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[cherryfawnie]

in my restless dreams. . .

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[cherryfawnie]

ft. art instructor!nanami & rich donor!gojo

℘ } ⫶ taking a student job as a live muse for nanami at the university's isolated art basement was meant to be a means to pay for textbooks. but, keeping your posture becomes a nightmare when caught between kento nanami's disclipline & satoru gojo's possessiveness. who's boundaries expire first ? ⋮ tags : mdni, f!reader, college au, “love triangle”, explicit smut ⫶ 5.5k wc , art creds

[ i. ] ───

the sculpting studio was tucked away in the basement of the arts department, a place where the university’s grandeur crumbled into exposed pipes, concrete floors, and a permanent, heavy, mixture that smelled of damp silt. it was a miserable place to spend a tuesday evening. 

you sat on a rusted, three legged iron stool that had been balanced dangerously on a wooden riser, your spine locked into a sharp, forty-five degree angle that the department syllabus referred to as an “expressive, dynamic posture of repose.” in reality, it was an orthopedic nightmare. your left shoulder blade had gone completely numb twenty minutes ago, and there was a dull, rhythmic throbbing in your lower back that suggested your tailbone is being stretched thin. 

“the line of the clavicle is the anchor point,” nanami said.

his voice a cutting through the dead silence of the basement studio. he didn’t look up from the massive, seventy-pound block of oil based clay resting on the heavy iron turntable between his knees.

nanami was a twenty four year old graduate assistant, a man who treated the pursuit of arts with a grim, unyielding seriousness of auditing a failing firm. while the undergraduate students in the morning sections wore paint splattered overalls and left charcoal thumbprints on their foreheads, nanami arrived in a neat, cream colored button down shirt with the sleeves folded back exactly twice, revealing thick, pale forearms that looked less like those of an artist and more like someone who spent his free time lifting concrete blocks.

“if you drop your chin by even half an inch,” nanami continued, his long, blunt fingers carving a precise groove into the shoulder of the clay, “the entire composition of the upper torso becomes unrenderable. keep your gaze fixed on the fire extinguisher by the exit, please.”

“the fire extinguisher is losing its novelty, nanami,” you murmured. you kept your head perfectly straight, your eyes locked onto the faded red cylinder mounted against the damp brick wall. “i’ve been starting it at since seven o’clock. i’ve memorized the inspection tag. it expires in october.”

“then i suggest you contemplate the fonts of the warning label,” he replied without a shred of humor. he picked up the wire tool, his movement efficient and entirely devoid of the frantic, expressive energy typical of the department. “you are being compensated twenty two dollars an hour from the department. for that rate, the university expects basic structural stability.”

“the flyer in the student lounge said twenty five,” you shot back, your voice low and flat as you fought the urge to stretch your aching neck.

nanami’s hand paused. the wire tool hoovered just above the wet ridge of the clay’s collarbone. he slowly lowered his arm, his shoulders shifting beneath the thin fabric of his shirt as he took a measured, disciplined breath. he didn’t look at you—not yet—but the subtle hardening of his jaw told you everything you needed to know about his opinion on financial negotiations during studio hours.

“three dollars were deducted for insurance,” nanami said, his tone dropping an octave into something dry and professional. “in the event that you fall off and break your arm, the university is legally protected. if you wish to contest the fees, the office is open between nine and four on thursdays. until then, do not move your left shoulder.”

“you’re a joy to work with.” you muttered.

“i am here as required,” nanami said, resuming his work with a sharp scrape of the wire loop. “my personal inclination is entirely irrelevant to the composition of this piece.”

the studio fell back into its suffocating, metrical quiet. the only sound was the occasional hiss of the radiator in the corner and the heavy, wet thwack of nanami throwing excess clay back into the storage bin. the air between you felt dense, thick with the smell of mineral spirits and the stifling heat of the overhead modeling lamps that emanated down on your bare neck like an artificial sun.

you watched his reflection in the dusty glass cabinet behind him. he was incredibly particular. every stroke of his thumb, every sweep of tools was calculated. he didn’t drift into an artistic trance, he worked methodically. checking proportions by taking a glance over at you that lasted no longer than two seconds.

but those two seconds were becoming difficult to ignore.

whenever nanami’s eyes shifted from the clay to your face, his gaze didn’t feel like an evaluation. it was too heavy. his eyes behind a pair of small, gold-rimmed, reading glasses that sat low on his nose bridge, had a way of tracking your erratic pulse in your throat with a silent intensity that made your skin prickle under your thin cotton shirt.

“your breathing is inconsistent,” nanami noted, his voice breaking the silence so suddenly you nearly jumped. “your chest is rising too rapidly. it’s ruining the shadows along the sternum.”

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said, your teeth gritting as you maintained the pose. “some of us have mid-terms at eight tomorrow.”

“then you should have managed your schedule by taking the future into consideration,” nanami said, his tool carving a deep, shadow catching hollow beneath the clay’s collarbone. “exams are predictable. however, this studio reservation is a non-negotiable deadline for my portfolio.”

“good to know my physical torment is giving you a higher academic purpose,” you said.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he set the tool down with a definitive clack that signaled the end of the first forty five minutes. he checked his stainless steel wristwatch, his face still stoic.

“five minute break,” he announced, turning his back to you as he walked toward the sink. “you may step down.”

the concrete floor felt ice cold against your socks as your feet met the floor, your joints popping and cracking in sounds too loud to call normal. you leaned your lower back against the platform, rubbing your hands against your thighs to encourage blood circulation back.

across the room, nanami was washing his hands. he did it with the same rigorous routine he applied to sculpting. scrubbing the grey clay from his nails with a brush, the water loud from the faucet. the sleeves of his cream shirt were damp near the cuffs, turning translucent against his skin. 

“do you ever actually enjoy this?” you asked, leaning your head back. “or do you just look at a block of clay and see a checklist that needs to be done before graduation?”

nanami turned off the tap with a twist. he grabbed paper towels from the dispenser before turning to face you. without the easel between you, his height was much more evident. his shoulders broad, solid, and standing with a military posture that made the small basement studio tighter than it already was. 

“art is labor,” nanami said, walking back toward the center of the room. he stopped three feet from your platform, his gold glasses catching the yellow lights. “the concept of ‘enjoying’ is a romantic daydream preserved by undergraduate students who believe a career can be sustainable on inspiration alone. labor is reliable, inspiration is fleeting.”

“that sounds incredibly depressing,” you said, a small, tired smile twinging at the corners of your lips. 

“it is practical,” nanami corrected. his eyes drifted down to your bare shoulders, then to the casual, slouching of your hips against the platform. his jaw muscle tightening beneath his clean shaven cheek. “your posture right now is horrible. you are putting all your weight on your right hip. you will have a cramp in the next twenty minutes if you don’t fix it.

“then come fix it,” you said.

the words left your mouth before they could go through your brain. a stupid, reckless impulse born from six hours of sensory deprivation and the frustrating wall of nanami’s professionalism. you just wanted to see him lose his composure. just once. you wanted to see if there was an actual person behind the schedules and requirements. 

the studio went entirely still.

nanami didn’t move. he stood perfectly upright, hands at his sides, eyes locked onto yours. the distance he maintained so carefully seemed to flicker, just for a fraction of a second, replaced by something entirely different.

“that’s outside my responsibilities,” nanami said, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher tone that didn’t sound like a graduate assistant at all. “the guidelines regarding model-instructor behavior are clear. physical contact is limited to adjustments of form, under professional watch.”

“the professor left two hours ago, nanami,” you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs as you stay leaning against the platform, looking up at him. “there is no professional watch.”

nanami took a single step forward. the distance between his leather dress shoes and the edge of where you’re sitting shrank to less than ever before. he was close enough now that you could smell him. a clean, masculine, and woody scent contrasting the sharp, bitterness of the studio’s. he smelled like sandalwood and cedar soap.

“do not mistake my compliance with lack of awareness,” nanami murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before lifting back to your eyes with a weight that felt basically physical. “i am fully aware of how thin your shirt is under these lamps.”

your breath hitched. the small, teasing smirk you had on vanished instantly, your fingers curling tightly behind you. nanami reached out. his hand was large, his fingers long and dusted with residue of clay. he didn’t touch your skin yet, but his palm hovered over your left shoulder, the heat radiating from his body warming your cold one.

“turn,” he commanded softly.

you turned your torso back toward the fire extinguisher, your movements slow under his gaze. nanami’s fingers finally closed around the curve of your shoulder.

his grip was firm, deep, and unyielding. the burning heat of his palm pressing through your shirt. he adjusted your frame, thumb sliding up the side of your neck to press firmly against the base of your skull, forcing your chin up into the exact angle he required. his fingers lingered on the back of your neck after your posture was fixed. his thumb gave a single, slow, and entirely unprofessional stroke against the sensitive skin just behind your ear, a gesture that made a shiver run down your spine.

“stay there,” nanami whispered, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned in close enough that his chest nearly brushed your shoulder. “if you move again, i will be forced to extend the session past midnight. and neither of us wants to calculate the overtime rates for that.”

[ ii. ] ───

“he actually said that?” satoru gojo laughed, the sound loud and obnoxious, bouncing off the sixty foot glass ceiling of his penthouse. “nanami is losing his mind in that basement. im gonna have that printed on a t-shirt for his birthday.”

you sat buried in the cushions of his white leather sofa that probably cost more than your tuition. a heavy, crystal bottle of expensive sparkling water cooling your palm. outside the floor to ceiling windows, the city looked like a circuit of gold and neon, the campus nothing more than a dark square miles away. 

“don’t mock him,” you said, though you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you took a sip of the water. “he’s the only reason i can afford to buy groceries this month. the art department pays better than the library.”

“the art department pays you pocket change,” gojo scoffed.

he was pacing along the edge of the glass floor, his legs moving with lazy grace that made his massive six foot three frame look too large for the room. he had already abandoned his usual dark blazer, his white linen shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves shoved up to his elbows to reveal the muscle of his forearms decorated with bulging veins. his signature dark sunglasses were balanced on the tip of his nose, allowing those electric blue eyes to lock onto you with the corners crinkled.

“if you needed groceries, you should’ve just told me,” gojo said, stopping at the edge of the sofa and looking down at you. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek, matte-black amex card and tossing it casually onto the glass table, landing with a heavy clank. “there. go buy a supermarket. stop letting nanami use your collarbones for his experiments.” 

“i can’t just take your card, toru.” you said. staring at the black plastic with a mixture of need and pride. “i have some pride left. i’m trying to be an independent adult.”

“pride is expensive,” gojo murmured, a dimpled grin breaking across his face. he leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the sofa either side of your head, trapping you within his space. the scent of expensive cologne, fresh, and high end sugar filling your senses. “and independence is boring. being spoiled by me is much better.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you said, leaning your head back against the cushion, looking up at him through your lashes. “you can’t just buy out my life because you’re bored.”

“watch me,” gojo whispered, leaning down to your face.

he didn’t wait for a response. he slid over the back of the sofa with a jump, settling himself right next to you dipping the leather with his weight, hauling you sideways into his lap. he did it without hesitation, his large hands locking around your waist and lifting you as if you weighed nothing. 

your hips straddled his thighs, your knees draping over his legs as his long arms wrapped around your back, anchoring you flush to his chest.

“toru,” you gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders. his sweater that you’re wearing, made of cashmere so soft it felt like a cloud. your hand slithering under his unbuttoned shirt to his bare shoulders, feeling the solid and expansive muscle that reminded you of how powerful he was despite his ridiculous behavior.

“shh,” gojo whispered, burying his face into the side of your neck. his silver-white hair was incredibly soft as it brushed against your jawline, his breath hot and rapid against your skin. “no independent adult talk in the penthouse. i just spent three hours sitting in a donation board meeting just so i could get away and see you. you owe me at least two hours.”

“is that how donations work?” you teased, your fingers loosening, idly tangling into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “you give them five million dollars and they let you kidnap a junior?”

“ten million,” gojo corrected into your skin, lips brushing against your pulse with a slow pressure that made your core tighten. “and i didn’t kidnap you. i sent you a private car with heated seats and pastries. that’s called luxury relocation.”

he pulled back slightly, his sunglasses sliding off his face, forgotten on the cushions beside him. without them, his eyes were blinding. two stark pools of infinite blue, with wispy ivory lashes that looked at you with a possession that ruined his playful demeanor. 

his hands slid down from your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your pants, his grip tightening until your hips were forced flat against his. 

“nanami was right about one thing though,” gojo whispered, his teasing voice sending goosebumps to the hairs of your arm. he reached up, his large hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb rubbing over your lower lip. “your collarbones look much better under my lights than his.”

“you’re insufferable,” you breathed.

he closed the distance before you could make another snarky comment, his mouth covering yours in a deep, passionate kiss that was worlds different from nanami’s discipline. gojo kissed you like he owned you, the room, the building, and every breath in your lungs. his tongue sliding past your lips smoothly, leaving you breathless. your fingers clutching his collar holding him steady against you, equally holding you against him. the city lights blurring into an insignificant smear behind him.

