely the fuck not.”
Your mother didn't even blink. She’d perfected selective hearing around the same time you’d discovered the word ‘fuck’ could be used as a noun, verb, adjective, and general life philosophy.
“Four young men from very good families…”
"We're not in the Bridgeton, mother. Arranged marriages aren't…”
"Business marriages," your mother corrected, sipping her tea "The Kang family did it last year. Their daughter is very happy in Singapore now."
"The Kang daughter cries on Instagram Live every other Tuesday." You stared at her
"She has a Birkin collection. Tears dry, sweetheart. Leather lasts." She stareed back
“Mother, I can’t…”
Your father finally lowered his newspaper “Then we’ll need to reconsider your position at the company. And your living arrangements.”
Ah. There it was. The threat wrapped up in a neat little bow .
Agree to this circus, or lose your cushy job (where you mostly online shopped). And your apartment (paid for by your parents)
You wanted to tell them to shove their arranged meetings up their….
But you also really, really likedhaving money. And not having to eat instant ramen for every meal. And your bathtub. You’ve gotten very attached to that bathtub.
So you smiled “Of course. When do I start?”
Your mother’s face lit up “Wonderful! We’ll have the files sent over.”
Files.
They had FILES on these men.
Nothing says true love quite like a background check and a financial statement.
—
Four names: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento
Four strangers
Fuck that.
If they wanted you to do this, fine. But nobody said you had to make it easy. They’d be begging their mothers to call the whole thing off by week’s end.
And that’s where your brilliant, genius, absolutely foolproof plan came in.
(It's going to blow up in your face spectacularly, but you don't know that yet.)
The files arrived the next morning. You spread the folders across your kitchen counter like you were planning a heist instead of four dates.
Dates. Meetings. Whatever.
—
Folder 1
FUSHIGURO TOJI, 28
His photo looked like a mugshot.
Okay, it wasn’t actually a mugshot, byt he had that vibe.Scar on his lip. Expression that said “I’d rather be literally anywhere else and also fuck you.”
Technically the heir to a massive Zenin equity firm.
Technically. Because apparently Toji was the family disappointment. Estranged from his relatives, only showed up when he needed money. Multiple failed business ventures. A reputation for being a fuck up who lived off his family name while giving them middle fingers in return.
Ah. A broke rich boy.
His social media accounts existed but were barely used. Most photos were him tagged by other people at bars, looking annoyed. One photo of him at what looked like an underground fight club.
Wait.
You zoomed in.
Was that blood on his shirt?
Jesus Christ.
Day 1 - Toji Fushiguro Tuesday, Hotel Bar, Shinjuku
Operation: Bimbo infiltration
Strategy: “Think born yesterday”
Toji shows up at the restaurant looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. Hes only here because his family threatened to cut off his credit cards.
He doesnt give a shit about marriage or alliances or any of this corporate dynasty bullshit. He likes money. That’s it.
He's not even trying to hide it… slouched in his chair, jacket thrown carelessly over the back, phone out on the table. He barely looks up when you approach.
Perfect. This should be easy.
“Ohmygod, hi!” You chirp “You must be Toji”
And then you trip over absolutely nothing on your way to the table, catching yourself on the edge with a little yelp.
"Oops!!! I’m such a dum dum,” you giggle, batting your eyelashes.
He raises an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Fine, fine” You wave your hand and somehow knock over the water glass in the process. Ice and water spill across the table, dripping onto his lap.
"Fuck… "
"Oh my god, I'm SO sorry” You grab a napkin and start dabbing at his pants, which puts you in very close proximity to his crotch. "I'm such a mess, I can't believe I did that….”
He grabs your wrist, stopping you. "It's fine. Just… sit down."
You sit, face arranged into earnest distress.
"I'm really sorry. I'm just so nervous. These meetings make me all jittery and I get butterfingers and then I do stupid stuff and…” You take a breath. "Sorry. I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous. Ramble, I mean. Just talk and talk and….”
"Got it.” He cuts you off “You're nervous." He takes a long sigh then and looong sip of his drink.
"Super nervous. You're really intimidating, you know?” You laugh, too loud. "But I'm sure you're really nice underneath, right? Like a, um, a cinnamon roll. Tough on the outside, soft on the inside?"
He stares at you.
“Or not.. That's okay too. Not everyone's a cinnamon roll. Some people are just, um, bread. Regular bread. Which is also good!!! Bread is great."
"Are you done?” He finally snaps
"No. I mean yes. Im sorry." You bury your face in your hands. "I'm so bad at this. I don't know why my parents thought I could do this, I can barely order coffee without messing it up… "
The waiter appears. You manage to mispronounce three items on the menu before Toji takes over and orders for both of you.
"Thanks," you smile brightly "I'm not good at fancy words. All those French names, you know?"
"It's Italian."
"Ohh, silly me” You laugh again.
Toji pinches the bridge of his nose.
The hour continues like this. You ramble…. while Toji's expression shifts gradually from bored to annoyed to something approaching existential despair.
By the time you finally stand to leave (knocking your purse off the bar in the process), he looks like he's genuinely considering faking his own death to avoid a second meeting.
"This was so fun" you smile brightly, gathering your scattered belongings. "We should totally do it again.
He grunts and it might be the sound of his soul leaving his body.
One down
Folder 2
Nanami Kento, 26
Oh.
He looked… normal? Everything about him screamed “responsible adult.”
Investment banker. Impeccable reputation… and they really emphasized IMPECCABLE in the file.
No scandals. No messy breakups. No public relationships at all.
Every article described him as “the perfect gentleman” with 3 P’s … Punctual. Professional. Polite.
He was too perfect. Suspiciously perfect.
Day 2 - Nanami Kento Wednesday, French Restaurant, Roppongi
Operation : Make the Gentleman Squirm
You're five minutes late on purpose.
Nanami is already seated, of course… in his perfectly tailored suit, checking his watch with a small furrow between his brows.
"Mr Nanami, I apologize for the delay," you say sweetly, sliding into your seat.
"It's fine." His tone suggests it is very much not fine. "Traffic, I assume."
"Something like that." You lean forward on your elbows, knowing exactly what that does to your cleavage. “You're even more handsome in person."
Those hazel eyes meet yours, then quickly… very quickly… drop to the menu. “Thank you."
"I mean it." You let your eyes drag down his body, slow and obvious. "That suit fits you really well. Custom, right? Must do wonders for your shoulders."
A faint flush creeps up his neck.
Gotcha.
"I... yes. It's custom."
"I bet you work out." You tilt your head. "You look like you work out. What's your routine? No, wait… let me guess. You're a morning gym guy. Up at five type ."
"Five thirty, actually."
"Close enough." You grin "I'm more of a 'stay in bed until the last possible second' type myself. We're practically opposites.”
He clears his throat. "Perhaps we could order?"
You order something light… you're not really hungry… and spend the entire time making unnecessary eye contact with Nanami.
"I read that you've never had a serious relationship. Is that true?" You ask
He stiffens. "I've been... focused on my career."
"Mmm." You lean closer. "So you're not really experienced then. With women." You trace the rim of your wine glass with one finger.
His eyes follow your finger. Then snap back to your face. “I wouldn't say….”
"It's okay." You reach across the table and pat his hand. Let your fingers brush. "I can work with that. I have lots of experience."
His hand jerks back like "That's... very forward of you."
"Is it?" You bat your eyelashes.
The flush has spread to his ears now.
You spend the rest of the date making increasingly suggestive comments.
The food arrives. You eat slowly, making a show of enjoying every bite. At one point you let out a small sound… and watch Nanami's knuckles go white around his fork.
He sets his fork down. Picks up his water. Takes a very long sip.
