[saintblk]

༉‧₊˚.┊salim. twentytwo. black. she/her. #1 kaldur lover♡

— sort of kinda hiatus

nsfw && dark content. minors + ageless blogs do not interact ꒰ °masterlist ꒱ ꒰ °rules ꒱ ꒰ °tags꒱

©️all rights reserved by saintblk (me). do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission | minors and ageless blogs interact at your own risk

[cyxnidx]

THE MONEY SHE BE FOLDIN' .ᐟ

WHAT'S THE GIG?... little bits and pieces of toji being in a relationship with a pretty lil' stripper.

featuring... toji x stripper!reader

WHAT'S THE MOVE?... THE MORNING by THE WEEKND. reader is black. shiu is a little annoying here. suggestive scenes[1]. mention of wine [not consumed, just mentioned].

luvrs note: thought of this on a whim, but I'm pretty proud of it.

girl, put in work.

toji, who didn't expect to find himself strung up over a stripper after his best friend's birthday.

"smitten over sweet nothing's, toji?" shiu asked, boredom written across his face as he watched toji space out for the nth time that day.

it's been a week since they'd left that strip club. a week since shiu's birthday celebration.

yet, it somehow seems like toji enjoyed the damn event more than the poor birthday boy, who only got a few pretty words from the pretty ladies before they walked off.

poor guy mentioned it being his birthday, and only got a dismissive "okay" in return.

toji turns his head, summer breeze crossing his cheeks. "shut up."

toji, who carelessly brought into the pretty dreams and pillow talk, regardless of his best friends' concern.

"thought you were outta money?" shiu asked.

toji glanced at him. "w'made you think that?"

shiu's eyes narrowed. "spent it all last time we were at the club. for my birthday. or d'you drink all your memory away?"

toji shakes his head. "another gig came up, that's all." "that paid enough money for you to go back to that expensive ass club?" shiu asks.

he nods like it's obvious. "wouldn't have gone any other way."

patient and tired, shiu only sighed. "don't get caught up in nothin' crazy. i ain't bailing you out of anything."

toji laughs. "some friend you are."

toji, who remembers the exact night he finally got you to leave that damned club and see him in broad daylight.

"...lest you scared of a lil' drama?"

seeing toji back in your club wasn't something that surprised you.

he and one of his friends - who you paid little to no mind - were here almost two weeks ago.

not that the timeline really mattered to you.

you're far more interested in whatever toji has up his sleeve.

your head tilted, pretty lashes batting up at toji. "what drama?"

he shrugs lazily, music booming and lights fading between one another. "from management... or whoever 'sposed to be above you."

"what, you think i'm gonna get in trouble if i'm seen out with you?" you muse.

"don't know. would you?" toji asks.

you take a sip of your drink - one he brought you, and swore he wouldn't touch - before rolling your eyes. "this a half-assed attempt at askin' me out?"

toji's head falls onto the heel of his palm. "is it workin'?"

looking him up and down, you smile slyly. deciding to give him the time of say, you say, "a lil' bit." "good to know."

toji, who only seemed to fall for you even more as he learned more and more about you.

"wine tastin'?" toji echoed, brow raised in suspicion.

you nod shamelessly. "ain't that what i just said?"

chatter of surrounding conversations surrounded the two of you - you sat outside of a humble cafe you liked.

toji was initially caught off guard by it; usually when someone mentions a cafe, it's almost always pink and white. bright and visually appealing to most.

this one, however, was littered in browns, whites and greens. vining plants and colorful flowers littered the building inside and out; hummingbirds and butterflies making cheeky appearances around guests.

when he looked at you, it matched your vibe, so he couldn't complain.

still, he rolls his eyes, appearing unimpressed. "didn't know bein' an alcoholic was a hobby." your eyes narrow. "excuse me?"

shrugging meaninglessly, his eyes drift off to the daunting sun above the two of you. "nothin'."

"don't hold your tongue now, hot-shot." you tell him, "it's a hobby, the same way killin' people's yours, ain't it?"

now, he's the one glaring. "what you just say?"

"didn't know bein' a murderer was a hobby, toji." you repeat, just barely leaning over the table.

despite your mouthiness, a wry smile stretches along his lips, scar following the movement as he says, "i guess we both learned somethin' new today."

settling into your chair, you offer a sarcastic smile. "ain't it nice, what learnin' will do?"

toji, who didn't see the big deal when he'd told shiu what you said.

"why the hell would you tell her you kill sorcerers?"

toji hummed, twirling chopsticks between his fingers casually. "'cause i felt like it."

shiu groans. "do you realize you aren't-" "i'm not supposed to tell the general public, yada-yada." toji mocks, "what's she gonna do? tell the police?"

"you'd better hope she doesn't." shiu says, "why the hell were you even out with her to begin with?"

"oh," toji says, focusing on eating his noodles before responding. "went back to the club a few days ago, made plans."

shiu narrows his eyes. "you have got to be shitting me."

"why would i do that?" toji replied sarcastically.

toji, who happens to listen more than he'd admit.

"good shift?" toji asks, watching as you shuffle out of your place of work in little slippers and a much more comfortable outfit.

you nod. "kinda boring tonight. just used the opportunity to practice, mostly."

by habit, you hand him your duffel bag - filled to the brim with hygiene products, outfits, heels, makeup, and hair products. he takes it without a word.

because of course the two of you fell into a cycle; him waking up just early enough to walk to your club. wait about five minutes for you to come out before walking with you to the bank and heading home.

a large purse sits on your arm as you walk down the street. like always, it's likely filled with stacks of cash - even if the night was boring.

he's gotten used to this schedule you've somehow got him involved with. your night routine often overlaps with his morning routine. his night routine overlaps with your morning routine. and still, he finds time to do shit like this.

"no bruising?" toji asks, eyeing you up and down. you walking a little wonky after a shift is something he got used to; almost rare to see you walk without a mild limp any day now.

you glance at him before smiling. "someone's worried." "answer the question." he groans groggily.

"no," you tell him. "no bruising. my old ones are a little sore, though."

"need anything?" is toji's next question. "aside from a bath and sleep?" you shake your head, weave flowing smoothly with the movement. "nah."

he nods, crossing the street by your side. "nobody gave you trouble?"

"aside from the same jealous bitch, no." you chuckle sleepily, resting a hand on his forearm as you rub your eye. "apparently she ended up cryin' 'cause i took her pole."

"thought you said you rotated?" he asks.

now, you perk up a little. head tilted slightly, you smirk at him. "so you have been listening?"

toji smacks his lips. "not anymore."

you laugh. "i'm joking!"

toji, who didn't understand why his best friend was so caught off-guard by the next conversation they'd have about pole dancing.

