you were sitting in higuruma’s office, legs swung over the arm of his couch as he worked through a stack of case files at his desk.
the soft rustle of papers and the occasional tap of his pen against the wood filled up the quiet room.
honestly speaking… you were bored.
which meant, it was the perfect time to stir up some trouble.
someone has to make it interesting around here, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be your ever-strict boyfriend.
you sit up on the couch, pulling out your phone and opening up tiktok. you fixed yourself through the camera before you finally hit record.
“hey guys,” you say, voice low as you spoke dramatically to your phone. “as you can see, i’m at the office with my current boyfriend.”
across the room, higuruma’s pen stopped in its tracks.
slowly, he lifted his eyes up from the document he was filling out.
“your what boyfriend?”
you ignored him and continued smirking at the camera.
“he’s working right now because he’s an extremely serious attorney,” you say sweetly, flipping your camera around and zooming in on your unamused boyfriend.
"just look at him. very very professional."
higuruma leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.
“what exactly are you doing?”
“i’m recording my current boyfriend, obviously,” you replied brightly.
for a moment, he just stared at you. he was trying to determine whether or not you were being serious.
“...current.”
“mhm.”
“so, there will be a replacement soon?”
you shrug your shoulders innocently.
“who knows? you know better than anyone that contracts expire,” you say smugly, fixing your hair once again in the camera.
that earned you a quiet scoff.
higuruma stood, walking over with a certain calmness that made the hairs on your neck stand. he stopped beside the couch and looked directly at your phone.
you were still recording.
“interesting,” he murmured.
then, he looked directly into the camera without a care in the world.
“for the record, i was not informed this relationship had a trial period.”
you bit your lip to hold back your laughter.
“so you’re saying you didn’t read the terms and conditions? that’s not a good look for a lawyer, baby,” you teased.
he bent slightly, one hand braced on the couch near your shoulder.
his expression betrayed nothing.
that was normally not a good sign.
“no,” he said evenly.
“i’m saying that there are no terms and conditions to read because i am not your current boyfriend,” he whispered lowly.
your smile faltered.
“...huh?”
he gently took your phone from your hand and angled it toward himself.
“correction. i am not her current boyfriend, i am her boyfriend. this relationship has no trial period, and she is not on the market. thank you.”
his thumb stopped the recording.
he dropped your phone onto your lap and leaned in real close, his lips mere inches from your own.
“the next time you forget who i am to you, i’ll help you to remember in whatever manner i please. do you understand?”
a/n: this was so impulsive but i saw the trend on tiktok and i immediately wanted to do it with hiromi😞 this is also barely proofread bc its currently 12:58am as im writing this. maybe ill proofread it before i post it in the morning, so hi future me!! love y'all, mwa mwa<3
ꮼ smothering fratboy!sukuna in your lipstick is so romantic.
ᦸ show him all your affections & show him off.
art by @/hunnismokah
"Baby—jesus—baby." Sukuna groaned as yet another kiss was pressed to his jaw, rolling his eyes playfully as you pulled back to apply another shade of lipstick. "When I said you could mark your territory, I didn't mean like this."
The nth kiss in a matter of minutes was promptly pressed to his jawline.
"It's not my fault you look so pretty like this."
"No, it is. It definitely is." He sighed, hands caressing your hips almost reverently as you pulled back to stare at him.
"Hmm. No, I have to thank your parents for giving you your face next time I see em." You mumbled, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips, before smothering his cheeks in kisses.
"ACK! Baby!" He squeaked, gripping your hips tighter as you pulled back to apply more lipstick... again. "You're killing me here, woman."
He hates how pretty you look like that, straddling his hips, pinning him down, making it obvious whose boyfriend he is.
"Sooo pretty, Ryo. That's all I'm seeing." You hummed against his cheek, pulling back. "Such a pretty boy."
"You tell anyone I let you call me that I will DENY it." He hissed, wrenching an arm around your waist, crushing you against his chest.
"Yes, yes. My big, tough, scary man. How dare I call you pretty?" You mused, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"I am big, tough, scary, and menacing." He grunted, kissing your temple. "I'll have you know, people on campus are scared of me."
"Yes, I'm well aware." Your lips found his again. "My big, tough man."
"Damn straight." He huffed, chasing after your lips to press quick kisses against you.
18+ MDNI, smut - squirming away from bf!geto during sex
you always do this.
every time. every single damn time.
you say you can handle it. crawl into his lap all sweet and soft and glowing with need. kiss his throat. press your thighs together. breathe all breathless against his neck like please, sugu. i need you.
and then he gives it to you - slow and deep - and your body betrays you completely.
your legs start shaking. your back arches. and you squirm.
every time. like you’re trying to run. like you forgot what it feels like to be full of him.
geto always just lets it happen, just for a second. watches you try to crawl up the bed, squirming from the stretch of it, fingers twisting in the sheets as your hips twitch and roll. his cock’s barely halfway in and you’re already trembling.
“were do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, low in your ear.
you whimper something into the pillow. nonsense. apology. maybe his name. you’re not even sure. he laughs, soft and dangerous.
“nah. you’re not going anywhere.”
and then he grabs your hips, pulls you right back down onto him - slow, thick, all the way in.
you moan. your back bows. your thighs shake again.
“baby,” he says gently, “you gotta stay still.”
you can’t. you’re trying so hard but u just can’t. it’s almost as if your body’s not listening. every time he moves, even just a little, you twitch. gasp. try to inch away from how much it is - how full, how deep and how good.
he strokes a hand up your spine. kisses your shoulder. keeps his hips flush with yours while you squirm and sob and pant into the mattress like you’re being split in half.
“you get like this every time,” he hums. “so fuckin’ sensitive. makes me wanna ruin you.”
you cry out when he grinds in just a little deeper - not even thrusting, just deliberately pressing. and your body reacts, all instinct, hips twitching, trying to squirm away again.
he pins you down. one hand flat between your shoulder blades. the other wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him like he owns you.
“stop running from it,” he whispers. “take it. you can take it. can’t you?”
you nod, even as your body shivers under him. you’re so wet. stuffed so full, you can feel every inch of him. the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls with every slow and torturous roll of his hips.
“attagirl,” he praises. “fuck, look at you. so pretty like this. twitchin’ all over me.”
you whimper. try to bury your face in the sheets. he doesn’t let you.
his hand curls into your hair, tugging gently. just enough to tilt your head back, let him see the way your mouth falls open with every sound you make.
“let me hear it,” he says. “don’t hide.”
and then he starts to fuck you in earnest - slow and deep strokes. every thrust just a little sharper, dragging that wrecked little noise out of your throat again and again. your body squirms, hips wriggling, fingers gripping his wrist, but it’s no use. he’s stronger.
you’re not going anywhere.
“that’s it,” he groans. “that’s my girl. look at you. can’t stop moving. can’t take it but you still want more.”
you’re going to lose your mind.
and he’s going to help.
based on this request
A/N: guys i'm sorry this was so buns :( i have to get used to writing geto 😃
Series Masterlist | part 1 part 2 part 3 (coming soon) + jjk masterlist
summary: you realize you’ve bit off more than you can chew the moment the campus frat legend sukuna asks you to come up to his room. you've talked a big game all night, but what happens when he finds out it’s your first time?
18+ content: fratboy sukuna x virgin reader, out of character sukuna, smut, loss of virginity, lots of fluff, minimal hurt + lots of comfort, cunnilingus, flirting, fingering, blowjobs. 4.6k wc
a/n: art by hunnismoker on twt!
“woah—hey! seminar!”
you’d recognize that unruly head of pink hair anywhere. perpetually fastened underneath a ballcap like always.
you turn a little faster than you should, jostling the plastic solo cup you’ve been curled into for the past hour. sukuna looks right at home, backwards hat on like always, sweatpants slung low and easy on his hips now that you think about it, wasn’t this his frat house?
he waltzes into the kitchen and circles the island to lean next to you, hip against cold granite. his cologne must be doing something to the nerve endings in your brain, because all that comes out of you is a quiet, painfully deadpanned:
“…what?”
he laughs, nose crinkling in that sexy way you definitely haven’t thought about every day for the past 3 months. you’re barely given time to respond before a tattooed hand reaches forward and plucks the cup from your clammy hand, downing the last of whatever cheap liquor you were too nervous to finish anyway.
you watch, awestruck like a deer in headlights. taking in the way his throat bobs when he swallows. how he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, sucking a stray drop of from the pad of his thumb.
“fuck, you drink fireball? didn’t think you’d be the type.” he jests.
was he flirting with you?
sukuna chucks the cup somewhere to the side. probably somewhere near a garbage can. not that you can tell with how many people are crowding the kitchen.
“so.” sukuna says, looking back at you expectantly, “we have senior seminar together, yeah?” he smiles, head tilting to the side like he’s trying to get a read on you.
right, the class he couldn’t care less about. you’ve seen him look up from his phone and engage with the topic, what, maybe twice? it’s a miracle he even recognizes you.
“i remember you, don’t worry.” you laugh, leaning back and forth on the balls of your feet as you desperately rack your brain for a way to keep the conversation going.
of course you remember him. you sit next to each other. you’ve scrolled marathons through his instagram page in the privacy of your room. hell, you’ve spent so much time thinking about him that you’d probably be able to pick his biceps out of a lineup. “remember” doesn’t begin to describe it.
sukuna speaks up again, mouth curling at the side like he’s got something up his sleeve. he gives you a quick once over, arms crossed over his chest casually.
“you look good tonight. enjoying yourself?” he’s not subtle in the slightest, red eyes scanning your figure, committing every inch of you to memory. the thought alone feels filthy. like tree sap settling in the pit of your stomach.
you must’ve unknowingly done something worthy of sainthood this semester. that’s the only explanation as to why the campus frat legend is eyeing you like he wants to eat you alive and lick his fingers clean after.
you don’t even care that he’s probably pulling out the same five tricks he’d use on any other girl. you’re falling faster than you ever have.
you make a mental note to thank shoko profusely for convincing you to socialize tonight. she’d given it to you straight like always, something about being tired of you complaining about your glaring lack of a roster. encouraging you to maybe go out and actually fuck a guy instead of settling for getting fingered by some loser like you always did.
senior year was supposed to be memorable after all.
“do you even know my name?” you mumble shyly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
sukuna pretends to rack his mind for an answer. tongue pressed against his cheek in a way that makes your breath catch.
your name rolls of his tongue beautifully, punctuated with that fangy smile you’ve daydreamed about. he says it like he’s recited it a million times. like the very existence of you on his tongue is second nature.
wow. ok. you might’ve misjudged his attention to detail.
sukuna must notice the surprised look on your face because he leans in a little closer. just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“are you gonna answer my question?” he asks you.
right, if you were enjoying yourself. you try to think of something witty to say, painful aware of how intently he’s looking at you. the attention feels so sudden. he was never this forward in class, why come up to you now?
sukuna’s eyes never leave your face, watching, craving.
“honestly? yeah, i’m having a great time.” you settle for some simple honesty. somewhere in the background the incessant thump of a bluetooth speaker fades the more the scent of his cologne fills your lungs.
“what about you?” you ask.
sukuna pauses, eyes flitting over the crowd like he’s debating whether or not he can actually say what’s really on his mind.
his jaw flexes, fingers drumming against the counter to the beat of whatever song is playing.
he looks back over at you when he finally makes up his mind, gauging your reaction with a sly look in his eyes. thank god he can’t physically see the way your core flutters around nothing. you’re already too conscious of the sticky flush collecting in the gusset of your panties.
“i mean..." there's a playful tilt to his voice, his words steeped in mischief.
"usually i’d be upstairs by now having some fun.”
sukuna sighs, eyes glued to the swell of your lips.
“but, y’know, i get it. with finals week coming up. not a lot of fun to be had if no one else is looking for it.”
his voice trails off as soon as his eyes lock onto your lips. mumbling the last bits of the sentence like his mind is elsewhere. wanting.
something hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, something he hasn't said directly just yet.
fun. the implication of the word isn’t lost on you in the slightest. sukuna was a decent guy all around, maybe even an acquaintance now, but you’ve heard the way girls talk about him around campus.
lack of experience aside, you’d have to be an idiot to fool around with a guy like him. one that treats college like a fuckfest and sweet talks anything with a pulse. did you really want ryomen sukuna of all people to be your first?
“i can be fun.”
maybe you are an idiot after all. because the speed those four words leave you is absolutely unparalleled.
in your defense, you can barely think straight as is. not with how close he is to you now, mouth curling up into the tiniest smile. and especially not with how satisfied he looks with himself.
“yeah?” sukuna’s pupils are two black voids, waiting for you to confirm your little unspoken agreement.
suddenly everything you’re feeling in your lower half makes sense, because the intrigue in his voice is something you’d literally pay money to hear again. you needed him bad.
“wanna find out?” you ask, more confident this time. technically not a bogus offer. you’ve done almost everything leading up to the deed. how hard could going all the way be?
—
sukuna’s room is a world of its own. tucked just upstairs and to the left of the beer can littered stairwell he’d made a beeline for as soon as you'd given him the green light. he weaves the both of you through the dwindling crowd, hand around your waist like you belong to him. in a way, you already do.
it's like the world around you ceases to exist as soon as his door locks and your back hits his bed. you're hyperaware and not aware of anything all at the same time. honed in on the way he toes his sneakers off and clambers onto the mattress atop you, hands running up the length of your body before diving to claim your lips.
you've made out before, sure, but never quite like this. never so passionately, in the way that makes your thighs clench and your core shake. sukuna licks into your mouth with desperation you never would have expected. like your tongue is his salvation.
“pretty girl, y’know that?” he mumbles into your mouth. "gonna fuck you good."
the compliment pulls the sweetest little whine out of you, and sukuna grins against your lips like he's won a prize.
touching you isn’t what turns him on most, you realize. it’s not the feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck, or the incessant press of your clothed centers. it’s the reactions you give him. those tiny huffs of breath against his mouth that let him know you need him. how you lean in close and pepper kisses down his throat just so he won’t see you blush. it’s all pure magic to him.
you're nervous in the best way, slipping your hands under the thin fabric of his wifebeater to feel up his abs. something about him just melts your brain. his scent, how warm he is, how he kneads your body like dough.
most importantly, this sex stuff was a cakewalk so far.