By the time the check arrives… he pays, of course, because he's ‘polite’… Nanami Kento looks like he's been through a war.
"Call me." You wink. “ I had fun.”
You left him standing there, looking like he needed a cold shower and possibly a priest.
Two down.
Folder 3
Ryomen Sukuna, 29
His photo was… intimidating.
Tattoos visible even in what was clearly a professional headshot… which, props to whoever convinced him to sit for that. Expression that suggested he was mentally planning your murder.
CEO of a luxury hotel chain with international reach.
Also: multiple arrests.
Three assault charges, all dropped. One arson investigation, dismissed. Suspected ties to organized crime, never proven. The Itadori family's lawyers are apparently worth every yen, because this man should be in prison, not on a dating profile.
You switched to social media. His accounts were private, but fan accounts existed. FAN ACCOUNTS. For a CEO with anger issues??
Rich and dangerous. Probably bored of women throwing themselves at him.
Day 3 - Sukuna Ryomen Thursday, Private Members' Club
Operation: Gold Digger
You walk in wearing every piece of designer clothing you own. Dress with the Dior label clearly visible.
Sukuna makes no move to stand or pull out your chair when you arrive.
“Hi!” You slide into the seat across from him, dropping your designer bag on the table with a heavy thunk. “ Sorry I'm late”
He nods once… crimson eyes dragging over your outfit with absolutely zero expression.
Not impressed. Not disgusted. Just… nothing.
“This place is so fancy. Is it expensive? It looks expensive." You lean forward, smiling brightly.
“Yes.” his expression doesn't change
Okay. Man of few words. You can work with this.
Silence.
The kind of silence that would make most people uncomfortable.
You push through it.
"So," you continue, "I looked you up. Your family is like, really rich, right? What's that like?"
His eyebrow raises slowly. Like he couldn’t believe you’d just asked that. “Is that relevant?"
"Well, yeah." You laugh "I mean, that's why we're here, isn't it? To see if we're a good match? And I think lifestyle compatibility is super important."
Something that might have been disbelief crosses his face.
You flag down a waiter and order the most expensive thing on the menu.
"I love nice things," you explain. "and I can always tell quality when I see it. You can't really put a price on quality, you know? This dress, for example…” You point at the dress “….twenty eight thousand yen. Pre season Dior. I have a personal shopper who gets me things before they hit the regular collections.”
The waiter returns with the champagne. You make him pour you a glass and immediately hold it up to the light, examining it critically.
"This is the '98, right? Not the '02? Because I can tell the difference."
You absolutely cannot tell the difference. You bought your last bottle of wine from a convenience store.
"You're quite….. direct," he says finally…. watching you with an expression that's impossible to read. Disgust? Annoyance? Homicidal intent? All three?
Three words this time! Progress.
"I just believe in honesty." You take a sip of champagne. "I know what I bring to a relationship, and I know what I expect in return. Fair trade, right?"
"And what do you bring?" Sukuna asks, and you can't tell if hes genuinely curious or just morbidly fascinated by your audacity.
You gesture to yourself again, "Isn't it obvious?"
Sukuna picks up his wine glass and drinks half of it in one go. He spoke maybe twenty words total throughout the entire meal.
By the end, he looked ready to flip the table.
"This was fun," you say brightly as you leave. "We should do it again sometime. Maybe somewhere with better champagne?"
He just stares at you like you're an alien species.
“I’ll wait for your message” You give him a little wave. “Ciao!”
Three down
Folder 4
Gojo Satoru, 27
“Oh fuck off” The photo alone made you want to throw your wine at the wall. Gorgeous didn’t even cover it. He looked like someone had designed him specifically to make women stupid.
You kept reading, already annoyed.
Heir to Gojo Enterprises. Worth billions with a B.
There were photos. So many photos.
Gojo at charity galas with models. Gojo at clubs with actresses. Gojo at a beach in Monaco with someone who was definitely an Instagram influencer.…. always with beautiful women who looked like they’d never eaten carbs.
Rich, bored, and fucking everything that moves.
You grabbed your laptop and did what any sane person would do… went full stalker mode on social media.
His Instagram was a goldmine of red flags. The comments were even better.
“Marry me”
“I volunteer as tribute”
“He can ruin my life”
Jesus Christ.
This man has probably seen more lingerie than a Victoria's Secret buyer.
A manwhore with a trust fund
Day 4 - Gojo Satoru Friday, the Peninsula Hotel
Youre going to vomit.
Not from nerves… well, maybe partly from nerves, but mainly because you’ve stress eaten an entire sleeve of crackers in the Uber.
Also, your shapewear was cutting off circulation to your legs.
Why did you wear shapewear under a modest funeral dress? What were you even shaping? The outfit is practically a potato sack.
Too late now.
You're dressed like you're going to a funeral. Or church. Or a funeral at a church. Currently clutching a small cross pendant you borrowed from your grandmother's jewellery box.
You push open the door… which is heavier than it looks and you nearly face plant, great start… and immediately spot him.
Gojo Satoru is impossible to miss. Jesus fucking Christ, those eyes.
He's scrolling on his phone, completely at ease, probably sexting three different women right now.
He looks up when you walk in and smiles
Oh no.
"You must be my future wife," he says, and his voice is warm honey poured over gravel. "I have to say, the photos didn't do you justice."
Don't react. Don't react. You're a good Christian woman who doesn't react to sinful men.
You arrange your face into something you hope reads as "scandalized."
"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me," you say, voice soft and earnest like you're greeting a pastor.
“Of course.” He pulls out your chair… gentleman points, you suppose… and gestures. “Please.”
You sit, immediately folding your hands in your lap like you were at a prayer meeting.
He settles back into his chair, still smiling. That smile hasn’t faltered once. Is it surgically attached to his face?
“Can I get you anything?” he asks. “Coffee? Tea?”
“Just water, please.” You smile sweetly.
The waiter brings water. You thank him quietly, taking small, delicate sips like you were in a Victorian novel.
Gojo leans back, completely comfortable. “So, I have to admit… I was curious when my parents mentioned this meeting.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” That smile somehow got wider. “They said you were… different from the usual arrangements.”
Different. That could mean anything.
“Different how?” you ask, tilting your head innocently.
“Just different.” His eyes are doing that sparkly thing. Is he always this sparkly? Its unsettling. “But I’m already intrigued.”
Oh, he was intrigued now.
Just wait.
“That’s very kind of you,” you say, voice still sweet and soft. “I should probably mention something upfront, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Mr Gojo” You fold your hands more carefully, sitting up straighter
"Satoru, please." He sits back down, legs crossed, "Mr Gojo is my father. And he's an asshole, so."
You don't laugh. "I believe in traditional values."
"Oh?" his smile flickers
You pull out your phone and show him your lockscreen… a stock photo of a church you found on Google last night. "I actually volunteer with my local congregation here. We do purity workshops for young women."
"Purity... workshops?"
"Mmhm. Teaching them to save themselves for their future husbands." You tilt your head. "Do you go to church, Mr Gojo?"
“No.”
Just flat out “no.” Not even trying to soften it.
“Oh.” You bit your lip, looking concerned. “That’s… we might need to work on that. I could help you.”
“And I should mention” you add, voice dropping to a more serious tone “ We should have a chaperone for our dates until we’re engaged.”
“A chaperone? Why?”
“Just to avoid temptation!!!! Once we’re engaged we can spend more supervised time together.”
Gojo drained his entire coffee in one long gulp.
The server came by to check on you. Gojo looked at them like they were a life raft. “Actually, could I get another coffee? Double shot.”
Every time Gojo tries to steer the conversation toward something normal…hobbies, work, interests…. you bring it back to your values.