"that shit ain't easy, y'know."

shiu rolls his eyes. "what point are you tryin' to prove, toji?"

"not provin' a point." toji murmurs, "just saying."

shiu sighs, clapping a hand on his friends shoulder. "sound like she talkin' for you, man."

toji glances up. "what?"

"she's messin' up your head, toji." shiu sighs, looking at toji with mild disappointment. "i mean, c'mon. when have you ever stopped to consider how hard pole dancing was?"

ignoring him, toji continued to tap away on his phone. "new perspectives don't kill nobody."

shiu's quiet for a minute - just staring. waiting for a sly grin, or toji to sike him out, as weird as it may have been. he'd have an easier time settling with toji playing a sike-out game with him instead of watching him seemingly become brainwashed.

toji, who always felt a sense of accomplishment when you'd finish sets with him at the gym.

you drop the weights, ignoring the muted thud they make against the insulated floor.

chest heaving, you stare up at the ceiling. head throbbing, arms practically ready to melt off, and a new line of strength you didn't know you could cross.

you'd just finished a set of floor-presses 'til failure - true failure. when you were initially ready to call it a day, thinking you'd truly done it until failure, you were proven devastatingly wrong.

it only took a few 'encouraging' words and a sly smile from him for you to consider pushing.

and you did. until you met the true line of "failure".

toji's hands come into your line of sight, shielding your vision from the blinding overhead lights. you blink away surprise and sheer exhaustion.

your arms still felt heavy from the weights as you took his hand between both of yours, putting in minimal effort as he pulled you up from the chair.

stumbling slightly, you grab onto his forearm as you exhale heavily. "shit."

toji nodded, offering a smug smirk. "see? told ya you could do it." you roll your eyes, still catching your breath. "shut up."

toji, who always found a way to ask you some kind of question.

"how d'you do that with long ass nails?" he asks.

your heels click as the morning plays in a loop behind you. your place is otherwise quiet; save for the two of you talking, of course.

you blink at him, like it's obvious. "same way you make shit work even when you injured."

his gaze narrows. "don't get smart." you roll your eyes. "maybe don't be dumb."

"it was a genuine question." he insists.

sarcastically, you show him your hand and slowly wrap it around the base of the pole. stepping back demonstratively, you walk forward and pull yourself up, naturally falling into an air walk.

"like this, toji." you tell him, your free hand extended like you've done something magical.

toji scowls, mutters something about you being a smartass before tapping at something on his phone. he gnaws at his inner cheek, eyes scanning uselessly at the blue screen.

for the record, he doesn't remember the last sorcerer to make him struggle.

and still, he can't help but watch you from his peripheral.

toji, who'd finally told you about shiu's doubts.

"fuck 'em."

you'd said it easily. like the topic as a whole meant nothing.

which, it didn't. not to you, anyway.

shiu wasn't your best friend. nor was he the one laying naked in bed with you, after hours of sex you wouldn't soon forget.

"y'don't care?" toji asks, almost timid.

you glance over at him. "why would i? he don't sign my check, do he?" "alright, i get it." toji murmurs.

"i mean," you start. "you know it's real, don't you?" toji hums. "...yeah."

you glance at him again before fully turning to straddle him again, brow raised. "you don't sound sure, toji."

he can't help the dumb grin that crosses his face. "yeah, yeah. i'm sure."

leaning down to kiss him, you match his expression. "good."

toji, who expected nothing good from shiu after he broke the news to 'em.

"...what?"

toji nods. "you heard me."

"why?" shiu almost demands. "why i'm marryin' 'er, or why's she pregnant?" toji asks, a mild snarkiness behind it.

shiu forces himself to blink. "what're you gonna do about megumi-"

"he'll just have another sibling," toji says. "and a mama. win-win."

"do you not believe how insane that is?" shiu asks, pacing along the wooden bridge.

below them, sits a calm lake - ducks quack, dipping below the water to mess with their feathers before coming back up quickly.

toji watches them for a minute before shaking his head. "no, not really."

"she's a stripper!" shiu insists, "toji, you met her at a club months ago, man. she whispered sweet nothin's to you."

"yeah," toji nods along. "now she's bearin' my kid, with my last name."

shiu laughs - unimpressed. "you're insane."

toji shrugs. "maybe."

"toji, man," shiu runs a hand down his face. "why'd you call me here? hmm?"

"oh," toji hums. "wanted to ask you to be my best man."

toji, who didn't expect to be in a relationship with the same stripper who initially did nothing but string him along.

luvrs note p.2: i would def write a separate piece detailing toji and stripper!readers' pregnancy journey, or maybe the after results with lil megumi & his new baby sibling [probably a sister, knowing me]

[saintblk]

couldn’t tell you where all my time is going but it feels like i don’t have time for anything lately. will try to write more tonight but idk:-(

[olegirldowntheblock]

Hate when I’m reading a Toji or sukuna fic and they give them that stupid ass accent

[saintblk]

i click and unclick veto just to see his agent select animation again (and again and again and again) sorry i need him so bad;-;

[saintblk]

Would you consider doing a murasakibara fic where he eats us out with whipped cream or frosting

warnings : foodplay (i guess?), oral (fem. receiving), overstimulation, mura gets hard >< — afab reader, considered to be black + thick

word count : 566 (so frickin short i know guys)

note : kinda hate this and my writing currently but i need to practice writing smut again. sorry if its dogwater anon hope you like it still<3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

YOU AREN'T SURE exactly how you found yourself in this position, ankles by your ears as atsushi held the nozzle of a can of whipped cream against your pelvis. one moment, he was getting handsy on your couch, and the next, he was producing a can of whipped cream from your fridge you couldn’t even recall buying.

now, he hovered over you, caging your body in with the most annoying look of determination on his face.

“hurry up…” you try to sound irritated, but your voice is breathy and tells him how you really feel.

his clothed bulge has been rubbing against your entrance for what felt like eons. but knowing atsushi, he can’t help but service you first, even though it was mostly for him. he could spend hours between your thighs, mindlessly bringing you orgasm after orgasm until you were shaking and barely conscious.

now was no different, save for the can of whipped cream he had in his hands. the same whipped cream he was spraying just above your clit. your breath hitches at the feeling of something so cold, so close to one of the most sensitive areas on your body. atsushi hums, then leans in and licks a stripe from your clit up to the dollop of whipped cream.

his moan drowns yours out.

almost frantically, he sprays some more whipped cream right atop your clit down to your opening. he stares at the already generous amount for a moment before spraying even more.

as soon as he pushes your legs back, his face is diving toward your core. you throw your head back at the feeling of his tongue lapping at you, collecting a mix of your juices and the whipped cream.

atsushi is a man in a trance at this point, and nothing could stop him until he decided he’d had his fill of you. strong hands grab at your pudgy thighs, as though attempting to mould you. you cant help but try to pull away, grabbing at his hands and hair and pushing them off you, but to no avail.

he’s quickly shaking his head and pulls you closer, only to push your legs so far back your knees are pressed against your ears.