"off?" you plead, pushing his shirt up and over his shoulders like its somehow offended you, and sukuna laughs, hard and heavy.
"what, can't wait?" you he’s only asking to see you writhe, cocky little grin on his face and everything. you nod, and sukuna laughs, running his thumb over your bottom lip.
you must be too honed in on his lower half, because you don’t realize he’s taken off his hat to undress until he fastens it backwards right onto your head.
“hold that for me.” he says, shucking his shirt off and to the side with a grunt.
you didn’t expect this whole ordeal to feel so intimate. for him to lay you down against his pillows and kneel. wearing his hat while you watch him strip down to his boxers, the party still raging downstairs.
sukuna looks so much different like this. softened around the edges by the messy pink fringe that falls right above his eyes. you think you quite like the way the tattoos under his eyes crease when he looks back at you and smiles.
you wonder how many girls have seen him like this. if any of them appreciated the way the moonlight peeking through the shades illuminates the black lines on his body the way you do. or how pink his lips are after he’s been kissed.
something inside tugs at you when he reaches forward to take his hat back.
“keep it off.” you sit up, slipping it off your head to toss it onto his nightstand.
he pauses, like his brain is still trying to register what you've just told him.
“but the hat stays on when i fuck.” sukuna fake pouts. “that’s like my whole thing.”
“leave it.” you urge. "you look nice with your hair down."
sukuna’s face softens the slightest bit. he almost looks embarrassed. like the compliment isn’t something he gets told often.
“don't make me blush” he teases, hugging your middle to bring you back down to the pillows with him.
your own shirt is next to go, chucked over his tattooed shoulder to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.
“fuck, where’ve you been hiding all this?” sukuna breathes. awestruck like he hadn't been staring at them all night.
his attention is completely addictive. the more sukuna touches you, the more you start to understand the droves of girl you see hanging off his arm every weekend. groveling for his acknowledgment in any capacity.
you’d do a whole lot more than grovel if it meant he’d keep massaging you through your bra like he is now. you‘be never wanted anyone quite this bad like you do now. mind, body, and soul.
your bottom layers go next, lost to the abyss that is his floor. sukuna takes a moment to turn your panties over in his hand.
"cute." he laughs.
you half expect him to throw them on the ground as well, maybe stuff them under his pillow or something. except, sukuna does neither. instead, the garment joins his hat on the nightstand. situated amongst his things like they've always belonged there.
you'd let him keep them if he asked.
that’s when the gravity of it all really sets in. you’re naked as the day you were born, laid up underneath the hottest guy you’ve ever had the pleasure of viewing. and all he can do is look at you like you’re the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen.
sukuna whistles, low and slow, hand on your knee to part your legs.
“god, that’s a sight isn’t it. pretty down here too.” the bass in his voice practically makes your eyes flutter. that anxious feeling in your tummy slowly starts to dissipate as you spread yourself wider, morphing into something sappy nestled right at your entrance.
it’s almost humiliating feeling how wet you are, but sukuna doesn’t seem to mind at all, sauntering onto his stomach tongue-first like some sort of horny olympic diver.
his tongue hits you first, licking thick stripes from your hole to your clit. he parts you with a thumb on either side of your heat, not at all minding the way you pull at his locks.
sukuna was a lot of things. charming, outgoing, sometimes even vulgar. but one thing you’ve learned just in the last 10 minutes of lying atop his sheets is that he is anything but a selfish lover.
his fingers are a welcome intrusion. thicker than yours in a way that makes your head feel loose. the stretch only stings for a second, hotwiring the cogs in your lower stomach like a well oiled machine.
“fuck, you're tight. needy little thing.” he mumbles, pulling the digit out and bringing it to his mouth to suck your mess clean, then diving right back in.
it must kill him. hearing you, tasting you. wanting so badly to relieve himself but wanting to make you feel good even more.
he takes his time fingering you open, feeling up your slick walls until he finds that special little spot only the toys under your bed can reach.
you’re inconsolable, panting and groaning into the crook of your elbow while he rocks your entire world up, down, and sideways. you’ve never felt pleasure so blinding.
you go to say something, anything to let him know how fucking good he’s making you feel, but something else catches your eye instead.
the slightest movement of his hips, so quick you nearly miss it. then another, and another. his hips drive down, then back, pulling a shaky groan from the depths of his chest.
“are you humping the mattress?” you breathe.
a chuckle is all he gives you, nodding his head between your legs in a way that says “yeah, so what?” sukuna sucks your clit into his mouth for good measure, shoulders shaking at the near pornographic moan that escapes your lips.
"toji's room is right next door, you know. better keep it down." he laughs from between your legs.
right. the meathead you saw downstairs licking fireball off the floor on a dare. real classy guy.
you swat at him lightly when he comes up from your pussy, accepting the sticky kiss he presses to your lips.
he motions for you to sit up, and you do, following his lead. sukuna slinks in behind you, sitting up against his rickety headboard to shuck his boxers down with a huff.
“holy shit.”
you couldn’t have stopped yourself from reacting if you tried.
sukuna was thick. thicker than any toy under your bed or any of the half-chub losers you’ve fooled around with during the past four years here. long, flushed, and heavy. pre beading at his tip just aching to be licked off.
he shakes his head fondly at your lack of a filter, widening his legs so you can settle on your stomach between them. sukuna feeds you his cock with a loose grip at the base, throwing his head back with a groan as soon as your tongue meets his flesh.
you could very well get addicted to the taste of him. that salty tang that coats your taste buds and settles at the back of your throat.
five thick fingers sit at the base of your skull, gripping the back of your neck to guide you down as far as you can handle. it takes a couple tries, but you finally feel your nose rub up against the patch of pink hair at his base, earning a hearty groan from the man above you..
you’re not a pro at sucking dick by any means, but the sounds sukuna makes would have anyone thinking otherwise. long, gravelly moans. radiating right from within his chest and up to his ceiling.
"fuck, fuck hold on." he begs, letting his head fall forward with a shiver. you slowly ease his cock from your lips and look up at him expectantly.
sukuna squeezes the base of his dick with a huff. no doubt trying to starve off his orgasm. he looks up at you through his fringe with that same fangy smile you love.
“how do you want it?” he asks you, wiping the spit from the corner of your mouth.
right. the main course. full blown sex.
you suppose on your back would be best. comfortable, safe. you let him guide you back down onto the pillows and offer yourself up to him, feeling your stomach twist in on itself as he rolls a condom on and lines himself up with your entrance.
sukuna ruts his hips forward only slightly. not enough to breach but close enough for your fold to part around his tip.
"holy-"
you immediately lock up, joints stiff with adrenaline. the sensation is so foreign, thicker and hotter than anything you've ever felt.
“what?, don’t get shy on me now.” he drawls, tattoos straining against his lazy grin. “not after all that talk earlier.”
“waitwaitwait.” you hiss, pawing at his shoulder with a shaky hand. “oh my god—hold on.”
sukuna’s hips retreat, taking a bit of your anxiety with them. there’s a softness in his eyes, almost guilty in nature.
“you okay?"
you say nothing, trying to piece together the 3 words you probably should've uttered a long time ago.
“want me to eat you out a little more?”
“no, sorry, it’s not that.” you clarify, cutting him off at the last syllable. the way it comes out makes you cringe.
the room suddenly feels a lot smaller than it did before. sukuna searches your face for an answer, silently pleading with the furrow between his brows.
"i've never done this beofre."
you prepare to watch the expression on his face melt into something nasty. to maybe hear something laced with pity leave his lips before he tells you to get dressed and get out, but it doesn’t come.
instead, sukuna’s expression softens, red eyes melting around the edges as he looks down at your shivering, naked form.
“yeah?” the way he says it is so quiet, so cautious. not at all like the outspoken boy you thought you knew.
you nod, fingers curling around his bicep uncertainly.
sukuna reaches to take that same hand, pressing a fleeting kiss to the inside of your wrist. his gentleness almost feels unbecoming. so out of character compared to the stories you’ve heard each semester. but not at all unlike the charismatic guy you’d come to know tonight.
maybe you didn’t really know the real sukuna after all.
“do you..? or— i could teach you. or we could stop. i can walk you home.” his tongue flits over your wrist, soothing the hammering pulse point there.
you ponder his offer for a moment, eyes transfixed on the way he mouths at your delicate skin.
“you don’t think it’s weird?” you mumble.
sukuna presses his tongue against his teeth, voice dropping the slightest bit like he really shouldn’t be saying what comes out of his mouth next.
“I think i’m kinda into that stuff.” he admits, chuckling like it’ll somehow ease the awkward air. “kinda… maybe guessed downstairs that you were kinda shy? i donno. made me wanna talk to you.”
your eyebrows nearly touch your hairline at his confession, embarrassment flooding you from head to toe.
“you could tell?”
“i mean, i figured the silent girl from class probably wouldn't have too many nights under her belt.” he jokes, charming as ever. you don’t take any offense to it.
sukuna must sense the thoughts flying through your mind because he stops, taking your face in both of his tattooed hands in a way that sets your chest on fire.
“it’s whatever you want, okay?.” and the little smile he gives you is so devastatingly reassuring, that you all but make up your mind right then and there.
“i wanna keep going.” you whisper, leaning forward in a brazen display of confidence to seal your lips to his.
sukuna must be taken aback by your forwardness, because he doesn’t melt into the kiss immediately. instead, his hands trail over your hips, getting a proper grip on your body before he’s pressing you into the mattress and licking into your mouth.
he almost tastes better this way, like grenadine and the remnants of a cigarette. the party rages on below you, drowning out the little whimpers that escape your lips every time sukuna kneads the sensitive swell of your breasts with his rough hands.
he lets you get used to the stretch this time, easing his hips back and forth in little strokes to get you used to the motion.
it doesn’t feel great at first, being fucked open at the center by something large enough to rival the width of your wrist. but soon enough, the discomfort fades into something different.
something filthy, nestled right in the deepest pit of your center. blooming out and upwards until your whole body feels like its on fire.
“oh my god.” you whimper, realizing you’ve taken him to the hilt. you're so full that your chest starts to feel tight. like there isn't possibly enough room inside of you to fit all the pleasure building in your core.
sukuna’s must adore the noises you're making for him, because his cock twitches right against that little spot from earlier.
“yeah? want me to move?” he purrs.
never in a million years did you think he’d be this intimate. this gentle, coaxing you open with his dick as softly as he can muster, and loving every bit of it.
“pleasepleaseplease oh god.” you moan, grasping onto his shoulders to prepare yourself for the onslaught of sensations that hit you when he speeds up.
you’re so wet you can’t even feel the friction of his heavy cock against your walls anymore. just the smooth, effortless glide of his length and the occasional, devastatingly good, bump of his tip against your g-spot.
you could die happy like this, legs spread to accommodate every inch of his sculpted body, watching the sweat collect in the ridges between his abs. listening to him pant praises against your lips in between heated kisses.
"could fuck you for the rest of my life." he growls.
and if that wasn’t enough, the finishing blow follows.
“i only come to class to see you, baby. only show up to see that pretty face.”
a broken whimper of his name is all you’re able to force out before you’re sent plummeting over the edge.
you cum with a stifled whimper, arms wrapped around his neck like he’ll up and float away if you let go. the pressure between your legs is insane, peaking and crashing down like an array of fireworks.
sukuna follows almost immediately, pulling out to shoot his load over your mound and lower tummy with a string of expletives and praise.
you silently thank the powers that be for whatever odd stroke of fate that brought you two together tonight.
“feeling good?” he flops on his side next to you, head propped up on his hand while he tenderly looks over your body.
“feeling amazing.”
“mmm, hoped you’d say that.” he laughs. still high on adrenaline.
the room suddenly feels a lot larger than it did before. a lot louder too without the sounds of your shared pleasure muffling the party below. you wonder what you're supposed to do now that you've... sufficiently had your fun. should you ask for a towel? should you just redress and deal with it all later?
sukuna opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then snaps back to attention.
"shit.. towel." he mumbles, slinking off the mattress to toe around the moat of your shared belongings on the ground.
"here." he tosses you the tank top he'd been wearing earlier, flopping back down on the mattress with you. you stand to dab the mess from your body and toss the garment in his hamper before pulling your undergarments back on.
"do you w-" he starts
"i should g-"
sukuna lifts his head from the pillows, hand coming up to stroke over the back of your head.
"you first."
"do you want me to leave?"
"do you want to leave?" he asks.
"no."
"then don't." he states plainly, already sorting through the mess on the floor to pull on his boxers. humming a tune under his breath like its the most routine thing in the world.
in a way, you guess it is. for him at least. you couldn't figure out what to do right now even if you tried.
"you said you noticed i was shy in class?" it comes out more like a statement than a question.
"noticed a lot of things about you." he whispers. you feel your stomach jump. half anticipation half need.
"why only come up to me today?"
sukuna sighs, like the topic itself is something that’s weighing heavy on his mind.
"didn't think you'd give me the time of day." he almost sounds shy to admit it. "thought i might as well when I saw you in the kitchen. didn't wanna graduate without giving it a shot."
something in your chest unravels softly at that. you feel at ease now, more confident in your bearings.
"can we do this more? get to know each other better?" you don’t even know where the question comes from, never mind how you garner the confidence to ask it.
you see his brows raise just the slightest bit, crimson eyes widening.
“or. sorry- i know you have…” your mind flits back to the image of him practically drowning in female attention. you probably sounded ridiculous right now.
you gesture vaguely in front of you, trying to phrase what you’re about to say as respectfully as possible. sukuna pulls you closer.
“…other contenders.”
sukuna hums thoughtfully, like he’s already made his mind up.
"i'm sure they'd live without me.”
without him. like, in the complete absence of him. your mind finally registers what exactly he’s saying.
just you and him. this. more than just a one night stand.
you try to respond but quickly startle at the sound of three heavy raps against the door.
"is she gone? did you get her number?" a gravely voice asks, barely audible above the music.
“toji can you fuck off for like twenty more minutes?” sukuna’s not asking.
“god, fuck.” he groans softly, wiping both hands down the front of his face like it’ll somehow rid him of his humiliation.
you wait for the heavy footsteps at the door to retreat, and lean in to press a kiss to sukuna’s forehead.