By the time youre finished, Gojo looks like he’s aged five years.
“I’ll be praying about this,” you add brightly. “About whether God is calling us together. I’ll let you know what He reveals to me.”
“Right. God. Sure.”
“Have a blessed evening” You give him your sweetest smile and leave him standing there, probably questioning every decision that has led to this moment.
All down
—
Now you just had to wait for them to reject you.
The week that follows is blissfully silent. No calls. No texts. You’ve done it. You’ve successfully repelled four of the most eligible bachelors in the country through the sheer power of being a fucking nightmare.
You wake up on the eighth day, the morning sun streaming through your window, a victorious smirk on your face. You stretch, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.
The war is over
You reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time.
And freeze.
Four notifications. Four messages. All received within minutes of each other, night.
Your heart plummets into your stomach. No. No, no, no.
With trembling fingers, you open them.
From: Gojo Satoru… Round two, sweetheart? My place, Friday. Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.
From: Ryomen Sukuna Name your terms. I’m interested.
From: Nanami Kento… I would like to continue our discussion. Are you free Thursday evening at 7:00 PM?
From: Fushiguro Toji Hey. You’re weird. I’m in.
You drop your phone on your face.
Fuck.
Your reblogs and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻✨
@iheartanzai
@satoruslovey @livedianalove @retiredpieceofshits @rennox7 @porcelaiinedoll @princesa-starlight @lovermiwmiw @queenbloody @crystielle @lady-ofthe-night @jaehyunsleftnut @toru-saki @takibug @gojoswaterbottle @teenyping @apored123 @succubussdreams @qngelical @valberryboos @nunlessthandesii @dooniii @miyumayonaise @julieno1lover @metal-fl @mangegeek17 @nightwingsgirlfaliure @lialiaaaaaaa @plasticsheepponycollector @savorxe @prome911 @mxchiii @hifluvlevi @darkraikami22-blog @vaguenebulaee @tansyfleurwhisper @peachyperrie @alex2602 @love-d-luxe @lavenderlymilk @izukuswifw7 @1800cum @pockyy27 @tiredasl @serratedmarionetteturtle @herasuma @goojooo @hirominami @thebornqueen @gerardway67
This is fucking amazing
the way i think i would never be able to be with someone like katsuki bakugou bc it would be like fighting fire with fire 💔 breaks my heart
あ | "KISSING I HOPE THEY CAUGHT US."
about. he bullies you in the hallways, fucks you stupid in his car, and still fixes your hair after.
pairings. bully!sukuna x fem!reader
word. 3.88k
content. bully!Sukuna, high school setting (aged-up), dubcon vibes, degradation, spitting, rough sex, backshots in a car, mean dirty talk, creampie, overstimulation, hair-pulling, face-grabbing, fingering, breast/ass groping, clit play, tongue kissing, aftercare (rude but sweet), possessiveness, sharp mouth but secretly whipped. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
notes. im ovulating... u can tell.
Sukuna Ryomen was the kind of asshole teachers pretended not to see. He had that reputation—the sort of kid who walked into class late, dropped into his chair with his legs spread obnoxiously wide, and still managed to get away with it because nobody wanted to deal with him. Teachers sighed, classmates shut up, and he basked in it.
And then there was you.
For whatever reason, tormenting you was his favorite extracurricular activity. He wasn’t the type to just shove you in the hallway or copy your homework—no, Sukuna liked to get personal. He’d lean over your desk, crowding you until you could smell the faint tang of smoke clinging to his uniform. He’d tug on the strap of your bra through your shirt when no one was looking, snap it hard enough to make you flinch, then snicker like you were just entertainment.
“Nice panties today, princess,” he’d mutter after “accidentally” brushing his hand against your skirt when squeezing past your desk. He never said it loud enough for others to hear, but just enough to watch you squirm. Half the time he didn’t even hide the way his eyes lingered—like he got off on catching glimpses, cataloging them, storing them away for later.
Everyone else thought he just hated you. That Sukuna Ryomen had found his personal chew toy and wasn’t going to let go until you broke. And yeah—he was cruel. He’d call you stupid, shove your books off the table, whisper in your ear in that gravelly voice just to see the goosebumps rise on your neck. But under all the insults, there was this sick, obsessive edge.
Because Sukuna wasn’t just a bully. He was a pervert.
He knew exactly how to make you nervous, exactly how close to stand, how to bend low so his lips nearly brushed your ear when he spoke. Sometimes he’d steal your pen just to chew on it, eyes flicking to your mouth like he was imagining something worse. Sometimes he’d force you to walk the long way home just because he liked trailing behind you, watching your skirt sway.
The worst part? Half the time he looked mad about it. Like he resented himself for wanting you, and that made him even meaner. He’d sneer after letting his eyes drag over your body, jaw tight, as if to remind himself—and you—that you were beneath him.
Still, he kept coming back. Every damn day.
And you? You let him. You let him torment you, because have you seen the man? He was six feet of pure asshole with muscles, scars that made you wonder how he got them, and a mouth that looked like it only knew how to say cruel shit… or press you against a wall and ruin you.
Sukuna didn’t just bully, he invented new ways to fuck with you.
He’d steal your water bottle in P.E., unscrew the cap, and tip it over his mouth slow, throat bobbing as he drank, staring at you the entire time—then toss it back empty. “Thanks, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I don’t have herpes.”
He’d drop his pencil on the floor just so he could bend down, slide his hand along your calf under the desk, and act innocent when you jerked away. “Relax, I was just grabbing my pencil. Unless you liked that?”
He’d grab your phone in the hallway and hold it above your head, scrolling through your notifications like he owned you. “Wow, no one’s texting you? That’s depressing as fuck.” Then whisper low so only you could hear: “Bet you’d blow me if I said I’d add you to my contacts.”
When teachers called on you to read, he’d mouth obscene shit across the classroom, tongue dragging over his lip, two fingers shaped like a V, just to watch you stumble over your words.
And the worst part? You never said anything. You could’ve told the teacher. You could’ve pushed him off. You could’ve screamed when he crowded you in the back stairwell, one hand braced above your head while the other tugged your skirt just an inch too high. But you didn’t. You froze, you fumbled, you blushed—and he noticed. Every single time.
That smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
Because behind every shove, every whispered insult, every “accidental” brush of his knuckles against your thigh—there was a glint in his eye that said he wasn’t doing this to humiliate you. Not really. He was doing it because he couldn’t fucking stop himself.
And if you were being honest? You didn’t stop him because you didn’t want to.
That’s why it was no fucking surprise when you were found in the back of his car, sprawled across torn leather seats, being fucked into oblivion by the same asshole who used to snap your bra straps in homeroom.
The windows fogged up, the cheap pine-tree air freshener swinging violently from the rearview as Sukuna drove his hips into you like he was trying to wreck you on purpose. The car reeked of smoke, sweat, and him—and you were gasping for breath, nails clawing at the cracked upholstery while he laughed against your throat.
“Always knew you were a little slut for me,” he growled, voice low and cruel, one hand pinning your wrists above your head like you were some helpless toy. His other hand gripped your thigh, shoving your leg higher until the stretch burned—but fuck, you couldn’t even think straight anymore.
He didn’t kiss you, not really. He bit. Sharp teeth sinking into the soft skin of your neck, claiming you the same way he claimed every fucking thing—rough, selfish, like he deserved it.
And you let him. You fucking let him.
Because god, Sukuna was huge. His cock was stretching you out in ways you didn’t think were possible, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs and making your eyes roll back. He knew it too—the bastard grinned every time you choked on a moan, every time your hips arched off the seat despite how much you hated yourself for wanting it.