[ iii. ] ───

“yes toru! f-fuck!” you moaned, moving up and down gojo’s dick. he’s leaned back against his massive headboard, hands locked behind his tilted head as he watches your tits bounce in his face with breathy moans. “yes baby, just like that. riding me so good” a gruff praise as he thrusts his hips up to meet you halfway. the sudden deep hit to your cervix making you arch over his splayed out body, scratching at his carved, toned abs as you try not to lose momentum. “come on, you can do it. keep going, fuck, don’t stop” his honeyed encouragement sending energy straight through you. your hips motioning from bounces and grinding, clit meeting the white fuzz at the base of his pelvis, tickling your nub just barely.

your thighs feeling the sharp burn of gravity, intertwined with the fullness of gojo inside you. every vein pulsing, tip prodding, and girth stretching you so sweetly. you were being rearranged completely, and he knew it. his face askew, hands coming up to guide your hips as he feels you tire. 

“don’t give up on me now. keep going baby” you place both hands on his abdomen, hoping for a little balance. you plant both feet either side of his hips and move all the way up, almost releasing his tip, and slam back down on his length completely. the heavy thwack has gojo bending his knees, trying to get ahold of you so he doesn’t fill you up right there. his deep, guttural moan as you continue to ride him like a mechanical bull. “oh f-fuck. i’m gonna cum” he breathes. 

you keep at it in perfect motion. until, he wraps around your torso, digging his fingers in and turns you over back-first. “you’re gonna cum for me first.” he demands. 

your hands gripping at sheets, nails leaving red lines down his back simultaneously. he has your thighs pried open for him, watching your puffy lips swallow his cock deliciously. he rubs idle circles on the back of your knees that are folded in half over your shoulders. every thrust yanked you back onto his dick, hammering you with his speed. 

you try to slow him down as your vision becomes hazy, and he pins your hand next to your head at the measly attempt. “take it like the good girl you are” gojo whispers into you. his thrusts grow erratic by the second, both of you covered in all shapes of red and blue. the tight knot in your stomach growing as his pink tip meets your g-spot continuously. “toruuu-” you whined. hands moving sporadically from his muscled back to his snowy hair. “c’mon. cum for me. give it to me.” he groaned above, dick throbbing.

“yesyesyes toru- fuck!” you babble as white clouds your vision. the walls were spinning, and your heart with it. as you reach your high, gojo stills, releasing thick spurts up your walls. you both moan loudly at the clench, cream spilling out of your quivering hole. 

sweaty bodies clinging to each other, a concoction of drool, tears, slick, and cum. heavy panting as your breaths get shorter, harmonizing with the sounds of city night life visible through the reflection of you both in the windows.

[ iv. ] ───

by friday afternoon, the humidity in the art basement had reached an unbearable point. the air heavy with the scent of wet plaster and stale coffee. you stood in the center of the studio, looking at the clay bust nanami had spent the last four nights making. it was terrifyingly accurate. 

the clay was cold to the touch, but nanami had captured the exact, slight asymmetry of your shoulders, sharp jawline, and the hollow base of your throat where his fingers lingered the night before. he was sitting at his workbench, cleaning his knives, the sharp scritch-scratch of the metal cringing your ears. 

“the department requested the piece be moved to the gallery for exhibition,” nanami said, his voice flat. he didn’t look up from his knife. “the transport will be handled at four o’clock. your invoice has been submitted. you will receive your compensation via direct deposit in three days.”

“so that’s it?” you asked, leaning your hip against the edge of his workbench. “the semester’s over, the bust is done, and we go back to being graduate and student who isn’t supposed to move her shoulder?”

nanami stopped scrubbing. he set the palette knife down, his movements slow. he took off his glasses, folding them with a precise clink before placing them in his pocket. when he finally looked up at you, his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his gaze was sharper than it had ever been during all those sessions. 

“i am currently drafting my thesis,” nanami said, his voice quiet. he stood up, massive frame blotting out the light from the window behind him. “once that document is signed on monday morning, my contract as a graduate assistant is terminated. i will no longer be an employee of the university.”

you blinked, your breath catching as he stepped around the workbench, closing the distance between you until his chest was inches from your face. 

“nanami—”

“on monday at twelve o’clock,” he continued. “i am no longer bound by the guidelines of model-student interaction. it all becomes obsolete.”

he reached out, his hand wrapping around your wrist with a sudden intensity that made your heart double its beating. he didn’t pull you closer—he didn’t need to—but his long fingers wrapped completely around your skin, his thumb pressing into the pulse in your wrist. 

“if you are still interested in financial negotiations over something that doesn’t include cafeteria food,” his eyes locking onto yours with seriousness, “you can leave your phone number on this desk before four. if not, i will consider the matter done.”

before you could answer, the heavy wooden door of the studio swung open with a dramatic crash that rattled the jars on the shelves. 

“nanami!” gojo announced, strolling into the room as if he were walking onto a runway, an oversized box from the city’s most expensive bakery carelessly balanced on his fingertips. “you look absolutely miserable! did the clay department run out of grey paint, or are you just realizing your thesis is thirty pages too long?”

nanami didn’t let go of your wrist after gojo entered. he slowly let his fingers slide down your arm, his thumb giving one last squeeze before he turned his head to glare at the intruder with a cold hatred.

“satoru.” nanami said, his voice clipped. “this is a studio. undergraduate’s are prohibited.”

“i’m not an undergraduate, i’m a donor,” gojo flaunted, his blue eyes flashing behind his sunglasses as he looked between the two of you, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. he walked over to the clay bust, tapping the likeness with a single finger. “wow nanami. you really captured her attitude. almost as stubborn as the real thing.”

gojo turned back to you, his smirk shifting into that familiar, handsome grin that always meant trouble. he slid his sunglasses down his nose, looking at you with possessive heat. 

“the car is waiting outside,” gojo said, his tone casual but eyes delivering a different message. “the driver has the penthouse keys. i think we need to have a conversation about…” he fake thinks, “your schedule for next semester.” he so blatantly lies.

you looked between the two of them—nanami standing rigid and solid, hand resting near his glasses, eyes holding a quiet, disciplined promise that was only three days away from being legal; and gojo, leaning against the doorframe with ten million dollars in his pocket and a look of complete dominance that suggested he would buy the entire arts complex before he let anyone else adjust your posture. 

“i have an economics test to study for,” you said, voice shaking slightly as you backed towards the door.

“economics is a predictable variable,” nanami said, tracking your movement. 

“and i’m a very expensive distraction,” gojo added, his grin widening as he straightened up, his body filling the exit. 

the basement room felt tinier, more suffocating. the tension of two men who had absolutely no intention of letting you go.

[ v. ] ───

“you’re quiet tonight,” gojo said.

he was standing by the long island in the kitchen, a glass of amber sitting untouched on the counter. the playful, theatrical tone he used to terrorize nanami was gone. his hair fell in loose, silver strands over his forehead, catching the shadows of his sharp brows. 

“i’m trying to figure out if you actually enjoy making my life impossible,” you said, leaning your shoulder against the glass window. it was cold against your temple, opposite to the lingering burn on your wrist where nanami’s fingers had clamped down earlier.

gojo picked up his glass, the ice clinking as he walked toward you. he didn’t stop until his chest was brushing the fabric of your hoodie, his shadow transcending over you.

“i don’t make things impossible,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to track the unevenness in your breathing. he reached out, his warm fingers catching your chin and tilting your face up until you had no choice but to look straight into those infinite pupils. “i make things exclusive. there’s a difference.” 

“nanami is my instructor, satoru,” you whispered, your hands flattening against his chest to keep some semblance of distance. “he’s grading my final portfolio.”

“not after monday,” gojo replied, his voice dipping an octave to a rough sound that vibrated through your palms. his thumb putting pressure against your lower lip, mirroring the spot that he had claimed last night. “i read his contract before i walked down those stairs, he’s just another guy trying to negotiate for your time.”

his grip on your chin tightened just enough to anchor you.

“and i don’t share,” gojo whispered against your mouth. “not with graduate assistants. not with anyone.” you trail your eyes back onto the city skyline, avoiding his gaze. he turns your head again with a sharp twinge of his wrist, “and it’s toru to you.” he scoffs. 

[ vi. ] ───

monday morning, the courtyard outside the office was packed with students rushing between lectures. the sun was blindingly hot, baking the concrete, thick aroma of cut grass and diesel exhaust. you stood under the shadow of the archway, your fingers turning white around the strap of your backpack. the clock on the old library tower chimed once. twelve o’clock. 

the doors of the building clicked open, and nanami stepped out into the bright afternoon light. he wasn’t wearing his studio clothes. he was dressed in a perfectly tailored, charcoal three piece suit, his gold glasses reflecting the glare of the sun as the came down the stone steps with his usual steady steps. he carried a single leather briefcase. he didn’t look left or right until his feet met the common walkway. then, his eyes snapped straight to the archway you were standing beneath. 

nanami didn’t hesitate. his long strides cut through the crowd, locking onto you with pressure that made the surrounding noise fade away. he stopped, his broad shoulders shielding you from the sunlight. 

“the dean signed off at eleven thirty,” nanami said. he spoke free of the formal detachment he used all semester. “my final paperwork is processed. as of five minutes ago, i don’t work here anymore.”

he set his briefcase down on the ledge beside you, unbuttoning the center button of his suit jacket as he takes a slow, deep breath. “you didn’t leave your number on the desk,” he noted, searching your face for an answer.

“satoru was right there, nanami,” you replied, your back pressing against the stone. “he isn’t exactly discreet.”

“satoru gojo isn’t my concern,” nanami said, stepping closer until the scent of sharp sandalwood replaced the courtyards. he reached out, hand wrapping around your forearm—not with the guidance of an instructor, but with the certainty of a man who waited weeks to touch you without a classroom rule stopping him. “he can buy whatever he wants on this campus. doesn’t change the fact i’m done waiting.” his eyes dropping to your lips as his jaw hardened.

“i made a reservation at a quiet bistro outside the city,” his face inches from yours. “my afternoon is completely open. the choice is yours.”

before you could answer, you’re interrupted. again. a long, sleek black sports car pulled up to the curb, its engine letting out a roar that drew the attention of every student in a fifty mile radius. the tinted passenger seat rolled down, revealing satoru gojo leaning across the interior, eyes catching the two of you with a sharp, dangerous smirk. 

“nanami!” gojo called out. “congratulations on finally quitting! now stop bothering my favorite model, we have an appointment at the high rise, and she hates being late.”

nanami didn’t let go of your arm. he slowly turned his head, dark eyes narrowing through his glasses as he looked down at the sports car, his grip tightening to keep you at his side. gojo’s car remained resting, but the distance between you and the passenger window felt like a ravine.

nanami didn’t look back at the car a second time. his focus returned to you making gojo’s shouting sound like background static. “my car is parked on the lower deck,” nanami said, “we can take the back stairs. if you want to leave, we leave now.”

you looked at the black titanium card still tucked into the pocket of your backpack, then up at nanami’s pleading glance. the weight of gojo’s luxury was exhausting; it was a constant, blinding glare that demanded you adapt to his schedule, his penthouse, his terms. but here nanami was, standing in a suit, offering something grounded. 

“the lower deck. let’s go.”

with a triumphant smile, nanami nodded. his hand coming down from your forearm to catch your fingers, leading you back through the doors. behind you, the aggressive honk of gojo’s horn echoed, but the door slammed shut, cutting out the sound entirely.

nanami’s car was as expected: a spotless, dark grey sedan with polished seats that smelled faintly of the same cedar he used. he opened the passenger door for you, a common courtesy yet rare to find, waiting until you were completely settled before closing it.

“the restaurant is a few miles outside the city,” nanami said as the campus skyline shrank in the rearview mirror. “it’s an older place. it doesn’t attract the student crowd, so we won’t be interrupted.”

“you really thought this through,” you said, leaning your head back against the headrest, the tension in your shoulders relaxing. “i don’t like wasting time,” nanami replied, “and i had no intention of letting satoru turn this afternoon into a show.”

“he was just being satoru,” you murmured. 

“satoru thinks everything he looks at belongs to him,” his tone turning colder. he turned the car down a narrow road where trees blocked out light, casting leaf-patterened shadows. “he doesn’t understand that you can’t just buy someone’s attention because you feel like it.”

he pulled the car into a gravel parking lot behind a building. the engine cut out, leaving the inside suddenly silent. nanami didn’t get out immediately. he took off his glasses, before turning his torso towards you. without his hands on the steering wheel, his presence felt immense, and close. 

“they gave my sculpture a perfect score before i left,” he said. “but he asked me why the line work along the shoulder felt so different from my usual style. unusually passionate.”

you were taken aback. the unemotional, robotic instructor described as passionate? it was a little unbelievable. “what did you say?”