“wanna get lunch tomorrow?”
shoko was going to die during your debrief tomorrow morning.
do not translate my fics, republish them on other social media, or feed them to ai
Clark can sense something different with you, he just can’t say what it is yet.
You’re at your desk at the Planet typing away and you look just as lovely as ever, but there’s this nagging feeling that something’s different.
“You’re staring, Clark,” Jimmy mutters from his desk, Clark’s eyes widening and his cheeks reddening at being caught. “Way more than usual.”
“Is something different with her to you?” He asks Jimmy instead, eye brows knitting together when he watches you reach for your water.
You usually have tea in the morning as your first drink. That’s the only difference Jimmy can see; oh and you coloured your hair a few days ago (he’d only noticed because he overheard you and Lois talking about it yesterday.)
But to Clark there’s a multitude of differences: your fingers seem to tremble at the keyboard and you look slightly pale and maybe even a little damp with sweat.
Jimmy rolls his eyes, “I don’t usually spend my time staring at your girlfriend, Clark.” He spares you a glance though, watching you drain the bottle and then pull another one out of your desk.
“It’s hot, she’s thirsty.”
It’s not that. Clark knows it’s not that.
He watches you for another half hour when he should be working on his daily news article and every little action winds him tighter.
He doesn’t figure it out till you get up and he automatically follows you.
He smells the difference then, a sort of sweeter, more sugary smell that he knows isn’t perfume.
His hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you into a blind spot of the Planet.
You squeal, “Clark, what’re you doing?”
“You’re high,” he ignores your question, sort of frantic as he looks you over.
“What, Clark? I’m not high at work!” You’re indignant, but your speech is slurred and looking at you now, your eyes are slightly hooded.
He sputters, smiling a little as he explains, “Your blood sugar, honey girl. Your sugar’s high.”
Your shoulders relax, “Oh yeah,” you rub your eyebrows. “I woke up with my meter beeping. It was around two thirty.”
Clark’s heart stutters. “Are you okay now? Are you coming down?” He cups your face, thumb pressed against your pulse point as if he can tell how bad your blood sugar is from touch alone.
You smile, leaning into his touch a little. “I took a walk before coming in and I’ve been drinking water and I had a protein bar. It’ll be dropping,” you inhale when he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Or well, leveling soon.”
“You’re not having blurred vision or anything?” He murmurs, his other hand reaching for yours to feel if your fingers are shaking - one of your tells.
“No,” you fish your phone from your pocket, showing Clark your Dexcom reading. “Look,”
The dotted lines show a decline, “Good,” he exhales, “You’re at one ninety now, you should level out at around one fifty.”
You nod, raising up on your tiptoes to kiss Clark’s cheek. “Thank you for noticing, and worrying even though you don’t have to.”
He shakes his head, “Would it be imposing if I asked to sleep over tonight to make sure you don’t spike too high again?”
You laugh, “No it’s not imposing, baby.” He kisses you this time. “Can we walk to lunch later?”
He nods, kissing you one last time. “Just let me know when, honey.”
roommate!sukuna is, deep down, probably the biggest, most lovesick fool you know. he's also a massive pervert. and since he’s utterly shit at actually saying how he feels, he defaults to being a complete fucking creep in ways no normal person ever would.
he likes to stare, for starters. you can feel it whenever you walk past him – his eyes lock onto the curve of your hip, your ass, whatever part of you happens to be passing.
he tracks the sway of your hips like a predator, leaning back against the wall, maybe dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. he's not even subtle about it. if you catch him, his gaze doesn't waver.
"what?" he'll snort, all arrogance. "someone's gotta appreciate the view. consider it a public service." heat flares on your cheeks, but you just shoot him a glare, refusing to give him more reaction than that.
sukuna also likes to test boundaries with your belongings. you always thought it was weird that laundry was the one chore he never bitched about. sometimes, he even offers to do yours, which should’ve been the first red flag.
inevitably, he'll accidentally mix things up, making you sift through his boxers and worn shirts when you’re just trying to find your own stuff. then, later, you’ll find him lounging on the couch, casually inspecting a pair of your underwear you didn't even realize was missing.
"sukuna!" you hiss, snatching them back. his fingers brush yours, a fleeting contact he clearly savors.
"nice pair," he nods, eyes glinting with amusement at your blush. "i like the cartoon mice. don't blush. i'm sure they look great on you. or, off." and no, he doesn't bother mumbling that last part.
he also just happens to be wherever you are in the apartment. convenient for him, annoying as hell for you. if you're cooking, he'll suddenly need something from the cupboard right above your head, pressing his body flush against your back in a half-assed excuse of reaching.
he presses close enough you can feel the unmistakable ridge of him against your lower back through his thin sweats.
jesus, is he hard? you think, trying not to jolt away as he lingers just a second too long. (he probably thinks it's your fault; your ass just feels that good against him.)
more often than not, he pads around the apartment fresh from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel slung dangerously low on his hips. hair damp, ink stark against damp skin, water droplets tracing paths down the hard planes of his chest and abs…
god, those abs. enough to make your brain short-circuit right in the middle of a work zoom call. yes, zoom, because he has zero issues barging into your room half-naked, pretending he absolutely needed something that couldn't possibly be in there.
then, there are the nights you bring guys over. not often, but often enough to wind him up tight. the walls are paper-thin, your room right next to his. hearing you is unavoidable.
sukuna scoffs into his pillow, knuckles white where he grips the sheets. as if that panting loser could make you feel half as good as he could. he grits his teeth, the sounds filtering through the wall – your sounds – a raw torment.
closing his eyes, he forces the image: not that pathetic asshole touching you, but him. his cock sliding deep inside you, feeling that tight clench instead of the friction of his own fist. he imagines those choked whimpers and sharp cries are for him, ripped from your throat by his touch, his length filling you up.
he clenches his jaw, trying to stay quiet even as his hips start an involuntary rhythm against the mattress. fuck that, this is his place too. why should he have to be quiet when you clearly aren't bothering?
slick pre-cum coats his fingers as his eyes squeeze shut. his wrist picks up speed, jerking down his hardening dick, pulling hushed, rough groans past his lips.
it never takes long when it’s the thought of you, even with the distraction of that rat squeaking alongside you. he tries to time it, always tries to match his peak with the crescendo he hears through the wall.
a ragged groan leaves from his throat, followed by your name, broken and low, "oh, fucking hell," thick ropes of heat spurt over his knuckles, coating his lower stomach and thighs in sticky white.
his breathing slowly evens out, chest rising and falling as he tips his head back against the headboard, spent.
and hey, you're definitely not an idiot. sukuna might be, though. as you finally shove the latest disappointment out your door, you allow yourself a faint smile. your pervert roommate isn't nearly as quiet as he thinks he is.
besides, can he really not tell the difference between genuine moans and the over-the-top, fake-as-fuck performance you've been putting on lately?
one of these days, you hope he'll finally get the hint. or just grow a pair and do something about it. if you're going to be living with a creep, you'd rather live with a creep who actually has the balls to make a move.
gojo is a freak in the best way- cocky, overpowered sorcerer by day, but when it comes to you? the man’s a certified addict for dry humping. he swears he could bust just from grinding on your clothed pussy, no penetration needed.
“it’s the tease, baby” he’d say with that shit eating grin, like it’s some profound wisdom.
“why rush when the build-up’s this fucking hot?” you’d roll your eyes, call him dramatic, but deep down you know he’s serious- last time he proved it by cumming in his pants like a horny teen, laughing about it after like “oops, guess i’m that into you.”
tonight’s no different. you’re on the couch, some movie forgotten, his tall frame draped over yours as he pins you down with those strong thighs.
his lips crash into yours- messy and hungry, tongue shoving deep like he’s trying to devour you whole. “fuck, you taste so good” he groans against your mouth, hips already rolling slow and deliberate, his hard needy cock pressing through his sweats against your thin panties.
“satoru— slow down” you gasp, but he just chuckles low, that needy edge in his voice making your cunt throb.
“can’t, baby. need to feel you— shit, your pussy’s so warm even like this.” he grinds harder, the friction building heat between you, his fat bulge dragging right over your clit with every thrust.
you’re soaking through the fabric already, panties sticking messy to your folds, and he knows it. feels it. because he moans like a whore, breath hot on your neck.
“look at you, getting all wet for me without even taking my cock,” he praises, voice rough and teasing, blue eyes locked on yours. “you do love my dick that much, huh— fuck, you’re gonna make me cum just humping this pretty cunt.”
his pace picks up, hips snapping with lewd slaps of fabric on fabric. he’s huge— even clothed, you feel every veiny inch rubbing against you, the outline of his tip catching your entrance through the layers, teasing like he’s about to push in but never does.
sweat slicks his white hair to his forehead, muscles flexing under his shirt as he ruts like an animal in heat.
“s-shit- toru i’m gonna-” you whine, nails digging into his back, but he cuts you off with a filthy kiss, sucking on your tongue while he grinds circles right on your swollen clit.
“yeah? cum for me, baby- cream on these panties while i hump you stupid.” his words are breathy, and he’s right there with you— cock throbbing, leaking precum that soaks through his sweats onto yours, making everything sloppier, wetter.
“fuck, i love this... your pussy clenching on nothing, begging for me. you want me to put this dick in you that bad, angel? you gotta cum for me first, yeah?”
that did it.
you came hard, crying out his name as your orgasm hits hard, hips bucking up into his, soaking the fabric even more. he curses under his breath “fuck fuck fuck” and follows right after, grinding erratic as he unloads in his pants, hot cum spurting in thick ropes that seep through, mixing with your mess.
he doesn’t stop— keeps humping through the aftershocks, smearing the sticky cum between you, kissing you deep and hungry. “see? told you i could cum without fucking you proper,” he murmurs, smug but still breathy, cock twitching like he’s ready for round two.
“but don’t worry, baby. its not like we’re done yet, right? take this off for me, need to fuck my pussy now.” he said as he was sliding your panties down your legs.
୨୧ frat!sukuna waiting outside the library for his shy girl just to get a taste
he’s banned from the library.
you’re still not sure what the final straw was—vaping in the silent zone, hotboxing the stairwell, calling someone’s econ group “broke losers with no pussy”—but the front desk staff knows his face now. they don’t even give him a warning anymore. just glare at him through the glass if he so much as stands outside for too long. doesn’t stop him, though. never does.
because every night you study late, he’s there.
just loitering. half-slouched against the bike rack, hood up, headphones in, tapping the toe of his sneaker against the concrete like he’s counting down the seconds till you come outside. you pretend not to notice him. pretend your stomach doesn’t flip when you see him through the exit doors, arms crossed over his chest, mouth already twitching into that stupid little grin.
“took your sweet fucking time,” he says when you finally step out.
you don’t respond. just let him take your backpack without asking, like always, like it’s nothing. he slings it over one shoulder like it weighs nothing. it’s not chivalry. it’s just him. rude, smug, and territorial as fuck. walking you back to your dorm like he owns the sidewalk, like no one else on this campus is allowed to look at you for too long.
“why do you always act like you’re mad at me?” he asks, like he’s not texting you constantly. like he didn’t blow your phone up an hour ago with: u still in the library? and come outside i’m bored and i’m serious i’m gonna bark.
you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “i’m not mad.”
“you look mad.”
“you’re annoying.”
he laughs. loud enough that people turn to look. and then he nudges your shoulder with his arm and says, “yeah, but you like it.” and you don’t say anything, because he’s right. because even when he’s irritating, even when he gets you in trouble for sneaking past the front desk, you still wait for him to show up. still check your phone. still keep the sweater he left in your bed that smells like weed and cheap detergent and the skin behind his ear.
you’re quiet most of the way back.
he doesn’t fill the silence. just walks next to you, close enough that your knuckles brush sometimes.
you pretend not to notice when he glances over at you every other block. or when he presses the button for the crosswalk even though you’re closer. or when he shifts your bag higher on his shoulder like he’s going to carry it forever if you don’t ask for it back.
by the time you reach your building, your cheeks hurt from trying not to smile.
“room?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know it.
you hesitate.
then: “…it’s messy.”
he grins. “so am i.”
you roll your eyes, but your fingers still curl into the hem of his hoodie once you’re inside. he pulls you in by your waist, lets the door click shut behind him, and starts kissing you like he’s been starving for it. like he didn’t just walk you home twenty minutes ago. like he needs to feel your mouth again to remember what peace tastes like.
he picks you up halfway through the kiss. doesn’t ask. just grabs under your thighs and carries you toward your bed like it’s instinct, like this is what he does. your legs wrap around his waist. you’re already breathless by the time he drops you into the mattress and crawls on top of you with that same greedy, cocky, sleepy-eyed look.
you whisper his name. quiet. a little breathless.
his mouth is on yours again instantly. “missed you today,” he mumbles, even though he saw you at lunch. even though he texted you through lecture. even though you haven’t gone a full day without seeing him in weeks.
he grinds down into you slow. you can feel how hard he is through his sweats. thick and heavy, dragging against the thin cotton between your legs as he breathes you in like he wants to ruin your sleep schedule again.
you gasp when he ruts against your clit just right.
“there she is,” he murmurs, smirking against your mouth. “my pretty girl. thought about this all day.”
he palms at your thighs, presses a kiss right under your jaw, then mumbles it against your skin like it’s an afterthought.
“your roommate gonna be back soon?”
you shake your head quickly. “she’s sleeping over at her boyfriend’s.”
“good.”
it comes out low. thick with that same heavy-lidded want he always wears around you. his fingers curl around the back of your knee and drag it higher around his waist. your skirt bunches up between you, and you can feel how hot his skin is even through your tights.
you try not to make eye contact. he always teases you when you get like this—shy, squirmy, looking anywhere but his eyes like that’ll make you less obvious. like he can’t feel how much you want him.
he leans down closer, nose brushing yours.
“why’re you looking at the ceiling?”
you swallow. “no reason.”
“what,” he grins, voice low and teasing, “nervous?”
your face heats instantly.
he laughs, kisses the corner of your mouth. “you’re cute when you get all quiet.”