“Pathetic,” he hissed in your ear, rutting into you harder, each word punched out by the slam of his hips. “Acting like you don’t like me in class, but look at you now—fuck—taking it so well.”
The car creaked with the violence of it, every movement reckless, every thrust a reminder that he had you exactly where he wanted.
His rhythm turned brutal, the kind of pace that made your brain short-circuit. Every time he bottomed out, the leather squealed under you, and Sukuna laughed—actually laughed—at the mess you were making on his backseat.
“Fuckin’ soaked,” he muttered, dragging his cock out halfway just to slam back in with a wet slap. “And you try to act like you don’t want me? You’re disgusting.”
He spat right where your bodies met, a crude, wet sound that made your face burn, then shoved himself back inside like the saliva was enough lube to make it easier for him to ruin you. “Take it. Take it all.”
When you tried to turn your face away, whimpering, he gripped your jaw hard, squeezing until your lips parted whether you wanted them to or not. His mouth crushed yours, hot and aggressive, tongue forcing its way in. The kiss was messy, mean, all teeth and spit—but it left you gasping for more when he finally pulled away, lips slick with saliva.
“You have no idea what you fuckin’ do to me,” Sukuna rasped, dragging your leg higher over his shoulder until your body folded under him. His eyes flicked down, and his grin sharpened. He pressed one big hand to your stomach, right over the bulge his cock made inside you, forcing you to look at it. “See that? That’s me. That’s how deep I am.”
The sight had you moaning, and he mocked you instantly—throwing his head back, mimicking your breathless little sounds in a high, fake voice. “Oh Sukuna, you’re so big, ohhh.” Then he slammed his hips down harder, voice dropping into a growl. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll make you scream it for real.”
And he did. Every thrust was relentless, his body hunched over yours, sweat dripping down his temples as his chest crushed yours. He kissed you again, filthier this time, tongue forcing its way past your teeth while his cock bullied deeper into you, your entire body rocking with every snap of his hips.
At some point, Sukuna got sick of leaning over you. With a rough grunt, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you, dragging your body up until you were straddling him in the backseat. The shift was dizzying—one second he was caging you down, the next he was shoving you up,
dragging you onto his lap, his back slouched against the car seat like a king on his throne. One knee spread wide against the door, the other pressed to the opposite seat, he looked every bit the bastard he was—tattoos shifting over his arms, head tipped back with that cocky grin pulling at his mouth.
“C’mon,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, hands gripping your hips like handles. “Show me what you got. Ride me.”
You braced your hands on his shoulders, heart slamming in your chest as you sank down onto him. His cock stretched you wide, the intrusion brutal, and you could barely catch your breath as you tried to ease yourself slowly onto his lap. The leather squeaked under you, his thighs flexed, and Sukuna’s head lolled back against the seat with a ragged groan.
“Fuck—you’re so tight—” His voice broke, his hand shooting to your waist to steady you. Then you clenched, unintentionally, and his reaction was instant: his grip tightened, teeth bared. “Shit—don’t—fuck—don’t clench on me like that—” He bit off his own words, jaw twitching, eyes snapping open to glare at you like it was your fault he was losing control.
You whimpered, trying to rock your hips, but your pace was hesitant, too slow. Your thighs trembled from the stretch, your body struggling to keep up. You tried, bouncing weakly, but every movement felt clumsy compared to the way he fucked you before.
Sukuna chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Pathetic,” he drawled, though his voice cracked at the edges, rougher than he meant. His hands slid down to your ass, fingers digging in hard. “You really think that’s riding me? You’re useless.”
And then he thrust upward.
Your whole body jolted, a cry ripping out of you as his cock speared deeper, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He did it again—harder, sharper—his thighs snapping against yours, his back never leaving the seat as he drove up into you.
“Yeah,” Sukuna grunted, his grin sharp and filthy, “that’s more like it. You sit there, pretty little thing, and I’ll do the real work. Lazy slut—look at you, bouncing like you were made for this cock.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red trails across his skin as his pace grew ruthless. He caught your chin in one rough hand, forcing your face to his, and crashed his mouth onto yours. The kiss was all tongue and spit, aggressive and wet, his teeth biting down on your lip as his hips never slowed.
He broke away with a laugh that sounded more like a growl, his forehead pressing to yours. “Every time you squeeze around me—fuck—I can feel it. You’re strangling my dick, you know that?” His thrusts grew sharper, seatbelt buckles clattering against the door from the force. “You’ll make me lose my shit, keep clenching like that.”
The car shook with every brutal snap of his hips, his cock splitting you open while your body melted against him. And all you could do was hold on, gasping into his mouth as he fucked up into you, mocking you with your own moans between every breath.
Your body was nothing but tremors and moans, sprawled across Sukuna’s chest, skin sticking to his from sweat. You could barely hold yourself up anymore—your face was buried against his neck, hair plastered to your cheek, every sound that left your throat muffled against his hot skin.
But Sukuna wasn’t slowing down. Not for a second.
Every thrust of his hips ricocheted through your bones, his cock driving into you so deep the damn seat shuddered beneath you. Your thighs trembled uselessly at his sides, spread wide over his lap, the stretch brutal.
“Listen to that,” he rasped, sweat dripping from his temple into your hair, his mouth hovering against your ear. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the car, obscene and endless. “So fucking messy. You’re soaking me like a goddamn whore.”
His hand cupped your breast, rough fingers pinching your nipple until you cried out, the sound breaking against his throat. He chuckled, leaning down to suck harshly at your chest, his teeth dragging sharp over your skin before sinking in. “Sensitive, huh? Knew it,” he muttered, voice vibrating against your flesh as he left his mark.
You whimpered, but he wasn’t having it. His hand caught your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he shoved two thick fingers past your lips. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, watching your lips stretch around him. “C’mon, bite me. Do it.” He pushed deeper until you gagged, then yanked them out, spit stringing from your tongue. His smirk was vicious as he slapped your cheek lightly with the wet hand. “Good girl. I knew you liked being used.”
The other hand slid down your stomach, calloused knuckles pressing rough against your clit. The jolt had you gasping into his chest, thighs clenching, but Sukuna only laughed, rolling the sensitive bud with cruel precision.
“Feel that? You squeeze me tighter every time I touch you here.” His hips slammed upward to prove his point, cock punching the air from your lungs. “Jesus christ. You can’t even fucking hide it.”
Your moans spilled against his neck, broken and helpless, and Sukuna swallowed them greedily when he dragged your face up and crushed his mouth to yours. His tongue shoved past your lips, messy and possessive, while he pounded harder, faster, your whole body shaking against him.
“Take it,” he snarled, voice frayed and feral, his thrusts violent enough that your ass left the seat with each snap of his hips. Your back hit the roof once, hard, and he just laughed, grinding deeper until your stomach bulged around him. “Take every inch, fuck—stop strangling my cock or I’m gonna—” His words broke into a curse, teeth sinking into your shoulder as his hips hammered up again and again.
The windows ran with condensation, the car stinking of sweat, sex, and smoke. Sukuna’s mouth dragged down your throat, sucking and biting until your skin bloomed with bruises, while his fingers rubbed your clit ruthlessly.
“Don’t think lying here all fucked-out means you’re in control,” he gritted, every thrust jarring your limp body higher against him. “This is my pace. My cock. My fucking rules.”
And he was right—because at that point, your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was his playground, his outlet, his mess to ruin. And he laughed, low and mean against your ear, as he drove you even deeper into oblivion.
Sukuna manhandled you like a ragdoll, flipping you onto your stomach across the backseat so fast your head smacked the door. The leather squeaked under your skin as he shoved your face down, his palm heavy on the back of your skull, forcing your cheek against the sticky seat.
“Face down, ass up,” he growled, voice thick with sadistic glee. “Don’t make me say it twice.”