“hold them,” he mumbles against your fold. “and stop pulling away.”

his words go in one ear and out the other as his tongue glides past your folds, coaxing a drawn out mewl from you. he uses the sheer size of the large pink muscle to wriggle against your walls while his thumb rubs circles around your clit. it doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build up and knot in your spine. in a quickness that doesn’t surprise you, your abdomen is tightening again, and a delicious tingle is crawling up your spine. before you can even stop it, you’re gushing onto his tongue with a violent shudder. atsushi is groaning just at the taste.

sweet, smooth, addictive.

he can’t be stopped though. not when he couldn’t possibly bring himself to waste a single drop, and definitely not when you taste so good. he uses his tongue to clean you up, brushing against a swollen clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

despite all this, the fact that you’ve just climaxed and are now spent and sensitive, atsushi grabs the can of whipped cream again and decides he wants seconds.

all rights reserved by saintblk (me). do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission !

[hoodzgyal]

doing doggy style with jason for the first time.

it’s not like you’re a virgin or anything… but you might as be, since you’re acting like it. he’s so big, you can’t help but curl your back and tighten up as he enters. “relax, baby,” he’s hissing, one huge hand rubbing your back, coaxing you to arch properly as his other hand guides himself back in, “it’s jus’ me, love. let me in.” you’re whining that you’re trying, he’s just so big, and so thick, and so—

[saintblk]

just finished my last year gonna try to be more active until i find a job:D

[bladebarbie]

student-athlete!Choso only behaves when access to you is revoked

Choso hates running and going to class.

Not in the normal exhausted way like his teamates. No, he just doesn’t care. He does track because Yuji did, because he’s insanely good at it, because it pays for school. The part where he has to attend classes though. It’s very much optional to him. Half the time he shows up to practice just enough to stay eligible, then dissapears to god knows where. In his head, he’s been doing fine because he still shows up for you. And right now, after weeks of barely catching you between meets, that’s all he cares about.

The second the door shuts, he’s on you. No hesitation, hands pulling you in like he’s been thinking about this all week, because he has “Missed you so much,baby” he breathes, already kissing you like he forgot how to pace himself the second he touched you again.

And you let him just to feel how eager he is, the way he’s already chasing more before you’ve even given him anything. He’s moving like a starved man, dropping to his knees like that’s where he was actually meant to be all this time.

“She missed me too?” he murmurs, half-dazed, voice soft and deliciously needy, like he already knows the answer with the way your panties are soaked, still ,he needs to hear you say it anyway.

You smile, slow but hiding something “Hm,” you hum, like you’re thinking about it “Yeah… she did”

His grip tightens around the soft lace of your underwear immediately, breath hitching, like he’s been rewarded for something he didn’t even earn yet. He leans in again, somehow even more desperate than before and he can’t waste one more second.

But you stop him. Kitten heel gently but firmly pressing against his clothed hard on, holding him exactly where he is.

He freezes, trying to process this feeling of discomfort but also something he can’t quite call anything except…good?

“…baby” he breathes, trying to move past it, to finally get his hands or more like his mouth on what he needs “Ha–please..I can’t move”

You press a bit harder, drawing out a cute mewl out of him “You know what else missed you?” you say softly.

he pauses before opening his mouth “..what?” he asks.

“Your classes, Choso” you chuckle and you see it immediately, the realization. It was cute just how caught he was “heard you been skipping”

“I-I’ve been going to practice” he mumbles in a pathetic attempt to defend himself. You press your heel just a little more “Agh–fuck..” He lets out a rough, breathy sound at the pressure, hand snapping to your ankle, rings clinking softly against your bracelet as he grips you tighter.

“You know that’s not enough, right?” you say, watching him lose whatever little composure he had left.

“I’ll go, okay?” he says quickly, nodding like he’s agreeing before you even finish “I’ll go, I swear. I just—” he cuts himself off, glancing back at you, clearly struggling to focus with your glistening pussy just at arms reach “Don’t deny me this, please”

You raise a brow.

“Please,” he repeats, softer this time, hands tightening on your legs like he needs to keep you close even if you’re not letting him move forward “I-I’ll go to class. I will. I’ll go to all of them, I won’t skip, I’ll stay at practice, I won’t leave early, I’ll—” he exhales, frustrated with himself, voice dropping into something almost pathetic “I’ll be good, I swear”

You tilt your head “Good?”

He nods immediately “Yeah–Yes!”

“How ?”

“Like…” he hesitates, then just gives in, eyes flicking up to you, serious in a way that you’ve frankly never seen before “however you want”

That does something. You don’t move right away. Just let him sit there, waiting, actually waiting, like he knows he doesn’t get anything until you decide “…promise?” you ask “don’t wanna get more emails from your coach ‘bout you”

“I promise!” he says instantly with no hesitation or even questioning why the hell his coach snitching on him to his girlfriend.

You press your heel into him one last time, just to make him feel it, not that he disliked it, apparent from his tip leaking pre through his shorts. Then slowly move it.

Choso lets out a sigh of relief, finally burying his face between your thighs “—mmph… fuh..tastes s’good…” he mumbles, voice muffled and sloppy against your clit and god was he starving for your perfect cunt, eyes rolling back the moment he inhaled your sweer scent “s-slow down, Cho” you whimper, but maybe making him wait just 5 more minutes was gonna cost you at least 3 orgasms tonight and non functional legs the next day.

Oh well, at least you got your point across.