“i’m not—”
“shhh,” he hums, kissing you again. “let me take care of you.”
and you let him.
you always do.
he moves slow, almost annoyingly so, like he wants to make you squirm. like he wants to see how much you’ll feel your face warming before he even gets your tights off. his hands are so big they make you feel small, and the way he touches you, and makes you dizzy in the way only he can.
he palms your cunt through the fabric, feels how soaked you already are. hums deep in his throat like that’s exactly what he expected.
“fuck, baby. all that just from me grinding on you?” he smirks, dragging his fingers up and down the damp seam of your tights. “you’re so sensitive.”
you try to close your legs.
he doesn’t let you.
“nuh-uh,” he says, nudging your thighs apart again with a rougher grip. “don’t get all shy now. you were making those pretty little noises earlier, weren’t you?”
your hands fly up to your face. he laughs.
“that’s what i thought.”
and when he finally slides your tights down, slow and careful, peppering kisses along your legs as he goes—he keeps murmuring, like you’re his favorite secret.
“my girl’s so fuckin’ cute. you know that?”
you don’t answer.
you can’t. not when his mouth is already between your thighs, and you’re trembling again just from the way he moans like you’re the one ruining him.
he noses along the inside of your thigh, breath hot against your skin. doesn’t kiss your pussy yet—just stays there, mouth so close it makes you ache. your hips twitch, but he doesn’t move. just palms them gently, keeping you still, smirking like he’s trying to see how long it takes you to beg.
“this where you get all quiet again?” he murmurs, voice dark and low. “’cause you weren’t so shy a second ago, grinding on me and shit.”
you make an embarrassed, needy sound, and he chuckles and licks a long, slow stripe from your hole to your clit. it makes your whole body jerk.
you nod before you can stop yourself.
he hums against your clit, lips wrapping around it gently just to suck enough to make your thighs shake. he doesn’t go fast—not at first. not until you’re clutching the sheets, breath catching in your throat, trying so hard to stay quiet even though your roommate’s gone and no one’s gonna hear you except him.
“fuck, baby,” he groans, holding your hips down when you start to squirm. “you always get this sensitive?”
“j-just with you,” you breathe.
and that’s the thing—sukuna acts like an asshole most of the time. cocky. sharp. loud in a way that should make you feel small.
but the second you say shit like that, he’s silent. like he feels it somewhere deeper. like you handed him something and he doesn’t know exactly where to put it.
he presses a kiss to your thigh, almost too soft. then one to your hipbone. your tummy. the underside of your breast. until he’s climbing back up your body, cock hard against your inner thigh, face flushed and mouth glistening with your slick.
he kisses you slow, and so wet, like he’s drunk on the sweet taste of you—and you kiss him back, dazed, dizzy, already fucked-out from just his tongue.
you murmur against his lips, voice small. “sukuna…”
“mm?”
you glance down. he’s hard, thick and heavy where it rests between your bodies, hot against your skin. you shift a little beneath him, just enough for your thighs to squeeze around his hips. “aren’t you gonna…” you trail off, swallowing. “you know. f-fuck me?”
he just smirks, and leans back down again. “not tonight,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh. “don’t need to.”
you blink. confused. still panting.
his hands settle under your knees, spreading you open again. he’s still wet from before, his chin sticky with your slick. “just wanna taste you, baby. that’s all i want.”
you whimper as he sinks lower. “kuna—”
he groans, mouth already on your cunt again, tongue parting your folds and licking deep like he’s starving. like you’re dessert and he’s not done yet. he sucks softly on your clit, presses slow, lazy kisses all over like he’s making up his own pattern. and he doesn’t rush it. doesn’t get greedy. he savors you.
“god,” he groans, voice low against your cunt. “you’re so fucking sweet. like this little pussy’s made for my mouth.”
your face burns. your legs twitch. “but—but you’re hard—”
he pulls back just long enough to glance up at you, eyes half-lidded. “i know,” he says. “so what?”
you make another helpless noise, thighs closing around his head before he pries them open again.
“this ain’t about me tonight, princess.” he grins, filthy. “gonna make you cum ‘til you cry. now be a good girl and keep your legs open for me.”
thinking about bf!toji being absolutely fed up with the couple in the room to the left of you guys at the hotel that you're staying at. for the last two nights of your stay they've been fucking at all hours. loudly.
which honestly wouldn't be a problem if they weren't so goddamn bad at it.
toji can deal with a lot of things, but bad sex isn't one of them.
no rhythm whatsoever to the knocking sound of the headboard against the wall, wails and moans that sound like they belong in either an amateur porn video or a B-rate slasher movie, no sounds of foreplay, and worst of all in toji's opinion, it only ever lasts for ten minutes max.
his final straw was getting back to the hotel from your company's christmas party only to find that they were once again going at it, and still very badly. so toji decides to show them what real sex is supposed to sound like.
next thing you know, you're on your knees, holding onto the headboard for dear life as toji grips your hips so tight, pulling you back into his brutal thrusts -- each stroke so deliciously hard that the loud clap of your ass cheeks echo throughout the room. you always tend to get twice as wet when you've had a little to drink so the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your dripping wet pussy adds to the symphony of sound that the people next door can no doubt hear.
speaking of which...
it seems your lovely neighbors have cut their fun short. their normal racket stopped abruptly not too long after toji had put your hands on the headboard, forced your legs wide, and fucked into you. but this wasn't enough for toji. he'd had to suffer through their horrid excuse for sex for two days. two horrible, nerve grating days. so he was going to put his stamina to good use and return the favor tenfold.
grabbing a handful of your hair, toji pulls your head back slightly, pace never slowing as he takes in your glassy eyes and parted lips.
"c'mon ma...let's show our nice neighbors what good sex really sounds like, yeah? want you to gush so hard they can hear it. want--fuck squeeze me again-- want 'em to hear your pretty moans and this messy pussy in their dreams."
needless to say, it was blessedly quiet on the other side of that wall for the rest of your stay.
today's demons are brought to you by my husband and i dealing with this scenario this past weekend. the ppl in the room next to us were so obnoxiously loud when they were fucking and what made it so annoying was that it didn't even sound like it was good. tbh it sounded like what someone thinks porn sounds like. so hubby and i may or may not have returned the favor with much better results👀 ANYWAYS...ykw i'm not even gonna say i'm going to go back to working on my other fics. atp the demons have complete control so you guys will just get what you get 🤪
Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 5.9k
A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.
“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”
Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver.
And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.
But it was too late.
“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”
And he meant it.
Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.
And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.
The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.
“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”
Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”
“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”
Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”
“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”
“Louder.”
You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”
“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”
Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”
“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”
Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song.
Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-
“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?”
And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like. Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”
Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?
Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.
And there’s so much of it.
“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole.
Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.
“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life
“Ken-”
“...”
“Ken.”
But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.
In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-
Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”
He was addicted. Gone.
“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”
Oh.
If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still.
It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-
Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips.
“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.
You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”
“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”
You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.
Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-
“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra, thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”
Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.
“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”
Baby.
Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now.
Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”
“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”
Drop you?
Drop you?
God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”
Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.
“Promise?”
Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft.
“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”
And he doesn’t.
God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars.
Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit.
You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”
God, you were going to be the death of him.
“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”
“I-I’m so close-” Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”
It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”
Oh.
Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.
It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”
“M’not joking.”
Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”
You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic.
“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”
And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.
That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”
“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.
One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess.
“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”
And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”
Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.
You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”
“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”
“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”
The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-
“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”
And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy.
One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him.
He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth.
And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…
One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”
You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”
Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.
“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”
Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.
And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking.
“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”
Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to.
Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.
Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more-
“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”
And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to.
You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp.
In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”
Oh god, and then he does-
He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.
“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets.
Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-” Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”
And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.
“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-”
It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.
Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”
The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds.
“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”
“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!
“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”
And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.
“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”
As if you could do anything else.
“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”
Oh.
In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you.
And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too.
Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses.
His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”
He was fucking you like it was your fault.
Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum.
Messy.
“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”
“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face.
Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”
God. He was out of control.
“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”
“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”
Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess.
Always his favorite.
“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”
Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.
Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.
But right now, he didn’t care.
Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered.
Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-”
And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.
But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.
“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him.
Smack!
“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)
“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”
Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.
Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes.
But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.
“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”
God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you.
His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”
“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”
“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”
But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity.
“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”
And truly - he sounded like it.
He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots.
“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”
Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.
And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look.
Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy.
And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-
“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”
All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-
And then he’s cumming.
Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes.
Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks.
It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”
“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”
Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge.
Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another.
God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.
Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost.
“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”
♥︎ ݁ 𓏲 18+ mdni ﾉ your boyfriend turns into a #certifiedslut during bulking season
bulking-season him doesn’t just look different—he feels different. it’s in the weight of him when he lays on you, the way his chest seems broader overnight, how his thighs take up more space on the bed. his whole body feels denser, heavier, like he’s carrying an extra layer of warmth that only you get to touch. even his hugs change; he used to wrap his arms around you, now he engulfs you, pulling you into his chest until you can barely breathe, whispering, “missed you,” like it’s a confession.
you notice it first in the mornings. the way he stretches and his back looks huge—muscles thick and carved, delts rounded, veins standing out along his arms because he’s been lifting like a demon. when he grabs your hips, his hands feel bigger, rougher, more demanding. he picks you up without warning now, with this effortless strength that makes your stomach drop. you’ll squeal and yell at him to put you down, and he just laughs, voice still raspy from sleep, “can’t. i like carrying you.”
and oh god—the appetite. not just for food. bulking-season him fucks like he’s starving. like he’s been thinking about you all day, every rep, every set. he comes home already half-hard, chest pumped, smelling like sweat and something primal, and the second he sees you? it’s over. he doesn’t even take his shoes off sometimes—he crowds you into a wall with his newly heavy body, one big hand sliding under your shirt, the other grabbing your ass like he owns it.
he kisses you messy, urgent, teeth grazing your lower lip, and you can feel the extra weight behind every movement. he’s stronger. more grounded. when he presses you into the bed, you feel the difference—the solidness of him, the warmth that rolls off his skin, the way his thighs cage you in and you know there’s no moving him even if you tried.
and he gets feral when he’s inside you. something about the bulk makes him rut harder, deeper, like he can’t get close enough. he holds your hips still with those thick hands and fucks into you with this steady, overwhelming force that makes your vision blur. his groans are deeper, too—lower, almost animal-like—like the sound is coming from somewhere way down in his chest.
he’ll pin your wrists above your head, muscles flexing, veins popping along his forearms, and say shit like: “hold still. let me have you.”
“you can take it — c’mon, pretty girl.”
“fuck, you feel even tighter when i’m bigger.”
and when he gets close? he grabs your thighs and folds you so easily it scares you a little—not rough, just strong. the kind of strength that comes from weeks of training and eating like he’s preparing for hibernation. he buries his face in your neck, fucking into you harder, faster, chasing his release with this raw, hungry determination that makes you feel devoured.
afterwards, he’s still panting, still heavy on top of you, one big hand stroking your thigh like he’s calming himself down. then he grins—tired but still cocky, and murmurs, “round two in ten minutes. just need a snack first.”
and he means it. because bulking-season him isn’t just horny… he’s insatiable. he's stronger. heavier, hungrier—and every part of him feels made to ruin you.
･ ⟢ ⋮ synopsis . . . you go over to your best friend yuji’s house for dinner… only to find his older brother sukuna is home from college for the first time in a few years. taller, tattooed, pierced, and annoyingly unreadable, he looks nothing like the boy you grew up with—and he won’t stop staring at you like you’ve changed too.
tags .ᐟ 7.1k. reader & sukuna are both in college. nsfw. best friend's other brother. oral m & f. dry hump lol. unprotected sex. creampie. missionary. size kink. dirty talk. light dom. praise kink. teasing. arm pinning. post sex teasing. kinda possessive behavior? unedited per usual, cause we don't believe in that over here !!
you’ve been in their house since you were old enough to walk. same backyard. same childhood summers. same loud dinners where yuji talked with his mouth full and sukuna pretended he wasn’t listening even though he always was.
yuji was your best friend before you even understood what best friends were. sukuna was the older one—a few grades ahead, always taller, always heavier-footed, always lurking on the edges of things like he’d been born allergic to attention.
the three of you were tangled together in that inevitable, you-grew-up-next-door kind of way. not siblings, not cousins, not childhood sweethearts. just that messy, familiar constellation of people you simply belonged to.
and then sukuna left.
not dramatically. not with some sentimental goodbye. he just packed up after graduation and went off to college out of state—far, far away—leaving you and yuji to finish growing up without him.
you didn’t think about him much after that. or at least you told yourself you didn’t.
until today.
you walk into yuji’s house the same way you always do—kicking off your shoes, calling out that you brought notes for the class he skipped again—and then you freeze.
because someone else is standing at the end of the hallway.
sukuna's home.
and looking at you like the past few years didn’t exist at all—like he just stepped out for a minute instead of vanishing into adulthood and coming back built like a warning sign.
you freeze.
because he isn’t the same person who left. not even close.
he’s taller now—like he grew an extra inch or two just to spite you. broad shoulders filling out the doorway, chest built in the intimidating way that says hours in the gym, not a single selfie to prove it. his hoodie clings to his arms in a way it never used to, sleeves shoved up to reveal thick forearms covered in black ink that wasn’t there before. sharp lines trailing up his veins and disappearing beneath cotton.
and his face—god.
there’s a new weight to it. a grown-man kind of sharpness. jawline hard enough to cut your breath in half. cheekbones more defined. his mouth softer than it should be on someone who looks like this.
plus the metal.
an eyebrow piercing splits the dark line above his left eye—subtle, but impossible to ignore. a thin silver hoop sits snug on his bottom lip, glinting every time he shifts his expression. a couple more studs line his ear, climbing the curve of cartilage in a way that draws your eyes before you can stop yourself.
he went from “yuji’s older brother who never talks” to “the man you’d cross the street for, just to look at again.”
he doesn’t say hi. doesn’t smile.
he just tilts his head a fraction, eyes dragging over you in one slow pass that feels too intimate to be accidental—like he’s comparing you to old versions in his head and finding the differences one by one.
“you got taller,” he mutters, voice deeper now, rougher around the edges.
your pulse spikes. “no i didn’t,” you say too quickly, heat crawling up your throat.
his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, right behind the silver hoop in his lip, and the faint sound he makes could be a laugh or a warning. you can’t tell which.
he steps closer. slowly.
the hallway shrinks around him like the walls are trying to pull away first. he’s buffer now—thick chest, defined arms, long legs moving with that confidence he never had when he was younger. his presence alone makes the air feel heavier.