Your knees scrambled against the cramped floorboard, back arched awkwardly, ass in the air. He didn’t give you a second to adjust. A wet spit hit your cunt, hot and obscene, and then his cock was there, smearing it in, pushing the mess inside along with him in one sharp, ruthless thrust.
You screamed against the leather, the sound muffled, your whole body jerking forward from the force.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Sukuna hissed, one hand locked onto your hip, the other braced on the fogged-up window. The car creaked with every slam of his hips, each thrust a violent clap of skin. “Messy little slut—your pussy’s eating me alive.”
He pounded into you mercilessly, backshots so deep you felt him in your stomach. Every rut had your ass smacking against his pelvis, the wet slap echoing in the confined space. The car actually rocked on its suspension, windows dripping with condensation, filling with the smell of sweat, sex, and leather.
“Too much,” you choked, voice raw, fingers clawing at the seat beneath you. “Sukuna, please—fuck—it’s too much!”
His laugh was mean and breathless, teeth flashing as he leaned down, chest pressed against your back. “Too much? You sound like you’re about to cum all over my cock. Don’t bullshit me.” He spat again, letting it dribble down your spine, and smeared it across your skin with his thumb like he owned you.
The angle had him hitting so deep your knees gave out, but he held you up by the hips, slamming harder, grinding into you until your ass stung. His cock dragged every inch of your walls raw, his pace relentless, every thrust nastier than the last.
“Fuck, this pussy,” he groaned, voice cracking, losing composure as his hips snapped faster, rougher.
You sobbed into the seat, body trembling, begging again—but Sukuna didn’t stop. He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back just so he could hear you whimper louder.
Then he broke. With a guttural curse, Sukuna slammed one final time, cock burying to the hilt as he came inside you, hot and deep, his hips grinding forward to spill every drop. He held you there, cock twitching inside your spasming cunt, making sure it all stayed in.
“Yeah,” he panted against your ear, voice low and smug. “That’s mine. Marked you from the inside out. Anyone who looks at you is gonna fucking know it.”
You lay there trembling, face pressed into the sticky leather, his weight pinning you down, his cum dripping out and soaking into the car seat. And Sukuna? He just smirked, chest heaving, cock still buried in you like he had no plans to pull out anytime soon.
Sukuna didn’t pull out right away. No—he stayed buried deep, grinding slow, filthy circles with his hips just to feel you twitch and leak around him. Every time you thought he was done, he shoved himself forward again, forcing his cum deeper until you whimpered into the leather seat.
“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, nails digging into your hips. His thrusts weren’t hard now, but insistent, pushing his mess back inside every time it tried to spill out. “Your cunt doesn’t even wanna let me go. Greedy little thing.”
You gasped, weak and broken, your thighs trembling as he rutted lazily. “S-Sukuna… please, I can’t anymore—”
“Can’t what?” he snapped, punctuating it with another sharp push that made your whole body jolt. “Can’t take my cock? Can’t take my cum? Too fucking bad. You asked for this, brat.”
You sobbed into the seat, clenching helplessly around him. That seemed to be enough for him. Finally, with a low groan, he eased out, hot spend spilling freely between your thighs. You thought he’d laugh at the mess—but instead, his palm smoothed down your back, steady, grounding.
“Hey.” His voice was rough, but not cruel this time. “C’mere.”
Before you could collapse, he scooped you up, pulling you into his lap like you were fragile. You blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted as your chest rose and fell against his. Sukuna brushed damp strands of hair off your face, thumb grazing your temple like it was second nature.
“You okay, baby?” he asked, quiet enough that it almost didn’t sound like him. His forehead pressed briefly to yours, heavy breaths mingling.
Your throat worked around a dry swallow. “…y-yeah. Just… tired.”
“Tired, huh?” His mouth curved, somewhere between a smirk and something softer. His hand cradled the back of your head, thumb stroking gently against your scalp. “No shit. You’re lucky you can even walk after that.”
You let out a weak laugh, more a puff of breath, your face burying in his chest. “You’re such an asshole.”
He huffed, a sound that might’ve been a chuckle, his arm tightening around you. “Yeah, maybe. But I take care of what’s mine.”
And that was it—no more cruelty, no more taunts, just Sukuna holding you close in the sweltering car, his breath hot against the top of your head while his thumb kept tracing soft circles against your hip.
The windows were still fogged, the car reeking of sex and sweat, your body a trembling mess slumped across his chest. Sukuna sat back against the seat, big hand spread lazily across your lower back, the other stroking idly through your hair like it was instinct.
You shifted weakly, wincing at the soreness between your legs. “...You’re such a fucking dick,” you whispered, voice hoarse.
He snorted, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Tch. Big words for someone who just let me rearrange their guts in the backseat.” His palm slid down to squeeze your ass, sharp enough to make you jolt. “Don’t forget you were begging for it.”
“Was not,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you buried your face in his neck.
“Yeah? Then what was all that whining, huh? Crying for me to stop while your pussy was strangling my cock?” His laugh was cruel, but his fingers kept combing gently through your hair, untangling sweaty strands. “Don’t bullshit me.”
You groaned in embarrassment, trying to hide deeper in his chest. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he said simply, almost soft. His hand smoothed down your spine again, slow and steady. “And you’re fucked. For putting up with me. For liking it.”
You peeked up at him, lips swollen, eyes hazy. “…You don’t hate me?”
His grin was sharp, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He thumbed at your cheek, almost tender. “Hate you? Baby, if I hated you, I wouldn’t be wasting my time fixing your hair after fucking you stupid.”
You blinked, taken aback by the honesty buried under the bite of his words.
Sukuna leaned in, his forehead bumping yours, his mouth brushing against your swollen lips. “I’ll say it once—so don’t make me repeat myself. You’re mine. My brat. My fuckin’ problem. And yeah, I’ll ruin you every chance I get, but…” His voice dipped, softer, dangerous in a different way. “…I’ll be the one holding you after, too. Got it?”
You nodded, small and shaky, and his smirk returned as he tugged you closer, pressing his mouth hard against yours—rough kiss, tongue and teeth, but the hand at the back of your neck never stopped stroking gently.
That was Sukuna, through and through. The bully who spit venom and fucked you raw, but still carried you out of the car afterward with your clothes half-fixed and your hair tucked behind your ear, muttering shit under his breath like, “Don’t fall asleep yet, dumbass. I’m not done with you.”
Hardest fucker. Softest touch. Always mean. Always yours.
baby's breath | 36
↠ summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.
↠ word count: 4,520
↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith
↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, daddy kink, forced infantilism, age gap, emotional manipulation, predator/prey, leg trauma
The stage had been set.
Blank, wide eyes stared deep into the bloody red tomato sauce broiling in the pot. Wooden spoon in hand, you swirled the thick paste round and round. Breathing still, body laxed, out from the corner of your eye, you watched Levi.
He had cursed under his breath as his cell rang. “I have to get this, keep cooking.”
As he paced out the kitchen in hushed words, his back was turned towards you, trusting. Likened to a frog in boiling water, Levi welcomed your warmth. Fiddling with the tiny pills in your pocket, you continued to stir. You slipped them out and placed them into the pot with a gentle plop. The heat of the sweet sauce could not graze you.
Smiling, you stirred and stirred and stirred.
Earlier that day, you had woken up before Erwin. Last night was already an eternity ago. You dared not look at Levi in fear he was too not asleep. Reaching up to touch the collar, your fingers rubbed against the course material. Since you were sick and had been a ‘good girl,’ they decided against using the leash. But not good enough to release you from the very thing shackling you.