[zuunary]

geto and zuko twin moment

[lamnwar]

So... Is it a safe place to say that I would absolutely let Riko's dad fold me in half and fuck me senseless? 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️

[saintblk]

and coach harasawa🫶🏾

[dorkerdiaries]

18+. rating knb men off of if they groan or whimper.

kuroko: he’s on the softer side of whimpering, almost edging on gasps. it’s as if he’s not really there, and you’re simply bouncing on a dildo. when he’s so silent is it really bad to compare him to one anyway? to add to this “living dildo” theory, his sex drive is nearly nonexistent. occasionally, he may initiate sex, but you’re the one who starts things almost every time. he lets you stay in control, going along with whatever you need. he’ll play with your breasts in that specific way you like, tilt his dick just the right amount, and hold your arms behind your back when you ask. those little acts are the only way he can think to show how much he enjoys his time with you.

kagami: his signature sounds are a hiss when pulling back and a groan when fully seethed inside of you. but don’t be fooled by his tough-guy act. the moment his hips tremble and his balls tighten, he lets out soft whimpers– sorry no, shaky exhales. very wobbly exhales with his eyes tightly shut. he’s more considerate in bed than people expect. even when doing something as simple as biting down on his necklace to prevent it from hitting you, he’s careful. when eating you out, he never grabs your hips with full strength to keep you from “running away,” as he calls it. he won’t say it outright, but he just wants to make you feel good. so please, stop moving. it will feel better that way, dont you agree?

akashi: would you be bold enough to truly assume an emperor would ever whimper? he groans, mixing in soft huffs. there’s something strangely sexy about how quiet yet seductive his sounds are, making you submit every time. he has a subconscious competition with you to see who lasts longer. naturally, since he has never lost, you always end up cumming before him. on rare, rare, rare occasions, you might cum just once before he does. most of the time, he makes sure you have as many orgasms as possible before he finishes. it’s quite impressive, if you knew at least. adding to his already high superiority complex, you will never get to be on top, looking down at him while you grind against him. whether you suck him off to the moon and back or it’s your birthday, it doesn’t matter. your place is beneath him, taking every inch without dispute.

midorima: he is surprisingly stoic for his age, honestly. he groans when he hits a deep spot or when the moment is right, but mostly he remains silent except for quiet exhales through his nose. it’s not as awkward as it sounds. you’re usually too lost in the moment to notice his quietness. he never fails to miss your g-spot with the precision of his perfect three-pointers, the man terrifyingly confident in his ability to make you cum within just a few strokes. his fingers are skilled for good reason too. after all, he reaches those deep spots you never knew existed. you can’t even touch yourself the same way anymore, not with how spoiled you are with oh so skilled midorima.

aomine: groaner, groaner, groaner, who knows he sounds sexy. despite his arrogant personality, the worst thing about him is that he knows exactly how wet you get from his voice. the moment he gets you in bed, it’s never ending teases mixed with heavy huffs and puffs. your pussy clings to him like a vice, which only amplifies his obnoxious noises to be louder. when he spreads your legs, he groans exaggeratedly from how wet you are, watching your pussy helplessly clench on nothing. no matter what, he’ll give you a slap or two on your ass, or tease you by pulling out until only the tip remains, just to hear you whine. you’d hate him if he weren’t so goddamn hot.

murasakibara: this man whimpers. he doesn't care much for holding it in, no matter how hard you cover his mouth. it only makes him throb more, especially when he grabs your hand to lick and suck your fingers as if they were a popsicle. his voice is always so high-pitched and needy, especially when you’re on top. he sounds almost as desperate as you do when he eats you out. he offers help by lifting you up and down on his dick occasionally, but he’s too pussy drunk to register exactly how loud he is. in the morning, you might find a note on your door asking to keep it down, but he always throws it away, saying, “they’re just jealous.”

kise: he despises the fact that he whimpers. it’s the bane of his being, truly. he’s supposed to be a role model, a super cool guy, ya know? but what would he do if anyone who idolizes him found out that just one stroke inside you has him gasping and choking for air? he bites your shoulder hard whenever he shudders and picks up speed, then licks the spot to soothe your skin. the poor guy is a mess. but his favorite way to quiet himself? it’s by eating you out while you jerk him off. it makes his spine tingle, and the vibrations from all his moaning always helps you cum harder than the last.

[isonomus]

[saintblk]

just finished part 4 of jojos, jotaro kujo has joined my roster of boyfriends🫶

[onlyfeng]

— THE THIRST "STARE, DON'T TOUCH"

pairing: kaldur'ahm x reader

THE AFTERTASTE SERIES, FIRST CHAPTER Manta handpicks you as his son's lieutenant. between Kaldur'ahm and you, a common interest grows and is instantly ignored.

tags: no use of y/n, 2nd person pov, lack of capitalization, fem!reader, moral ambiguity, reader is inspired by Medea, unresolved s*xual tension, touch-starved Kaldur'ahm, kinda forced proximity, loyalty k*nk low-key, canon-compliant mostly, warnings: heavy Young Justice season two spoilers, morally grey protagonist (past murder), mentions of past death (mother), brief non-s*xual nudity word count: 4.7k notes: oh how i love that man. ik this is probably gonna get like 11 notes but honestly idc, Kaldur deserves sm more fics

────── masterlist! taglist (google form)!

the perpetual movement of the waves always makes you remember everything. water memory or, more likely, the familiarity of it all.

it helps remembering your mother’s last, frantic breaths, bubbles fading into the dark abysses you lived in. it helps remembering the way you left to live as a homeless teen in a coastal town, hiding your gills and avoiding the beach at all costs.

the sea itself remembers how you shamefully came back to serve your mother’s protector, because it was all you knew. you couldn’t have cared less about his motives, unless maybe had it been coral destruction. you just wanted to have a place to belong to. 

it -the sea- remembers your first murder, the arsons, the hurt you’ve caused on purpose, just to earn your place in the slightest.

everything brought you here, to this moment. the sea brought you to him. you didn’t feel a particular connection to the ocean but you liked to believe in destiny. helped you get through shit.

you broke the water surface without a sound. you’d always been stealthy. a monument to grace, restraint. so good at making yourself invisible. so, so good at being forgotten.

not quite like a ghost or some sea creature. more like a shadow, trying hard not to be a bother, and succeeding. 

as you emerged from the dark waters, two figures stood there, noticeable only thanks to the faint glow of the moonlight. you would wait, then would be acknowledged, you would take your place, easy peazy.

but then again, he was some kind of child soldier, with the instincts of a marine. he moved his father to the side, and he charged. you dropped, took a step back, and grabbed your halberd. you extended it, not to kill but to strike his calf, which you missed. you didn’t get the chance to prepare for another strike of his, because Black Manta then moved forward, one heavy step being enough to stop the both of you. you lowered your halberd. his son did not lower his water blades, but his expression tempered. very, very slightly. it was mistrust instead of threat assessment now.

oh, joy.

“Kaldur.” he turned his back to you, a hand on his son’s shoulder, “she is Idiya’s daughter.” 