“sure you didn’t,” he says, voice dropping into something low enough to curl at the base of your spine. “go on and lie to me.”
you swallow hard. “is... yuji inside?”
his eyes don’t leave yours—not even for a second. “kitchen. he’s been whining that you’re late.”
you try to step past him, but sukuna doesn’t move.
not an inch.
he stands there like a wall you’re meant to run into. like he’s doing it on purpose. like he wants to feel you brush against him, just to see what you’d do.
he’s always been like this—annoyingly still, annoyingly composed, annoyingly aware of how much space he takes up.
but now?
he’s all that, plus the tattoos, plus the muscle, plus the piercings, plus the kind of grown-man weight that makes your breath hitch.
you barely manage to slip past sukuna—your shoulder brushing his chest as you squeeze through the hallway. he doesn’t move, doesn’t step aside, doesn’t even pretend to give you space. he just watches you go, silent and heavy-eyed, like he’s cataloguing the way your breath stutters when you pass him.
you pretend you don’t notice. you pretend a lot of things. you step into the kitchen with a too-bright smile, dropping your bag onto the counter.
“ok,” you exhale, forcing lightness into your voice, “lecture notes time.”
yuji lights up like you just handed him free money. “finally! dude, this professor hates me, i swear.”
you snort. “he doesn’t hate you, he just knows you don’t shut up in class.”
yuji splutters, offended, and launches into a rant about how the classroom was “way too quiet” without him and how he’s basically “providing a public service.” you roll your eyes. you’ve missed this.
you spread out your notebooks on the table, walking him through everything he missed—slides, examples, the weird tangent your professor went on about life choices and statistics. yuji listens, nodding furiously, asking questions in the loudest voice anyone has ever used in a kitchen.
it’s normal. comfortable. easy.
but your head?
not easy. not comfortable.
because you can’t stop thinking about the man standing in the hallway.
the way sukuna looked at you like he was trying to match this version of you to the one he left behind.
the way he took up the entire hallway without trying. the way the metal in his lip caught the light. the tattoos. the build. the voice.
you try focusing on the material. you really do.
but yuji is halfway through copying something when you completely lose your train of thought, brain short-circuiting at the memory of sukuna stepping closer, the hallway shrinking around him, his arm brushing yours.
“uh… hello?” yuji waves a hand in front of your face. “earth to braincell.”
you blink. “sorry, i—just tired.”
“you should be! bro, you’ve been explaining this for like an hour.” yuji glances at the clock. “holy crap, it’s actually been an hour.”
you laugh, rubbing your eyes. it has gotten later than you thought. the sun’s gone down, the kitchen’s dimmer, warmer. the house feels too quiet.
yuji scratches his cheek and looks sheepish. “hey… uh… you wanna stay for dinner? i was gonna make something anyway, and it’s already late.”
stay.
the word sinks in. you open your mouth out of habit to decline—because you always do, because you have homework, because you’re busy—but you don’t say no.
because you know who else is here. who else you’ll end up near. who else is still lingering somewhere in this house with a pierced lip and a stare that won’t get out of your head.
you nod, biting back a smile as he rummages through the fridge.
you tell yourself it’s just dinner. just catching up. just a normal night. but your pulse tells a different story.
you don’t know what game sukuna’s playing now that he’s home…
…but you’re pretty sure he expects you to play it too.
yuji is humming to himself as he cooks—off-key, loud, cheerful in the way only he can be. pans clatter, spices get overused, something sizzles a little too aggressively, but it’s comforting.
you sit at the kitchen table, chin resting on your hand, pretending to scroll your phone. pretending to be normal.
but your ears are tuned to the hallway.
and when you hear slow, heavy footsteps approaching, your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it.
you don’t need to look to know who it is.
sukuna enters the kitchen like he owns the space—tall, broad, tattooed arms visible where he shoved his sleeves up again. his lip ring catches the warm kitchen light as he presses his tongue against it, like he’s distracting himself from saying something.
or from staring.
he doesn’t say anything right away. he just pulls out a chair. right across from you, of course.
your heartbeat jumps. you’re grateful yuji is too busy murdering whatever’s in the frying pan to notice anything weird.
sukuna sits slowly, legs spread under the table like he’s claiming territory. his posture is relaxed—leaned back, arms loose—but his eyes?
fixed on you.
not soft nor nostalgic—but assessing and curious in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your arms.
you try to look away first. you don’t succeed.
he breaks the silence with a low, too-casual, “he’s really makin’ you do his classwork for him?”
you blink. “i’m not—i’m just helping him catch up.”
he hums under his breath, that amusement back in his voice, coating every syllable in something mocking. “helpin’ him, huh. you always were too nice.”
“am not,” you mutter.
“yeah,” he says, leaning forward just a little. “you are.”
your stomach flips in a way you refuse to acknowledge.
before you can snap back, yuji turns around with triumph in his eyes and a plate in each hand.
“dinner is SERVED,” he declares proudly.
you and sukuna both watch the plate hit the table with a little too much force.
“you didn’t burn anything this time,” sukuna notes.
“shut up, bro,” yuji grins.
bro.
right. they’re brothers. the kind with the same house and the same history but completely different worlds carved out inside them.
yuji sits beside you—your usual seating arrangement—leaving sukuna directly across from you.
it’s torture.
you try to focus on dinner, but the food tastes like nothing. you’re too aware of the man in front of you. of the way his hand dwarfs his fork. of the tattoos that crawl up his veins, ink meeting sinew. of the metal on his face catching light every time he shifts. of the quiet way he eats—unlike yuji, who practically inhales his food.
at some point, sukuna leans back, eyes still on you, elbow resting on the back of his chair. he doesn’t speak. doesn’t interrupt yuji’s excited retelling of a stupid class story.
he just watches you. until you squirm.
you hate that he sees it. you drop your gaze to your plate.
but then, under the table—something brushes your ankle. you jolt subtly, knee bumping the underside of the table.
yuji doesn’t notice, but sukuna smiles. a slow smile that feels like it’s meant to unravel you one string at a time.
he doesn’t pull away.
his foot stays there—resting against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you try to move your foot back. he follows. pressing gently.
your breath stutters. your fork pauses mid-air.
“you okay?” yuji asks through a mouthful of food.
“fine,” you choke.
sukuna’s eyes drop to your throat, watching it move as you swallow. then he tilts his head and mouths something silently—so only you can see it.
don’t run.
your heart slams. you force yourself to finish your meal, though you don’t taste a damn thing.
yuji finally exhales loudly, rubbing his stomach. “okay, i’m gonna grab the drinks—don’t eat my dessert while i’m gone.”
he gets up and disappears into the fridge.
the moment he’s out of earshot, the tension in the room snaps tight.
sukuna leans forward just slightly, voice low enough that it feels like a touch on your skin.
“you’re real bad at hiding shit,” he murmurs.
you grip your fork. “hiding what?”
he raises a brow. “the way you’ve been lookin’ at me since you walked in.”
your breath falters.
he smiles. “didn’t look at me like that when i left.”
you want to deny it. you want to throw something at him. you want to run.
instead, all you manage is a tiny, pathetic, “…shut up.”
his eyes soften for half a second—amusement, victory, something else you can’t name—and then he drags his foot lightly up your calf under the table.
your pulse jumps.
yuji returns a moment later, completely oblivious, carrying three drinks like he’s hosting a banquet.
“okay! i got—hey, why are you two so quiet?”
you choke. “no reason.”
sukuna doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.
yuji doesn’t even make it to dessert.
one minute he’s talking through a mouthful of food, and the next he’s curled sideways on the couch in the living room, face pressed into a pillow, snoring softly like someone unplugged him mid-sentence.
you stare at him for a second and sigh. “…he lasted longer than usual.”
from behind you, sukuna’s voice is low and way too entertained.
“don’t give him that much credit.”
you ignore the way your stomach flutters and start clearing the plates, stacking yours on top of yuji’s, gathering forks, pushing crumbs into your palm. it feels safer to have your hands busy—something to do besides think about sukuna or how his eyes followed you all dinner.
the kitchen is dimmer now, warm under the stove light. quiet except for the clink of dishes. yuji’s muffled snoring drifts in from the living room. the air feels thick, heavy with end-of-night softness.
you bend over to load the dishwasher, reaching for a plate on the bottom rack…
…and that’s when you hear them.
slow footsteps behind you.
you feel him before he speaks—heat at your back, the faint brush of air as he exhales, the subtle shift of the room around someone as big as him.
“you really doing the dishes?” he says, voice low enough to curl behind your ear. “yuji’s not even awake to witness it.”
you roll your eyes at the plate in your hand. “i’m being nice.”
“you always were.”
your stomach dips.
you reach farther into the dishwasher, bending a little more, muttering, “it’s fine, i don’t mind—”
that’s when it happens.
you feel it—a slow nudge at your backside. a hip bump. not subtle. nowhere near being accidental. you gasp and straighten halfway before you even think about it.
“the fuck—?”
you turn, and sukuna is standing right behind you, way too close, one eyebrow piercing lifting as he drags his hips back a couple inches…
only to roll them forward again—slow, exaggerated, mocking in the rudest possible way.
a fucking air-hump. right into your ass.
you choke on your own breath. “what—what are you doing?” you hiss, eyes wide, hands still gripping a fork like you’re about to duel him with it.
“correcting your form,” he says casually, gesturing at the dishwasher. “you’re bendin’ like you want attention.”
“i was not bending like that,” you whisper harshly.
he steps forward half an inch—just enough to feel the heat of him against your back.
“you kinda were,” he murmurs.
your pulse hits dangerous levels.
you turn to shove him away—at least that’s the plan—but he catches your wrist, grip firm but not tight, eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before flicking back up like he didn’t mean to.
“relax,” he says, voice dropping into something warm, amused, and infuriatingly soft. “if i wanted to actually fuck with you, sweetheart… you’d know.”
your knees nearly give out. you pretend they don’t.
you rip your hand back. “yuji’s in the next room.”
sukuna lifts a brow. “and?”
you glare. “so don’t be an asshole.”
“can’t help it.” he leans closer, voice brushing your neck. “you bring it outta me.”
you swallow hard, turning back to the dishwasher because looking at him is dangerous.
he watches you for a moment with a silent, heavy gaze, dragging across your back as you finish stacking plates.
then you feel his breath near your ear again. “finish up,” he murmurs, something darker slipping into his tone. “i’m not done with you.”
you grip the dishwasher door until your knuckles ache. and yuji keeps snoring, completely unaware that his older brother is behind you, smirking like he knows exactly how fast your heart is pounding.
you wipe your hands on the dish towel, fingers still slightly trembling from whatever the hell that “airhump” was supposed to be. you tell yourself it was stupid, meaningless, not worth thinking about—and then your stomach twists, proving you wrong immediately.
yuji is passed out on the couch, one arm over his face, snores muffled by the pillow he stole from your house. his soft breathing fills the otherwise quiet house, the kind of nighttime silence that makes everything else feel louder. heavier.
you sling your bag over your shoulder, take a steadying breath, and tell yourself you’re fine. you survived dinner. you survived sukuna staring at you like he was trying to decide whether to devour you or laugh at you. you can survive saying a polite goodnight.
you move down the hallway, footsteps soft on the carpet. you pass the bathroom, the closet, the familiar creak in the floorboard near yuji’s door, and then—you reach sukuna’s room.
you only mean to look in. just a glance. just a “later” or a “bye.”
you don’t even get that far.
a hand wraps around your wrist and yanks—not painfully, but efficiently, like he’s practiced the motion a thousand times. you stumble forward, and before you can catch your balance, he pulls you into his room and shuts the door with a quiet, final click.
your back hits the wall. not hard. just enough that you gasp, the shock traveling all the way to your knees. when you blink up, sukuna is standing inches from you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still loosely around your wrist as if waiting to see if you’ll run.
his room smells like soap and darker elements—cedar, smoke, warm skin. it hits you all at once, settling under your ribs, making it far too hard to breathe normally.
“you were really gonna leave without saying anything to me?” he asks, voice almost amused.
“i—i didn’t wanna wake yuji,” you manage, even though you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you can’t look him in the eyes without feeling too much.
“that so?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly. “’cause you walked past my door real fast. almost like you were trying to escape.”
you try to step to the side, but he shifts with you, blocking the one direction you might’ve slipped away. his body doesn’t press into you, but it hangs close enough that you feel the heat of him, the quiet intensity that wasn’t there when he was younger. everything about him feels deliberate now. intentional.
“i wasn’t escaping,” you say softly. “i was leaving.”
“mm.” he tilts his head just a little, eyes dragging over your face. “and here i thought you’d at least say bye before running.”
“i wasn’t runni—”
“you were.” the faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he adds, “you still do that.”
you swallow hard. “do what?”
sukuna’s gaze slides from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. “get shy.”
the breath you take isn’t steady. not even close. he notices—of course he notices—and his fingers release your wrist only to settle at your waist instead, warm and sending a rush of awareness straight through your core.
“i’m not shy,” you whisper, even though your whole body betrays you.
his smile grows—not cocky, but like he just solved some puzzle that only he was working on. “yeah,” he says, voice dropping, lips brushing the edge of your cheekbone as he speaks, “you are.”
his hand slides up your hip, light but purposeful, guiding you just the slightest bit closer until his chest nearly touches yours. only an inch of air separates your bodies, and it’s unbearable.
“you didn’t look at me like that when i left,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your jaw.
“like what?” it comes out barely audible.
“like you want me to kiss you.”
your stomach drops. your face heats. your throat tightens with something impossible to name. you almost deny it—you should deny it—but the words won’t come.
and something in your silence tells him everything.
sukuna’s thumb traces the line of your jaw, slow enough to make your breath catch. “say it,” he whispers.
you shake your head. your heart is pounding too fast to speak.
