#blurbitos

yandere!rohan using heaven’s door on you when you’re sleeping. he spends all night reading what makes you tick. your worst fears and what keeps you up at night. your deepest desires and what you dream of for your future. your darkest fantasies and what makes you cum.

he takes all this knowledge in so he can understand you better, so he can love you better, and so he can use it all against you when he finally takes what’s his.

sketching you when you sleep. when you bathe. when you change. when you touch yourself. he works himself up along with you, getting closer and closer, poised carefully along your roof and just out sight to capture the ethereal elements in your face when you make yourself cum. how your eyebrows knot together in a bow. the tight creases of your eyelids shutting to hide the whites of your eyes, rolled back into your skull. the circle of your lips with perfect geometrical measurements, which he has sketched to a t, his scale is flawless, just like you.

“you’ll take it won’t you? you’ll give me heirs? fuck you’re so pretty, you just have to let me, won’t you let me fuck them into you? let me make you my queen.”

but at the same time the wedding fantasies get him off like

barely enough time to catch your breath between turns and swings and dips and lifts

so hard to tell where you end and your partner begins and-

whose lips brushed your neck? whose teeth tugged your ear? whose hands are pushing purple prints into your hips?

and that’s why you can never tell him you're in love with sukuna.

you can never tell him how the king of curses makes you squirm, taking over when itadori is gently lapping at your center, grabbing your hips and sinking his nails into the meat of your ass to make sure you can’t get away from his delightful assault. how you'd never make such lewd noises for such a good boy like yuuji. and how your sweet boyfriend will never commit to memory such a pornographic portrait. the way your tongue swirls from your mouth, sloshing the saliva that subconsciously pools in your mandible against your plush lips.

the teeth marks that litter your stomach, curving around to your backside before they swell into welts and bruises that even a boxer's couldn't hold a candle to. sukuna wants itadori to see them, to see how much power he has over the both of you. to know that he can never compare to him.

when he comes back to you, all itadori can do is apologize. promise you that it won’t happen again. that he’ll harden his nerve and focus all of his energy into keeping his curse at bay.

you don’t exactly want him to.

you know your sweet boyfriend would never grip your throat and revel In your oxygen deprived delirium telling him to keep going. would never laugh at your tears and spit them away. would never torment you for hours and hours with denial of what you craved. and would never push you so far as to faint from overstimulation.

would never make you feel so goddamn satisfied.

and sukuna is not your boyfriend after all. but he owns you.

you feel it more and more every day.

when you’re cleaning up around your place and all of a sudden your face is pressed roughly against the couch cushions by a vice on the back of your throat, a dark laughter echoing through out the space and bouncing around your skull.

when you’re cooking at the stove and before you know it you’ve been slammed against the kitchen counter and any trace of protest is rendered babble by a talon digging into the pudgy flesh of your cheek and three fingers prying your lips apart to prep your throat.

it doesn’t worry you until the night when sukuna doesn’t come for you.

it’s the first time you’ve taken your yuuji in months. you rejoice in his soft kisses. his firm and safe embrace. his gentle speech. you realize as you catch your breath from how good it all feels and not from a chokehold that you missed this. you missed him.

you fall asleep entangled in his limbs. too naïve to realize your fate has been sealed.

homemaker!deku making pinterest boards of room themes and amazon wishlists. going to home improvement stores for paint swatches. mumbling to himself as he pushes an overflowing cart down every aisle because when he sees something he thinks you’ll like he just has to toss it in. smoothing his emerald curls back with a headband so he can get down and dirty as he assembles furniture. mapping out floor plans according to feng shui and coordinating the throw pillows to the rug and decor in the living room. and when you come home to him, he’s bursting at the seams, excited for you to see what he’s done with the place. of course, doesn’t matter to you what it looks like: if deku’s happy, you’re happy. he practically cries at the praise, guiding you around each section of the house and asking your opinion. sometimes when you’re around on a day off, he’ll make a whole show of it, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he places trinkets and hangs paintings, even going so far as to wear just a pair of overall shorts to tease you when he splatters the cream colored hue down his front, letting it drip over those thick, meaty thighs of his. you always fall for it. he sure is easy on the eyes. besides, every throw blanket he chooses is always perfect for warming up after an hour or two bumping uglies.

midoriya izuku is nothing if not an experimentalist.

it’s a trait of his that gets him into trouble most of the time, but his torture always takes him to the most delightful hell he’s ever encountered. he thinks the only reason he endures it is because he loves you so damn much. that and the experiences only get better the further you push him.

what started with handcuffs one day became a spreader bar the next. the bar became a saint andrew’s cross (borrowed from shinsou and returned after it was restored to a sterility of medical standards). and soon he found himself tasting all three instruments of torment in one night, which he lived through to tell the tale.

midoriya izuku is nothing if not an over achiever. especially when it comes to pleasing you.

so when midoriya izuku realizes this is what you need to cope, to have him exposed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy (as if he wasn’t already) well, how could he call himself the number one hero if he didn’t oblige you?

midoriya izuku is nothing if not a miracle on earth.

ever the doting yet equally independent boyfriend. the life partner who worships the ground you walk on. who packs your lunches when he gets home from late night patrols because he knows you crashed after your evening cup of tea and forgot. who makes sure you always bring an umbrella and takes your car in for washes and oil changes in due time before you even have to think about it. midoriya the breadwinner, midoriya the homemaker, and midoriya your hero all in one

he’s too pure for this world. too good for you, no matter how many times he tells you otherwise.

you’re determined to break him. that’s what got him in trouble this time around.

you jumped on him as soon as he stepped through the door.

“i know! i know!” he crooned between smooches across your face, still trying to walk into the apartment with you clinging to him like a koala. “come now, baby. let me go so i can—!”

he regretted it as soon as he saw darkness pass over your doe eyes. when you got your grips on him, literally, he feels tears prick in his.

“baby,baby,baby…” he knows what you’re up to. “you know i can’t- nghhhh! if you get me up like this then i—”

your grin could make even the devil fold for you. “it’s up to you izuku. if you have to piss so bad, then go ahead and get it over with.”

“h-here?!” he shrieks. “baby, please!”

the flush of his cheeks betrays him. he’s throbbing right in your palm and he’s not even half hard. the worst part of it all is he knows he never has to give you your way. that one snap of his fingers and you’d be on your knees begging for it in your mouth instead.

but he wants to. he wants to be exposed, he wants to be vulnerable, he wants to be completely at your mercy.

he needs this as much as you do. both of you running around all day, putting everything you’ve got and your whole heart into your work respectively. it’s a privilege to come home and let all the energy out on each other.

three more seconds and he’s lost a fight for the first time in years. his mess soaks the front of his pants. it’s warm and almost sticky. maybe he creamed a little! you wouldn’t be surprised after hearing the gargly nonsense he let out when he relaxed and let go.

with a kiss to his nose, you praise him profusely. it takes a second for his eyes to come back down. oh there’s no denying it. he enjoyed every second.