Kaldur’ahm looked up at his father in confusion. for someone who had never lived in Black Manta’s circle, he probably didn’t know much about whom had lived before he came. but her, he definitely knew about. his father’s lieutenant. the fiercest, most loyal soldier that ever existed in Black Manta’s ranks. the most phenomenal ghost to ever overcome, for Manta’s respect for her was too great. you owed your survival to her ghost. that’s probably what Kaldur saw first, you thought.

because you saw yourself through his eyes, right away. a problem. 

only then did the red gaze of the helmet swing your way

“this is my son. you know.”

a few days earlier, you were in a dark echoing chamber. you had pledged allegiance, no, you had sworn to dedicate your life, to someone you were to meet later on. it was an abstract oath then. now, it seemed pretty clear that this was an oath Kaldur’ahm never accepted, one that he had never heard of.

you bowed your head, curtly, shortly, maintaining that bland face you’ve learned to keep over the last few years. “I have taken the liberty of hand-picking your lieutenant. right hand woman, if you will.” Black Manta’s voice didn’t leave much room for debate. he added, “she has to prove herself worthy, because, and you’ll understand I’m sure, blood proves very little loyalty.” 

the hypocrisy wasn’t lost on you. it was even so vast you almost let your eyes roll.

you didn’t have any reason to be here. standing in front of Manta and his son. you could have -should have- gone away, escaped, and honestly, at the time they wouldn’t have found the care to chase after you. 

maybe it was all you’d known -living by Manta’s rules.

maybe then, meeting Kaldur and having someone with whom making the journey to Manta’s trusted circle was the best thing you could get. and as you looked at him, for real this time, his conflicted gaze, the set of his jaw, yeah, maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

he didn’t like you, didn’t hate you. you felt how much of a bother you were to him, despite his false kindness about it. 

oh, well.

you told yourself he was a loner. the kind that didn’t like having someone next to them as they climbed the ladder. but you were here now, anyway. 

though your exchanges were tense at first, you two had something in common that helped the mutual acceptation, and it was efficiency. no irrelevant talk between the two of you or during a fight, no unnecessary risks taken during missions, and though stealth wasn’t your favorite thing, you were good at it -great, even. he even taught you some things. 

you were more vocal than he was, with a tendency to ask for clarifications, whether it was about his behaviour, odd at some times, the tone he had employed to give you orders, or said orders, when these seemed weird to you. he didn’t always like the questions, but they were, indeed, necessary at first. and you quickly caught on his strategic thoughts process. it was no telepathy, but once again, it was efficient. that’s all you were, really.

and today, like most of your shared days had been recently, is a boring day. you don’t lead a squad, you don’t have chores, so you two are just bored and pretending to have something useful to do by recounting the previous missions’ mistakes and thinking of ways to avoid making those again. 

a knock on your door, you open, and without an ounce of surprise, you see his face. he does seem tired, more than usual, it’s more weary than out of a lack of sleep. “hi,” you breathe, and step aside to let him in. he takes you in, his eyes flutter close, his nostrils and gills flare, and he steps in.

he’s kind of a weirdo.

“let’s begin,” he announces, sitting at the end of your bed. it’s a habit, you always sit against the metallic headboard, and he faces you. 

for half an hour, you exchange about a mission carried out two days ago. you voice your concerns, how he still looks out for his team members, when he really doesn’t need that anymore. he tells you how your covering of his left flank was perfect, yet unnecessary, and could’ve put you in danger. 

there’s something soft in his voice as he says it, his eyebrows knitted together in a way you aren’t sure he’s aware of. it’s cute. it makes you feel cared for, too. looked after, maybe.

but as always, you run out of topics before the sun had risen. you two aren’t allowed in most parts of the ship, and Kaldur had never even thought about risking himself to unnecessary silly escapades in those metal hallways.

“where is your father at, again?” you ask, not even bothering to fake innocence. you two are playing hearts -the deck of cards you bought on a mission five weeks ago is already worn out. “on a meeting with the Light, I believe.” 

you frown. “at 7 o’clock?” 

he shrugs. you don’t push further. 

an hour later, after two defeats on your side, he sits on the floor, staring at the wall, watching your hands work as you play solitary. “how is it going with the Light’s approval of you?” you ask to break the silence, and he squints, unable to tell if you really mean to make small talk, or if you’re fishing for informations. you can’t tell either. 

but watching him so doubtful, you add, “Kaldur’ahm, you really should stop trying to second-guess me constantly. at some point, you’ll have no choice but to trust me.” something in his throat blocks, saliva or air -you can’t tell. you turn your attention back to your cards. 

“sure. well, about the Light… i still need to prove myself to my father, I doubt I’m close to getting their approval.” you frown, putting the final card to the hearts deck. “but we’ve done so much.” 

his jaw tightens. “i know. it is… frustrating, to say the least.” 

you almost tell him his betrayal of the Team should be enough, but you know you can’t afford to wander into such territory for now. so you just nod and put the cards back in their packaging, to get up and look at him expectantly. “i was thinking we could go for a swim.” 

you never go anywhere without him. it’s part of the “loyal lieutenant” package. it also meant if you wanted to wander, you had to hope he wanted to have a walk as well.

he gets up and eyes you up and down. “mh. let’s go.” 

you wonder when he’ll let any kind of guard down around you. he already does, occasionally, but the slight relaxation of his shoulders when you stand behind him being the most trustful he’s ever been of you. 

that’s not enough, not for you, who had put much trust in him after three months spent together. you decide it’s maybe time to withdraw some of that trust. to put your own guard up. you look up at him as the thought crosses your mind. he looks back, cold at first, then a polite smile breaks on his face.

your trust is just fine were it is.

once in the airlock, you both dress up, helmets on, grabbing a much more efficient weapon than your helberd. it may be your armament of choice, it isn’t one that’s easy to handle, especially underwater -hence your specialization in missions taking place on the surface world.

brows furrowed, both of you, from overthinking, both of you, you swim towards the coral barrier, one that hosts many different kind of fishes, not that you care, but he does. you like the plants, so you don’t mind. 

though he could take you to a location you despise, you wouldn’t mind either, so your judgement might be a little biased. 

usually, you two talk, mimicking normalcy as best as you could, but he’s out of it today. and it’s not even 9 a.m. so inevitably, after an intense staring contest with a fish, Kaldur announces he has to go. of course he has. and once again -he asks you to cover for him. not to rat him out.