“i told him i had a model who was difficult to ignore.”

he reached across, his hand didn’t wait this time, fingers slid into the hairline that meets the back of your neck. his thumb pressing against the back of your ear until you were looking right into the dark irises of his. “there are no classes left,” nanami whispered, his scent overpowering the space of the car, and all of your senses too. “i’m not your instructor anymore. i’m just a man who spent the last month watching you under the light, waiting until i was allowed to do this.”

his lips run into yours in a deep, slow, careful kiss that lacked gojo’s chaos. he kissed you like he had been planning it for weeks. his fingers tangled deeper into your hair, holding you as his other hand came up against your ribs, feeling his touch through the thin fabric, tracing the line of your chest he had spent the past month trying to memorize. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a single, quiet second, his breathing ragged. 

“let’s go inside before we lose our table,” nanami breathed against your lips, undeniably wanting more but also needing to be deserving of you. he wants to do it the right way, without the private drivers or the multi-million dollar quotas.

i lowkey have no idea what sculpting actually requires so i apologize if some of this is inaccurate… i tried

[cherryfawnie]

i know i’m in the big leagues when queefqueen160 starts liking my posts

[cherryfawnie]

star player ₊⊹

ft. seishiro nagi .ᐟ | 90 minutes in the field. yet, nagi saves his best moves for you in the locker room after-hours. ⋆⟢ mdni , 2.0k wc

tags : f!reader, established relationship, “workplace” sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, squirting, eating out, nipple play, licking/biting, spanking, fingering, overstimulation . . . entirely smut i cried writing this

the heavy slam of the locker room doors signaled the final goodbyes of the team, leaving the concrete walls entirely yours. the air was thick and warm, carrying the clean scent of soap, damp tile, and everlasting heat of a high-stakes match. you were supposed to be finishing the final boxes of the post-game inventory, but your progress had stalled the moment you reached the end of the benches. 

nagi was waiting for you, looking completely undone and disastrously handsome.

he was slumped back against the lockers, his long legs stretched out across the floor. his jersey long gone, leaving him in his compression boxers and white towel slung loosely over his broad shoulders. his messy white hair still damp, clinging to his forehead, but his dark eyes were wide awake, tracking your steps with possessiveness. 

“you’re taking too long,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that echoed in the silent room. 

“some of us actually have to work, nagi,” you said, stepping into the narrow space between his knees. 

before you could even look down from your clipboard, nagi reached up, his massive, slender hands wrapping firmly around your hips. with a single, effortless tug, he pulled you straight down to his lap. the clipboard clattering uselessly onto the bench beside him as you shifted, your thighs straddling his, your hands instinctively coming up to rest against his bare shoulders.

“work is over,” he whispered, his face dipping into the crook of your neck. he let out a long, hot exhale against your skin that sent a shiver through you. his arms wound tightly around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. the radiating heat of his skin was intoxicating, completely erasing the crisp chill of the stadium outside. 

you let out a soft laugh, burying your fingers into the soft strands of his white hair, gently pulling just enough to force him to look up at you. “the managers are going to lock us in, you know”

“good. then i don’t have to move,” he countered smoothly, a slow, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. up close, his pupils were completely blown out, his gaze dripping down to your lips before looking back onto your eyes with an intense, unblinking need. “you played incredibly well today, by the way. i think you deserve a reward.”

“i didn’t play today, nagi. you did,” you reminded him, your thumb lightly tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the prickle of his skin.

“i only played well because you were watching,” his hands sliding down from your waist to grip the back of your thighs, lifting you just a fraction closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies. the lazy, indifferent athlete from the field was completely gone, replaced by the consuming gravity he reserved only for you behind closed doors. he leaned up, his lips brushing softly against yours, teasing the seam of your lips without kissing you yet. “so,” nagi whispered against your lips, his grip tightening possessively against your thighs. “are you going to keep making me beg for my kiss, or are you gonna finish your paperwork later?”

you didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. instead, you titled your head, gapped the space between your faces, and pressed your lips firmly against his. a soft, satisfied hum rumbled deep in nagi’s throat as he met you halfway. his hands gliding to the small of your back, pressing into your spine to arch you in so close that you could feel the rapid pounding of his pulse against your own chest.

when you finally parted for air, your forehead rested against his, both of your breaths coming a little shorter in the warm air of the locker room. “paperwork later,” you whispered, a breathless smile appearing as your fingers idly tangled in his strands. 

“good,” nagi breathed, his eyelids drooping half-shut as that familiar grin returned to his face. he leaned back against the lockers taking you with him without ever loosening his grip on you. he looked completely smug; content to keep you trapped in his lap for the rest of the night. “because i’m definitely too tired to let you go now.”

nagi’s lips finds yours again, feverish as ever. his kisses slowly trailing down your jaw, which turns into bites and sucks as he reaches your neck. his tongue moving skillfully between your cranked head, revealing purple hues that’ll have you wearing turtlenecks. he unnatatches from your neck to look up at you with those hazy eyes, slowly lifting your shirt, and bunching it up for you to bite on. his hands come up to carry the weight of your tits, thumbs pressing and circling your nipples until they peak. he leans in, using the same skillful tongue to tug and surround your nipples with warmth. his teeth teasingly scraping against it, which has you whining into the fabric. 

he lets go with a “pop!” grabbing your hips and settling you on the bench back-first. his hands digging in the fat of your exposed thighs, spreading them slowly as if he’s preparing himself for a meal. your miniskirt not providing any coverage, as the wet-patch seeping through your cotton panties has him salivating, “and i thought i was the impatient one.”

he hooks his finger under, and pushes your underwear to the side. his pupils dilate to love hearts as your slick—from all his teasing—webs between your folds, which he spreads with two fingers like he has all the time in the world. your body betraying you, instinctively moving into his palm chasing more friction, shirt falling at the attempt, needy whines escaping. when the tips of his fingers graze your clit, your moans become enticingly so, that he can’t help but want more.

nagi buries his face between your trembling thighs, already overstimulated. he takes in the glistening folds, the soft plush, and the familiar scent of desire. “god, i’ll never get tired of this” he practically moans as he delves into your cunt likes he’s been deprived. he uses his hands to hold your thighs threatening to crush him open, and uses yours to—”spread yourself open for me, baby” your fingers following command as you part your folds, blush blooming onto your cheeks at the promiscuity. his satisfied hum radiating into you as he licks long, broad stripes and tight circles against your clit. lips latching onto your swollen nub, cheeks hollowing, tongue unrelenting.  

your thighs shaking at his tongue prodding every corner, your fingers slipping as you get hypnotized in the waves of pleasure. nagi can’t have that. he twists his arm to land a harsh spank! to your ass along with a shocked yelp from you, his already weariness depleting his patience, “keep them spread. don’t close up on me” he orders with his mouth full. he deliberately moves in and out of your hole, feeling the way you clench around him at every entrance. his cock leaking pre-cum at the delicious feeling, darkening his briefs. 

his tongue still unreleasing from your pussy—as if he’s addicted—he pushes down his boxers letting his already erect cock spring up against his abdomen, abs clenching at the contact. in tandem, your excruciating shriek comes with the heavy gush of white and clear soaking nagi’s face. “o-oh my god, a-ah!” 

he releases from you with a gasp for air, which only he denied himself, “my good girl” he coos as he lines up his cock with your folds. he pumps his dick a few times before tapping it onto your clit, tip nudging the bud so perfectly. one hand interlocks with yours while he pushes in patiently. his low, musky groan through his teeth echoing through the room, sending signals straight to your pussy. both hands intertwine with yours now, fully and deeply connected. 

“f-fuck. been thinking about this since i saw you cheering for me. pretty little thing bouncing, screaming my name. you’re so perfect” he confesses.

all you can fathom is how his girthy length is splitting you open, reaching points of ecstasy that has your eyes rolling to your skull. giving you no time to adjust from your last orgasm, nagi’s hips snap rhythmically at your contorted face, wanting—no, needing, to get those alluring sounds out of you. even in the midst of it all, he’s powerless to admiring your beauty. his fingers interlacing your hair, moving strands out of your face, “just stay by my side so i can look at you forever.”

his endearing avowal snaps you out of your trance slightly, hands wrapping around his neck to appreciate his show of affection. “i love you nagi–” his knee rising onto the bench to pound flawlessly into the spongey, warm spot at the edge of your walls, having you choke on your words. your eyes widening, body jerking at the sudden hit when you’re sensitive as ever. nagi continuously crashes into that sweet spot until the whites of your eyes overtake, tongue lolling out as drool helplessly drips. “fuck! n-ngh, i can’t t-take it!” as cock-drunk as you are, nagi’s not so behind. his response comes out in more rapid, intense thrusts drumming you to another orgasm. 

nagi feels every spasm around him as you white-out. he groans loudly at the saccharine flutter which turns into a deadly grip on his dick, having to slow his pace to restrain filling you up. he lets you ride out your orgasm, letting you breathe at every quiver. you’ve gone completely limp in his hold, no strength left in your whimpers. he holds you to him like you’re the most delicate being to exist, to him you are. the way your sweat glistens your skin and tears glitter in your lashes, every sparkle has nagi’s balls emptying themselves sore straight into you. his head dropping down, hips spasming as if he didn’t deserve such bliss. “you feel that? you feel me in you?” he groans.

“mm, you feel so warm” your words finally render. nagi pulls out slowly and watches his thick load gape your hole and spurt out little by little. you weakly smile at the face of accomplishment he has on, basking in the amazing ending of your rendezvous. until, nagi’s expression changes scarily, hands latching onto your thighs once again. don’t tell me. . . “you thought i was done?” he cockily smirks as your eyebrows furrow into worry. “relax, i’m just cleaning you up,” his well-known void promises have you checking for emergency exits. 

nagi takes his middle and ring finger and pushes back into your pussy, forcing his way through all the juices settled there. “n-nghh, p-please” you plead for a second as every vein is on fire right now, you just might melt if he starts again. his canines pop out at your reaction, how cute, he thinks. his narrow fingers delve into you so excruciatingly slow, memorizing every ridge sprayed with his cum. pumping in and out at a steady pace, he takes his pointer finger and adds a third. your back immediately arching at the intrusion. you try to lessen the stimulation by backing away, but nagi presses a palm flat onto your lower stomach, right above your pelvis that makes every finger feel ten times deeper. your pathetic sobs as every emotion overfills has nagi pistoning his fingers faster and louder. he knows every part of you, every motion and curve of his hands has you squirming, his fingers knuckle deep. 

it feels like you’ve ascended as your third back-to-back orgasm nears. your hands flailing, head shaking, thighs closing as your body can’t recognize this overwhelming pleasure. “im cumming! p-please, a-ahh!” is all you can get out at the unfamiliar looming sensation. you cum around his fingers, gushing wetter and harder. clear squirt coming out wildly, soaking everything in front and beneath you: your thighs, nagi’s chest and fingers, the bench. it feels like you’ve just ran a marathon, slumping on the drenched metal. nagi holds you as all your muscles have grown taunt. 

he trails quick kisses from your temples to your lips, “i love you more,” he finally responds.

dividers by @cursed-carmine

i want to apologize for the lack of dialogue i think i went into a smut writing trance i promise my next one will have more

[cherryfawnie]

star player ₊⊹

ft. seishiro nagi .ᐟ | 90 minutes in the field. yet, nagi saves his best moves for you in the locker room after-hours. ⋆⟢ mdni , 2.0k wc

tags : f!reader, established relationship, “workplace” sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, squirting, eating out, nipple play, licking/biting, spanking, fingering, overstimulation . . . entirely smut i cried writing this

the heavy slam of the locker room doors signaled the final goodbyes of the team, leaving the concrete walls entirely yours. the air was thick and warm, carrying the clean scent of soap, damp tile, and everlasting heat of a high-stakes match. you were supposed to be finishing the final boxes of the post-game inventory, but your progress had stalled the moment you reached the end of the benches. 

nagi was waiting for you, looking completely undone and disastrously handsome.

he was slumped back against the lockers, his long legs stretched out across the floor. his jersey long gone, leaving him in his compression boxers and white towel slung loosely over his broad shoulders. his messy white hair still damp, clinging to his forehead, but his dark eyes were wide awake, tracking your steps with possessiveness. 

“you’re taking too long,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that echoed in the silent room. 

“some of us actually have to work, nagi,” you said, stepping into the narrow space between his knees. 

before you could even look down from your clipboard, nagi reached up, his massive, slender hands wrapping firmly around your hips. with a single, effortless tug, he pulled you straight down to his lap. the clipboard clattering uselessly onto the bench beside him as you shifted, your thighs straddling his, your hands instinctively coming up to rest against his bare shoulders.