Anticipation ate away at your patience. Steeling yourself, you refused to let yourself fall this. Shutting your eyes, you fell into your role. Still clad in two sets of clothes, sweat caked on your body, the fabric sticking to your back. Within a couple hours Erwin had woken up to go to work.
Leaning over you, he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. His face pinched as he called out to Levi. “I think she’s not getting better.”
Already awake, he groggily responded, “If the fever doesn’t go down by tonight, we’ll call the doctor in.”
You unconsciously whimpered at the thought of that doctor ever touching you again, but you easily passed it as not feeling well.
Erwin was quick to shush you. “You poor thing,” He turned his focus to Levi, “Should I stay home?”
Your heart sunk into your stomach. No, no, no he can’t. It would ruin everything.
Levi tsked at him. “You think I can't handle one sick girl? It will be fine.”
Erwin hung his head and nodded, “You’re right. I must be off then. I’ll be home for supper on the dot.”
“What am I, your housewife?” Levi grimaced at Erwin’s words.
Unable to keep your mouth shut, you weakly quipped, “You’re mommy, remember?”
Whipping his head to you, Levi snarled while lightly gripping your cheeks until your lips puckered. “Not too sick to be a bratty piece of shit, huh?”
You whined as you flinched back and tugged at his wrists.
Erwin, laughter heavy in tone, helped you escape Levi’s playful grip. “Come on, leave her be. It was my fault, I phrased it strangely and you know she likes to jest.”
“Or dance on my last fucking nerve.” Levi’s words were harsh, but his tone sung of affection.
Warmth surrounded you all, but you knew not to fall for it. Nothing was sweet about something created from rot. So as Levi let you go and Erwin left to get ready, you dared not move. The morning crawled on, Levi went downstairs to get you your clothes for the day. Erwin’s car’s revved as he went to work, leaving you alone.
Levi came in with a pile of clothes, “Get in the shower, you got fifteen minutes. Don’t make me have to help you.”
Dramatically, you heaved yourself upwards, acting more sluggish than you were. Nodding your head, you lumbered towards him, hands awaiting your clothes.
“Words.”
“Yes, I’ll be good,” You mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eye with your fist.
Levi clicked his tongue once again, but reached a hand up and ruffled your hair. Your shoulders hunched up. Heat ran across your face with your moon eyes. You blinked as your mouth dropped. Ogling at him, you snatched your clothes from his hands. He said nothing as you scrambled away and slammed the bathroom door shut.
What the fuck. What the actually fuck.
You didn’t like this, you don’t like any of this. The teasing, soft gestures, the playful banter. Flicking the shower on, you drowned away the thoughts. This wasn’t fair, you cried. Thoughts of early June swirled in your head. Times were you all three could be like that.
Soon a familiar rage built. Stripping yourself, you stepped into the shower and scrubbed your body head to toe. This would be your last shower here. Until your flesh was raw, you washed away every reminisce of them. The sticky residue of their touch. You were coming out of this clean. Purified.
Leaving the water on for a moment longer, you stepped out and wrapped the towel around you. Droplets slipped down your stingy skin, plopping onto the tiled floors. You wiped the condescension from the fogged up mirror. Staring at your reflection, you spied at how your hand quivered. Cracking the cabinet open, Levi’s sleeping pills sat right where they were before.
Twisting the bottle open, you tapped four pills out of the bottle, it must be enough. Slipping them into the pocket of the fluffy sweatpants Levi grabbed, you placed the bottle back on the shelf. Closing the cabinet, you finally turned the water off.
A knock rapped on the door, “You better be finished.”
Your mouth fell to tell him you in fact weren’t, but he stepped inside. Unimpressed, he surveyed your still dripping wet body. Blood pumping in your ears, you prayed Levi wouldn’t see anything he thought was amiss.
“You’re not dressed.”
“I took longer because the sweat was sticking to me.”
He glared you down, rolling the excuse through his palette. “Fine. Come here.”
Grabbing your arm, Levi had you stand before him. Unfurling the towel wrapped around your body, it left you vulnerable. After all the effort it rubbed you clean of them, Levi sullied it. Like he always does.
With zero ill intentions, he dried you off. His touches didn’t linger, nor did he stare. Clinically, he run the towel all over your body. Kneeling down, Levi patted your legs. Pausing, he assessed his handiwork. Tilting his head upwards, he was level with your stomach, too close to your pussy than wanted. His gaze didn’t wander. Despite being below you, he still commanded the space. You were not fooled.
“Do you want to dress yourself?”
“Yes, please.”
Nodding, he patted your outer thighs and heaved himself up by rolling back on his heels. Giving you some privacy, he walked out the bathroom but left the door open. Knowing better to just leave it be, you slipped on your clothes. Gently as you could, you put on the pants, listening out for any rattling.
You were in the clear.
Making your way out of the bedroom, Levi was nowhere to be found. Listening for a moment, you heard nothing. Quickly, you went to the bedside table and opened the drawer. As quiet as you could, you rummaged through Levi’s drawer. Empty.
Rounding the bed, you went to Erwin’s. Nothing here either. Reserving yourself, you hastily made it out of the bedroom to avoid suspicion. You would have to look somewhere else for their car keys. Erwin obviously had a spare somewhere, you just had no clue where.
Your bare feet slapped against the stairs. Perfect. Moseying down the halls, you saw Levi heading towards the laundry room.
“Levi,” You called out.
“What?” He looked over his shoulder with a glare.
“My feet are cold.”
“… And?”
“Can I go grab some socks?”
He glanced at your feet tucking one over the other due to said ‘coldness’, “Fine. Be quick, we got shit ton to do today.”
“Yessir.”
Acting like there’s a fire lit under your ass because of his words, and not something us, you rapidly shuffled to your bedroom. The door left ajar, you slunk inside and went for the bureau. Going bottom up, you lifted up all the clothes and found nothing. You did this again and again until you reached your sock drawer. Still nothing. Giving up, you hopped to put on two socks per foot and then repeated with the other as you went to the closet.
The ropes hadn’t been moved. Sighing out in relief, there was at least one win so far. With limited time, you raced out your bedroom and greeted Levi at the threshold of the laundry room.
“What took you so long?” He asked over his shoulder.
“I wanted fluffy socks.”
He huffed, “You got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
You shrugged.
He made no further comment.
The day continued like this. Really, it was like no other day. You assisted Levi with the chores, gave him some lip, but nothing that warranted a punishment. He seemed less tense since last morning. And your heart only ached. No matter what, this won’t distract you.
By midday, you had given up on finding their car keys. It was a dud. You were already acting suspicious and you couldn’t have Levi catching on. Everything was falling into place, today had to be the day. You knew where your boots and jacket were. You will survive.
Throughout the day, you slowly got ‘better.’ You could stand on your own, the fever had gone down and you were able to have full conversations. Easing Levi into your dwindling sickness, you let it all fall into place.
Dinnertime had finally rolled around quicker than you anticipated. Flexing your hands, you willed all the tension away. Everything will be fine. It was too late to go back. In your new routine, you had helped Levi prepare dinner.
Levi’s phone rang.
Here in the now, you grabbed the garlic and shook more of the seasoning in the pot. Nothing else mattered besides masking the taste of the tainted sauce. If they wanted to play house, then you will. Letting your face fall neutral once more, your ears perked at the front door opening.
Your heart boomed in your rib cage. Tapping the wooden spoon against the rim, you wiped your sweaty hands on your pants.
Erwin came marching over with a smile. Gathering you up in a hug, he kissed the top of your head. “I see you’re feeling better.”
Nodding against his chest, you swallowed the lump, “Much.”
Pulling away, he beamed down at you and then looked over your head. “Helping Levi cook?”
“Yeah,” You nodded, and looked over to the side. Making eye contact only made it worse, like he could just tell something was off. “I think its done.”