“Lieutenant, I know it puts you in a sensitive position…” he trails off, voice dropping lower, taking a step forward. his hands trail from your wrist to your elbows. you don’t look up. “...but I need to make sure I have your word before I go. It is important, and I wouldn’t do any of it if I thought you’d be endangered, so.. trust me, please,” he implores. you almost scoff, but you can’t.

loyalty is your key word. you are, indeed, more loyal to him than you are to his father, so you still don’t look up, but nod in the direction opposite to the ship, and whisper to him that he can go. that you’ll cover.

once his figure is no longer visible in the ocean, you swim back to the ship, alone, throwing the borrowed dagger on the ground in irritation once you’re back to the locker room. you’re not angry at him, you couldn’t possibly be, but his secrets are annoying. 

these furtive escapades have been happening ever since he got under Black Manta’s guard, and every time you’ve covered for him, long enough so he’d have time to come back in the ship and act as if nothing happened. you didn’t mind. figured it was either real and much-needed alone time, or a secret liaison. worse: he could be meeting with Manta and get information unbeknownst to you, making you the fall guy. but you don’t push it, don’t overstep, and wait for him to share said secret.

you’ve been nothing but faithful. for three months, you’ve got his back, saved his ass, and advocated for him. you’re not tired of this, you could never be. you’re far from ‘on the verge of telling his father’, but close to ‘irritated as fuck’. he’s already so secretive, not that you mind, but if secrets meetings are to be added, you’re not sure you could do it -handle the resentment, for that matter.

and when he comes back, around 11.30 (you’d been keeping watch), you ignore him as he asks how your morning went. his brows furrow but he doesn’t push further.

you do follow him around the whole day though.

that’s as far as the arguments have always gone. he never argued, and your role was to call him out, more or less kindly. but you were compliant. your patience barely ran thin. you did enjoy when those pretty eyes looked like those of a sappy kitten as he implored for you not to tell anyone. he knew you wouldn’t tell. at some point, you began to suspect he just kept begging for the thrill of it.

that’s not far from the truth. as deep in denial as he was, he loved seeing you succumb to whatever charm he was using.

the sacrifices for a greater good started the moment you agreed to keep his secrets, and only grew more important. it was more about helping him prove himself and social-climb as his lieutenant after that. you were already seen as an extension of him, in the eyes of Manta’s troops, so why not use it to your advantage?

therefore you missed on the first chance you’d ever gotten to truly prove yourself in a more active way (because apparently murder didn’t count), just to watch Kaldur as a blinking red dot on a radar while he was doing the hardest part. 

but he did come back, assessing his father’s reaction, until said father removed his helmet and proudly congratulated his son. everybody knows he’s not “off the hook”, he still has some loyalty to prove, some point to make, but it’s looking good for him -and you couldn’t help but be relieved. proud, even. 

as he reported the events, including his encounter with Nightwing, he put a hand on your shoulder, earning a tensed spine.

if it were just a hand on your shoulder, you wouldn’t have minded, wouldn’t have cared, actually. but it was at the base of your neck, right below your gills, brushing his thumb in the nape of your neck, a gesture his father couldn’t see, but that left you questioning.

eventually, Black Manta left to contact the League, leaving Kaldur and you alone in his office. it took you a hot fifteen seconds to look up at him. he lets go of your neck, not without a tap on your shoulder, “sparring session at 1900.” 

you wanted to tell him the military hour didn’t make him look smart or serious. it was laughable. 

you didn’t utter a word. you nodded.

the “sparring session” or training, whatsoever, wasn’t usually much enjoyable. he’d evaluate your close-quarters combat, teaching you Atlantean things he got to learn from queen Mera, such as spells or arts, the integration of your halberd in confined spaces, blah, blah, blah. 

his water bearers weren’t charged with the usual electricity. it was only water, and every time it hit you, it was just that. a wet spot on your training gear. you should’ve remembered that, when he ‘killed’ Artemis. you didn’t. and right now, you were too focused on his hand pressing against your ribcage with his right waterbender against your belly.

you’ve overseen a lot of things, when it came to him. blinded by love, or on purpose. it became so recurrent that it felt like second nature.

‘no more digressions,’ you scolded yourself mentally, and pushed him back, mid-explanation. you aimed with your halberd and he did too, striking for weak points. halfway through the fight, he stilled. “you should stop holding back.” 

you let your arm go limp, your weapon falling onto the ground on accident. your heads fall down to look at it in silence, before you look up and cross your arms over your chest. “my goal isn’t to hurt you but to learn from you safely.” 

“safely?” he repeats, dumbfounded. you wince. “okay, not really.”

he raises his brows. your gaze hardens.

you two stare. you blink, once, and he says, “i won.” you try to frown but the smug smile tugging at his lips is too adorable to ignore. “won what?” 

“the stare contest,” he says matter-of-factly. you huff, “what are you, twelve?” but your own lips are too busy fighting back a smile to actually sound condescending.

over the weeks, you grow weirdly complicit. you’d die rather than admitting it, because it was a silent agreement. once voiced, it’d be over and you would both have to take a step back in this relationship. you weren’t friends, it was less than that.

yet it was more than mutual respect or whatever relationship a lieutenant and her officer were supposed to have. 

he held you when you’d escaped a near death experience. you’d reach for his wrist to check his pulse during stakeouts. it was utterly ridiculous, but so reassuring. you had each other, and most things outside of your weird friendship mattered, but at some point, he was what mattered the most.

it sat on the fence, dangerously leaning on the ‘something more’ side everytime a little too much skin was shown. you never considered yourself lustful. he most certainly thought of himself as virtuous -until he inadvertently opened your bedroom as you were changing, your arm covering your chest, your wet suit half pulled up on your body. 

in his opinion, it is worse than if he had effectively seen your bare skin. the image is on replay in his head, his mind filling in the blanks, imagining a hundred ways of what your body would look like.

he finally understands why a lady showing her ankles in the 19th century was considered arousing when you sprain yours and he’s the one who applies pain relief cream, massaging your tendon, kneeling before you. 

he also has a weird pull to the nape of your neck. for any occasion, whether it is to reassure you, praise you, comfort you or make you stand down when you get too carried away, his fingers always found that spot between your gills, a sensitive spot not because of arousal but because it was usually hidden under a helmet, protected. 

he never makes you feel vulnerable. he’d always been so steady. 

maybe that’s why you lean against his touch so easily, albeit guarded. because he’s someone you could rely on. because when he touches you, it feels purposeful, it is deliberate, and those moments may be rare and impulsive, the both of you are constantly looking forward to them happening. 

it lasts a few weeks before it becomes undeniable. 

waiting for Kaldur’ahm near the corals the boat had destroyed when landing on the seabed, you are tending to the marine flora absentmindedly, mind quiet for once. 

you don’t notice him returning, his figure a blurry dark shadow far away, getting nearer and nearer until the red details of his metal suit clashed too much with the ocean for your peripheral vision to ignore him; only then do you look up. you hold back a sigh and/or a smile.

his lips part, the words dying somewhere between his throat and the tip of his tongue; you watch him walk towards you. 

from where you stand, the sun hits your face and hair the right way. you look divine –in a way that he just couldn’t ignore. you observe him, eyes plunged into his, until he stands two feet away. 