“work is over,” he whispered, his face dipping into the crook of your neck. he let out a long, hot exhale against your skin that sent a shiver through you. his arms wound tightly around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. the radiating heat of his skin was intoxicating, completely erasing the crisp chill of the stadium outside. 

you let out a soft laugh, burying your fingers into the soft strands of his white hair, gently pulling just enough to force him to look up at you. “the managers are going to lock us in, you know”

“good. then i don’t have to move,” he countered smoothly, a slow, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. up close, his pupils were completely blown out, his gaze dripping down to your lips before looking back onto your eyes with an intense, unblinking need. “you played incredibly well today, by the way. i think you deserve a reward.”

“i didn’t play today, nagi. you did,” you reminded him, your thumb lightly tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the prickle of his skin.

“i only played well because you were watching,” his hands sliding down from your waist to grip the back of your thighs, lifting you just a fraction closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies. the lazy, indifferent athlete from the field was completely gone, replaced by the consuming gravity he reserved only for you behind closed doors. he leaned up, his lips brushing softly against yours, teasing the seam of your lips without kissing you yet. “so,” nagi whispered against your lips, his grip tightening possessively against your thighs. “are you going to keep making me beg for my kiss, or are you gonna finish your paperwork later?”

you didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. instead, you titled your head, gapped the space between your faces, and pressed your lips firmly against his. a soft, satisfied hum rumbled deep in nagi’s throat as he met you halfway. his hands gliding to the small of your back, pressing into your spine to arch you in so close that you could feel the rapid pounding of his pulse against your own chest.

when you finally parted for air, your forehead rested against his, both of your breaths coming a little shorter in the warm air of the locker room. “paperwork later,” you whispered, a breathless smile appearing as your fingers idly tangled in his strands. 

“good,” nagi breathed, his eyelids drooping half-shut as that familiar grin returned to his face. he leaned back against the lockers taking you with him without ever loosening his grip on you. he looked completely smug; content to keep you trapped in his lap for the rest of the night. “because i’m definitely too tired to let you go now.”

nagi’s lips finds yours again, feverish as ever. his kisses slowly trailing down your jaw, which turns into bites and sucks as he reaches your neck. his tongue moving skillfully between your cranked head, revealing purple hues that’ll have you wearing turtlenecks. he unnatatches from your neck to look up at you with those hazy eyes, slowly lifting your shirt, and bunching it up for you to bite on. his hands come up to carry the weight of your tits, thumbs pressing and circling your nipples until they peak. he leans in, using the same skillful tongue to tug and surround your nipples with warmth. his teeth teasingly scraping against it, which has you whining into the fabric. 

he lets go with a “pop!” grabbing your hips and settling you on the bench back-first. his hands digging in the fat of your exposed thighs, spreading them slowly as if he’s preparing himself for a meal. your miniskirt not providing any coverage, as the wet-patch seeping through your cotton panties has him salivating, “and i thought i was the impatient one.”

he hooks his finger under, and pushes your underwear to the side. his pupils dilate to love hearts as your slick—from all his teasing—webs between your folds, which he spreads with two fingers like he has all the time in the world. your body betraying you, instinctively moving into his palm chasing more friction, shirt falling at the attempt, needy whines escaping. when the tips of his fingers graze your clit, your moans become enticingly so, that he can’t help but want more.

nagi buries his face between your trembling thighs, already overstimulated. he takes in the glistening folds, the soft plush, and the familiar scent of desire. “god, i’ll never get tired of this” he practically moans as he delves into your cunt likes he’s been deprived. he uses his hands to hold your thighs threatening to crush him open, and uses yours to—”spread yourself open for me, baby” your fingers following command as you part your folds, blush blooming onto your cheeks at the promiscuity. his satisfied hum radiating into you as he licks long, broad stripes and tight circles against your clit. lips latching onto your swollen nub, cheeks hollowing, tongue unrelenting.  

your thighs shaking at his tongue prodding every corner, your fingers slipping as you get hypnotized in the waves of pleasure. nagi can’t have that. he twists his arm to land a harsh spank! to your ass along with a shocked yelp from you, his already weariness depleting his patience, “keep them spread. don’t close up on me” he orders with his mouth full. he deliberately moves in and out of your hole, feeling the way you clench around him at every entrance. his cock leaking pre-cum at the delicious feeling, darkening his briefs. 

his tongue still unreleasing from your pussy—as if he’s addicted—he pushes down his boxers letting his already erect cock spring up against his abdomen, abs clenching at the contact. in tandem, your excruciating shriek comes with the heavy gush of white and clear soaking nagi’s face. “o-oh my god, a-ah!” 

he releases from you with a gasp for air, which only he denied himself, “my good girl” he coos as he lines up his cock with your folds. he pumps his dick a few times before tapping it onto your clit, tip nudging the bud so perfectly. one hand interlocks with yours while he pushes in patiently. his low, musky groan through his teeth echoing through the room, sending signals straight to your pussy. both hands intertwine with yours now, fully and deeply connected. 

“f-fuck. been thinking about this since i saw you cheering for me. pretty little thing bouncing, screaming my name. you’re so perfect” he confesses.

all you can fathom is how his girthy length is splitting you open, reaching points of ecstasy that has your eyes rolling to your skull. giving you no time to adjust from your last orgasm, nagi’s hips snap rhythmically at your contorted face, wanting—no, needing, to get those alluring sounds out of you. even in the midst of it all, he’s powerless to admiring your beauty. his fingers interlacing your hair, moving strands out of your face, “just stay by my side so i can look at you forever.”

his endearing avowal snaps you out of your trance slightly, hands wrapping around his neck to appreciate his show of affection. “i love you nagi–” his knee rising onto the bench to pound flawlessly into the spongey, warm spot at the edge of your walls, having you choke on your words. your eyes widening, body jerking at the sudden hit when you’re sensitive as ever. nagi continuously crashes into that sweet spot until the whites of your eyes overtake, tongue lolling out as drool helplessly drips. “fuck! n-ngh, i can’t t-take it!” as cock-drunk as you are, nagi’s not so behind. his response comes out in more rapid, intense thrusts drumming you to another orgasm. 

nagi feels every spasm around him as you white-out. he groans loudly at the saccharine flutter which turns into a deadly grip on his dick, having to slow his pace to restrain filling you up. he lets you ride out your orgasm, letting you breathe at every quiver. you’ve gone completely limp in his hold, no strength left in your whimpers. he holds you to him like you’re the most delicate being to exist, to him you are. the way your sweat glistens your skin and tears glitter in your lashes, every sparkle has nagi’s balls emptying themselves sore straight into you. his head dropping down, hips spasming as if he didn’t deserve such bliss. “you feel that? you feel me in you?” he groans.

“mm, you feel so warm” your words finally render. nagi pulls out slowly and watches his thick load gape your hole and spurt out little by little. you weakly smile at the face of accomplishment he has on, basking in the amazing ending of your rendezvous. until, nagi’s expression changes scarily, hands latching onto your thighs once again. don’t tell me. . . “you thought i was done?” he cockily smirks as your eyebrows furrow into worry. “relax, i’m just cleaning you up,” his well-known void promises have you checking for emergency exits. 

nagi takes his middle and ring finger and pushes back into your pussy, forcing his way through all the juices settled there. “n-nghh, p-please” you plead for a second as every vein is on fire right now, you just might melt if he starts again. his canines pop out at your reaction, how cute, he thinks. his narrow fingers delve into you so excruciatingly slow, memorizing every ridge sprayed with his cum. pumping in and out at a steady pace, he takes his pointer finger and adds a third. your back immediately arching at the intrusion. you try to lessen the stimulation by backing away, but nagi presses a palm flat onto your lower stomach, right above your pelvis that makes every finger feel ten times deeper. your pathetic sobs as every emotion overfills has nagi pistoning his fingers faster and louder. he knows every part of you, every motion and curve of his hands has you squirming, his fingers knuckle deep. 

it feels like you’ve ascended as your third back-to-back orgasm nears. your hands flailing, head shaking, thighs closing as your body can’t recognize this overwhelming pleasure. “im cumming! p-please, a-ahh!” is all you can get out at the unfamiliar looming sensation. you cum around his fingers, gushing wetter and harder. clear squirt coming out wildly, soaking everything in front and beneath you: your thighs, nagi’s chest and fingers, the bench. it feels like you’ve just ran a marathon, slumping on the drenched metal. nagi holds you as all your muscles have grown taunt. 

he trails quick kisses from your temples to your lips, “i love you more,” he finally responds.

dividers by @cursed-carmine

i want to apologize for the lack of dialogue i think i went into a smut writing trance i promise my next one will have more

[cherryfawnie]

it’s time…

gojo’s +1 at masquerade ball

nagi post-match exhaustion locker room scene

Voting ended onJun 2

[cherryfawnie]

overtime .ᐟ

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pallete // late-night tutoring with soccer star sae itoshi was supposed to save his season, not leave you trapped in his car wearing his clothes !

tags \\ f!reader, "forced" proximity, lead-up to smut, car sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, finishing inside, squirting, kissing, straddling, and much more

𑣲⋆ wc // 2.4k

2:43 a.m.

the library had long fallen silent. the only sounds left in the building were the sounds of soft rain patters and low hums of the lamps. 

your mouth was dry, your eyes were burning. for nearly five hours, you've been sitting across sae itoshi, trying to hammer the fundamental concepts of general chemistry into the dense brain of your school’s star soccer player. it was supposed to be fairly simple: you were a fan of the team, he needed to pass to play the semi-finals, and you’d tutored plenty of people before. but no one—and i mean no one—had ever been this unwilling to learn.

“it’s really not complicated,” your voice raspy with fatigue as you tapped your pen against his notebook for the hundredth time. “you just need to set it up properly and convert, simple”

sae didn’t even glance up from where he was leaning back in his chair, his expression stoic. “i heard you the first time, i just give up”

you groan, “you do understand if you don’t pass this exam, you’re benched for the semi-finals,” you pinch the bridge of your nose as a migraine comes on. “just keep trying”

he finally looks up at your show of frustration, still unbothered. “maybe you’re just not a good teacher” 

that was the final straw. the audacity of his words snapped your already thinning patience. you didn’t fight back, but the way you slammed your textbook shut put it into words. the heavy thud echoed against the quiet walls. 

“fine,” you said, voice deadpan. you began shoving your pencils, highlighters, and papers into your bag, not caring about neatness. “if i’m such a horrible teacher, find someone else to save your season. i’m going home.” sae didn’t blink. he watched your frantic anger with those teal, unmoving eyes, his chin still resting in his palm. he looked unbelievably detached for someone who just ruined their last hope of eligibility for the semi-finals.

you yanked your bag zipper shut harshly, threw it over your shoulder, and turned without giving him another glance. pushing through the heavy doors of the library, the transition hit like a truck. the humid, cozy air of the library was quickly replaced with the shock of violently freezing winds. the soft rain turning into downpour, blurring the lights of the streetlamps into hazes of yellow. 

you pulled your hoodie up, but it was useless against the wind. within seconds, the freezing rain pricked at your skin and soaked through your sweater. your sneakers squelched against the flooded sidewalk as you hurried towards the edge of campus, your frustrations providing enough adrenaline to keep you moving. let him fail, you thought, blinking away the water stuck in your eyelashes. let the whole team lose, see if i care.

by the time you reached the shelter of the bus stop, you were shivering. the small plexiglass overhang offered pathetic protection; the wind just blew rain sideways, still finding its way to you. swiping your thumb across your damp phone screen, you checked the transit app, only for your stomach to drop. next bus: 35 minutes. delayed due to local flooding. a miserable groan, half yell, escaped you as you leaned your head back against the even colder metal. you left in such a hurry that everything but your pride was ignored. closing your eyes, you wondered how a thursday night had gone so wrong.

through the heavy throttle of rain around you, a new sound cut through the noise. splashing, heavy footsteps coming from the exact direction of the library. you opened your eyes as the figure stepped under the roof of the bus stop. 

it was sae. of course it was.

he didn’t look nearly as miserable as you felt. he had an umbrella propped over his shoulder, and though his shoes were damp, he still carried himself with that infuriating, untouchable posture. he didn’t look at you immediately. instead, he shook the excess water off his umbrella with a snap of his wrist, still looking out onto the empty, flooded street where the bus was supposed to be.

“the roads are flooded through the lower avenues,” sae said, his voice unwavering as if nothing in the world bothers him. “the bus isn’t coming.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, hugging your wet arms together to stop them from shaking. “it says thirty five minutes on the app”

“the app is wrong” he replied flatly. he finally turned his head, his sharp, teal eyes cutting through the dim, yellow gloom of the bus stop to look down at you. he takes in your shivering frame, your drenched hair clinging to your neck, and the puddle forming at your sneakers. he let out a small, barely audible sigh–more out of boredom than pity. “get in the car. i’m parked down the block”

your jaw tightened. “i’m fine, i’ll wait.”