Patting your head like Levi did this morning, he ushered you off to the side. Grabbing the spoon, he tasted the sauce. His hum must have been his approval.
“Let’s set the table while we wait on Levi.”
And so you set up your stage. Each plate clicked perfectly against the hardwood. No silverware was out of place. Napkins all in array. Cup were filled with water. A dollhouse ready for a family meal.
The spaghetti slapped against the pristine plates as Erwin pour the pasta in the sauce mixed with the meatballs. Serving himself and then you, he brought your plates to the table.
Levi entered stage left from where your chair sat. He made no comment as he got his own serving. Sitting down across from you, he glanced at you and Erwin’s untouched plates, “Don’t wait on me.”
No further instructions needed. Erwin made the first bite to your own discontentment. Twirling around your food, you took a small nibble to not raise suspicions. And then, Levi started to eat as well. Steadying your breath, you banished the want to watch them like a starving vulture.
Words weren’t exchanged as they ate morsel after morsel.
Eat your fill, you pigs. Eat until you can’t and then some more.
Their plates were more than half finished by the time Erwin noticed you have barely touched yours. “You’re not eating a lot, sweetheart?”
Pouting, you continued to play with your food, “I’m still not that hungry.”
Levi’s eyes sharpened, “You were able to eat at lunch.”
Shit. You tried to shrug it off, “I guess I’m still full.”
Blood rushing in your ears, you started to eat as well. Any bite you took, Levi followed, glaring you down. Your portions were significantly less, but you were able to mask it. Levi played this dance with you until he finished his plate clean.
With his fork, he pointed at your food, “Finish it.”
“I’m full-”
“Fuck,” Erwin whispered, hand over his face.
Alarmed, you both stared at Erwin in shock.
“Shitty brows, what’s wron-” Levi cut himself off as he blinked at the sudden wave of dizziness.
Head drooping, Erwin’s gaze caught Levi’s. A grin stretched on your face at them both having the same revelation. Erwin tried to speak, but only gargles tumbled out as his head fell, smacking against the table.
Snapping his attention to you, Levi placed both hands on the wood to jump you. His hand slipped out from under him as he collapsed forward.
“You won’t get far, you stupid bitch,” He bit out, eyes losing focus.
“Sleep tight.”
He huffed, “Oh you’re so fucked.”
You wanted to relish in his patheticness, but you were already biding your time. The chair scraped against the floor, you hopped out of it and raced towards the bedroom. Swinging the closet open, you gathered the ropes. Going back to the kitchen, neither of them have moved.
Sliding on your socks, you went to Levi first. His eyes were half lidded, clinging onto any consciousness he could. By pure adrenaline alone, you pulled his chair out from under the table for better access. Clumsily, you tied his feet to the legs. Double, triple, quadruple knotting it. You repeated the same with his arms.
With the spare ropes, you went to Erwin. Pushing the table back, you ignored the terrible sound. Just as you did Levi, you bound him to the chair with the very ropes he tormented you with. One last ditch effort you frisked Erwin. Patting over his pants, you were completely shit of luck. There were no keys.
Stumbling your way to the couch, you scratch your head to contemplate how to get the scissors.
“Fuck it.”
Crouching down, you tucked your hands underneath it. With a pitchy roar, you pushed it upwards. It smacked against the ground, the dust cover now full exposed. Spying the hole, you grabbed both sides and tugged. Ripping filled the air as you kept going until it was top to bottom. The scissors clattered against the floor.
Swiping them, you shoved the open blade through the collar. The plastic cold on the fragile flesh of your neck. Heaving out a couple rapid breaths, you squeezed down on the handles. The fabric crunched under the zig-zag blade. It was working. Leaning away from the path of the scissors, the blade parted the fibers from each other with each cut. Going up to your jaw, you made one last snip.
The collar clattered against the floor. As if the weight of the world left you, your shoulders relaxed. Keeping the scissors, you rubbed at your bare throat. Unable to dwell on it, you hurried over to the mudroom. Swinging the closet open, you grabbed your jacket and boots. You searched for your pants and gloves, but there was nothing. You must make do.
Slipping the boots on and then your jacket, you watched as the sun dwindling in the sky. Swinging the front door open, you were smacked with the icy breeze. Stuffing the scissors in your pocket, there was nothing to do, but run.
Snow covered the ground. Luckily, there were no flurries of snow flakes. The skies were clear besides the sinking sun. Your feet slipped a bit on the icy patches covering the driveway. In one last ditch effort, you went for Erwin’s car. Smacking your body into the vehicle, you tested the handle, but there was no give.
“Fuck!”
You must do plan B. Rounding the car, you made a break for it into the woods. Going by the road would do nothing. This wasn’t a main road and it was once in a blue moon a stray car would drive past. You weren’t taking any chances.
Snow crunched beneath your feet. Arms covering your face, you trekked through the stray branches whipping past you. Unsettled foliage shook with each sprint, breaking up your path. Footsteps trailed behind you. Your hot breath fogged up the air in front of your face. Sniffling, you whipped your dripping nose. The salty mucus dribbling into your panting mouth.
Tugging at your long sleeves under your jacket, you used the thin fabric as gloves. Your fingers burned from the chill. Thank god you remembered to put on two pairs of socks. Seconds were generations as you ran and ran, hoping you were going the right way. Though the underbrush, you couldn’t see your beacon of the neighbor’s porch light.
Just keep straight, just keep straight.
A branch broke behind you. Likened to the hunted prey, your rabbit-heart sped up. Pumping your legs faster, you abandoned the sting in your lungs. Startled little bunny mustn’t get caught by the wolf.
The density of trees started to become thinner. Not completely out of the woods yet, you stumbled out as if the trees spat you out. There. There a mere few meters away was the neighbor's home. Licking your cracked lips, you raced over to their front porch. Their driveway was barren of any cars, but you had hope. It was all you had.
Smacking against the front porch. You slapped your frozen hands against the door. The sun was almost eaten by the horizon. Soft twilight blanketed you in a hazy purple.
“Hello! Is anyone home?” You called out, but no one answered. Fisting your hand, you hit harder and continued, “Please, someone please open the door! I need help, I’m begging! I was kidnapped, please just please!”
A thundering sound of a dog barking greeted you instead. Another snapped was heard from the woods. Frantically, you hit the door once more. You knew Levi couldn’t be contained for long. You were running from your deal with the devil. And he would come to claim his pound of flesh.
“Fucking shit motherfucker!” You screamed and kicked the door.
Tears freezing on your puffed out cheeks, you pivoted on your foot and raced down the slippery stairs. Nothing else to do, you went right. You knew there were more neighbors this way, but they were at least two miles out. With the dog barking behind you, you ran into the treeline once more.
More sunlight slipped away from you, the forest now a haunting blue. Blackness would encompass you soon. If you remembered from gym class in school, the average person could run two miles in twenty minutes and that was without difficult terrain. You weren’t going to make it to the next house before night shrouded you.
Crying and sniffling, you didn’t let up. Completely exhausted, vomit hung in the back of your throat. You haven’t done any physical labor in months besides the short bursts of trying to run, but they lasted seconds. Your muscles had atrophied. You were doomed.
“Shut the fuck up,” You growled to yourself. This wasn’t the fucking time.
You have survived worst. You were built to endure, remember? You were going to fucking endure until either you escaped or died trying.
Stumbling into a tree, you stopped for a moment. Heaving out a heavy breath, you collected your bearings. Starting a jog, you have to pace yourself, but still make haste.
A crunch of a snow being stepped in permeated throughout the enclosed air. Whipping your head behind you, there was nothing. You didn’t stop, but your ears perked for where the sound came from.