“didn’t think so,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “good thing i don’t need you to.”
before you can react, he closes the distance—letting you feel every second of it. his mouth brushes yours once, soft, testing. your breath rises sharply. he waits, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away.
you don’t.
your fingers curl into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer without thinking, and that’s all it takes. sukuna kisses you fully then—deep, warm, devastatingly slow. the kind of kiss that feels like it’s been many years overdue. the kind that steals your breath so quietly you don’t notice until you’re gasping into him.
he hums against your mouth, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, tipping your head the way he wants, his lips moving against yours with ease that makes your knees weak.
when he finally breaks the kiss, he stays close, forehead brushing yours, breaths mingling. “there you go,” he murmurs, voice roughened by restraint. “finally got you to stop pretending.”
your eyes flutter open.
his are already on you, hungry for the next bite.
“you should’ve said goodbye earlier,” he adds softly. “i wouldn’t have let you leave.”
the first kiss is nothing compared to the second.
the moment he hears your breath hitch right against his mouth—sukuna cups the side of your neck, fingers sliding under your jaw, and pulls you back into him. no hesitation this time. no testing. he kisses you like he’s been denying himself the thought of it for years and finally gave in.
your back presses harder into the wall as his mouth moves against yours—slow at first, savoring, learning every tiny sound you make. his lips part just enough to taste you, and when your tongue brushes his, something low and electric shoots through both of you.
he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. you feel it more than hear it.
his free hand slides to your waist, then your hip, then down to the curve of your thigh, gripping just enough to pull you up into his kiss. your hands rise on instinct, fists curling in the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him like you’re afraid you’ll fall.
you don’t even realize you’re trembling until he notices.
“easy,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low, impossibly gentle for someone who looks like him. “breathe.”
you try. you fail.
and he clearly likes it.
he catches your wrists when you try to pull him closer, fingers wrapping around both, guiding your hands up over your head and pressing them into the wall above you. the movement is slow, controlled, the kind you could fight if you wanted to… but you don’t.
you let him pin you there, wrists held in one of his hands, bodies flush, heat rolling between you in waves.
“that’s better,” he whispers, lips brushing your cheekbone as he drags a kiss down to your jaw. “keep ’em there.”
your breath stutters again, a soft, pathetic little exhale you can’t swallow down fast enough. he hears it. he smiles against your skin.
“knew you’d be like this,” he whispers. “knew it.”
he kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—then dips lower, to the side of your neck. his lips are warm at first, barely pressure, barely there… and then he sucks.
your knees threaten to buckle. he feels it, and pushes his thigh between yours—not hard, just enough to keep you standing, enough to drag a shaky breath out of you.
“still shy?” he asks against your throat.
you shake your head, even though you definitely are.
he laughs quietly, the sound rumbling into your skin, before kissing lower—along the line of your neck, down your shoulder, back up again like he’s mapping you with his mouth.
your hands flex uselessly against the wall, wrists pinned in his grip. you can’t touch him. can’t pull him closer. can’t do anything except feel him.
and he takes full advantage.
he kisses up the column of your neck, slow and unhurried, until he reaches your ear.
his breath is warm when he speaks. “come here.”
he lets go of your wrists only so he can slip his hands around your waist and lift you—not fully off the ground, just enough that your balance shatters. he turns you easily, guiding you away from the wall and toward the bed behind him.
your back hits the mattress before you fully process the movement. sukuna stands over you for a moment, chest rising and falling, eyes dark, pupils blown.
you’ve never seen him look at anything the way he’s looking at you now. he leans down, bracing one knee on the bed, caging you in with his body.
“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek before kissing you again—deeper this time, slower. “the way you looked at me… the way you kept pretending you weren’t.”
your fingers finally find his hoodie, grabbing it, pulling him down until he’s almost on top of you.
his hand slides up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, leaving heat everywhere he touches.
your breath is shaky, your heart out of control.
“just say it,” he whispers against your mouth. “say you want me.”
you don’t say it, but you kiss him like you do. and he takes that as an answer.
his hoodie comes off first.
you don’t even realize you’re tugging at it until he shifts, helping you peel it up over his head, revealing a solid, cut chest inked in black—tattoos wrapping his torso like armor, crawling up his sides and disappearing into the shadows of his collarbone.
he looks unreal in the low light, all sharp lines and sculpted heat, muscle flexing as he braces his hands on either side of you.
your eyes trail down without permission. the slope of his chest, the flex in his abs when he exhales, the deep cut of his hips narrowing into the waistband of his sweats. his lip glints when he smiles—barely there, cocky, knowing.
“that look better than you imagined?”
your breath catches. “shut up.”
his smile widens. “you didn’t say no.”
he leans down again—kisses you slow. your hands map over his chest now, feeling the warmth of him, the weight, the way he moves under your palms. he groans low when your nails scrape lightly across his abs.
“you tryna kill me, sweetheart?”
you grin against his mouth. “maybe.”
he chuckles. he kisses you again, this time harder, his tongue sliding against yours until you’re gasping. then his mouth moves down—neck, collarbone, sternum—lips dragging over skin like he’s starving for every inch.
his hands find the hem of your shirt. “this comes off,” he says, already tugging it up.
you arch slightly to help him. the shirt lands somewhere behind you. his eyes rake over your chest, and you swear he breathes deeper just looking at you.
“fuck,” he murmurs, mouth already lowering. “i missed a lot.”
he wraps his lips around the swell of your breast, tongue flicking once before he sucks. you jolt, hips twitching, a gasp spilling out of you before you can stop it. his teeth graze, soft but suggestive, before he switches sides—mouth worshiping, hands roaming your waist and hips like he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone.
“kuna—” your voice cracks. “s-stop teasing.”
he laughs against your skin. “thought you were shy.”
you shove at his shoulder. “not that shy.”
his eyes flash. “good.”
his hand slips down—under your waistband, fingers pressing between your thighs through your underwear. his touch is warm, rough, perfect.
you jolt. “oh my—”
“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours again as he starts to rub slow circles over the damp fabric. “been wondering how you’d sound.”
your fingers dig into his arm, your hips lifting instinctively, chasing the rhythm of his hand. he watches you—fascinated, like he’s trying to sear the image into memory.
he drags the fabric aside and sinks a finger in. your mouth drops open, a soft, choked sound escaping. he groans low in his chest, eyes darkening.
“fuck, you’re soaked.”
you can’t answer. can’t think. can barely breathe.
he pumps his finger slow, then adds another—stretching you just enough to burn, just enough to make you whimper and clutch the sheets.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “take it. knew you could.”
your hips stutter. he curls his fingers, and your whole body lights up.
“kuna—please—”
“what do you want, baby?” his mouth is at your ear again, tongue flicking the shell before he nips at it. “want me to keep playing with you? want more?”
you nod frantically. “yes—yes, more, i want—”
“say it.”
you whine, breathless. “i want you.”
he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, eyes locked on yours. “good girl.”
he shifts lower like he’s been waiting all night to get between your thighs.
your breath catches when he drags your pants down alongside your underwear, slow enough to make you feel every inch of the fabric leaving your skin. he tosses them somewhere behind him without looking—eyes locked, laser-focused, hungry in a way that makes your whole body throb.
he spreads your knees with two fingers hooked behind them, guiding you open until you feel exposed in a way that isn’t embarrassing—just intimate. like he’s letting you know he wants all of you, every inch, every tremble, every breath.
“look at you,” he whispers, voice dark with awe that he’d never say out loud. “fuck.”
his thumb drags up your inner thigh, slow, reverent, as if he’s got all the time in the world and he’s choosing to spend every second right here.
you feel the heat of his breath first—right where you want him—before you feel his mouth.
he kisses the inside of your thigh, once, twice, lips warm, breath shaky like he’s the one barely holding it together. his fingers press into your skin like he’s steadying himself.
“been thinking about this,” he murmurs, kissing closer, “since dinner.”
your toes curl. “k-kuna…”
“shh.” he smiles against your skin. “i’m getting there.”
he moves in slowly, purposefully, hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. the motion is smooth, easy—he’s strong enough that he barely has to try. your breath skips.
his thumbs spread you open. his eyes drop.
he groans. audibly. “fuck… you’re perfect.”
and then he lowers his head.
his tongue slides through your folds in a slow, deliberate lick that makes your whole body jolt off the bed. your hand flies to his hair without permission, fingers threading through the soft strands as you gasp.
he groans again, deeper this time, like the taste of you just punched the air out of his lungs.
“shit, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, voice muffled. “no wonder you were actin’ shy.”
he licks again—long, slow, savoring every inch—and you swear your vision fades at the edges.
you’re shaking. your thighs tense around his head instinctively, but he just smirks against you and presses them wider.
“keep ‘em open,” he murmurs, tongue dipping lower. “lemme eat.”
and then—then he really gets into it.
his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking gently, tongue flicking in a rhythm that feels too good too fast—your back arches, hands flying to the sheets.
“kuna—fuck—”
he moans like your voice is feeding him. the vibration makes your hips jerk.
he slides two fingers back inside you at the same time his tongue circles your clit—slow, curling right against that spot that makes your stomach twist.
your gasp turns into a broken whine.
“yeah,” he grunts softly, pumping his fingers deeper, “right there, huh? that’s where you start shaking?”
you whimper. that’s all it takes. he chuckles into you—a hot, smug, god of a sound—and curls his fingers harder.
your thighs tremble. “i’m—i’m gonna—”
“good,” he growls, dragging his tongue up before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “give it to me.”
your hand clamps around his hair. your whole body goes tight, and then you break.
your orgasm crashes through you so violently you cry out, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head. sukuna doesn’t pull away. he holds you there, mouth working you through every wave, swallowing every sound you make.
“that’s it,” he whispers when you finally slump back, breathless, shaky. “good fuckin’ girl.”
you’re panting, still trembling as he kisses the inside of your thigh again, slow and soft now, letting you come down.
but he doesn’t move away. he crawls up your body, mouth warm, breath hot, chest brushing yours as he hovers above you.
he grabs your jaw gently, thumb rubbing your lower lip as he leans in, lips ghosting yours but not kissing yet.
“think you’re done?” he murmurs.
you stare at him, flushed, breath shallow. “i—i don’t know—”
his mouth curls into a slow grin. “you’re nowhere fuckin’ close.”
he kisses you finally—letting you taste yourself on his tongue, letting you feel exactly what he plans to do to you next. his hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it up around his hip.
you feel him—hard and heavy against you through his sweats. your skin burns with it. he doesn’t even have to move and you’re already clenching around nothing.
“‘m not stopping,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low enough to vibrate in your chest. “til you beg.”
he catches your stare, eyes narrowing slightly like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. then he shifts back onto his heels and leans against the wall beside the bed, thighs spread wide, hand dragging down the front of his sweats.
your breath catches. he palms himself slow, watching you.
“c’mere,” he says, nodding down. “if you’re gonna be a brat about it, least you can do is put that mouth to use.”
your stomach flips.
you slide down to the floor, onto your knees between his legs, palms resting on his thighs. he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide, jaw tense like he’s holding himself back from saying something filthy.
you hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats and pull them down just enough to free him.
your mouth parts.
he’s thick. flushed and heavy at the tip, veins trailing up the length, a glisten of precum already beading at the head. He wraps a hand around the base and gives it one lazy stroke before tapping it against your lips.
“open up.”
you do. immediately.
you wrap your lips around the tip and suck—slow, dragging your tongue over the underside. his groan is immediate,.
“fuck, that’s it,” he grits. “take it slow—lemme feel that tongue.”
you do.
you move down, inch by inch, working him deeper. spit pools at the corner of your mouth, his cock stretching your lips, pressing hot against your tongue. your hand wraps around what you can’t fit, stroking in time with your mouth.
his hand slides into your hair, not forcing—just holding, thumb brushing your cheekbone every time you take him a little deeper.
“you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters, voice ragged. “mouth full of cock, eyes all glassy—shit.”
you moan around him, and he bucks, hips twitching.
“you like that, huh?” he pants. “like suckin’ me while your pussy’s still throbbing from bein’ teased?”
you nod, tongue flicking over the tip when you come up for air. your lips are swollen, your chin wet, your breath shallow.
he grunts, tightening his fist in your hair. “shit—gonna cum if you keep that up—” and then he pulls you off, panting.
you blink, confused, lips parted.
“no,” he rasps. “not yet.”
he drags you up by your arms, effortlessly. his mouth already finding yours again as he pushes you back onto the bed. his cock, still slick with your spit, presses against your inner thigh.
“wanna cum inside you,” he murmurs between kisses, “wanna watch your face when i do.”
your breath stutters.
he parts your thighs with both hands, wide and greedy, and settles between them, cock dragging over your entrance—just once, just enough to make you gasp.
then he pushes in. stretching you open inch by inch until he bottoms out, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged in your ear.
your back arches off the bed. your nails dig into his biceps. he’s so deep.
“fuck,” he groans. “this pussy—always meant to be mine.”
you gasp, hands scrambling to hold him closer.
his hand catches your jaw, tilting your head just slightly so he can see every shift in your expression.
“eyes on me,” he whispers. “wanna see you fall apart.”
and then he starts to move. his hips roll into yours with control that makes your toes curl—his cock dragging against every spot inside you, his mouth brushing yours every time he thrusts in.
“look at you,” he pants, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your mouth. “already fucked out and i haven’t even gotten started.”
you whimper, thighs shaking around his hips. “kuna—”
he hushes you with a kiss, and keeps fucking you through it, one hand curling around your waist, the other tangling in your hair.
“wanna see you cum like this,” he breathes. “right here, lookin’ at me. fallin’ apart on my cock.”
you’re already close. he knows.
his hips drag back just enough to make you whimper, then roll forward again, deep and heavy, grinding the base of his cock against your clit each time.
“you feel that?” he murmurs against your mouth. “feel how deep i am?”
you can’t answer. your eyes flutter. your thighs twitch. your breath keeps catching somewhere between your ribs and your throat.
he dips his head lower—kisses along your jaw, down your neck, tongue dragging lazily over your pulse.
“don’t go quiet now,” he growls. “wasn’t so shy with my cock in your mouth.”
your cheeks flush hotter. your hips buck up instinctively, chasing friction. he groans at the way you clench around him, hips stuttering.