“i’m not asking you,” sae said, already turning and stepping back out onto the downpour, holding the umbrella perfectly above himself. “if you stay here, you’re going to freeze, and dead people won’t be able to finish the review tomorrow. move.”

he didn’t even check to see if you were following. the sheer, arrogant pragmatism of it made everything in you boil, but as the viscous gusts of wind sent freezing rain down your clothes, your survival instinct won. gritting your teeth, you clenched your heavy, water-soaked bag and hurried after him, shoes splashing in his wake. 

his car was exactly what you expected: quiet, and smelling faintly of leather and a clean, expensive cologne that made your chest tighten. the moment you sank into the passenger seat, the contrast was dizzying. sae climbed into the drivers seat, shutting out the roaring storm with a thud. the sudden absence of the rain left the car unnervingly quiet, the sound of your own ragged breathing prominent. without a word, he revved the engine and cranked the heater.

“don’t get the leather wet,” he murmured, shifting the car into drive.

“you’re the one who dragged me in here,” you muttered back. but, you still didn’t want to get his expensive seats wet. so, you peeled off your sweater and set it on top of your bag. the thin, damp, tanktop underneath sticking to you like second skin. you pulled your knees closer to your chest to keep you from shivering making the swell of your breasts rise up, and your hardened nipples from the cold poke out. you leaned your head against the window but the freezing glass immediately sending a jolt through your temple. you pulled away, settling near the heater, aware of how close he was to you. in the confined space, the heat radiating off the dashboard seemed to carry his scent right to you. 

your damp clothes were beginning to stick to your skin in a way entirely uncomfortable. as you tried to subtly pull your damp top away from your chest, you felt a gaze on you. 

you glanced sideways, sae was looking at you.

he wasn’t even watching the road–well, his eyes were darting back and forth, but his focus was entirely pinned on you. in the green glow of the dashboard lights, his teal eyes looked darker, more intense. he took in the way you were trembling, eyes dropping to your breasts rising and falling unpatterned. 

suddenly, he pulled the car over and put it in park.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. 

sae didn’t answer. he unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned across the center console. the sudden proximity made your breath hitch. he was so close you could see the faint dampness at the tips of his eyelashes, could feel the actual heat of his body emanating through the chill in your veins. your heart did a thud against your ribs. you braced yourself, thinking he was going to say something–or worse, lean closer.

instead, his hand brushed against your arm. reaching into the backseat. he pulled a heavy, letterman jacket from the seats. he put it over your shoulders, it was huge, and completely dry.

“put it on,” he said, his voice dropped an octave. he didn’t move back right away. he stayed hovering over the console for a second too long, his eyes burning into yours, observing the way your shirt hugged every curve of your torso. “you’re getting water everywhere. and your teeth are clicking. it’s annoying”

“i can’t just change in your car, sae” you whispered, your face flushing a hot red that had nothing to do with the heater. sae finally leaned back into his seat, a lazy tilt of his head. he looked away, staring out at the rain washing over the windshield. “i’m not looking. move fast”

your fingers fumbled with the hem of your top, your heart hammering as you removed the damp layer off. every rustle of fabric felt incredibly loud. even though he kept his eyes ahead, his profile was striking, his long fingers wrapping tightly around the steering wheel. he was entirely aware of every movement you were making two feet away from him. 

your hands quivering, struggling with the buttons of his jacket. “you done yet?” he says impatiently. 

you grunt, “how do i button this thing?”

he looks back at you slowly, eyes gaining emotion at the way you’re sitting wearing his jacket half-heartedly, the midriff of stomach going up to the exposed sides of your breasts. he moves across to you, invading your space. your breath freezes as his fingers brush against your bare skin. the touch sending shivers down your spine. you stare at him, heart hammering as he focuses intently on the task. 

he didn’t rush. his fingers occasionally grazing your stomach as he worked his way up. the feeling of closeness intoxicating, his warm breath against your neck making hairs stand up. when he reached the middle button, his hands paused. he felt the stiffness of your posture, the way you had stopped breathing. sae slowly tilted his head up, inches away from yours. a faint, knowing smirk appearing at the corner of his lips, dangerous and entirely too close.

“you nervous?” he whispered, his voice dropped to a low, quiet rasp that vibrated through you. 

you couldn’t answer as you knew you were nervous. your response comes out a meek whimper. the way his stare bore daggers into you, his hands near your already perked peaks, everything sending exhilaration through you. 

as if out of your control, you move towards his face, lips barely brushing. his hold loosens on the jacket as he gently puts his lips onto yours. the hesitant pecking quickly turns into greedy licks of each other's saliva. sae grabs your hips and drags you onto his lap, still devouring you. your knees glide over the console while he reclines his seat back. you straddle above his thighs as your arms lock around his neck, pinning him back into the reclined seat. he slips his jacket off your arms and wraps his arm around your waist. the heaviness of each groan meshing you into each other in the mess of damp hair and flushed skin. 

you both move slightly away from each other as your breathlessness catches up. the long hours of the day being washed over with desire.

“you sure you want this?” he breathes into you. you properly sit down on his lap, tilting your head back onto his lips.

. . . . . 

your hopeless grabs leaving handprints on the fogged windows in the back seat. ass arched up, face smushed against the door as sae roughly pounds into you from behind. every vulnerable part of you open for him as he stretches you out. his hands on the meat of your ass, occasionally roaming to the curve of your spine. you’ve came countless times, losing all concept of time while you’re being fucked to the brim. leather underneath pooled with combined juices. 

“a-ah! f-fuck! i can’t!” you yelp. he pounds into you harder as your body jerks forward, his hands bringing you back onto his dick. his stern hold on you making sure you go nowhere, yanking your hair back to look at the reflection of him in the glass.

“take all of it” sae seethes through his teeth, not letting up his mean thrusts. he takes in the sight of you all laid out for him on fours, fucking into your cervix while evidence of him is splayed across your body. “fuck, just like that” he gives your ass a harsh slap as you whimper at the sting. he soothes the area as he moves his leg up to curve right into the spot that has you gushing. 

you scream his name. sweat dripping down your forehead as you know he’s not stopping anytime soon. your clit rubbed sensitive, bruises blooming on your thighs at the heavy slams of his hips. every spasm of your walls sending him into overdrive. “keep clenching around me like that baby”

he can tell you’re so close when you wrap around him, sucking his length in as you scream that you can’t take anymore. “she doesn’t want me to leave. fuck, she’s sucking me in so good” 

“sae! i-i’m so close, h-harder, fuck me harder!” your shaky voice sending jolts straight to his dick. 

“you’re so deep!—” you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. barely coherent in a cock-drunk daze as his balls meet your clit at every thrust, knocking brain cell out. the repeated slams of skin making tears sting your eyes. his hands moving in circles around your back as if to soothe you, completely contrasting the way he’s jerking into you like he hates you. 

his cock hitting the spongy spot inside you perfectly every time, while his fingers wrap around you to rub tight circles onto your hardened bud. your whole body spasming as your nth orgasm overtakes every sensation. you shriek as you spray clear gush and cum down his legs, reciting his name like it’s the only word you know. 

“that’s it. give it to me. fuck you’re such a mess” his hips stuttering, cock pulsing at your slick coating him. “i’m gonna fill you up. keep all of it in” he lets out a long, low moan while spreading your ass to see your pussy milk him. he empties his balls as he pushes into you deeper, letting his cum flood inside you. his body limp atop of yours as you try to regain clarity amidst your overwhelming euphoria. the mix of yours and his juices overflowing out of you, making you twitch at the feeling. the interior filled with the sounds of fastened, cluttered breathing as rain immerses you outside. 

“so much for not wetting my leather.”

dividers by @feimingo & @cursed-carmine , panel by me-pics from pinterest

[cherryfawnie]

overtime .ᐟ

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pallete // late-night tutoring with soccer star sae itoshi was supposed to save his season, not leave you trapped in his car wearing his clothes !

tags \\ f!reader, "forced" proximity, lead-up to smut, car sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, finishing inside, squirting, kissing, straddling, and much more

𑣲⋆ wc // 2.4k

2:43 a.m.

the library had long fallen silent. the only sounds left in the building were the sounds of soft rain patters and low hums of the lamps. 

your mouth was dry, your eyes were burning. for nearly five hours, you've been sitting across sae itoshi, trying to hammer the fundamental concepts of general chemistry into the dense brain of your school’s star soccer player. it was supposed to be fairly simple: you were a fan of the team, he needed to pass to play the semi-finals, and you’d tutored plenty of people before. but no one—and i mean no one—had ever been this unwilling to learn.

“it’s really not complicated,” your voice raspy with fatigue as you tapped your pen against his notebook for the hundredth time. “you just need to set it up properly and convert, simple”

sae didn’t even glance up from where he was leaning back in his chair, his expression stoic. “i heard you the first time, i just give up”

you groan, “you do understand if you don’t pass this exam, you’re benched for the semi-finals,” you pinch the bridge of your nose as a migraine comes on. “just keep trying”

he finally looks up at your show of frustration, still unbothered. “maybe you’re just not a good teacher” 

that was the final straw. the audacity of his words snapped your already thinning patience. you didn’t fight back, but the way you slammed your textbook shut put it into words. the heavy thud echoed against the quiet walls. 

“fine,” you said, voice deadpan. you began shoving your pencils, highlighters, and papers into your bag, not caring about neatness. “if i’m such a horrible teacher, find someone else to save your season. i’m going home.” sae didn’t blink. he watched your frantic anger with those teal, unmoving eyes, his chin still resting in his palm. he looked unbelievably detached for someone who just ruined their last hope of eligibility for the semi-finals.

you yanked your bag zipper shut harshly, threw it over your shoulder, and turned without giving him another glance. pushing through the heavy doors of the library, the transition hit like a truck. the humid, cozy air of the library was quickly replaced with the shock of violently freezing winds. the soft rain turning into downpour, blurring the lights of the streetlamps into hazes of yellow. 

you pulled your hoodie up, but it was useless against the wind. within seconds, the freezing rain pricked at your skin and soaked through your sweater. your sneakers squelched against the flooded sidewalk as you hurried towards the edge of campus, your frustrations providing enough adrenaline to keep you moving. let him fail, you thought, blinking away the water stuck in your eyelashes. let the whole team lose, see if i care.

by the time you reached the shelter of the bus stop, you were shivering. the small plexiglass overhang offered pathetic protection; the wind just blew rain sideways, still finding its way to you. swiping your thumb across your damp phone screen, you checked the transit app, only for your stomach to drop. next bus: 35 minutes. delayed due to local flooding. a miserable groan, half yell, escaped you as you leaned your head back against the even colder metal. you left in such a hurry that everything but your pride was ignored. closing your eyes, you wondered how a thursday night had gone so wrong.

through the heavy throttle of rain around you, a new sound cut through the noise. splashing, heavy footsteps coming from the exact direction of the library. you opened your eyes as the figure stepped under the roof of the bus stop. 

it was sae. of course it was.

he didn’t look nearly as miserable as you felt. he had an umbrella propped over his shoulder, and though his shoes were damp, he still carried himself with that infuriating, untouchable posture. he didn’t look at you immediately. instead, he shook the excess water off his umbrella with a snap of his wrist, still looking out onto the empty, flooded street where the bus was supposed to be.

“the roads are flooded through the lower avenues,” sae said, his voice unwavering as if nothing in the world bothers him. “the bus isn’t coming.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, hugging your wet arms together to stop them from shaking. “it says thirty five minutes on the app”

“the app is wrong” he replied flatly. he finally turned his head, his sharp, teal eyes cutting through the dim, yellow gloom of the bus stop to look down at you. he takes in your shivering frame, your drenched hair clinging to your neck, and the puddle forming at your sneakers. he let out a small, barely audible sigh–more out of boredom than pity. “get in the car. i’m parked down the block”

your jaw tightened. “i’m fine, i’ll wait.”

“i’m not asking you,” sae said, already turning and stepping back out onto the downpour, holding the umbrella perfectly above himself. “if you stay here, you’re going to freeze, and dead people won’t be able to finish the review tomorrow. move.”

he didn’t even check to see if you were following. the sheer, arrogant pragmatism of it made everything in you boil, but as the viscous gusts of wind sent freezing rain down your clothes, your survival instinct won. gritting your teeth, you clenched your heavy, water-soaked bag and hurried after him, shoes splashing in his wake. 

his car was exactly what you expected: quiet, and smelling faintly of leather and a clean, expensive cologne that made your chest tighten. the moment you sank into the passenger seat, the contrast was dizzying. sae climbed into the drivers seat, shutting out the roaring storm with a thud. the sudden absence of the rain left the car unnervingly quiet, the sound of your own ragged breathing prominent. without a word, he revved the engine and cranked the heater.

“don’t get the leather wet,” he murmured, shifting the car into drive.