Crunch!
You sprinted left. Going diagonal, if it was Levi you weren’t going to let him deviate you from your path. You were in uncharted territory and you knew he bested you in navigation. The leaves rustled around you as the wind picked up.
Fingers completely frozen, you gripped the scissors in your pocket. It wasn’t much, but you needed at least something. Willing your tired feet, you stumbled through the darkening forest. The last bit of sun slid out your fingers. Poking its white head out from the horizon, the full moon smiled down at you. At least you were graced some light, but it wasn’t much.
A spare root hooked over your boot. Screaming, you fell forwards. A hiss broke from your cracked lips as you scraped your hands on the ground. Hot pain coated your hands just like the plush snow. Crawling for a second, you adjusted yourself to start running again.
You slid to a stop at the figure a few meters in front of you. Stepping backwards, the snow crunched under foot.
“You’re really fucking stupid, you know that?”
Blinded by fear, you turned around and booked it forward with no direction. He found you, he fucking found you. There was no goal now, just get the fuck away from him. Hiccups popped out of your throat from the sheer terror.
Giving chase, Levi’s light footsteps traveled behind you, closing in. A petrified scream disturbed the silent forest. Oh how the trees would gossip. His fingers brushed against your coat. Pumping your knees up higher, your quaking wail breached your chest.
Dodging his grasp, you went to the right, trying your hardest to not get turned around. You don’t know if you have twenty minutes left out of you, let alone whatever it took to get him off your trail. And yet, adrenaline kept you going. Jumping over stray logs, your foot slid against the snow giving you more leeway.
Branches snapped against your arms as you blocked your face.
“Running only makes this worse!” Levi bellowed behind you.
Not running wouldn’t do anything either. You weren’t going back there, if you had to fucking die, you would. You didn’t want to though, but you can’t do this anymore. There was no going back. Not to the before, and to the now. They would never trust you again, and they might actually kill you this time. If you were going to be slaughtered, let it be by your hand, let it be in these woods for how the trees would kinder. Whatever picked away at your corpse, would be kinder.
The air whistle past you with each burst. His footsteps thundered, a faster tempo than your clumsy patters. A mass slammed right into you.
Screaming, you fell right into the snowy dirt. Spitting out the gritty, cool soil, you dug your fingers into snow. Scrambling away, you tried to get up as Levi stood over you. He stomped his foot right on the top of your head.
Chest heaving, he snarled, “You proud of yourself, huh?”
Your brain rattled in your head. Your left eye definitely hit a spare rock. Reaching down, he grabbed you by the arm and flipped you around to face him. Anger couldn’t even describe the look on his twisted visage. He was downright murderous.
“Got nothing to say?”
Everything was numb. “Fuck you.”
“I should fucking kill you,” He growled, likened to the very wolf you compared him to.
Putting your hand in your pocket, you grabbed the scissors. “Not if I do it first.”
Opening the blade, with one side gripped, you aimed for his knee. Before you could do anything, he gripped your wrist and twisted it until you released the scissors. Stepping off you, Levi kicked the scissors far, a puff of snow following. You leaned forward and scampered to get back on your feet.
“Don’t even fucking think about it.”
He placed a foot on your shoulder and shoved you back into the ground. The breath left you. Digging his heel into the meat, he stared down at you with a such cold expression. Those gun metal irises were almost an icy blue. He was silent before speaking again.
“You did this to yourself, remember that.” He took his foot off your shoulder.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Leaning up, you watched as Levi crouched by your right leg. Before you could think to get up, he clutched right above your knee. Your leg caught in a rabbit snare.
“I should break your fucking leg, but I can’t promise a clean break,” He started, staring down your knee, before glancing up at you.
New found terror slithered heat up in your throat, “Levi? W-what do you mean by that?”
“Try not to bite of your tongue.”
“Levi?!”
Crack!
A harrowing howl bellowed through the stagnant woods. Your left leg kicked out as you tried to fight off Levi’s grip. You fisted balls of snow, but it did nothing.
“Stop fucking moving or else I can’t reset it.”
The fucker dislocated your knee. Screeching, your back arched against the ground, glued. It burned! Cries filled the air at the burning sensation racing up and down your leg. Agony was liquid fire in your veins. Sweat pooled on your back as your body went into crisis mode.
“It hurts, it hurts!” You weeped, snot pouring down.
“No shit it hurts. Quit moving so I can fix it.”
Forcing yourself to relax, you puffed out shaky breathes.
Pop!
The wind was knocked out of you as Levi set your leg back into place. You went to move it, but he gripped your thigh before you could. Tears caked your shiny, frost bitten face. You were a miserable mess. The pain now a dull ache if you stayed still. Vision was going out in your left eye. Staring up at the barren trees, nothing but blackness greeted you as the moon sat too low in the sky. Stars twinkling above, mocking you of their freedom.
“Let’s go home. You need a splint.” His voice was steady, just as barren of the trees of any previous vitriol.
“Kill me.”
Levi stared for a moment, “I’m not going to kill you, brat.”
Tears streamed down your temples, mixing with your already wet hair. “Why not?” You whined out like a child.
“You know why.”
Saying nothing else, he scooped under your back. Taking your limp arm, he heaved you over his shoulder. With ease, Levi got up from his crouched position. Wrapping one arm around your upper thighs, you were bound to him. Like always.
classes monday. FAWKKKKKK
MAKESHIFT PILLOW ✮ KATSUKI BAKUGO
✮ requested & rewritten! , fem! reader, fluff & established relationship
✮ synopsis: falling asleep on him
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who just sits there and accepts his fate whenever you lay your head on his shoulder or his chest—knowing better than to try and wake you up once you've curled yourself into his side and mumbled something about him feeling warm.
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who doesn't hesitate to glare at everyone who comes into the common room making noise whenever you fall asleep there, shushing them instantly with the look of pure annoyance on his face.
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who'll complain about you sleeping too much after you wake up from naps in his dorm, and act like he didn't have his arms wrapped around you dozing off almost right after you had
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who covers you with a blanket whenever you fall asleep on him, and wraps an arm around you while you babble in your sleep—thinking it's the sweetest thing in the world that you feel so comfortable with him—though he'll never put it into words
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who gets teased by his friends whenever they catch him cuddled up with you while you sleep, and doesn't yell at them until you're awake again, but they just know what's coming for them the moment they whisper, "Bakugo's going soft for you."
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who falls asleep each night with you laying on some part of him, like his bicep, and the two of you wake up inches apart; his chest, and he'll wake up with a spot of drool clouding his nightshirt; his shoulder, and your hair somehow made its way in his mouth throughout the night; or his stomach, and you wake up with one of his arms thrown over your head.
Boyfriend!Katsuki, who wouldn't want to change a thing about being your makeshift pillow; as long as you're comfortable, he's comfortable.
YES i get attached to a guy at the slightest bit of attention. YES i begin to daydream about him after one conversation. YES i have issues, and NO i don’t know how to fix this.
okay GUYS im working on a katsuki x formerk9!puppyhybrid!reader fic that has multiple chapters
unfortunately, im thinking of maybe changing katsuki to another love interest. wanted to originally keep the fic in the canon mha universe (timeskip ofc) but i found that having a guard dog (tehe whoops lil spoiler) would be very redundant given katsuki’s quirk. i was thinking maybe one of the LADS boys? im not sure which one yet… or i could go a different route and create an alternate universe without quirks, but then im not sure how i could build katsuki’s backstory as well as his career in the future…
x k9 hybrid reader
keep katsuki and canon mha universe
keep katsuki change into alternate universe
make love interest one of the LADS boys (pls specify in comments which boy)
other idea (also leave in comments)
thanks!!!