“goddamn,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you. “you’re gonna cum just from this, huh? from me fuckin’ you slow and talkin’ to you?”
you nod, frantic, desperate, gasping when he changes the angle just slightly—grinding deeper, bottoming out again, your walls fluttering around him.
his hand slides down your side, firm and possessive. he grabs your thigh and pushes it up, folding you open even more, cock slipping in deeper than before.
your moan breaks right against his mouth.
“there,” he says—almost to himself. “that’s it. that’s where you like it.”
your hands clutch at his back, fingers sliding over warm skin, over shifting muscle, nails digging in when he thrusts just right again.
you feel it building. it coils low and hot, right behind your navel, pulsing with every drag of his cock, every filthy sound he makes in your ear.
he sees it too. his eyes lock on yours, dark and full of something you’ve never seen from him before—raw.
“close?” he asks, breathless.
you nod. “kuna—please—don’t stop—”
his forehead presses to yours, and he fucks you harder—still deep, but less controlled now, pace picking up.
“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants. “cum on my cock like a good girl?”
you nod again—choked, messy, right on the edge.
“look at me,” he growls. “when you cum, look at me.”
you do. and when he slams in one last time, angle perfect, pressure perfect—your whole body locks up.
the orgasm hits hard. your mouth falls open, breath shattering, eyes wide and glassy as you squeeze around him, wet and pulsing and uncontrollable.
“fuck—fuck,” he groans, losing rhythm. “that’s it—fuckin’ perfect—look at you—”
you cry out again, grabbing at him, trying to breathe, trying to stay conscious. he doesn’t stop moving—not until he’s right there with you.
“gonna cum inside you,” he mutters against your mouth. “want you full, dripping—”
you whimper, too far gone to answer. he thrusts once, twice—then buries himself deep and groans, low and animal, as he spills inside you.
he stays there, deep and still—chest heaving, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. your hands trail up his back, shaky and slow, fingertips ghosting over the ink there.
you’re both silent for a moment. just breathing. just existing. and then— “you really weren’t gonna say hi to me?” he whispers, nose brushing yours.
you blink up at him, lips swollen, voice nearly gone. “you didn’t say hi either.”
his mouth twitches. he kisses you again—softer now, longer. like he wants to keep tasting what he missed.
then he pulls out slowly, careful—and groans at the mess you’ve both made. his cum spills out of you, sticky and warm against your thighs.
he watches it. a little too long.
you shift beneath him, flushed and spent, and mumble, “you’re being weird.”
he doesn’t even look up. “you’re leaking. my work here is done.”
you slap his chest. weakly. “stop staring.”
“stop leaking.”
“kuna.”
he finally lifts his head, grinning—messy hair, flushed cheeks, smug as all hell. “don’t look at me like it’s my fault you can’t hold it in.”
you gape at him, mouth falling open. “i just got rearranged like damn ikea furniture—maybe give me five minutes?”
he laughs, head dropping to your shoulder. “you’re so dramatic,” he murmurs into your neck. “you loved it.”
you try to smack him again, but your arm flops back down instead. “shut up. i’m sore.”
“you’re gonna be more sore tomorrow.” he sounds pleased about it.
you groan, tossing your head back into the pillow. “you’re the worst.”
he hums. “mm. you came so hard you forgot your name. i think i’m the best.”
you glance down at him, raising a brow. “i did not forget my name.”
“you whimpered,” he says, kissing your collarbone. “like five times.”
“not the same thing.”
he snorts. “sounded like you were glitching.”
“i hate you.”
“you sucked my soul out through my dick twenty minutes ago.”
“okay first of all—”
“it was an honor,” he says, hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. “salute.”
you burst into laughter, and so does he.
he collapses beside you, both of you a mess—sweaty, flushed, glowing in the aftershocks and still tangled in the sheets. the room smells like sex and sweat.
his hand finds yours between the blankets.
you go quiet for a moment. breathing. existing. then—
“…so do we tell yuji or just make it weird forever?”
he groans and throws a pillow over his face. “my god, just kill me now.”
dating ryomen sukuna comes with a warning no one bothers to give you: he doesn’t come alone. he comes with toji. not in the romantic sense. not in the “two-for-one special” sense. but in the spiritual, cosmic, deeply inconvenient sense—like buying a new phone and realizing it came with a demonically possessed charger.
because being sukuna’s girlfriend means inheriting his best friend—the six-foot-something menace who appears in your life with the same inevitability as gravity, toji doesn’t even knock. he just shows up. your apartment door will open and there he is, barefoot, wearing a shirt that’s definitely not his, with a bag of takeout he bought “for the big guy” but then eats half of on your couch.
you’ll be sitting on sukuna’s lap and toji will walk in like: “oh… my bad. didn’t know y’all were busy.” (he absolutely knew. he just didn’t care.)
sukuna barely reacts. he just grunts, curls his hand a little tighter around your waist, and keeps doing whatever he was doing because he’s long accepted his fate: dating you means being constantly third-wheeled by his own best friend, and dating him means the same.
the worst part? you get attached. toji makes you laugh. he gives you terrible advice.
“just block him, babe, men hate it when you ignore them.”
“toji, i’m dating sukuna.”
“exactly.”
he spoils you with snacks, steals your blanket, calls you “princess” just to watch sukuna’s jaw tick. he’s like an oversized, feral housecat who decided you’re his enrichment activity. and sukuna hates it. not enough to actually stop it—just enough to glare every time toji hugs you for too long or sits a little too close. because sukuna didn’t mean to share. it just… happened.
and then there’s the moments where toji wanders into the kitchen while you’re cooking and murmurs, “kuna’s lucky,” in that voice that does things to your spine.
or when he passes behind you, steadying you with a hand on your hip that lingers a second too long. or when he sprawls across the couch, pats his thigh, and says, “sit. i’ll warm you up till your man’s done with his shower.”
and sukuna walks in at that exact moment, eyes narrowing, muttering, “i turn my back for two fucking minutes.”
but here’s the secret, for as much as he growls, as much as he pretends he hates it—he lets it happen. he lets toji spoil you, tease you, hover around you like you’re both his favorite trouble and his favorite toy. because sukuna trusts him. because it’s always been the two of them against the world. because letting toji close to you means something even bigger: he’s letting you into their world, too.
dating sukuna means having two shadows instead of one. two men watching your back. two idiots fighting over who gets to sit next to you. two sets of footsteps behind you when you walk home at night.
and every now and then, usually late, usually when you’re tucked into his chest, sukuna will grumble, “if he flirts with you one more time, i’m gonna kill him.” but he won’t. because he cares, and because he knows you do, too. dating sukuna comes with a third. and somehow—impossibly—you end up loving both disasters in your own way.
we love a secure boyfriend #goals #needthat #mybftakenotesyo + what if i said this is just a prequel for what i’m planning to do a oneshot about… also i wrote this w u in mind hehe @wockberry
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | roommate!satoru jerking off to the sound of you and your boyfriend fucking. pt.2
your roommate, satoru, knows it’s wrong, depraved even, when he listens in on you and your boyfriend. with his hand wrapped around his dick leaking profusely, head tilted back to lean against his headboard as he closes his eyes, imagining that it was him fucking you instead.
he tries to justify it because it’s not his fault your bedrooms are practically wall to wall. it’s not his fault you’re so loud it feels as if you’re in his room, his bed. and it’s definitely not his fault when he frees his aching cock from his boxers, just begging to be touched.
“‘s so good...! don’t fucking stop...” he hears you moan from the other side of the wall that his bed is pushed against, his cock throbbing in his fist, precum spilling over his knuckles.
he imagines having you bounce on his lap, smothering his face in your tits, pounding his hips up to meet your own to make you cry out his name, and his fingers tightly grasping at your hips the same way he grips his own dick in this moment. the way he’d make you tremble on his cock.
he spits into his palm before wrapping it back around his dick, grunting softly as he imagines it’s your wet pussy gliding up and down, up and down. a soft pap, pap, pap accompanying his movements.
“f-fuck... just like that,” he lets out a strained whisper, trying not to be too loud as he clenches his jaw. his free hand twists in his sheets, becoming wrecked from the mere thought of you.
he becomes so consumed in his fantasy that all he can hear is you, not your boyfriend. all he can think about is you, you, you. he wonders if you even know that he can hear every moan and word you utter. your demanding mewls of “more!” and your delirious giggles of “mmm... feel s’full.”
satoru lets out a shuddering breath, imagining your fucked-out expression as you slur your words, praising how good he makes you feel and how full you feel with him inside you. his breathing becomes laboured, hips thrusting desperately into his own fist as he moves his hand faster over his length, the continuous beads of precum helping the glide of his hand, which almost becomes a blur.
“g-gonna fuckin’ kill me, and i haven’t even gotten a taste yet,” he groans to himself.
he doesn’t even notice the trickle of drool from the corner of his mouth as he continues to imagine your sopping pussy engulfing his cock, making a lewd mess with him. oh, what a mess he’d make out of you if he had the chance. and he’d have you completely ruined. as ruined as you make him.
the bed begins to creak on the other side of the wall, a slightly rapid pace which signals the end of the round. there’s a mingle of moans and your boyfriend’s grunts that satoru manages to subconsciously drone out. your moans become more frequent, needier, whinier. he conjures up a vision of your face scrunched up in lost pleasure, the way your mouth hangs open as you creep towards your release, eyes rolled back and all you can see are stars.
“shit, shit, shit... ‘m gonna cum. hah... cum with me, pretty girl. i need it, fuck, need it so fucking bad,” satoru whines, getting more and more caught up in his fantasy.
he squeezes his palm around his cock the same way he imagines your plush walls to pulse around him once you get close to your high. it’s a frantic pace, getting tighter with each stroke, his length twitching constantly in his grip.
“m-make me cum... hnngh... so close... please,” you cry out, your voice shaky and cracking beautifully in between words. “ah! right there, r-right thereee...!”
he can hear the exact moment your orgasm crashes down on you; a muffled moan that sounds as if you’re biting down on something, and incoherent words that don’t make sense to anyone not even to yourself.
and at the exact same moment, ropes of ivory squirt out from his dick, smearing all over his hand and stomach, which contracts with each throb.
his body shivers with the aftershocks of his orgasm, managing to always cum harder when he’s thinking about you. he can’t even begin to imagine how much better it’d feel if he were the one actually fucking you. the simple thought of that could make him hard all over again.
“good girl... good fucking girl, cumming for me,” he pants to himself, eyes still closed as he slowly moves his hand over his dick to milk every drop out, imagining filling you up with his cum until it begins to drip out of you.
even if some might call satoru delusional, little did he know that for you to be able to cum, you had to muster up thoughts of him even while getting fucked by your boyfriend.
꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ SIX EYES? ⋮ ⌗ ┆next time, don’t be too curious with how much power exactly the six eyes have… or maybe do. ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
a story wherein gojo satoru uses his six eyes to find your gspot and overstimulate u (inspired by the one tiktok that i saw!)
“how much can you actually see?” you ask one evening, an especially late work night for you and him, curiosity getting the better of you.
gojo looks up from his phone, that insufferable smirk already forming. “everything. why?”
“but like… how much is everything?” you’re genuinely curious now, despite knowing this might be dangerous territory. “can you see through walls? can you see… inside people?”
his eyes gleam with interest behind his blindfold. “wouldn’t you like to know.” he tilts his head. “why? scared of what i might see?”
your face heats. “i’m just—”
“curious what i know about your body?” he stands, moving closer with that predatory grace. he grins at you almost triumphantly and from then on, you knew you shouldn’t have asked. “why, you feelin’ shy at the possibilities?”
you don’t know how it happened.
but like he wasn’t your senior colleague and you weren’t supposed to be having a very important meeting in his office, he was pressing you against the plush of his couch, lifting your hips up to pull your trousers down and started making you go absolutely insane.
mindblowingly, mind-numblingly insane.
it’s easier to just show you, he said.
“there it is.”
gojo’s fingers curl inside you with devastating precision and your back arches off the couch, a strangled moan ripping from your throat.
“yeah, that’s the spot.” his voice is smug, cocky, absolutely insufferable. “told you i’d find it.”
he’s only been touching you for minutes but he’s already mapped every sensitive place like it’s nothing, like your body’s an open book only he can read.
“fuck, you should see yourself right now,” he breathes, clearly getting off on his own abilities. “everything just lit up. like fucking christmas lights.”
“satoru—please—”
“please what? want me to stop?” his thumb finds your clit and you nearly sob. “nah, you don’t. i can see that you don’t. your body’s begging for more even if your mouth is too proud to admit it.”
you’re shaking already, completely at his mercy.
“this is what happens when you fuck someone with the six eyes, baby.” he sounds way too pleased with himself. “i don’t have to guess. don’t have to fumble around hoping i hit the right spot. i just—” his fingers press deeper, harder, “—know.”
the precision is maddening. every curl of his fingers hits exactly right, his thumb moving in a rhythm that shouldn’t be sustainable but is because he can literally see what works.
“you’re gonna come in like… ten seconds,” he announces casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.
“i’m not—”
“yeah you are. i can see it building. see every muscle getting ready to clench. your cursed energy’s about to spike and—”
you come exactly when he predicted, crying out his name, and his laugh is absolutely sinful.
“called it.” the smugness is unbearable. “god, that never gets old. anyway, ready for round two? pussy still clenching my fingers real hard, baby.”
“wait—i need—”
“no you don’t.” his fingers don’t stop. “your body’s already gearing up for another. don’t argue with me, i can literally fucking see inside you.” his eyes glowed that stupid shade of blue. “just creamin’ with every stroke, god, what a sweet girl.”
he adds another finger and you keen, oversensitive but somehow building toward another impossible peak.
“see? told you.” he’s so fucking cocky about it. “this is why i’m the best you’ll ever have, baby. no one else has these eyes. no one else knows your body like i do and no one ever will.”
his fingers curl viciously and you nearly scream.
“that’s what i thought.” he smirks at you, tilting his head sideways as you watch him with teary eyes. “now stop pretending you want me to slow down and just let me work. let’s get you properly fucked out. i’ve got at least three more orgasms to pull out of you, and now you know—the six eyes don’t miss.”
you’re going to die.
you’re going to die from his cursed technique and you’re not even mad about it.