“you’re the one who dragged me in here,” you muttered back. but, you still didn’t want to get his expensive seats wet. so, you peeled off your sweater and set it on top of your bag. the thin, damp, tanktop underneath sticking to you like second skin. you pulled your knees closer to your chest to keep you from shivering making the swell of your breasts rise up, and your hardened nipples from the cold poke out. you leaned your head against the window but the freezing glass immediately sending a jolt through your temple. you pulled away, settling near the heater, aware of how close he was to you. in the confined space, the heat radiating off the dashboard seemed to carry his scent right to you. 

your damp clothes were beginning to stick to your skin in a way entirely uncomfortable. as you tried to subtly pull your damp top away from your chest, you felt a gaze on you. 

you glanced sideways, sae was looking at you.

he wasn’t even watching the road–well, his eyes were darting back and forth, but his focus was entirely pinned on you. in the green glow of the dashboard lights, his teal eyes looked darker, more intense. he took in the way you were trembling, eyes dropping to your breasts rising and falling unpatterned. 

suddenly, he pulled the car over and put it in park.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. 

sae didn’t answer. he unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned across the center console. the sudden proximity made your breath hitch. he was so close you could see the faint dampness at the tips of his eyelashes, could feel the actual heat of his body emanating through the chill in your veins. your heart did a thud against your ribs. you braced yourself, thinking he was going to say something–or worse, lean closer.

instead, his hand brushed against your arm. reaching into the backseat. he pulled a heavy, letterman jacket from the seats. he put it over your shoulders, it was huge, and completely dry.

“put it on,” he said, his voice dropped an octave. he didn’t move back right away. he stayed hovering over the console for a second too long, his eyes burning into yours, observing the way your shirt hugged every curve of your torso. “you’re getting water everywhere. and your teeth are clicking. it’s annoying”

“i can’t just change in your car, sae” you whispered, your face flushing a hot red that had nothing to do with the heater. sae finally leaned back into his seat, a lazy tilt of his head. he looked away, staring out at the rain washing over the windshield. “i’m not looking. move fast”

your fingers fumbled with the hem of your top, your heart hammering as you removed the damp layer off. every rustle of fabric felt incredibly loud. even though he kept his eyes ahead, his profile was striking, his long fingers wrapping tightly around the steering wheel. he was entirely aware of every movement you were making two feet away from him. 

your hands quivering, struggling with the buttons of his jacket. “you done yet?” he says impatiently. 

you grunt, “how do i button this thing?”

he looks back at you slowly, eyes gaining emotion at the way you’re sitting wearing his jacket half-heartedly, the midriff of stomach going up to the exposed sides of your breasts. he moves across to you, invading your space. your breath freezes as his fingers brush against your bare skin. the touch sending shivers down your spine. you stare at him, heart hammering as he focuses intently on the task. 

he didn’t rush. his fingers occasionally grazing your stomach as he worked his way up. the feeling of closeness intoxicating, his warm breath against your neck making hairs stand up. when he reached the middle button, his hands paused. he felt the stiffness of your posture, the way you had stopped breathing. sae slowly tilted his head up, inches away from yours. a faint, knowing smirk appearing at the corner of his lips, dangerous and entirely too close.

“you nervous?” he whispered, his voice dropped to a low, quiet rasp that vibrated through you. 

you couldn’t answer as you knew you were nervous. your response comes out a meek whimper. the way his stare bore daggers into you, his hands near your already perked peaks, everything sending exhilaration through you. 

as if out of your control, you move towards his face, lips barely brushing. his hold loosens on the jacket as he gently puts his lips onto yours. the hesitant pecking quickly turns into greedy licks of each other's saliva. sae grabs your hips and drags you onto his lap, still devouring you. your knees glide over the console while he reclines his seat back. you straddle above his thighs as your arms lock around his neck, pinning him back into the reclined seat. he slips his jacket off your arms and wraps his arm around your waist. the heaviness of each groan meshing you into each other in the mess of damp hair and flushed skin. 

you both move slightly away from each other as your breathlessness catches up. the long hours of the day being washed over with desire.

“you sure you want this?” he breathes into you. you properly sit down on his lap, tilting your head back onto his lips.

. . . . . 

your hopeless grabs leaving handprints on the fogged windows in the back seat. ass arched up, face smushed against the door as sae roughly pounds into you from behind. every vulnerable part of you open for him as he stretches you out. his hands on the meat of your ass, occasionally roaming to the curve of your spine. you’ve came countless times, losing all concept of time while you’re being fucked to the brim. leather underneath pooled with combined juices. 

“a-ah! f-fuck! i can’t!” you yelp. he pounds into you harder as your body jerks forward, his hands bringing you back onto his dick. his stern hold on you making sure you go nowhere, yanking your hair back to look at the reflection of him in the glass.

“take all of it” sae seethes through his teeth, not letting up his mean thrusts. he takes in the sight of you all laid out for him on fours, fucking into your cervix while evidence of him is splayed across your body. “fuck, just like that” he gives your ass a harsh slap as you whimper at the sting. he soothes the area as he moves his leg up to curve right into the spot that has you gushing. 

you scream his name. sweat dripping down your forehead as you know he’s not stopping anytime soon. your clit rubbed sensitive, bruises blooming on your thighs at the heavy slams of his hips. every spasm of your walls sending him into overdrive. “keep clenching around me like that baby”

he can tell you’re so close when you wrap around him, sucking his length in as you scream that you can’t take anymore. “she doesn’t want me to leave. fuck, she’s sucking me in so good” 

“sae! i-i’m so close, h-harder, fuck me harder!” your shaky voice sending jolts straight to his dick. 

“you’re so deep!—” you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. barely coherent in a cock-drunk daze as his balls meet your clit at every thrust, knocking brain cell out. the repeated slams of skin making tears sting your eyes. his hands moving in circles around your back as if to soothe you, completely contrasting the way he’s jerking into you like he hates you. 

his cock hitting the spongy spot inside you perfectly every time, while his fingers wrap around you to rub tight circles onto your hardened bud. your whole body spasming as your nth orgasm overtakes every sensation. you shriek as you spray clear gush and cum down his legs, reciting his name like it’s the only word you know. 

“that’s it. give it to me. fuck you’re such a mess” his hips stuttering, cock pulsing at your slick coating him. “i’m gonna fill you up. keep all of it in” he lets out a long, low moan while spreading your ass to see your pussy milk him. he empties his balls as he pushes into you deeper, letting his cum flood inside you. his body limp atop of yours as you try to regain clarity amidst your overwhelming euphoria. the mix of yours and his juices overflowing out of you, making you twitch at the feeling. the interior filled with the sounds of fastened, cluttered breathing as rain immerses you outside. 

“so much for not wetting my leather.”

dividers by @feimingo & @cursed-carmine , panel by me-pics from pinterest

[cherryfawnie]

suns out, buns out .ᐟ pt. 2

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pallete // after a run-in with frat!lifeguard sukuna at the beach, things get heated. you wear his patience thin, and he plans to show you what happens when you deplete his self-control to 0

tags \\ frat!lifeguard sukuna, f!reader, semi-public smut, nipple/pussy licking, fingering, unprotected sex, finishing inside, degrading & praise, just pure smut (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)

please be wary of these tags, this is nsfw content!

𑣲⋆ wc // 2.0k

part 1 - part 2 (you’re here) - part 3 soon !

there was no negotiating with the grip sukuna had on you. his hand splayed across the side of your waist, fingers digging in as he quite literally drags you across the beach to a shaggy lifeguard hut tucked into the far corner. he lets go of your waist momentarily as he opens the door with strength that made dust fall from the ceiling, “suku-“ 

“shut the fuck up.”

you admit you didn’t think through the consequences of teasing him as you make eye contact with him, immediately making you feel smaller than you did 5 minutes ago. the notorious egotistical frat boy in desperate need of anger management classes, and you, what kind of fucked up twist of plans is this?

“listen, i don’t know what you kidnapped me here for but i have shit to do-“

he cuts you off by slamming his lips onto yours and regaining his hold on your waist with both hands this time. every ounce of hunger and greed is radiating from his mouth while he slowly walks you back into a wall. the kiss turns into a messy attempt to swallow each other whole, spit and desire seeping out from the corner of your mouth. hands roaming each others face, neck, bodies, anywhere available to hold. you open your lips slightly to try and take a breath which comes out as a moan, and he uses it to push his canines into your bottom lip so harshly you swear you can taste a metallic tinge.

he pulls away and looks at you. your eyes hazy, cheeks flushed with the cutest pink, and your perfectly swollen lips covered in his saliva. he can’t hold back anymore, he won’t.

sukuna grabs a handful of your ass and picks you up, hastily walking over to a raised surface as your lips interlock with his first. you can’t help wanting this as much as he does, have you seen the guy?! 

as you take the lead, the kiss is slower, full of passion. taking the time to learn the way his tongue feels on yours, the feeling of his teeth clinking, and the way he hates when he’s not in charge. 

he sets you down as he breaks the kiss, out of breath, “tell me to stop” 

he leans his forehead onto yours, chest heaving as he looks into your pleading eyes. 

“don’t ever stop” 

god help me.

he doesn’t waste a second as he spreads your legs open while he stands between them, dropping down to his knees. he lifts your bikini top up, making your tits fall onto nothing as your nipples harden at the sudden change. 

he shoves his face into yours tits, tongue licking and swirling around your nipple as he gropes your other tit.

“been waitin’ to see these, mmh”

you tilt your head back and and arch your spine to move your tit into his mouth even more, the feeling so overstimulating yet blissful you can’t get enough. your hand comes up to your mouth as you try to cover any embarrassing sounds you’re about to spill, biting down as hard as you can. he notices and pulls your hand back down,

“don’t get shy on me now, i wanna hear every pretty fuckin’ sound that comes out of you”

your pussy dripping at his skilled tongue and nasty words, you can’t hold back your moans anymore. he watches as you rock back and forth trying to gain some relief down there and snakes his hand under your bikini bottom.

“fuck baby, you’re so wet”

he starts sliding two fingers up and down your slit and slowly circling your clit with just enough pressure for it to be too much and not enough. 

you try to ease your needs as you guide your hand to join his. he’s not having it. he slaps your hand away.

“shit- sukuna, faster”

“yeah, you gonna beg f’me?”

“ngh—fuck! please faster, i need more”

clearly satisfied, he pulls your bottoms to the side and plunges two fingers into your hole while using his other hand to rub your clit up and down. the dual sensation sending shocks throughout your body, eyes rolling back.

“look at you, taking my fingers soo good” he coos. “fuck this pussy is tight”

his pace quickens the more he feels you clench. he curls his fingers upwards into the wet spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

“shit shit shit! sukuna right there! i’m gonna- fuck i’m cumming!”

“give it to me baby, cum f’me”

he angles his fingers to hit your g-spot perfectly every time, pumping in and out with ridiculous speed. your legs trembling, numb, threatening to close as your orgasm comes closer. 

your walls clench and flutter around his fingers as you reach your peak, moaning pornographically. he calms his pace as you come down from your high and takes his finger out of your puckering hole, now glistening with creamy white and slick. 

as you come back down go earth, sukuna spreads his fingers in front of you. your cum and wetness webbing between his fingers as he smirks and looks you, holding eye contact, sucking all the juices.

“god woman, you taste so fuckin’ sweet”

you hide your face behind your palm as embarrassment flushes your face.

“that’s dirty, stop licking it”

“hah, dirty? open your mouth”

he taps your lips with his moist fingers, you open them slightly. he gently puts his fingers into your mouth allll the way to the back of tongue as you slightly gag. “suck.” 

you suck and taste yourself on his hands, sweet and tangy as you look up at him.

his fingers in your mouth while you look at him like an obedient slut is enough to make him cum in his pants. his tip already leaking shiny precum just from your gaze. 

you pulls his hand back out of your mouth, signaling he can’t wait any longer. he tugs at the bows tied on your hips connecting your bikini bottom to your sweaty, oiled skin. he spreads your legs as far as they can go, and you moan at the slight discomfort of being of wide open. he lowers himself to kitty lick a quick stripe up your folds, not that it needs any more lubricant—you’re wetter than the waves crashing in the background.

he pulls his shorts and boxers down at once as his hard dick slaps upwards against his stomach. his tip the angriest shade of dark pink, leaking pearly beads that follow the outdents of every intently placed vein running up his shaft. your heart beating a little faster as you realize his length and girth right in front of you. no wonder he’s cocky, he has more than enough to spare.

“see what you do to me?”

he gives his dick a few strokes and slides it in between your pussy. his dick moving up and down with no friction as he coats himself in your slick, his tip catching your over-sensitive clit. 

“breathe f’me. this is gonna be a big stretch, princess”

showing your acknowledgement, you guide his tip to your hole, letting out a high-pitched whine at the feeling of it prodding at your entrance. giving it further thought, how is this going to fit inside me?

as you open your mouth to speak, sukuna grunts as he rams his hips forward, pushing in halfway. the words you wanted to say turning into mush. the unexpected stretch is painfully pleasuring, making you dig your manicured nails into his huge shoulders.