“...safe … way back?” is all he hears. he clears his throat and nods, while his gaze never wavers away from yours, as if dissociating. “what was that escapade about?” you inquire, as it seemed to be the right moment to extract informations from him. he takes another step forward, gaze flickering to the corals you’re trying to salvage.

“solo mission,” he lies, “for Father,” badly. you know he can do better than that. you point to  the ship, with your thumb, which is sitting quietly forty feet away from you. “heading back?” his lips part once mroe. you tilt your head, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “i’ll… wait for you.” 

“to be honest, I am ready to head back,” you try, so he looks at the ship. “i shall join you there then, i will stay here in the meantime,” he affirms, voice leaving very little room for your (unusual) retorts. he wasn’t making any sense, and on top of that, ever since he got here, he’d been looking at you like a starved man, eyes detailing every trait of your face, skin flushed. “as you wish,” you tell him, counting to five before you turn around, just in case he’d change his mind.

he doesn’t move; he can’t possibly entertain that idea. the water feels thick around him as he watches you go, every movement you make to swim away from him physically paining him. his hand comes up, fingers clutching at his chest, right over his heart. oh, he wants you so bad, and that thought alone overwhelmed him. 

that is messy. he was a mess. allowing a woman, no matter how pretty, to conflict in his mind with a lifetime of discipline and discretion. the forced proximity is a cruel joke and it deepens his guilt, for you, for his friends, for the League, but for you most importantly. he is ashamed. how can he just want you so bad, at the wrong moment, wrong place, and how can he allow your loyalty to lie with him while his is miles away? 

he has forbidden himself to touch you. he was  a madman now -looking like he has been hit with sex pollen when really, it is the thought of coming back to you that had unravelled him so bad. and yet he still has to push you away. he doesn’t ‘give in’, he can’t possibly entertain that idea.

he has never allowed himself much, in how whole life. he prohibited any unnecessary physical contact between the two of you; but selfishly, he allows for his cravings for you to remain, buried deep, entertaining the idea of trailing kisses up your back, to map your body with his hands, and most importantly to hold you close. he wants you. so, so bad.

for a wild, desperate moment, breathing heavy with the burden of his needs, he fantasises of Hawkman and Hawkgirl, a love so destined it defies death, circling through the ages to reunite. maybe it was like that. maybe it was an Atalantean version of that storyline. his affection is something independent of him, for sure. it must be.

but Kaldur’ahm isn’t a man of myths; he was a man of facts. he’s no immortal lover, he is just a soldier. 

so he tells himself it is loneliness, or hormones, pathetic excuses (can hormones still be blamed for a grown man’s urges?) that he holds onto as a choked sound escapes him underwater. his gills flare, the water feeling suddenly like it isn’t enough. maybe he needs fresh air. most likely -he needs for this mess to solve itself. more likely even -he needs air from your lungs. he needs to breathe you in to feel like his respiratory systems work properly. 

he doesn’t have any solutions in mind, just an overwhelming feeling of wronging people he cares about no matter the outcome of any choice he’ll make starting from now on. if he restraints himself, it’s only fair he gets to indulge in the absolution in your eyes when you look up at him, unknowing that he was a fraud.

and how unfair, that the enemy’s side turned out to be not full of spineless motherfuckers, but to have you amongst its troops, with your intellect and complex mind, how unfair that you walked these halls and not Poseidonis’s. yet the most painful part was that he knew, with certainty, that he is going to let himself bleed that way until it ends. he will ache voluntarily, and carry these wants until the end of this mission, and then he’ll let it go. he has to, he can’t figure out another way. 

only when he wraps his mind around that fact is he able to get up from the sand and head towards those damn hallways, single-drop tears invisible in the water as they formed in the corner of his eyes. with that mindset, the persuasion of becoming no better than a monster, he steps inside the ship.

you greet him when he steps inside Manta’s poorly decorated office, who had gotten ahold of you when you were leaning against a wall, trying hard to find composure after a few tears, so the rest of the crew wouldn’t see those. 

because it’s gotten hard, trying not to ask any questions. knowing he had a whole life going on on the side, no matter what kind, and you couldn’t be part of it. because as soon as you had stepped foot on the ship, you had wanted to swim back out there and order him to tell you everything, because no matter what the truth is, you know you’re able to handle it. you want him whole, in a pure and lustful way, and it burns, it aches, and fuck it if you don’t know he feels the same.

he puts a hand, once again, in the back of your neck, because Manta is asking about absences and unnecessary outings. you can’t focus on the explanations your officer in command is nicely putting together. you want the warmth of his palm not on your neck but cradling your cheek; to trace the line of his jaw, to feel the tension there melt under your touch. you wanted to kiss him until neither of you could remember the excuses you both had made to keep one away from the other.

but you could be, too, a monument to restraint. you bottle up like no one else can. you hide your feelings better than Kaldur’ahm did. and you two were talented, with hiding and bottling up and being unassuming and suffering in silence. 

before you knew it, you have exited the office, an uncomfortable warmth coiling low in your stomach. 

“i’m unwell,” you announced. “i’ll be resting, do not-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, weary. “please, do not wake me up, i will meet you at 7 in the morning. tomorrow.” he hesitates.

then tilts his head and puts a hand on your forehead. “we did go near preschoolers last time. maybe you’ve caught a cold-” your hand reaches to place itself on his wrist, lwoering it. “not, it’s not a cold. i’ll handle it myself, thanks for your concern -i’ll see you. tomorrow.” his fingers curl, like he didn’t want to stop holding on.

but he drops it, both his hand and the topic, and gives a curt nod, which you reciprocate before leaving, back straight and shoulders squared. he doesn’t watch you go, instead fixates on a fingernail on the ground.

he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep this up. you don’t either.

taglist | @saintblk @fanficwritersworld @matildavol6 @chibitronxoxo @hikari-michiko @jayteacups @izzyloveslobsters @g1oba1_s1ore

notes | i might post part 3 before part 2 ngl i suck at writing sm*t

S.MASTERLIST NEXT CHAPTER

[himejimaas]

often

you get stuck in your head so often, but sukuna doesn't mind pulling you out.

cw: soft sukuna, smut, angsty, oral sex, vaginal sex

wc: 1.6k

It was rare that you had thoughts of Sukuna with others, but when they came, they took over your mind.

Like in this moment, he has you on your back, while he's eating you out like he'd been starving for weeks. And all you can think about is how skilled his tongue is and where he learned it from. Thoughts of him going down on an ex for hours at a time plagued your mind as you felt his tongue sink deeper into you.

You could blame it on the anxiety, or perhaps even your own insecurities about your body or experiences, but the rising feeling in your stomach that should have been an orgasm was being pushed back by the weighted dread that started creeping up the minute his tongue connected with your clit.