𝜗𝜚 roommate!toji finally snaps after hearing you goon through the walls one too many times . . .
toji could always count on one thing.
past midnight, every night, without fail— moaning behind your bedroom door, porn echoing off the walls, barely muffled by whatever cheap ass speakers your laptop had. his name wasn’t on your mind. never was, never would be. you were too busy with your legs spread, vibrator buzzing between your thighs, lips parted in glossy desperation as your hips arched off the mattress, chasing your next high like it was oxygen.
you were a gooner. through and through. always needy, cockdrunk without any cock, and fucking shameless.
it’s been like this for months now, and toji swore it had to be some kind of karmic punishment. not because you were messy or rude or hard to live with. but because you were just loud. too loud. and lately, your little nightly sessions were getting out of hand.
he would wake up at two in the morning to the sound of you moaning. not your porn, not the squeaky, high-pitched girl you’d been replaying for the last thirty minutes, but you. mewling, breathy, muttering curse words in a fucked out whisper as if you were seconds away from crying.
at first, he figured it was temporary. you were just settling in, maybe a little too quickly, but regardless, it was probably just a phase. hell, he even thought he might catch a break during november. you know, the whole ‘no nut’ thing going around. but nope, you lasted three whole days. three. and on day four, it was like something inside you snapped— because you came back swinging harder than ever.
tuesday night. 12:46 a.m. toji was laying in bed, phone charging, pillow over his head, already exhausted from a long day of work.
and just when he thought he might get some peace, he hears it:
“fuck- fuck, right there, oh my goddd—”
he groaned into the mattress. it wasn’t the porn. it was you. again.
and lately, it had started bleeding into everything. gotten so bad to the point where he swore he could hear you even when you weren’t home. he’d walk past your empty room during the day, fully locked up, and still think he could hear those breathy little whines echoing faintly from inside. your voice was imprinted on his fucking brain. sometimes when he closed his eyes, he swore he could hear the faint buzz of your vibrator like phantom noise.
you were haunting him.
then, the next morning?
like nothing ever happened.
you’d walk into the kitchen wearing your stupid little slippers and oversized tee like a good girl, yawning as if you weren’t the reason he was up all night, cock hard and jaw clenched. you didn’t even look at him with shame or guilt, not even an ounce of embarrassment.
like you didn’t just finger yourself to a compilation of tentacle hentai for two and a half hours straight.
toji had finally had enough.
+
you didn’t hear him come in.
not at first. you were too far gone— back arched, slick fingers stuffed inside you as another video played, screen propped up on your pillows. your thighs were shaking. your eyes were glossy. you hadn’t even cum yet, but you’d been edging yourself for almost an hour, pussy so wet the sheets were damp beneath your ass.
then the door creaked open.
you sat up halfway, blinking, chest heaving, “toji—?”
he didn’t say anything.
just stepped inside, shirtless and pissed off, dark hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed, eyes low with something you couldn’t quite place.
“what the hell—”
“you don’t know how to be quiet, do you?”
you flinched.
he shut the door behind him, locked it.
“every night. moaning. whining. crying into your fucking pillow—” his voice dropped as he stepped closer, towering over you now, gaze sliding down to where your fingers were still between your thighs, glistening with your arousal.
you yanked your hand back. “i-i didn’t think you—”
“didn’t think i could hear you?” he scoffed. “sweetheart, the whole building can hear you.”
your breath hitched.
you should’ve been embarrassed. maybe even scrambled to cover up. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. your heart was pounding, your pussy was throbbing, and your body was still soaked from the half dozen orgasms you hadn’t let yourself have yet.
“you know what your problem is?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he crouched in front of the bed, one knee pressed to the mattress. “you don’t know how to ask for help.”
you stared, wide-eyed, caught somewhere between panic and desire. he reached forward, grabbed your vibrator— warm, wet, softly humming, and tossed it to the floor.
“gonna shut you up for real.”
before you even got the chance to speak, he’s already dropping down between your legs, his huge palms spreading them apart, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the bed. his mouth was on your pussy right away. no teasing, no warm-up. he licks straight through your folds, wide and heavy, collecting all the slick you had worked up for the past hour.
“you don’t know when to stop,” he muttered, breath hot against your core. “so i’ll do it for you.”
his hands clamp down on your thighs, nails pressing crescents into your skin. his tongue works you open, licking everything, sucking on your clit before dipping down again. your whole lower half was a disaster. sticky and overheated, juices leaking down your crack while his spit slides over it, pooling between your thighs. he groaned into you, the sound rough and low, and the second he heard you whimper, he slid two fingers inside you without saying a word.
you gasped— tight around him already, walls fluttering from the stretch. he curls them instantly, fucking them in slow, deep strokes as his mouth seals around your clit and sucks hard.
“f-fuck, toji—” your voice broke a little when you said his name.
he doesn’t let up.
his fingers pumped into you steady, knuckles deep, thumb rubbing circles into your clit when his mouth pulls away just for a moment. he’s watching you now, watching the way you react— how you clench everytime he curls his fingers just right.
“you make this much of a mess by yourself, baby? fuckin’ dripping—” he muttered, voice thick, a string of spit still clinging from his lips to your cunt.
then he lets another glob fall, watching it land right on your clit before pushing it in with his fingers, leaning down again to lick around them, fucking you open with his hand.
you screamed.
your legs kicked, heels digging into the bed, hands flying to his hair— pulling, gripping, trying to stop him because it was too much.
he just moaned.
“t-too much, wait, wait, i—!”
you cum hard. your legs shaking, pussy squeezing around his fingers as your orgasm hits full force. you cry out as your vision went white and your brain flatlined. but he didn’t stop. he fucks you through it, tongue lapping up your cum, dragging it back into you with this obscene, slurping groan, like he couldn’t get enough.
when he finally pulls away, his fingers slid out soaked and glistening, he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, savoring every drop.
“get on all fours.”
you blinked, barely able to breathe.
“now.”
you scrambled up before you could think, limbs unsteady, body still twitching from the comedown. your chest rose sharp and shallow as you flipped over onto your hands and knees. hands trembling where they pressed into the sheets, ass high up in the air like you were presenting it for him— because you were.
you heard him behind you. the soft rustle of fabric, the harsh clink of his belt being unbuckled. his pants hit the floor with a heavy thud, and then, a wet slap.
his fist, pumping along his cock. slow, heavy strokes. breathing deeper now.
you didn’t even have to look back to know he was staring. you could feel it. the heat of his gaze crawling down your spine, burning low in your stomach. your walls clenched on nothing in anticipation, hole fluttering around the emptiness, desperate to be filled.
and then you felt it.
his tip— thick, hot, flushed— pressing between your folds, dragging slow through the mess he’d made earlier. he rubbed it up and down, coating himself in your slick, teasing your entrance while your hips jolted everytime he passed over your clit.
“this what you wanted, baby?” he murmured, breath warm against your back. “been fucking yourself for weeks just to stay empty, begging for something real.”
you nodded frantically, biting your lip so hard it almost bled.
and then he slammed into you.
you screamed into the pillow, whole body jerking forward from the force of it. he didn’t give you a second to adjust— just bottomed out, buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against your ass.
“so loud,” he growled, fucking into you with bruising force, the sound of skin slapping against skin already bouncing off the walls. “so fuckin’ noisy all the time. whining, moaning, always actin’ like a dumb little slut in heat—”
you were gushing. literally.
your pussy took him deep with every thrust, swallowing him whole, over and over, no resistance. the flood between your thighs was nonstop. wet, loud, splattering out around the base of his cock with every movement. your thighs were already soaked. his were worse.
“you like this shit, don’t you?” he groaned, grabbing your hips harder. “like being used, fucked stupid, so wet for me i can barely stay inside, fuck, baby, you’re making a mess.”
you sobbed into the sheets, mouth open, jaw slack, eyes rolling. you didn’t care.
you were writhing, whining, gooning on his cock like you’d never touched yourself a day in your life, already close to cumming again because he was hitting so deep, grinding against that spot that made your legs go numb.
“p-please- need it, need more—”
“more?” he scoffed, laughing under his breath. “can’t even hold yourself up and you’re still beggin’? greedy lil thing.”
his palm lands a harsh strike to your ass, then grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back until your spine arched. he fucked into you harder, every thrust faster than the last, hips snapping against yours with a punishing pace.
“then take it.”
you came again.
a sharp, overwhelming release forced out of you, squirting all over his cock with a squelch so loud it made him groan, eyes locked on the mess coating his length. the spray hit his thighs, ran down his balls, made everything slippery. his hips stuttered for just a second, slick pouring out of you in waves as your pussy clenched around him, still trying to milk him for more.
“jesus- fuck- keep doing that and i’m gonna ruin you.”
you couldn’t even speak. couldn’t form words. your mouth was open but empty, tongue hanging out, drool leaking onto the sheets below you. all you could do was take it— whimpering while he used you like a toy, grunting with every heavy thrust, cock battering your walls over and over.
he leaned over you then, chest colliding your back, one hand still in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tight it hurt. his mouth ghosted over your ear.
“should’ve done this weeks ago,” he whispered. “then maybe you wouldn’t be such a brat.”
+
you passed out after round three.
he fucked you until your legs fully gave out. until your eyes rolled back. until your muscles seized, overstimmed, crying into the sheets and begging him to slow down.
he never once did.
he stayed buried inside you for a full minute after, cock twitching, both of you panting, drenched in sweat and cum and everything else.
you fell asleep on his chest.
and for once— for once— your room was quiet that night.
…though not for long.
because in the morning, he woke up to you already rutting against his thigh.
“toji,” you whispered sweetly, shameless as ever. “wanna go again?”
he dragged a hand down his face, still hard.
“fuck. yeah.”
was supposed to finish this last night but i fell asleep lolz. this is so unnecessarily long, i got too carried away the smut my bad :p
the first thing you notice when you wake up is the sheer weight of him. heavy, warm, and absolutely immovable.
toji’s arm is slung across your stomach, leg hooked over yours with his chest pressed into your back like he’s trying to fuse you together. his hair is a wreck, sticking up in every direction, and his breath is hot against the side of your neck.
you try to wiggle out of his grasp, and you get halfway out of bed — one foot on the floor, the other still on the mattress under his thigh. but your freedom is short lived, his large and veiny arm clamps around your waist like an anchor and tugs you back down into bed. his grip is ridiculously strong and entirely effective.
“where d’you think you’re goin’?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep and half-hearted grump. his face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin every time he blinks.
“toji,” you whisper, poking at his forearm. “i need to pee.”
“five more minutes.” his voice is a croak; it could be a demand but it sounds suspiciously like a plea.
"i can't hold it. i need to go now."
a low, gravelly complaint rumbles in his chest, more growl than word. then: “no.”
“no?” you huff, half-laughing. “i said i need to—”
his arm tightens, dragging you back down into the sheets. “i don’t care. stay.”
you twist your head just enough to see him. his eyes are half-lidded and his lips pouty with sleep. you’d call it cute if you weren’t currently pinned like a bug under a rock.
“you’re so annoying.”
“’m comfy.” he buries his face in your shoulder, voice muffled. “you’re warm. don’t ruin the mood.”
“toji, you’re crushing me.”
he cracks one eye open, smirking faintly. “not my fault you're so small.”
you try again, squirming, and he groans dramatically, like you’ve personally offended him. then, after a beat, he murmurs, “okay fine, just kiss me.”
you stare at him silently.
“i want a kiss, baby.” he repeats, lips quirking lazily.
you blink. “what?”
he lifts his head just enough for you to see his face: puffy-eyed, hair a tragic halo, mouth already twisting into that smug half-smile — that i-deny-i-care-but-i-actually-do-care expression. “woman, kiss me,” his tone is small and grumpy and absolutely manipulative. “or you’re not goin’ anywhere.”
you scoff. “seriously?”
“dead serious.” his eyes close again, smug. “payment required. i can't just let go of you for free.”
you lean back a little, teasing. “i'm not gonna kiss you.”
his brows knit, and for a second you think he’s going to argue. instead, he huffs, flops onto his back with all the grace of a sulky teenager, and announces, “fine. suit yourself.”
you sit up, staring down at him. his eyes are shut tight, his mouth in the most exaggerated pout you’ve ever seen.
“oh my god,” you say, amused. “are you seriously—are you pretending to be asleep right now?”
nothing. not even a twitch.
you lean closer, grinning. “toji. i know you can hear me.”
he doesn’t move. and you start to wonder if he isn't being dramatic this time.
you poke the side of his head. “are you actually asleep?” you whisper, because you know him. he’s pretending. he always ignores you when he wants you to do something — and it always, always works.
and yet, still no answer. the silence stretches, and you almost laugh because this little game is so painfully him. you smile, tracing his high cheekbones, feeling the scruff of his stubble tickling your fingertips.
then, you make a show of pulling a pillow over your head, thinking you’ll win the battle of wills by simply refusing to entertain his childish antics.
and that's when you feel it: a thumb ghosting over the curve of your hip and a tired rumble in his chest as he sighs right by your ear.
“you’re so mean,” he mumbles, fake-sleep voice double-layered with intent. “all i want is a kiss from my girlfriend.”
“i am not—” you protest, but your words melt into a giggle because he sounds like a whiney toddler and it’s impossible to remain indifferent.
he shifts, heavy and warm, and the mattress dips as he folds himself against you. he drags his nose along your jaw, eyes closed but lashes fluttering as if in concentration. “kiss me,” he says again, softer, like it’s a spell he’s casting. “please.”
you hover for a beat, loving the whole ridiculous scene: the messy hair, the lazy eyes, the way his bottom lip juts out in a theatrical pout. you can't possibly resist.
so you lean down, as quick as a wink, and press one soft kiss to his temple.
he doesn’t respond at once. you pull away, triumphant, but then his hand slides up to your neck and tilts your face, and that sleepy smile of his cracks into a wicked grin. his lips finally find yours, and it’s gentle, surprisingly. a lazy kiss that’s all quiet sighs and soft lips, as if you have all the time in the world to love eachother slow.
when you pull back he’s still smiling, still half-asleep, mind you. but the pout has vanished. “thought you’d never give in,” he murmurs, thumb brushing a stray crust of sleep from your eye.
“i still need to piss,” you remind him, voice soft.
“hmm,” he hums, dragging his nose over yours. he presses another kiss to your forehead, long and lazy. “5 more minutes.”