“oh my god- i can’t”

“you will, it’s not even halfway in” he seethes as your pussy feels even tighter than it did on his fingers, enveloping him in pure warmth and ecstasy.

he tries to move forward as staying still is killing him, he just might cum right here. “loosen up baby, let me in”

“i’m trying!” you say wholeheartedly as tears prickle your waterline. you relax your body as much as possible, forcing yourself to put your trust into his hands.

as he feels you go a little limp, he gives a mean thrust bottoming out, and you both moan in unison at the foreign feeling. he starts sliding back and forth gaining momentum, rhythmically trying to compose himself. you can feel his tip hitting your cervix everytime he roughly slams back into you, your tanning oil and sweat forming droplets on your thighs as every thrust has him sticking to you. 

“ah—hah sukuna, you’re so deep!”

“mm, tell me something i don’t know” he growls, enunciating each word with another couple thrusts that sends you further back onto the wall.

his brutal pushes give you no time to adjust to his inhumane size. the sound of heavy “thwack, thwack, thwack!” as skin meets skin is proof of him taking you in every which way he wants it.

your mouth opening into an o-shape, hair sticking to your temples, eyebrows creasing as a fucked-out pout appears on your face has sukuna quickening his pace. 

“you’re such a sweet, dumb whore f’ me. my good girl. fuck— you feel so good”

you can only moan in response. your brain is turned to soup as nothing is registering but the feeling of him railing you into oblivion. the way his width burns in every amazing way, his cock snuggly fit against your tight walls, clenching even more as he hits the sweet spots.

he feels every convulsion and twitch of your cunt around him. the way you soak the wood beneath you, lashes glowing in the suns rays as salty tears line them. he turns into a raging bull, seeing red while chasing yours and his orgasms.

your feeble attempt at slowing him down with your hands pushing back on his torso, anything to give your heart a chance come down from your throat. he grabs your wrists and pins them next to your head, it’s too late now.

“where you goin’? take it, slut”

“f-fuck— hngh!” you’re practically sobbing.

sukuna’s trembling above you, unable to keep himself from falling apart. he starts clumsily rubbing your clit to get you on the same level as him, and it’s working. every nerve ending on fire, and the sharp knot in your stomach coiling and coming undone is telltale of how close you are.

“haah—ah i’m so close—keep going, don’t stop!”

“yeah? c’mon. cum f’me. make a mess baby”

urged on by feeling you tremble underneath him, he pushes in as deep as possible at a new angle, hitting spots you didn’t know even existed. your body’s gone flaccid, just taking every bit of euphoria he so violently gives you. the pleasure blooming inside, ablaze and full.

“give it t’me. cum.”

your orgasm crashes over you 100 miles per hour, releasing a prolonged moan at the feeling. your legs shaking uncontrollably as you try to regain feeling in your limbs. sukuna’s pace is faltering now, still chasing his own high. each sloppy thrust sending you into sensory overdrive. 

sukuna’s not far behind you. 

he groans as he stills and throws spurts of balmy, tepid, white ropes directly into you. his body falling onto yours as he pants into your warm skin. he pulls out slow as possible, trying to feel every ridge of your insides sloshing with his cum. the sudden emptiness making you wince and clench around nothing. 

the post-sex glow radiating off both of you while you come to terms with what just happened. the sounds of the seagulls, waves, and crowd outside making this moment feel surreal. still in the remaining trance of your orgasm, you try to make sense of what just went down. 

“that was amazing” he breaks the heavy panting. 

“yeah, it was” you reply.

“so. . .” he drags out as if you’re supposed to know what to say.

“this—“ you point to him and you, while pushing strands of hair off your forehead. 

“—this changes nothing”

he chuckles like he knew you like the back of his hand,

“whatever helps you sleep tonight.”

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ hi everyone! i want to thank you for all the support i got, so here's part 2. again, this is my first time writing smut so please be kind. i apologize if it's a little rushed. as always, i appreciate any feedback, likes, and reblogs, i hope you enjoy! ˙ᵕ˙

part 3?. . . perchance. . .

[cherryfawnie]

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pallete // toji's unkempt hair has gotten to be a bit much. his stubborn self refuses to go to the barber shop. well, no worries. if he won't go, you'll bring it to him

tags \\ f!reader, established relationship, domestic, fluff, bickering, humor

“toji stop twitching, i havent even started yet”

sitting on the bathroom tiles, toji grumbles under his breath as you mist his head damp with a spray bottle, holding hair shears in the other hand. today, you’re attempting the impossible: taming the wild nest that is toji’s hair. he’s been walking around with an ebony bird’s nest and refuses to go to the barber, which leaves you no choice but to force him to sit still and endure.

truthfully, you have no experience in cutting hair except the midnight bangs in your teenage years on yourself. but, you’ve watched a few youtube tutorials on diy undercuts and fades which practically certifies you as a professional. 

you set the spray bottle down as you part his hair strategically, following instructions. you clip his hair into a side part with your my melody pin, intertwining your fingers with the shears. 

toji’s overly drenched hair starts dripping droplets on his neckline and floor.

“great. makin’ a mess of the floor and my hair” 

you scoff, “any mess would look better than this disaster”

toji fights every urge to call it quits here, knowing that you spent a lot of time studying haircut tutorials—he’d never let you know he’s being considerate though. 

you pinch and stretch a small portion of his hair between your middle and index, cutting the uneven, unruly split ended tips; starting slow since he’d freak at any big chunk coming off.

you follow the same pattern throughout the crown of his head, making sure to check every now and then for evenness. he blows a few stray strands out of his eyes, and looks in the mirror. your little tongue poking out in concentration, eyes determined to master perfection has him cracking a small smile at the adorable domesticity surrounding him.

unbeknownst to him, you feel his stare through the reflection and shift your criss-cross position. the ends of your shears pokes his ears just barely,

“ow! you tryin’ to cut my ear off too?” he dramatically winces.

“oh relax you big baby, i barely even touched you! plus it was an accident”

“accident my ass. more like an assassination attempt”

you roll your eyes at the man who looks like 3 tons, but acts like a sensitive chihuahua. you leisurely continue the cut while maintaining precision. it’s hard to tell when his hair is wet, but you’re attempting a textured, medium-fringe shag which you love seeing him in. the fringe highlighting all his best features: his deepset eyes, sharp jaw, and chiseled nose. 

after a good 20 minutes of moving around at different angles, retouching, and redoing, you’re finally content with the product. toji’s just content he can move without you scolding him. you take a dry towel to his head and shake it around, texturizing to see how it would look fully dry. you remove the towel, revealing. . .

“oh my god, you look like a lion!” you burst out laughing 

“what the fuck?! what did you to me”

you try to reason with him but your lungs are losing air at your uncontrollable wheezes, he looks so precious!

“hah—relax, it’ll look better when it’s fully dry” you explain.

“it better. or else i’m cutting your hair next”

you hide the shears behind your back at his threat, toji who can’t even boil water cutting your hair? not in a million years.

short little fluff , hope you enjoyed ! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

[cherryfawnie]

suns out, buns out pt. 2

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pallete // after a run-in with frat!lifeguard sukuna at the beach, things get heated. you wear his patience thin, and he plans to show you what happens when you deplete his self-control to 0

tags \\ frat!lifeguard sukuna, f!reader, semi-public smut, nipple/pussy licking, fingering, unprotected sex, finishing inside, degrading & praise, just pure smut (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)

please be wary of these tags, this is nsfw content!

𑣲⋆ wc // 2.0k

part 1 - part 2 (you’re here)

there was no negotiating with the grip sukuna had on you. his hand splayed across the side of your waist, fingers digging in as he quite literally drags you across the beach to a shaggy lifeguard hut tucked into the far corner. he lets go of your waist momentarily as he opens the door with strength that made dust fall from the ceiling, “suku-“ 

“shut the fuck up.”

you admit you didn’t think through the consequences of teasing him as you make eye contact with him, immediately making you feel smaller than you did 5 minutes ago. the notorious egotistical frat boy in desperate need of anger management classes, and you, what kind of fucked up twist of plans is this?

“listen, i don’t know what you kidnapped me here for but i have shit to do-“

he cuts you off by slamming his lips onto yours and regaining his hold on your waist with both hands this time. every ounce of hunger and greed is radiating from his mouth while he slowly walks you back into a wall. the kiss turns into a messy attempt to swallow each other whole, spit and desire seeping out from the corner of your mouth. hands roaming each others face, neck, bodies, anywhere available to hold. you open your lips slightly to try and take a breath which comes out as a moan, and he uses it to push his canines into your bottom lip so harshly you swear you can taste a metallic tinge.

he pulls away and looks at you. your eyes hazy, cheeks flushed with the cutest pink, and your perfectly swollen lips covered in his saliva. he can’t hold back anymore, he won’t.

sukuna grabs a handful of your ass and picks you up, hastily walking over to a raised surface as your lips interlock with his first. you can’t help wanting this as much as he does, have you seen the guy?! 

as you take the lead, the kiss is slower, full of passion. taking the time to learn the way his tongue feels on yours, the feeling of his teeth clinking, and the way he hates when he’s not in charge. 

he sets you down as he breaks the kiss, out of breath, “tell me to stop” 

he leans his forehead onto yours, chest heaving as he looks into your pleading eyes. 

“don’t ever stop” 

god help me.

he doesn’t waste a second as he spreads your legs open while he stands between them, dropping down to his knees. he lifts your bikini top up, making your tits fall onto nothing as your nipples harden at the sudden change. 

he shoves his face into yours tits, tongue licking and swirling around your nipple as he gropes your other tit.

“been waitin’ to see these, mmh”

you tilt your head back and and arch your spine to move your tit into his mouth even more, the feeling so overstimulating yet blissful you can’t get enough. your hand comes up to your mouth as you try to cover any embarrassing sounds you’re about to spill, biting down as hard as you can. he notices and pulls your hand back down,

“don’t get shy on me now, i wanna hear every pretty fuckin’ sound that comes out of you”

your pussy dripping at his skilled tongue and nasty words, you can’t hold back your moans anymore. he watches as you rock back and forth trying to gain some relief down there and snakes his hand under your bikini bottom.

“fuck baby, you’re so wet”

he starts sliding two fingers up and down your slit and slowly circling your clit with just enough pressure for it to be too much and not enough. 

you try to ease your needs as you guide your hand to join his. he’s not having it. he slaps your hand away.

“shit- sukuna, faster”

“yeah, you gonna beg f’me?”

“ngh—fuck! please faster, i need more”

clearly satisfied, he pulls your bottoms to the side and plunges two fingers into your hole while using his other hand to rub your clit up and down. the dual sensation sending shocks throughout your body, eyes rolling back.

“look at you, taking my fingers soo good” he coos. “fuck this pussy is tight”

his pace quickens the more he feels you clench. he curls his fingers upwards into the wet spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

“shit shit shit! sukuna right there! i’m gonna- fuck i’m cumming!”

“give it to me baby, cum f’me”

he angles his fingers to hit your g-spot perfectly every time, pumping in and out with ridiculous speed. your legs trembling, numb, threatening to close as your orgasm comes closer. 

your walls clench and flutter around his fingers as you reach your peak, moaning pornographically. he calms his pace as you come down from your high and takes his finger out of your puckering hole, now glistening with creamy white and slick. 

as you come back down go earth, sukuna spreads his fingers in front of you. your cum and wetness webbing between his fingers as he smirks and looks you, holding eye contact, sucking all the juices.

“god woman, you taste so fuckin’ sweet”

you hide your face behind your palm as embarrassment flushes your face.

“that’s dirty, stop licking it”

“hah, dirty? open your mouth”

he taps your lips with his moist fingers, you open them slightly. he gently puts his fingers into your mouth allll the way to the back of tongue as you slightly gag. “suck.” 

you suck and taste yourself on his hands, sweet and tangy as you look up at him.

his fingers in your mouth while you look at him like an obedient slut is enough to make him cum in his pants. his tip already leaking shiny precum just from your gaze. 

you pulls his hand back out of your mouth, signaling he can’t wait any longer. he tugs at the bows tied on your hips connecting your bikini bottom to your sweaty, oiled skin. he spreads your legs as far as they can go, and you moan at the slight discomfort of being of wide open. he lowers himself to kitty lick a quick stripe up your folds, not that it needs any more lubricant—you’re wetter than the waves crashing in the background.

he pulls his shorts and boxers down at once as his hard dick slaps upwards against his stomach. his tip the angriest shade of dark pink, leaking pearly beads that follow the outdents of every intently placed vein running up his shaft. your heart beating a little faster as you realize his length and girth right in front of you. no wonder he’s cocky, he has more than enough to spare.

“see what you do to me?”

he gives his dick a few strokes and slides it in between your pussy. his dick moving up and down with no friction as he coats himself in your slick, his tip catching your over-sensitive clit. 

“breathe f’me. this is gonna be a big stretch, princess”

showing your acknowledgement, you guide his tip to your hole, letting out a high-pitched whine at the feeling of it prodding at your entrance. giving it further thought, how is this going to fit inside me?

as you open your mouth to speak, sukuna grunts as he rams his hips forward, pushing in halfway. the words you wanted to say turning into mush. the unexpected stretch is painfully pleasuring, making you dig your manicured nails into his huge shoulders.