You couldn't blame Sukuna, though. You'd taken one look at him when the two of you met and knew you wanted him to possess you, so you knew others felt the exact same way. Six foot something and covered in tattoos that you liked to lick when you had one too many shots, he was the finest man you'd ever seen, and part of you always wondered how long it would be until he got bored and found someone better.

He was the perfect fuck buddy in your eyes; handsome, knew how to make you cum, and didn't press the issue too much whenever you disagreed on something.

It wasn't his fault that your mind and body seemed to disconnect from each other at the most inopportune times.

Sukuna's finally able to pull an orgasm out of you after what feels like a long battle, but it doesn't satiate the need still deep inside you. Your body shudders, aftershocks rolling through you as he continues working you through it.

Sukuna pulls his head from between your thighs, a confused look on his face as he licks his lips. "You good? Usually, I'd have you screaming by now."

"All good. C'mere." You pull him on top of you, opening up so he can slot his body between your legs. "Need you so bad." You drag your tongue along his bottom lip, silently requesting access. He grants it, mouth engulfing yours as he moves his dick towards your entrance. You buck your hips up, needing to feel something.

How long has it been since you met? He'd come to your job one day, looking to buy an expensive watch that nearly cost a month's salary for you. You started flirting first; you always did to increase sales at the store. You never expected him to flirt back, or to come back the next day, and the next week, until he finally asked you to dinner.

Two years since that day, and now most of your nights end the same way, with him in your bed, making you cum on his tongue before he rushes off to god knows where. "Work," he'd say, but you were never quite convinced.

Most of the time, you don't care where he is. You're not technically together, anyway. But on occasion, you can't help but wonder if he's rushing off to be with his actual partner, treating you like an appetizer before the main course.

Tonight was one of those nights. As Sukuna slides inside you, taking his time to get you accustomed to every inch, you can barely look at him. Thoughts of him leaving your home to go and give someone the same pleasure he'd given you take you out of the moment and make it harder for you to enjoy yourself.

Sukuna can always tell when you get in your head. There's always too much thinking and not enough feeling.

"Look at me," he grabs your face and brings it closer to his, so close that you're sharing the same air. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just tired," you try to reach for a kiss, anything to distract him from asking too many questions and becoming privy to the growing void in your heart, but he's just out of your reach, and the look on his face lets you know he's not buying your excuse.

"Bullshit. What's up with you tonight?" he starts to get up, but you wrap your leg around his waist and pull him closer.

"Nothing. Just don't go."

He takes your hand in his, tangling your fingers together. "Not going anywhere."

You're about to ask what he means when he cuts you off with a kiss, one that steals your breath and confuses you long enough for you to finally get out of your own head. He grabs your other leg and hoists it up on his shoulder, sliding back into your wet heat with a groan before he sinks deep enough that you think that you can feel him in your stomach.

" Fuuuck, baby, just like that," you moan unabashedly.

"That's what I wanna hear. Keep making those pretty sounds for me."

If you were just a little stupider (or a little smarter), you might think that there was something deeper to the way Sukuna fucked you. The slow, calculated thrusts while peering deep into your eyes could be considered as making love, but you knew better.

You shift your focus. Even if your brain won't let you focus on your own pleasure, you're always able to take his into consideration.

You push Sukuna on his back, moving down his body until you reach his cock. You jerk him a few times before you kiss his shaft, fueled by the sound of his sharp inhale as you take him in your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him, licking him up and down as he gathers your hair in his fist.

He never takes his eyes off of you, watching as you take as much of him as you can. He moves your hair out of your face, giving him an even better view. You make a mental note of every little sound that he makes, tracing over those particular spots with your tongue until he's practically fucking your face.

Sukuna cums with a deep groan, spilling everything he'd had pent up down your throat while he holds your head in place.

As soon as his breathing evens out, he's back on top of you, moving to slide back into your welcoming entrance. He cages his arms around your head, capturing you in his own little prison. A little world where it's just the two of you, even if it's only for a night. You gasp at the feeling of his cock nudging back in. He bottoms out, giving you a second to get used to him before he moves again.

"You're so pretty, baby," he says as he plants an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. It takes you a second to register the pet name and to stop the fast beating in your chest. You feel him sucking on your neck while he slips a finger down to play with your clit.

It was maddening. Too many sensations, too many areas to focus on, and your orgasm was creeping up surprisingly fast. When thoughts of him doing this with previous partners (or other current ones you just didn't know about) come up, you're quick to push them away this time.

He pulls away from your neck to watch the space where your bodies connect.

"Can you hear how wet you are?" he asks as his fingers continue gliding over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point, a point that's been so close, yet so far away lately.

He flips you over, guiding you to rest on your knees and forearms, pushing you into a deep arch before he pushes back into you. The new angle made it hard to breathe, hard to do anything other than feel him. He thrusts into you with newfound vigor, like the new position had given him a power-up or something.

"You're so deep," you babble out, drool sliding out of your mouth and soaking the pillow. He brushes against your g-spot and you're unable to stop the incoherent moans that follow. Sukuna leans back, mesmerized by the recoil on your ass as it bounces against his body.

He can hear your moans getting louder, feel your body tensing up as he forces you into an even deeper arch. As soon as he feels the telltale sign of your walls fluttering, he flips you back onto your back. He doesn't miss a beat, wanting to stay inside you, he continues pushing in deeper and deeper, guided by an insatiable hunger, willing to do anything to drag your orgasm out of you.

Bringing your legs over his shoulders, he presses you deeper into the mattress. Your hands are everywhere, grabbing anything that you thought would keep you tethered to this world while you were on the edge. Sukuna kisses you, taking control of your mouth and silencing the screams that escaped.

The sounds coming from the room were entirely pornographic. There was the moaning, the sound of skin on skin as his pace quickened, and the constant gushing of your cunt every time he sank into you.

"So, so close, 'Kuna. Please, please-" Your own orgasm cuts you off, moving through your body in waves before cresting as he nips at your neck. He continues fucking you, chasing his own release. The pleasure that he gives quickly turns into borderline overstimulation, but it doesn't last long. Sukuna doesn't last much longer either, spilling everything he had left into you.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, admiring your blissful, sleepy face before he rolls off of you.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

"A little bit." He moves you onto his chest, pulling the blanket over you as you drift off to sleep.

Usually, he'd kiss you goodnight and head out, heading out into a world you knew nothing about. But the way you looked at him shook something inside of him, and he couldn't bring himself to go. Not tonight.

[saintblk]

just did three midterms back to back in one day and got my period that night put me down right now