“oh my god- i can’t”

“you will, it’s not even halfway in” he seethes as your pussy feels even tighter than it did on his fingers, enveloping him in pure warmth and ecstasy.

he tries to move forward as staying still is killing him, he just might cum right here. “loosen up baby, let me in”

“i’m trying!” you say wholeheartedly as tears prickle your waterline. you relax your body as much as possible, forcing yourself to put your trust into his hands.

as he feels you go a little limp, he gives a mean thrust bottoming out, and you both moan in unison at the foreign feeling. he starts sliding back and forth gaining momentum, rhythmically trying to compose himself. you can feel his tip hitting your cervix everytime he roughly slams back into you, your tanning oil and sweat forming droplets on your thighs as every thrust has him sticking to you. 

“ah—hah sukuna, you’re so deep!”

“mm, tell me something i don’t know” he growls, enunciating each word with another couple thrusts that sends you further back onto the wall.

his brutal pushes give you no time to adjust to his inhumane size. the sound of heavy “thwack, thwack, thwack!” as skin meets skin is proof of him taking you in every which way he wants it.

your mouth opening into an o-shape, hair sticking to your temples, eyebrows creasing as a fucked-out pout appears on your face has sukuna quickening his pace. 

“you’re such a sweet, dumb whore f’ me. my good girl. fuck— you feel so good”

you can only moan in response. your brain is turned to soup as nothing is registering but the feeling of him railing you into oblivion. the way his width burns in every amazing way, his cock snuggly fit against your tight walls, clenching even more as he hits the sweet spots.

he feels every convulsion and twitch of your cunt around him. the way you soak the wood beneath you, lashes glowing in the suns rays as salty tears line them. he turns into a raging bull, seeing red while chasing yours and his orgasms.

your feeble attempt at slowing him down with your hands pushing back on his torso, anything to give your heart a chance come down from your throat. he grabs your wrists and pins them next to your head, it’s too late now.

“where you goin’? take it, slut”

“f-fuck— hngh!” you’re practically sobbing.

sukuna’s trembling above you, unable to keep himself from falling apart. he starts clumsily rubbing your clit to get you on the same level as him, and it’s working. every nerve ending on fire, and the sharp knot in your stomach coiling and coming undone is telltale of how close you are.

“haah—ah i’m so close—keep going, don’t stop!”

“yeah? c’mon. cum f’me. make a mess baby”

urged on by feeling you tremble underneath him, he pushes in as deep as possible at a new angle, hitting spots you didn’t know even existed. your body’s gone flaccid, just taking every bit of euphoria he so violently gives you. the pleasure blooming inside, ablaze and full.

“give it t’me. cum.”

your orgasm crashes over you 100 miles per hour, releasing a prolonged moan at the feeling. your legs shaking uncontrollably as you try to regain feeling in your limbs. sukuna’s pace is faltering now, still chasing his own high. each sloppy thrust sending you into sensory overdrive. 

sukuna’s not far behind you. 

he groans as he stills and throws spurts of balmy, tepid, white ropes directly into you. his body falling onto yours as he pants into your warm skin. he pulls out slow as possible, trying to feel every ridge of your insides sloshing with his cum. the sudden emptiness making you wince and clench around nothing. 

the post-sex glow radiating off both of you while you come to terms with what just happened. the sounds of the seagulls, waves, and crowd outside making this moment feel surreal. still in the remaining trance of your orgasm, you try to make sense of what just went down. 

“that was amazing” he breaks the heavy panting. 

“yeah, it was” you reply.

“so. . .” he drags out as if you’re supposed to know what to say.

“this—“ you point to him and you, while pushing strands of hair off your forehead. 

“—this changes nothing”

he chuckles like he knew you like the back of his hand,

“whatever helps you sleep tonight.”

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ hi everyone! i want to thank you for all the support i got, so here's part 2. again, this is my first time writing smut so please be kind. i apologize if it's a little rushed. as always, i appreciate any feedback, likes, and reblogs, i hope you enjoy! ˙ᵕ˙

[cherryfawnie]

HAII BUBBA, all i have to say your first fic was so beautiful like no way that’s your first?! i really hope you keep making more fics! 🥹🫰🏼

hii! thank you so much, my heart is melting at all the love i am so grateful ! i’ve been a silent fanfic reader for a while now and im so glad i got the courage to write my own and you guys like it, it means the world to me. i’ll definitely be making a part 2 and much more ♡

[cherryfawnie]

suns out, buns out

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ pallete // your scheduled relaxing tanning day at the beach after a long school year turns into an ambush from frat!sukuna. you need help spreading oil on your back, and his hands are free. you hate him and he hates you, what could go wrong?

tags \\ frat lifeguard!sukuna, f!reader, semi-public smut (kinda), teasing, clothed grinding, bickering, reader gets called "woman"

𑣲⋆ wc // 1.2k

part 1 (you’re here) - part 2 !

school is finally out and that means everyone else is too. your small town college peers are taking the first day of the break to drink their sorrows of the year away, tan until they shimmer, and update their instagrams that have been neglected since finals started— and you’re right there beside them.

the uv rays are perfect for the most beautiful tan, so knowingly you put on your skimpiest bikini that leaves little to imagination, just covering the nipple and leaving the swells of your breasts spilling from each side, while your bottoms are threatening to reveal your perfectly smooth and moisturized skin if you take one wrong step. 

you’ve got everything you need: a little digicam, sunglasses, a fashion magazine to cure boredom, an unknown brand of alcohol in a can, and your tanning oil. but wait, you’re missing something, or rather someone. who’s going to spread the tanning oil on your back? you look around for any familiar faces to help you out, but everyone’s busy splashing or snoozing. so, you accept defeat and try to reach your back yourself. 

as you turn toward the sun angling your back as best as you can into arms reach, you start straining and struggling to reach the middle as the tanning oil starts to drip onto your towel beneath you. your loud frustrated grunt, “augh come on!” catches the eye of an unoccupied frat boy volunteering as a lifeguard a couple feet away, and he won’t miss the chance to ridicule you.

he smooths down his shorts, clenches his sculpted abs—that looked like they were carved by the gods themselves—and prepares his mischievous grin as he confidently walks over to you. your face turned to the side as if seeing your back will help your arms grow longer, turns slowly back to the front as you can no longer feel the suns brightness on you. your eyes slowly graze up catching the toned legs, the expensive shorts, the oh so defined, delicious abs and pecs decorated with black ink, and finally landing on the stupid face of sukuna, looking at you like he just caught a great white shark. your eyes shift from adoration to pure disgust.

“looks like someone is struggling” he says mockingly. 

“thanks to you, you’re ruining my beautiful view” you fire back with attitude.

“ooo, feisty today, i like it” you roll your eyes. “you sure you’re not annoyed your short stubby arms can’t reach?” 

you dramatically scoff, how dare he! “short stubby?! forgive me for not having skeleton arms like you!” 

“skeleton arms? these are built from pure muscle” he flexes his biceps and poses. 

you unintentionally stare for just a second as his veins bulge and run through his beautifully built biceps. he doesn’t miss the way you look at them. you shrug away your interest as you exclaim “yeah whatever. put your ‘pure muscle’ to use and help me then”

“do i get a reward?” he says tantalizingly as he catches your death glare. he grabs your shoulders and turns you so your back is facing him. “lay down” and you do, you’re desperate for your perfect, even tan! he squeezes a generous amount of your pricey tanning oil into his hands and starts at your ankles. he smiles as he gets an idea and starts vigorously rubbing with the grip of a vice all the way up to your thighs just to hear you “ow! stop it, gently!” 

he snickers “okay, okay. sorry, i’ll do it properly” his giggling slowly dies down as his focus arises. he soothingly massages the oil onto your legs with the perfect pressure, before his palm reaches the bottom of your ass. 

he stays still for a minute as his hands feel at the plush and softness. how can the most annoying girl on campus have the most beautiful body, with the most perfect plump, round ass? i wonder how it would arched, pinned underneath me, squirming, begging for more while i grip onto the fat of her hips until marks show. this skimpy bikini isn’t helping, just one tug of a string and you’ll be bare for m- 

“helloooo, can you do my back?” sukuna blinks out of his sex-crazed thoughts as he remembers you’re still here. . . but that can’t stop his mind racing and his dick slowly bulging through his thin shorts.

“patience, woman” he tries to say as casually as possible, but the squeak in his voice is evident. he takes more tanning oil as he prepares for your back. his position shifts, now sitting on the back of your thighs as he slowly leans over to start his handiwork on your back, his bulge poking right in between your ass. 

you might not be albert einstein, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize what’s going on here. your eyes immediately widen at the feeling of his imprint shifting side to side in between your ass cheeks as his hands follow the motions in tandem. you might find sukuna irritating, annoying, cocky, and conceited, but you can’t deny that he just might be the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. and you definitely can’t deny how aroused you are as you start dripping the more he moves around still clamped between you. he notices how your body has gone stiff, and he’s not new to the natural reaction of a woman. hell, if there was a degree in it he’d have three.

his cocky smirk returns as his hands drift from your back to the side of tits squished on the ground, exposed. access has never been easier. the tips of his fingertips slightly graze the side of your tits and you jerk at the teasingly short feeling. oh, she’s a sensitive one. as he gauges your reaction he starts moving his hands underneath your bikini top, which is better described as two triangles hanging on by a thread. his hands start roaming and groping around your nipple, but never on it. you look around you as you bite your lip to hide any sounds about to escape, especially since you’re in public. but, you fail. miserably. you let out a soft whimper only heard by the 200 pounds of ego on top of you, and hearing that just added another 30. 

a smile you can hear as he leans down to whisper in your ear “you enjoyin’ this?” in his husky, deep voice that doesn’t help your situation. your voice now an octave higher, “sukuna, stop teasing. . .” 

he chuckles. “i’m just doin’ what you told me to do, want me to stop?” as arrogant as he is, you’re equally stubborn. if he thinks he can tease you and get away with it, he was dead wrong.

your revenge comes quick as you arch your ass back into his dick and slowly rub up and down. his brows furrow as he winces. his dick is rock hard, the friction catching him off guard. he grabs your hips and holds you steady. your giggle equal parts enticing and mocking. he removes one hand and pushes his sandy, salt water scented pink locks out of his face, clenching his jaw. he quickly gets off you, almost stumbling over his own feet. he uses one hand to grab yours sternly and the other firmly settles on your waist as he urges you onto your feet, interlocking fingers. he’s speed-walking and dragging you behind him, “where are you going?!”

“you think y'r funny, huh? i’ll show you hilarious.”

𑣲⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ hi everyone! this is my first fic and i was a little nervous about writing actual smut so please be nice (,; ⩌ ;,) i'd appreciate any feedback, reblogs, and likes, thank you!

[cherryfawnie]

‧₊˚☔︎︎ ☂︎₊˚⊹

leave a comment on which character/series you'd like to be tagged for !

JJK

⤷ ゛suku. ryomen ˎˊ˗ @

⤷ ゛toji. fushiguro ˎˊ˗ @

⤷ ゛sato. gojo ˎˊ˗ @

⤷ ゛kent. nanami ˎˊ˗ @

BLUELOCK

⤷ ゛sae. itoshi ˎˊ˗ @

⤷ ゛seis. nagi ˎˊ˗ @

these are all the characters i’ve written for so far, tags are open to characters i haven’t written for as well (but eventually will). thank you for your patience ♡

[cherryfawnie]

.˚○ • ° m. list

all rights reserved © 2026 cherryfawnie

jujutsu kaisen ; ⌗ jjk

⟢ ryom. sukuna ⋆. suns out, buns out part 1 part 2 ⋆

⟢ toji. fushiguro ⋆. cutting toji’s hair ⋆

⟢ sato. gojo ⋆. rich donor!gojo ⋆

⟢ hiro. higuruma ⋆. tba ⋆

⟢ kent. nanami ⋆. art instructor!nanami ⋆

bluelock ; ⌗ bllk

⟢ sae. itoshi ⋆. overtime .ᐟ ⋆

⟢ seis. nagi ⋆. star player ⋆

dividers by @enjinsprettydoll

[cherryfawnie]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ guide

⊹ please keep in mind some writings contain smut & suggestive content unsuitable for minors-which will be explicitly labeled so, i strongly suggest minors to not interact !

⊹ i will not write about any form of pedophilia, incest, stepcest, scat, piss, rape, nonconsensual, minor/aged-up characters, abuse, and anything along those lines

⊹ do not steal my work. resharing through official reblogs/links is always welcome, but reposting, translating, or feeding my writing into AI and other websites isn't allowed

⊹ feel free to send me requests ! i’m forever and always open to new mutuals & friends, please don’t be shy

thank you for being thoughtful ! ༝༚༝༚